Chapter Text
Optional playlist for this chapter:
The novelty of waking up in a high-tech, secret base in the middle of the ocean should have worn off, but it hasn’t. The cool metal beneath your feet, the distant hum of machinery—it’s becoming familiar in a way that makes you uneasy. Because no matter how much you poke, prod, or push, the world doesn’t crack. No glitching out. No sudden game-over screen.
Maybe this is your life now.
A soft, familiar meow pulls you from your thoughts.
Tokki stretches out on your bed, her fluffy white fur gleaming under the soft morning lights. You smile, leaning down to scratch behind her ears as she purrs like an engine.
“Guess you’re settling in too, huh?” you murmur, your fingers brushing through her fur. “Not bad, I guess. No weird bugs or glitches. But still…”
You trail off, half-expecting her to respond. At this point, you wouldn’t even be surprised if she did.
The door chimes softly, and you glance up as it slides open.
“Morning, superstar.”
It’s Hana. Of course it’s Hana. She leans against the doorframe, dressed in an oversized hoodie and a pair of sleek, fitted shorts. Her hair’s tied up in a messy ponytail, and despite how early it is, she looks effortlessly put-together.
“Uh, hey,” you say, sitting up straighter. You suddenly feel aware of how… casual you are—still in your sleep shirt and shorts. Not exactly fashion-forward.
Hana grins, her eyes flicking toward Tokki. “Thought I’d check in. You still talking to your cat?”
You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “She’s the best listener around here.”
“Lucky cat,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. She moves easily through your space—too easily—and plops herself down at your desk, spinning in the chair. “I would’ve come sooner, but Dae-Hyun was working overtime on your ride.”
Your heart skips. “Wait—you mean it’s done?” She nods.
"Already? Damn, that was fast."
"Hey, I told you—he’s a genius when you give him a challenge." She flashed you a playful grin. "Besides, I couldn’t exactly let my… student wait too long, right?"
The way she emphasized the word sent a little jolt through you.
"You’re really taking this mentor thing seriously, huh?" You tried to keep your voice casual, but she caught the flicker of something deeper beneath the words.
Hana tilted her head, her expression softening. "Well… yeah. I mean, it’s kind of nice, y’know? Having someone around who gets it."
The air in the room grew a little heavier, but not in a bad way. She was being sincere—something you didn’t always see beneath her snarky exterior. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The hum of the base and the distant call of seabirds filled the silence.
Tokki, ever the attention-seeker, stretched out and nudged her head against Hana’s leg, breaking the tension.
Hana laughed quietly. "Guess she likes me more than you now."
"Traitor," you muttered, flicking Tokki’s tail gently before turning back to her. "Alright—where is it? The MEKA."
"Hangar bay. C’mon—I wanna see your reaction when you try it out." She hopped to her feet, holding out a hand. "Let’s go before Dae-hyun decides to add something weird to it."
“You’re kind of the best,” you admit, pushing off the bed and heading to your dresser. You hesitate for a moment before realizing what she said, glancing her way. “Uh—unless you wanted me to stay in my pajamas all day?”
Hana’s eyes flick up to meet yours, and for a moment, something shifts in her expression. She leans back in the chair, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “Depends. You pull it off pretty well.”
You freeze mid-motion, warmth creeping up your neck. Did she just—?
“Relax, (Y/n),” she laughs, standing up and tossing you a jacket from your closet. “Get dressed. Let’s see what Dae-Hyun cooked up for you.”
____________
The garage is buzzing with life when you arrive. Sparks fly as engineers tinker with advanced tech, the air thick with the smell of oil and fresh paint. Dae-Hyun stands near the center, wiping grease off his hands, his face lighting up when he spots you.
Wow…That 2 hours flight to Busan did NOT disappoint. You think to yourself, half expecting the garage to be less impressive.
“Ah, there you are!” he calls out. “Took me a few late nights, but she’s ready.”
And there it is.
Your MEKA.
“So i tried to stay true to your requests. Sleek and imposing, the frame is a perfect fusion of D.Va’s mobility with your unique twist. The hitscan rifles gleam along the arms, but a subtle adjustment allows for a shockgun mode, delivering close-range power when things get heated. But the real marvel?”
“It runs on water.” He says it as if he’s practiced saying it multiple times before.
Hana whistles low beside you. “Damn. You really went all out.”
“Had to,” Dae-Hyun says, grinning. “You’re running with one of the best, after all.”
