A/N: Bet you'd thought you'd seen the last of me ;)
Thank you, everyone, for your patience. Hope you all had a wonderful holiday!
With scales stretched taut over bunched muscles, the dragon's chest thrummed with the rumble of an approaching storm. The enchantress looked upon its fearsome visage without flinching. An unhappy bend to her lips, she tucked a lock of sunrise-gold flecked tresses behind an ear, "Do not blame me for the consequences of your actions. You are not a child."
Outside, an impossible gale swept through the courtyard, rattling the shutters with a mournful howl.
The dragon's mouth rippled, splitting into an ugly sneer, "I did not cast this curse." Silvery claws, bent and curved to a deadly point, dug into the pinewood floorboards. Spirals of wood shavings spun from their tips.
"No," the enchantress conceded gravely, "but you are its cause."
If she'd expected an argument, there was none to be found. Instead, the dragon lowered his body to the ground, his head bowed, "Even so, I bid you release those of my house who share in this penance. They have done you no harm. None deserve to share my fate." Had the enchantress been attempting to break his spirit, this moment would have been satisfying.
She stared through the scales and sinew of his draconic form, all the way down to the soul of the man confined within. "That, too," a soft sigh parted her lips when she averted her gaze, "is part of your curse."
The end of the dragon's tail slammed against the floor. "The curse is unbalanced!" Hanzo roared. "Compared to being trapped in an inanimate form, this is hardly a punishment at all." The grey pools within her eyes flashed with warning, yet Hanzo persisted, "I have welcomed a stranger into my home. I have remained confined here for a decade. That must count for-"
When the enchantress uncurled her palm, his jaws snapped shut. Above the center of her hand, a sapphiric glow, radiant as a newborn star, appeared. Unfocused at first, it condensed its nebulous form into a harder, clearer shape, until the image of large, oval-shaped jewel glittered over her skin.
As soon as it appeared, the jewel began to lose its brilliance, growing dull and faded. She pursed her lips. "Time has resumed in this place. By accepting an outsider into your home, you have taken the first step in correcting your past transgressions. However, though your actions may not have benefited you, that does not make them selfless." Her austere features remained smoothed and composed, but not unfeeling. "You know what is required to break the curse."
"And you know as well as I that there is no one who would grow to love a beast." The dragon's tail lashed out to strike the family portrait hung on the wall. Its spikes slashed the eldest child's visage with practiced aim. The force jarred the frame, striking it down with a deafening crack. "So I am doomed to remain a monster." A corner of the dragon's mouth lifted. "That is hardly news to me." He gave his head a long, sobering shake before continuing, "However, the people of my house have committed no crime.
"Is that so? Your brother would have displayed me like a porcelain doll to spite you." She arched a brow. "Do you yet claim him blameless?"
Hanzo dipped his head once more, allowing his tangled mane to brush the floor. "His actions have always been my responsibility." The years with limited movement, locked within the walls of a castle Genji had spent his adolescence endeavoring to escape, were already punishment enough. "Should you accept it, I would give you my life in recompense."
Melodious laughter echoed through the small space, its beauty bordering on cruel. "For what purpose? To assuage your own guilt?" The enchantress stepped closer to the dragon, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder while she bent to place a palm upon his scaly brow. "You cannot convince me this request is a selfless act, dakaita." In response, the beast rested his head upon the dusty pinewood boards, his nostrils flaring with each heavy exhale. Though he'd watched the fae woman warily since her arrival, now golden eyes fluttered and closed. The enchantress scoffed at the display, "So little hesitation to throw all that remains of Shimada Hanzo away. Is there no one who would miss you? No one who would mourn you?" She received no answer from the beast, and knowing there would be none forthcoming, a wry smile crept up her cheeks. "Truly, you are a selfish man."
From her palm emanated a steady pulse that spread through the now shuddering dragon. A low groan issued from between jagged fangs as its flesh began to writhe under her touch, and within the dark jewel she'd conjured, smooth and hard and unblemished, the first fissure was born.
Being led down long stretches of staircases and dusty corridors by a disembodied suit of armor was not how Jesse had planned on spending his evening, but if there was one thing he'd learned over the years, it was that sometimes life throws curve balls.
This felt a little less like a curveball, though, and more like getting beaned in the face before he'd even stepped up to the plate.
Occasionally, they'd step into halls sparsely decorated with portraits of dour looking folks in ceremonial dress. They bore enough resemblance to each other to be related and, Jesse noted without thinking too much about it, had a tendency of growing grey around the temples. On the second to last level, in the Western wing of the castle, he came to a stop in front of a picture depicting a stern-looking man in his early fifties. He wore his long hair pulled back into a sharp half-knot. There were deep furrows between his brows that suggested he hadn't been a carefree guy, whoever he was, but there was something about his eyes, dark and deep as the waters beneath the ice of a frozen lake, that reminded him of the dragon wasting away upstairs.
Eventually Brigitte, who hadn't noticed his absence since she'd been keeping up a steady dialogue by herself since they left the top level, double-backed to fetch him. She angled her collar piece as though glancing at the portrait, then shifted awkwardly, her gauntlets scraping against her sides as she swung them. "He was the leader of the Shimada clan before Hanzo took over," she said with as little reverberation as she could. "Sojiro Shimada. He died shortly before," and she waved an arm vaguely with a clacking sound.
