itshigh-boop:

Hanmei – (#1) Soulmates AU (idea based from this list)

Hanzo’s been through many hardships. He’s had to shoulder the burden of a criminal empire, being bred for leadership from practical birth, and had his mentality and outlook shaped and influenced by elders and other people all his life. The last straw is having to strike down his brother, the emotional burden nearly killing him in the process.

He wanders around as a mercenary, falling from the once high pillar he stood on. His pride, his temper, and arrogance continue to resurface, despite knowing he has nothing to be proud of. Abandoning the source of his toxicity and nightmares can’t change nearly thirty years of habit and upbringing. But at the end of the day, after every sneer and insult he throws, he’s just tired.

Hanzo is emotionally exhausted. Sometimes he feels like he forces himself to retain his stubborn pride because if he dropped it, all that would remain would be a sad, shell of a man – the man that still has frequent, intense night terrors about the night he killed his brother. 

His solitude is voluntary – both abhorring the company of those unworthy…and the desire to keep himself away from being a burden. He claims others are unworthy but he is just as worthless – perhaps even more. He may not care about what happens around him but even knows that the world could use less of people like him. 

When he isn’t on a job, or wallowing in self pity through a bottle of sake, Hanzo takes to the simple art of paper folding. He picks up the specialty paper at a store one day, remembering an old tale he heard long ago as a child. It is said that if one were to fold 1,000 paper cranes, one would meet the person who would understand them perfectly in every way. The thought rings through his head as he sits in his tiny apartment, folding bright, orange paper into the shapes of cranes by the light of the moon filtering in through the balcony. It’s a foolish story, meant for children. No one would truly be able to understand him. Still, he refuses to admit that it’s the loneliness that pushes him to create those tiny paper birds with every chance he gets. 

The day he approaches the thousandth crane, he stops. He ponders the possibility of this legend being true – why does he deserve someone who understands him? And if he met them, perhaps they would understand…but that doesn’t equate to tolerate. He hardly tolerates himself – how can he expect another to do so? With that, he drops the thousandth square of paper, chastising himself for chasing a dream. 

For months, the number of folded cranes stands at 999. He abandons his hoard of origami in his apartment as a job sends him to Saraburi, Thailand. For being an ex-scion of a criminal organization, he continues to deal with such groups, doing their dirty work for pay. It matters not – the least he gets from these jobs is the chance to sharpen his skills and at most, he can repress the memories of his blade dripping with the blood of his brother. 

The job ends up being misinformed, however, and Hanzo is soon overwhelmed and left nearly for dead in the middle of the subtropic forest. The last thought he has before he goes unconscious is he deserved it all – the loneliness, the suffering, and the ache of his soul being torn in half when he killed his own brother. The ache in his body is nothing compared to that loss. 

He doesn’t expect to wake up in a damp, dark, and dripping facility. The few hard splashes of drops on the skin between his eyes waking him up more out of annoyance than anything. He’s sore everywhere but he manages to sit up. And then he hears a voice. Hanzo’s immediately on his guard, his body regretting his haste decision. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’re still recovering.”

Hanzo realizes he’s got bandages wrapped around his torso and he finally takes a look at the owner of the voice. A woman, dark brown eyes and hair and seemingly overdressed for Thailand sits a few feet away, patiently and watching him intently. While there’s a small smile gracing the stranger’s face, her eyes are focused intently on him. No doubt waiting to see what he does. 

“Where am I?” he asks. “Who are you?” He should be dead.

He learns her name – Mei-Ling Zhou. And they’re in an abandoned Overwatch Ecopoint. He knows of the organization – how could he not? Seeing as how Genji betrayed the clan for them. She’s been traveling the world, gathering data from abandoned ecopoints for her research. She just hadn’t expected to come across a nearly dying man in the forest. When he passively comments that she should have minded her business and left him, she scoffs.

“Well that’s foolish,” she comments, causing him to stare. “How will you get things done with that attitude?” 

The audacity of this woman – there is a part of him that wants to leave immediately, not able to tolerate any sort of attempt to make him appear a fool. But her voice – she is not challenging him. She reminds him of a teacher, disappointed and expecting better. He knows nothing of her past her mission, yet he knows (he feels) like she would understand him better than any person he’s come across in the past few years. 