McCree brushed some accumulated dust off of the painting's surface. He was doing his best not to imagine the man's striking cheekbones with scales and failing miserably. "Do you reckon things would have been different around here if he'd still been around?"
"It's really not my place to say..." The suit of armor wrung its leathered gloves. "But so long as we're on the subject," and angled its chest piece as though glancing up and down the hall for listening ears. "From what Genji's told us about him, I really don't think they would be."
The cowboy wasn't entirely sure what to make of that, but judging by her tone, he guessed that the Shimada clan came with its fair share of baggage. Most families did.
What really piqued his interest, though, was the pale discoloration marking the space next to Sojiro Shimada. It was a rectangle of roughly the same height and width as the kumicho's frame, which meant there most likely had been a matching pair. When Jesse gestured to the empty space with a lighthearted, "Whoever that was must have really screwed the pooch, huh?", all Brigitte offered was a solemn and subdued, "Sometimes, we don't like to look at the things that make us sad."
It didn't feel proper to linger after hearing something like that. Jesse apologized for holding her up, then bid her lead the way with a gallant flourish and a tip of his hat. Judging by what little he could read off the subtle relaxing of her posture, she was as relieved to drop the subject as he was.
The further they strode down the corridor, the chillier the air became. By the time they were standing outside a door engraved with a pair of dragons chasing each other's tails in a symbol of infinity, McCree was furiously rubbing his arms in an attempt to get some warmth in them.
"This wouldn't happen to be a dungeon or anything you're throwing little ol' me into, right?"
She glanced back at him as the door swung open to reveal a Western-styled guest room arrangement. It was larger than the house he'd lived in growing up. He walked up to the side of the bed, placing his hand on a comforter that felt like clouds under his palm, and ran it over the woven design of a pagoda under a moonlit night.
Outside, a frozen koi pond could be spotted past the porch steps. Frigid wind rattled the rice-paper doors, tearing holes into the delicate screens.
Brigitte came up beside him, rested one of her gauntlets beside where his hand lay, then slowly withdrew, retreating to the door. She hovered in the threshold, her armor shifted towards the storm. "It wasn't always winter here, Jesse," and before he could respond, she slipped away.
There was a fireplace and a pile of wood for him to light, so he set about getting a fire started to keep him from freezing to death in the fancy bed they were letting him use. Even devoted some whiskey from his own personal flask to get the job done, and after about fifteen minutes of frantic blowing and cursing, there was a moderately sized flame going.
Once that was done, he washed up in the bathroom. Since the hand towels bore the Shimada family crest and all looked more expensive than his entire wardrobe put together, McCree opted to pull off his shirt and use it as a makeshift washcloth instead.
And why not? It wasn't like there was anyone was around to see. Pausing in drying his hair, he frowned at the dubious expression staring back at him in the mirror. "If you any of you lot were thinking of outing yourselves," he started slowly, scrutinizing the soap dish and faucet, "now would be the time."
He might as well have been interrogating a toothbrush.
There came a dry chuckle from the bedroom, followed by the scuttling of small feet as something raced across the floor. Following the sound, Jesse burst out of the bedroom with wet bangs flopping over his eyes, his shirt and hat and boots clutched to his chest. "Who's there?!" His gaze darted around the room for intruders. "Come on out and show yourselves!"
He checked outside on the walkway, immediately regretting it when opening the sliding shoji let in a chill. There was no one behind the wardrobe or hiding under the bed, which had him scratching his head in bemusement, "I coulda sworn I…" The sight of a coat rack standing in a shadowed corner made him lose his train of thought. Its design was identical to the one downstairs near the foyer. Curious, he ran a pair of fingers over its side, then rubbed them together, checking for dust.
There was some, certainly, but not enough to suggest it hadn't moved or been moved in a decade.
With a shrug, he decided to leave it alone. There was no way every object in the castle used to be a person, and if it turned out the coat rack happened to one of the not so lucky few who was, they'd show themselves in their own time. And maybe all those sit-ups and push-ups he did would finally count for something.
Next was the antique clock on the mantle. This one was a little easier to prove because whoever swept the floors had neglected to wipe down the shelves, and there were scuff marks where the clock had climbed on. This meant that the coat rack was almost definitely alive, too, since the clock wouldn't have been able to get up on the mantle without it.
On a hunch, he gave the clock's cracked face a hard flick.
Although he waited a full minute for the clock to react, it never budged, making him feel foolish for the time he'd wasted staring at a clock.
"This whole place has got me paranoid," Jesse muttered under his breath, depositing the boots on the floor and hat on the coat rack before burrowing under the sheets.
Staring into the fire, he thought about the family waiting for him in the village. Hopefully, Fareeha and Sombra weren't losing their heads over him just yet. It wasn't like he'd never spent the night out before, so maybe they would cut him some slack so long as he found a way off of the estate tomorrow.
Knowing Sombra, she'd either already tried to track his phone or was debating it, but something told him it wouldn't work. Wherever this cursed place was, it was off the grid.
Grabbing one of the million decorative pillows stacked around him to shove against his face, he rolled onto his side and groaned until his lungs ran out of air.
The Reyes family were gathered around the kitchen table - Sombra dressed in her purple felt pj's and fuzzy slippers with a humming PADD lying over her lap and Gabe with his third cup of coffee and sleepless nights sinking his cheeks.
The absence of Jesse loomed large as ever, a presence almost as solid as the man himself.
With her palms braced on the table's surface, Fareeha fixed the pair of them with a tired scowl, "Jesse's been missing for three days." Sombra pursed her lips, her long nails clicking on the PADD's screen. "We have to come to grips with the fact that wherever Jesse is, he needs our help."
While it wasn't unheard of for their free-spirited brother to go wandering every now and again, there was always a call or text or a note to explain why. After growing up in a household where he basically had to learn from an early age how to fend for himself, the last thing Jesse wanted was for anyone to worry about him.
Waiting this long to start their search in earnest had been a mistake.
After tipping his coffee mug to drain the last dregs from the bottom, Reyes set it on the table. Then, without a word of explanation, he stood from his chair and headed towards the door. "Gabe, where are you going?" Fareeha called after him, following.
He paused, one hand gripping the knob, "Stay here in case Jesse comes back," before striding outside without looking back.
"Gabe!" Fists clenched at her sides, Fareeha watched his retreating figure through the window. "Sombra?" Sombra made a soft sound to show she was listening, and that Fareeha had her undivided attention. "I need you to make me a list of known criminals in the region. Cross-reference them with former bounties as well as anyone else you can think of that might want to come after Jesse."
She whistled, her fingers already typing out a series of keywords into her PADD's holographic board. "That's going to be a long list, hermana."
Slipping into her outdoor shoes, Fareeha nodded, her expression grim. "Keep me informed of any updates. If you need anything at all," and she pulled on the sleeves of her leather jacket, "I'll be at the Sheriff's office reporting a missing person."
Once Reyes was certain Fareeha wasn't going to start chasing after him to drag him back to the cottage by his ear, he started visiting the villagers, asking around to see if any of them remembered seeing a young man in a ridiculous cowboy hat from a couple days ago. It was a small, sleepy town so the chances of them forgetting anything even remotely interesting were slim, yet none appeared to recall anything that could help him find the kid.
Others decided to help him search before long. Although he knew to be grateful for the assistance, Reyes didn't hold out much hope for them turning up any results. It was so much easier to lose something than it was to find it again. Whenever Reyes had a moment to spare, he reminded himself of how Jesse looked, how he sounded. There was something primal about the dread growing within him, something that told him his memories of Jesse could be gone in an instant, and that his efforts to prevent them from being taken were as effectual as melting a glacier with a hairdryer.
Even so, he tried to etch the memories into his bones.
By the time the baker's house by the edge of the woods was in sight, he'd gotten himself so worked up with worry that he wasn't sure if he was more likely to hug Jesse when he found him or strangle the boy with his hat.
The German baker, a former Crusader judging by the impressive musculature he'd managed to retain even past his prime, was pouring over a recipe for apple pie when Reyes stepped inside. The baker raised his silvery head from the page, fixing Reyes with an unfocused gaze. One of his eyes was sealed permanently shut, yet after a moment his expression cleared and a grandfatherly smile broke out on the old man's face. "Welcome!" He gestured grandly towards an assortment of sweet bread. "Are you in the mood for a treat? These scrumptious delights are fresh off the fire."
An acrid scent drifted into the shop from behind the counter. Reyes sniffed the air. "Is something burning?"
The baker gasped. "My scones!" Then he rushed through the curls of smoke behind him, waving his hands about his head to disperse the worst of it. A series of pan and tray crashes accompanied by muffled German expletives proceeded, until at last the oven was turned off and the blackened scones were placed outside to cool. Doing his part to help, Reyes unlatched the windows, pushing them open to let the fresh in.
Then he retrieved his wallet from the inner pocket of his down vest, ruffled through its contents, and plucked out a photograph of a young man with scruff on his chin and a defiant set to his jaw. He held it for a moment, staring holes into the image, his fingers passing over the picture in a way that was almost reverent, before carefully placing it down on the counter. The teen's thumbs were tucked under his belt and one of his legs was bent at the knee, the other kicked out to show off an impressive set of golden spurs. "Actually, I'm looking for someone," he looked at Reinhardt like a man staring at the last drop of water in the desert. "Do you think you can help me?"
Unable to meet his gaze, Reinhardt scratched his thick beard. "I will do my best to help you find your son, I promise you that." Reyes couldn't breathe. Hope was choking him. "However, my mind's not what it used to be, I fear." The bell above the door chimed to announce the entrance of a customer. The baker raised his head, his brow furrowed.
Though reluctant to let the conversation drop, Reyes glanced over his shoulder, the photograph still in plain sight, to see a young woman without a speck of dust on her. A golden, sapphire-embedded prosthetic was attached to her left shoulder, sleek and so natural in its movement it was practically a part of her, and draped over her pale grey shirt and pin-straight skirt was a sky-blue sari. Wherever she was from, and whoever she worked for, she certainly wasn't a local.