“You should rest.” 

He does. Over the next few days, things are silent at first but talking is all there is to do to pass the time. The sun stretches slowly over the sky ahead, but hearing her stories isn’t as dreadfully boring as he first thinks. One day, as he’s close to an effective recovery, he tells her he will reattempt his task, not one for failure. To an extent, he worries about the scientist, not liking that she’s alone in such a dangerous area. She offers to help, though he seems hesitant. When she insists, he can’t help the secret grin that touches his face. “As you wish, Miss Zhou.” 

That evening, as he attempts to rest, he wakes from another night terror – the first he’s had since he’s arrived in Thailand. Mei-Ling is at his side in an instant, worried. He lashes out at her, not used to having people see him at his most vulnerable – the physical state is one thing – his emotional and mental burden is another. When he sees the surprise and hurt on her face, he apologizes, confessing, with some degree of difficulty, that it is shameful to him for her to see him like this. She accepts his apology but reiterates that she’s only worried for him and if he needs space, she will give it. 

Surprisingly, the very thing he thinks he would want, the suggestion that first comes out of her mouth…is not what he wants. He admires her for it but declines, telling her that she can stay. So she does. Mei-Ling appears to understand – doesn’t ask him about what’s troubling him. She offers him water instead and distracts him, talking about other things. Eventually, she realizes that he prefers the quiet but doesn’t leave his side. 

There’s a million thoughts running through his head, mostly about Genji but he finds himself thinking about his companion, as well, for whatever reason. When he hears crinkling, he turns to see her folding paper. He recognizes it immediately, asking her what she’s doing.

“Oh, this? It’s origami. You know, paper folding? It’s a Japanese art that I’ve always found soothing.” She laughs, continuing to fold. “It’s also the only art I was ever good at.” 

Without knowing, Hanzo grins at her comment. The ache and burden of Genji’s death is still fresh in his gut, but he forces himself to focus on Mei-Ling. 

“You know…even this I was never really good at,” she admits. “But on my travels, I picked it up again. The only one I was ever really able to do was the crane.” 

She finishes a single paper bird, the blue paper catching Hanzo’s eyes.

“Do you do origami, Hanzo?”

If someone were to tell the scion of the Shimada clan nearly ten years ago that he’d be in the middle of the jungle in an abandoned base with a stranger, folding paper birds, he would have laughed himself sick. But now, it was the most natural thing in the world. “A bit,” he admits. When she gives him a piece of paper, he hesitates. 

“In my culture, the crane is known for being able to travel long distances without getting tired. Whenever I would feel like giving up, I would just make a crane. At this point, I don’t know how many I’ve made. Probably way too many.” 

She looks so serene as she explains, fingers expertly folding in memorized fashion. But Hanzo doesn’t miss the flicker of pain that crosses her features as she speaks.

“In Japan,” Hanzo finds himself saying. “The crane symbolizes hope.” His smile does not exactly mirror hers when he says this, but he feels the stretch of muscles around his mouth just the same. “There’s a belief that if one folds a thousand paper cranes, one’s wish would come true.” 

Mei-Ling folds another paper crane. “I like that they symbolize hope. Sometimes I didn’t have too much of it…but after folding another one, I’d become hopeful again. But I’ve never heard of that legend. Then again, a thousand cranes sure is a lot.” Briefly, she pauses and looks down at the paper crane she’s in the process of folding. “Do you believe in that legend, Hanzo?” 

Hanzo looks down at the square piece of paper in his hands. The last time he folded a paper crane, he’d been hoping for truth behind a silly rumor and fairytale. He left off, 999 cranes and no hope at all. Slowly, he begins to fold, his fingers already used to the motions he’s practiced 999 times before.

“We’ll see.” 

He doesn’t believe in stories or rumors or legends. But he knows what he feels. And for the first time in years, he doesn’t feel the familiar weight press down on his shoulders. Instead, he’s alive, a rather remarkable individual named Mei-Ling Zhou sits a few feet away, and he’s folding his thousandth paper crane. And for Hanzo, it’s actually more than enough.