"I'm sorry," she stammered quickly, registering the tense atmosphere she'd unwittingly intruded on. "Is this a bad…" Her gaze fell on the photo, recognition flashing in her eyes. "I remember that man." Reyes felt his heart seize in his chest. "I saw him heading into the forest towards the Shimada estate. But that was several days ago. Surely he wouldn't still be-"
"Do you think you could lead us to where you last saw him?" It was a Hail Mary to be sure, but with Jesse missing for days Reyes was ready to get on his knees and start praying.
After scrutinizing him for a moment, she slowly inclined her head. The relief was so strong Reyes could melt, but he kept it together and followed her outside. The baker joined them by the treeline, and by the time the group was ready to head into the forest, thanks to Gabe's prior searching they were a dozen villagers strong.
Sunlight poured into the bedroom through an open window, shining directly in Jesse's eyes. Stretching out the kinks in his muscles, he rolled over with a yawn to see the antique Victorian clock from the mantle staring down at him, an indentation below its minute and hour hands that shaped itself to form a disapproving scowl.
As any sensible man would do when confronted with a sentient self-appointed alarm clock, Jesse leapt out of the bed with a high-pitched scream. He heard a tutting coming from beside him, then spun to see the coat rack position its hooks onto its shaft in the fashion of a woman placing her hands on her hips. "Really, now. Is that any way to greet an old friend, habibi?" At Jesse's blank look of incomprehension, the coat rack shifted towards the clock with a heavy sigh. "It is as I told you, Jack. Someone would have come looking had they known there was something to look for. There is more to the curse than we wanted to believe."
"That true?" The clock walked forward on the bed, stepping closer. "You really don't know me, kid?"
And Jesse thought hard about it, delving into his memories, which was hard to do when he'd been startled out of a deep sleep, but all he got were memories that were... off. Like they missing something. It was as though he were watching a film where the footage kept skipping. Even if he knew there was more to it, there was no way to know what it was.
Ultimately, Jesse shrugged, hoping he looked as regretful as he felt, "I think there's a good chance I used to know more than I do now, but I'm afraid that's about the most I can tell ya. Sorry."
"Don't be." The clock hopped off the mattress, landing on the floor with a solid thud. When it spoke again, the clock was already shuffling towards the door, "It's not your fault."
Swiveling to follow the clock's retreat with a wilting appearance, the coat rack said softly, "You must be hungry, Jesse. Why don't you head downstairs to the kitchens?" Jesse chewed the inside of his cheek to keep his face from giving away how unnerving the coat rack's familiarity with him was. "Genji's asked the cook to make breakfast for you."
They led Jesse through the corridors he'd gone through with Brigitte last night. Now, in the daylight, he could see the sections where the walls had been scuffed over the years. He tried to imagine how growing up in a castle must have felt, holding ladders that scraped against the banister because their young bodies were too small to make the turns, bumping into corners with heavy picture frames and... swords.
A normal childhood, a good life, tilted slightly to the right.
Jesse smelled breakfast before he saw it - a pungent mix of freshly cooked rice, grilled fish, and sweaty gym socks. Genji was already standing upright by the table, though he seemed to perk up when he saw him coming. "Good morning!"
"O-hey-o," Jesse tried. He'd managed to flip through a common Japanese phrases book in the airport and was feeling quite proud of himself. This was not affected when the katana groaned loudly. "I slept fine, thanks. Next time, though, how 'bout you tell your friends to give a man some privacy. Can't say I mind sleepin' with company, but a little warning would be mighty appreciated."
"You are planning on staying here again?" Genji asked incredulously. Jesse poked at a bowl of sticky, slimy beans with a chopstick, wondering if his host was aware that the foul-smelling things were rotten. "Willingly?"
Luckily, the rice stirred with egg yolks was palatable, and the grilled fish was delicately salted, tender on the inside, and lightly seared on the outside. Through a mouthful of fish, Jesse explained, "Seems to me like you folks could -" Part of the fish went down the wrong pipe, and he downed a glass of cold water to get it down, "- could use a fresh face around here now and again." And if his thoughts drifted to the melancholy creature upstairs, surrounded by bones and torn portraits, then that was something only Jesse needed to worry to about.
The katana made a thoughtful sound, "If it weren't for this form, you would not catch me dead in this place." Pivoting on the sword's point, Genji gazed up at the many levels, all the way up to the ceiling, as though he would like nothing more than to sprout wings and fly far, far away. "It was cursed long before the witch cast her spell."
They turned at the sound of the kitchen door's silver handle jingling in someone's grasp. Shortly after, the door opened slowly, with a creak of complaint, until standing in the opening was a man who didn't seem real. His raven hair spilled over his shoulders like waterfalls cascading over rocks, strands of grey from his temples threading through his fingers. On his body, he wore a navy yukata, with pale white fireflies sewn into its stitching.
It took Jesse a moment before he realized who it was the man reminded him of, but when it came to him, he could have kicked himself for not putting the dots together sooner - The princely figure standing there awkwardly at the head of the room, glancing at Genji with equal parts wariness and guilt, could only be the eldest son of Sojiro Shimada.
Who was somehow very suddenly and very mysteriously not a dragon.
Hanzo looked like he was struggling to speak. He swallowed several times, then opened and closed his mouth without uttering so much as a syllable. Having decided he couldn't wait any longer and didn't much care what his brother had to say anyway, Genji broke the silence, his voice oddly small, "The enchantress came to you." The sword hopped forward, not waiting for a confirmation. Hanzo could barely force himself to look at him. His gaze kept sliding down the katana's edge, falling to the ground and rising and falling over and over again. "She came to you and not to…" Leaning forward on his point, Genji shouted, "What did we do to deserve this fate?! How is your guilt any less than mine or Brigitte's or Amari-sensei's? To remain trapped in these wretched forms when you… when you're… You're the one who cast her out! You rejected her-" Incensed as he was, he overbalanced, toppling forward to land flat on the ground, where he rocked futilely with impotent rage and shame until Jesse took pity and picked him up.
Hanzo watched the exchange, looking as though he'd like to help, but didn't dare to approach. He was well aware that any assistance he might have given would only be further salt in the wound, so he remained where he was, saying softly after Genji twisted himself around to maneuver his unwieldy body towards the exit, "You know that I would do anything to make this right."
It was enough to give the katana temporary pause. "Yeah?" Genji asked with an audible sneer. "Then trade places with me." Turning his back on Hanzo for the last time, he left the room.
Uncertain of what to do, Jesse lingered, torn between following Genji and watching a man drowning in his regret.
"I don't deserve him," Hanzo whispered, his head bowed.
Jesse's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He had to remind himself that he didn't hate this man, didn't know him well enough to dredge up anything so strong as hate. "It sure looks that way. Looks to me like you sold out anybody who ever gave a damn about you for a pair of working thumbs." But looking at Hanzo now made something sour twist in his gut. He waited for the man to defend himself for a beat before outright asking in a clipped tone, "There anything you'd like to add to that?" Maybe he wanted there to be more, some key element that would clear this whole mess up, but the former dragon made no attempt to defend himself. If he were innocent, then he was doing a bang-up job of imitating guilt.
Massaging the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache, Jesse strode towards the exit, intending to find the pointier Shimada, who likely hadn't gotten that far in spite of the head start. "If that's the case, then I guess you're right. I think you've made it plenty clear what you deserve." He shook his head with disgust. "Think I liked you better with scales."
Empty, lifeless humor flashing through Hanzo's dark gaze, like that of a man laughing quietly at the punchline to a joke the executioner had whispered to him at his hanging.
It was grim, a cocktail of despair and regret and self-loathing that baffled the cowboy even as he walked away.
The young woman, Satya, led them deftly through the forest with silent footfalls, graceful and nimble as a doe bounding over the trail. The rest of the search party were winded just trying to keep pace with her, except for Reinhardt, but he probably ate mulch and rocks for breakfast.
As they delved further in, the temperature plummeted, their exhales steamed in wispy clouds. It wasn't the kind of drop that could be explained away by shade and thick tree cover. Not in the middle of spring.
When they happened upon the old ruins of a temple or a castle, the local villagers began whispering furiously amongst themselves. They stared at the moldy stones and statues with suspicion, some of them even retreating closer to the village while Reyes stormed ahead, too impatient with worry to bother trying to reassure them. None of them had been forced to help, so if they were too superstitious to help an outsider find their son, then that was on them. And as for him, if by some miracle there were some honest-to-God monsters standing between him and Jesse, then they had better pray they were bulletproof.
Towards the end of the path lay a stone dragon, its mane and scales carved with winding curves and swirls. There was rage in its expression, and little wonder. If he'd been holding a jewel the size of his fist in his mouth for a hundred or so years, Reyes figured he'd be pretty peeved, too.
Unfortunately, the jewel wasn't in great condition, which might have explained why Jesse didn't nick it. Its surface was covered in cobweb fractures that could have been attributed to age and exposure. What couldn't be explained was the light emanating from the stone's core with the pulse of a heartbeat. Try as he might, Reyes couldn't come up with an explanation.
As he watched, the jewel began to split, cracking open like an egg before collapsing in on itself.
Black tendrils spread over the stone dragon's torso from the base of the shattered gem, circling around its neck and limbs as though attempting to choke the life from it. A roar like nothing Reyes had ever heard before echoed from the center of the ruins, and as they searched for the source, snow and ice spread rapidly across the forest floor. Fallen beams assorted themselves into shrines and pagodas, each one extravagant and ornate in detail and design. Their high rooves curved at the corners, their sides slanted to shuck off rainwater and melting snow, just as he'd read.
Murals of Shinto gods and tales and myths were painted in gold on the walls. Depictions of dragons reigning fire and brimstone on the towns surrounding the mountain gave Reyes the feeling that the rulers who'd inhabited this castle, wherever they were now, hadn't been the benevolent type.
When he turned back to look at the jewel, it was dull and faded, the magic that had fueled it diminished, except for one small, barely visible glow. On impulse, Reyes pocketed it, earning himself a ripple of frightened gasps from his audience. He gestured for the villagers to follow him. "Come on," he called over his shoulder, trudging determinedly into the snow, bracing against the wailing wind. "Jesse's got to be here somewhere. Now we just have to find him."
When Jesse walked out of the kitchen, he'd been half-expecting to find Genji struggling to get off the floor, but instead the katana was nowhere to be found. This was a concerning development, even when taking into account the green-haired Japanese man in a white haori and pinstriped hakama standing in front of the window pane.
Adorned in ribbons of unending dusk, he was too busy marveling at his hands to notice Jesse's approach, so the cowboy cleared his throat. Once he was sure he had the young man's undivided attention, Jesse asked with a crooked, not quite threatening grin, "Now, who might you be, stranger?"
The stranger's eyes widened. He gestured to himself, "It's me, Jesse. Do you not recognize my voice?" When he didn't a response, he pointed to his chest with a small smile. "Hajimemashite. Genji here, in the flesh." He gave a short, awkward bow, scratching his cheek with a nail. "Though, actually, we have met already."
Slackjawed, Jesse gaped at him. "Genji? That really you? But how-" His thoughts racing, he started to pace. "What about the others? Do you think…" He stopped. "We have to tell your brother."
"Why should we?" Genji retorted bitterly. "It's not like this lets him off the hook for selling us out." There was a lot to unpack there. This wasn't a grudge that had come out of nowhere, and Jesse wasn't a therapist. He wasn't equipped to deal with this, but he'd been doing pretty good with dragons, curses, and talking suits of armor so far. Plus, if he didn't step up to the plate for these people, who would?
Also, something about the way Hanzo had held himself in their most recent interaction made Jesse feel as though they were running out of time. With a noise of frustration, he ran his fingers roughly through his unkempt hair, "What I'm saying is maybe he didn't…" In the end, he couldn't get the words out. How was he supposed to stand in front of the one who'd suffered most from Hanzo's actions and tell him he didn't think his brother was that bad of a person? Even knowing how ridiculous it all was, though, he just couldn't bring himself to put this craziness behind him. It wasn't in his nature. "Look, you can stay here if you want, but I'm gonna tell him." And with that, the cowboy turned his back on the snow, the fog, the possibility of seeing his family again that the window to the outside presented, and strode further into the depths of the castle to find Hanzo.
Genji let him get as far as the kitchen door before groaning, "Fine. I will join you." Jesse started upon hearing the words come from his side, then spun to find an insufferably smug grin waiting for him as Genji effortlessly kept pace. "But only because I want to see the look on his face when he sees I have been returned to my handsome human form."
"Humble, aren't ya?" Jesse muttered. The kitchen was empty, of course. Not like Hanzo could have stayed sulking in the same spot he'd left him in. McCrees were known for their rotten luck. Had the circumstances had been a little less serious, Jesse might have been proud to know he was continuing the family tradition. "You must have been a hit with the ladies."
His mouth quirked at the corner on one side, Genji lifted one of his shoulders in an offhand shrug, "It's kind of what got us into this mess."
They were running up the staircase now, the portraits and painting and murals a blur as they sprinted past. The closer they got to the highest level, the more the layers of Genji's nonchalant facade seemed to strip away. His brow furrowed, his lips curved downward in a prominent frown, and by the time they were racing up their last flight of stairs, he was outstripping McCree by ten steps.
When he reached the final floor, Genji poured on the speed, racing down the hallway without care for who heard or saw. There was no one left in the castle to chastise them now. The ghosts of their past were long gone, with only their likenesses remaining. Still, Genji could feel the stares of his aunts and uncle boring into his back as he slammed his fists on his brother's door, demanding he let them inside. An ear-splitting roar, undulating and guttural, shook the locked door in its frame.
The hall seemed to shrink behind him, closing in. By the time Jesse had caught up, Genji was already attempting to kick it down by slamming his foot near the keyhole repeatedly, cursing loudly with each exhale. On the third try, the bolt was torn from the aged molding, and ignoring Jesse's cry that he wait, Genji rushed inside.
When Jesse shoved his way in after him, it was to see Genji standing frozen in front of the snarling, drooling jaws of a feral dragon. There was no trace of humanity in the golden irises that held his gaze, their pull almost hypnotic, as the dragon raised its head, its long neck stretching towards the ceiling as a long hiss, like that of steam escaping, spilled from its throat. His mental facilities temporarily short-circuited, Genji stared up at the beast in terror. "Anija?"
He reached slowly up to the dragon's snout, his hand trembling. Its nostrils flared, huffing at the scent of his palm, and it shook its head, pupils expanding and shrinking in turns, then settling on needle-thin slits.
Jesse barely managed to snatch Genji away from its snapping jaws in time. His breaths left him in bursts, his heart clogging his throat as he clutched Genji by the shoulders, keeping him near in case he decided to try some fool stunt like that again. "Little close there, buddy."
Too shocked to respond at first, Genji gave his head a hard shake, then gripping Jesse's wrist, said, "We have to find the enchantress." Meanwhile, the dragon appeared to have dismissed them. It settled down, its gaze glassy and unfocused. "Make her undo this."
"Oh?" A woman stepped out from behind the dragon, her mouth quirked in amusement. "And you were so eager to trade places." It was the lady from Viskar, though her bearing was different now, more languid and confident than when they'd run into each other in the village.
Shrugging off Jesse's grip on him, Genji marched up to the enchantress with a snarl, "You were spying on us?"
She wasn't fazed. "I had to be sure your brother kept to his side of the bargain. He was only allowed to say goodbye, after all. Anything else would violate the terms of our deal."
"How can I turn him back?" Genji blurred into motion, shoving the enchantress against the wall by her throat. "Tell me!"
For a moment, she appeared merely annoyed. Then she stepped forward, passing through him until she stood at his back. "I have already done everything I can to help you," she informed him imperiously, the bindi affixed to her forehead glittering as her eyes gained an unnatural radiance from within. "The rest is in your hands."
Jesse stepped forward to flank Genji's side with a genial wink, "Don't be forgetting me now." Surprise flitted across her elegant features, followed by a hint of quiet approval. Starting from the center of her chest, her form began to turn into blue-white light. When only a silhouette remained, the dragon's tail whipped forward, splitting her through the middle, scattering floating orbs throughout the room that sank slowly through the floorboards.
Genji looked murderously at where they'd touched, as though he were of half a mind to start prying off the planks to piece her back together himself, but before he could get the chance, the door was kicked open, and the man Jesse most wanted to see walked into the place he'd least wanted to see him in.
"Jesse," Reyes growled, the barrels of his rifles trained unflinchingly on the thirty-foot dragon raising its hackles at the sight of him, "back away from it slowly." The bottom of one of his pants pockets began to turn molten yellow, the fabric melting inward, and a stone sank through, falling to the floor with a dull thud. Its shattered surface was cool, and in the lull the distraction caused, Genji darted forward to snatch it up.
The quick movement turned out to be the final straw. First, Jesse was picked up and tossed onto the dragon's back, where he promptly scrambled to find his bearings by knotting his hands through its mane, then the dragon plucked Genji off the ground by his collar. "No, anija! Don't –" Ignoring his flailing, the dragon braced its claws against the window. Jesse gulped, squeezing his thighs around Hanzo's torso at the same time Genji called out in a panic, "You better not drop me!"
The dragon reared, thrusting its forepaws against the wall with the full weight of its body once, twice, and on the third, the wall around the window crumbled, leaving an opening wide enough for the dragon and its passengers to slip through. The sound was loud enough that Jesse nearly missed the discharge of Reye's rifle. He twisted around just as the dragon climbed outside, its claws clinging to the castle while it pulled their combined weight to the rooftop. What he saw made something hard and cold drop to the bottom of his stomach. There were rivulets of crimson streaming from the dragon's hind legs, dropping down to the snow below and draping the castle sides like scarlet curtains.
The dragon nearly lost purchase once, slipping on its own blood, but hooked onto a rafter with its fangs to hold them until its claws could dig deep enough into the tiles and beams that it could pull itself onto the roof without crushing the very fragile humans it carried. Once Hanzo found a corner that would cradle his mass, he curled his tail around it, then gently placed Genji down while Jesse attempted to untangle his limbs from his mane.
The dragon looked at them listlessly, its breathing beginning to slow.
Genji turned wide, frightened eyes on McCree. "What do I have to do? How do we save him?!"
"Jesse!" came a shout from below. The cowboy looked over the edge to see Reyes was following Hanzo's path up the side of the castle, his hands stretching for something to hold on to. "Don't go anywhere, mijo. I'm coming for you!"
"No, don't do that!" Jesse glanced at Genji, who had ripped off his haori and was desperately pressing the white cloth against the dragon's scaled thighs in an attempt to staunch the flow. So far as Jesse could tell, it was too little too late. He managed to say through gritted teeth, "I'm perfectly fine. Just… go back into the castle. This isn't a good place for you to be right now."
Still clinging to the wall by his fingers, Reyes looked up at him with patented exasperation. "What nonsense are you spouting?"
Genji carefully placed his palm upon the dragon's back. "It's me, anija. Do you remember me?" The dragon opened its eyes, responding to the sound of his voice. Its gaze roved over his human form, then a cool snout bumped forward to brush his cheek and hair with its nose, ruffling the strands with hot air and drawing out a wet, strangled chuckle. "I am sorry about what I said before. I hope you do not blame me for doubting you." With a huff, the dragon lowered its head heavily onto its forepaws, its lids falling closed as Genji continued moving his hands up and down its scales in soothing patterns. "I should have known you would have some ridiculous trick up your sleeve. After all, you have always done everything you could to protect me, whether I wanted you to or not." His fingers curled into fists around the bloodied haori. "When you're feeling better, we will find the enchantress again. We will make her turn you back." The rise and fall of the dragon's chest, already labored, became shallow, then almost imperceptible. It was a bad time for Reyes to heft himself up onto the roof.
When he spotted him, Genji adjusted his stance to block his path to Hanzo. "You," he snarled, "are a dead man." He would have been on Reyes in a blink if Jesse hadn't stepped in front, his expression unhappy yet resolute.
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that." If it came down to a fight, Jesse had a revolver he wouldn't use, Genji had his bare hands, which he would definitely use, and Reyes…
Reyes was instinctively putting distance between himself and the dragon, distance that wasn't available on a now structurally unstable roof. One of the tiles underneath his feet came loose, throwing off his balance, and both he and it fell over the side.
Before Jesse could do more than reach for him, the dragon's eyes snapped open. Its body twisted to dive over the edge after him. Suddenly, the dragon's tail went taut. Jesse held his breath, and then released it when a series of profanities streaming up from over the side let him know that Reyes was okay.
After maneuvering them both back onto the roof with some difficulty, Hanzo released Reyes' jacket from his jaws, dropping him gracelessly onto the tiles, then curled up and let his eyes fall shut once more. While Jesse made sure Gabe was okay, Genji dug the broken stone from his pocket, and with it in his fist, wrapped his arms around the dragon's neck. Gripping it tightly, he rested his forehead against his brother's scales for the first and final time, and said three words he'd never thought he'd say, " I forgive you."
An aura appeared around the jewel, radiating warmth in waves. The snow melted at their feet, sloughing off the roof, and spread from there. By the gates, a crowd of people stood. Some of them stared at their surroundings in confusion, as spring returned at last to the once forgotten Shimada estate, while others looked delighted. Those, Jesse realized, were people he knew. Standing side by side with Reinhardt was Ana Amari, the woman who'd taught him how to shoot, the best sniper he'd ever met, and Fareeha's mother. In his arms was Brigitte, who he swung around, armor and all, while Torbjourn gave a hearty chortle at the sight. A figure came sprinting out of the woods, leaping into Ana's arms with a cry that Jesse couldn't make out but somehow knew in his heart. A second figure with neon purple streaks in her hair followed, remaining uncomfortably on the sidelines until Ana reached out a hand to invite her in. When Sombra took hold of it, she was yanked into the hug, only for Reinhardt to wrap his arms around the clustered trio and Brigitte, lifting them all up with a grin so big and happy they could see it clearly from the roof.
Reyes followed his gaze, darting from one person to another with increasing disbelief as his memories slowly returned. "Ana? Reinhardt? Torbjourn? Brigitte?" When a blond-haired soldier caught his eye, a tear trailed down his cheek. "Jack." He chuckled under his breath. "I finally found you."
The jewel passed through the dragon's scales and into its chest, becoming whole once more as the cracks in its surface were filled with light. A ripple swept from the dragon's snout to its tail, scales flaked off the creature, until all that was left, resting in his brother's arms amongst the broken tiles and newborn buds of flowers grown in the melted snow, was Hanzo.
He was somehow younger and frailer in appearance this time, as though he'd been given a second chance. Dressed in a midnight blue kimono with a dragon printed on its sleeve, his jaw was clean shaven, with cheekbones starkly defined against ghostly pale skin and sickly bruises under his dark eyes. None of those cursed had aged, or so it would seem, but inactivity and starvation had weakened the eldest Shimada son, nonetheless, though that didn't stop Genji from nearly squeezing the life out of him once Hanzo was lucid enough to form a coherent sentence.
Grinning widely at nothing in particular, Jesse tugged his hat down to give the brothers and Gabe a little privacy, then moseyed over to the edge where a dragon had carried him up a castle not fifteen minutes ago, because as happy as he was for everyone, what he really wanted was to have his boots on solid ground again.
"I can't believe we missed all the action," Sombra grumbled for the hundredth time as they made their way back to the village. Fareeha was up ahead chatting amiably with her mother and Reinhardt, looking happier than Jesse had ever seen her, while Reyes made awkward attempts at rekindling his former romance with Jack, who was equally awkward and clueless in his attempts at reciprocating. Meanwhile, Genji was jogging at the head of the group, having rushed to the front when he'd sniffed sweet pastries on the breeze since, in his own words, "I have not eaten anything of substance in ten whole years! I want taiyaki."
There hadn't been any sign of Satya from Vishkar or the enchantress since they ran into her in Hanzo's room, which was probably for the best. Her attempts at teaching the Shimadas a lesson had ended up causing quite a few innocent people a lot of pain. Needless to say that Jesse wasn't feeling too keen on seeing her again, no matter how well things had turned out for them in the end.
"I'll tell you what," always up for a deal, Sombra cupped a palm around her ear. There was a delicate pink petal sticking out of her hair that Jesse plucked out with a smirk, "the next time I stumble into a cursed castle, I'll be sure to bring you two along with me."
She placed her fists on her hips with a huff. "Oh, you better, hermano." In one hand she held a stack of papers, which she waved around impatiently, nearly catching Jesse on the chin. "And what am I supposed to do with this list of bounties Fareeha and I cooked up while we were trying to find you?" It sure would be nice if she lowered her voice a little. The locals were starting to stare. She tossed the papers at him, letting him instinctively catch it, before pivoting on her heel and walking away with a flippant wave. "And don't forget you still owe me something pretty! The Shimada doesn't count." The documents were written in a relatively small typed font that somehow filled up the page. So those were all the bounties within driving distance, then. Interesting.
Glancing at Hanzo, Jesse gave the impressive stack a little shake with a flick of his wrist, "Been a while since you stretched your legs, right? How do you feel about getting to know each other a little better?"
Hanzo looked at the collection of names and addresses in his hand, then at the cowboy. Though the halls of Shimada castle was empty but for its ghosts, he knew he would come back to them eventually. The estate, the name, and the clan, diminished though it was, would always be a part of him. However, Hanamura had thrived during the years the Shimada-gumi had been forgotten, and Genji would most likely not return to help him rebuild what had been lost. Not right away, at least.
A decade was too long to spend trapped within its walls, and Genji had been trapped there for much longer than that. He deserved a chance to experience the freedom he had sought after his entire life without restraints, and Hanzo needed time to decide for himself what forgiveness meant.
In truth, he already knew his answer, had known it the instant Jesse had made his offer, and with a formal dip of his head, he let the cowboy know it, too.