You step closer, running your fingers along the smooth metal. There’s a thrill that coils tight in your chest—this is yours. A piece of you.
“You wanna take her for a spin?” Hana nudges you with her elbow, her voice playful.
“As if you even have to ask.”
__
The cockpit is snug, but familiar. You lay flat on your stomach as the systems hum to life around you. Screens flicker, displaying a holographic interface, and your fingers twitch against the controls. A cute cat pops on the screen, reading out instructions. Surprisingly, the screen reads in old Baybayin:
(“Kamusta. Ako si Diwa. Para makapagsimula, i-double tap ang kaliwang joycon. tatlong beses na tap para sa Mga Setting. para sa musika, tapikin ang pindutan sa iyong tabi. Sabihin "patugtugin ang playlist ni Hana." Para lumabas, hilahin ang lever na ginamit mo para pumasok.”)
“Alright,” Hana’s voice crackles through the comms. “Show me what you’ve got.”
You push forward, and the MEKA moves like an extension of your body. Fluid. Responsive. Fast. The hitscan mode tears through the practice dummies, while a quick toggle switches to the shockgun, blasting targets at close range with devastating precision.
You’re breathless by the time you finish the trial run, sliding out of the cockpit as Hana claps, her grin wide.
“You’re a natural,” she says. “Maybe you’re not just lucky after all.”
“Oh please, Song. Since when have I ever needed luck?” You say, a wide smile on your face.
___
“You’re serious?” you blink at Hana as you follow her into the common area.
“What? You need clothes, and I’m busy prepping for the concert,” she says with an exaggerated shrug. “Besides, you’ll survive a few hours with Hanzo.”
You’re still processing the information when the man himself strolls up, adjusting the cuff of his tailored black jacket with a lazy smirk. “Heard you needed a shopping buddy. Lucky for you, I’ve got style to spare.”
“Okay then…” you mutter, already feeling a twinge of regret.
“Relax,” Hana chimes in, giving you a playful nudge. “Hanzo’s not that scary. Most of the time.”
“I am standing right here,” he deadpans, raising an eyebrow at her.
Hana just grins, throwing a peace sign before turning to leave. “Have fun, you two~!”
As she disappears down the hallway, you glance at Hanzo, who gestures toward the exit with a slight tilt of his head. “Shall we?”
You sigh, falling into step beside him. "Guess I don't really have a choice."
“Smart observation,” he muses, and you swear you catch the faintest trace of amusement in his tone.
The ride to the city is surprisingly smooth—thanks to Overwatch’s private transport. Gibraltar’s crisp coastal winds are soon replaced by the sleek cityscape of Barcelona. Towering glass buildings gleam in the sunlight, and the streets pulse with energy. Luxury stores line the avenues, their displays gleaming with the promise of outfits you’re sure cost more than your entire wardrobe combined.
“So, any particular style you’re aiming for?” Hanzo asks as the transport glides to a stop.
You blink, caught off guard by the question. “Uh… something that won’t make me look like a total idiot?”
“A low bar,” he remarks dryly, stepping out of the vehicle.
You roll your eyes but follow him onto the bustling sidewalk. He moves with the kind of quiet confidence that stands out without even trying. You, on the other hand, feel a little out of place next to someone who looks like he walked off the cover of a fashion magazine.
The first stop is an elegant designer boutique, the kind where the lighting is soft, and everything smells faintly like expensive leather. Hanzo walks in like he owns the place, nodding at the attendant who immediately starts pulling pieces from the racks.
“You seem… weirdly good at this,” you note, watching as he inspects a sleek black jacket.
“I travel often,” he replies simply, holding the jacket against you for a second before shaking his head. “Besides, appearances matter.”
“Right. Gotta make sure you’re the most intimidating guy in the room,” you tease, grabbing a hoodie off the rack. “Gotta keep the brooding aesthetic alive.”
To your surprise, Hanzo huffs out a soft laugh. “If I wanted to intimidate you, you would know.”
“Noted,” you say, though the warmth in your chest betrays the effect his amusement has on you.
He hands you a few options—A sleek grey jean jacket, some super stylish ripped jeans, among other things—and gestures toward the fitting rooms. “Try these.”
You disappear behind the curtain, exchanging your usual casual wear for the first ensemble. As you step out, Hanzo’s gaze sweeps over you, head tilting slightly.
“Not bad,” he admits, stepping closer to adjust the collar. His fingers brush your collarbone briefly, and you try not to let the touch linger in your thoughts. “It fits well.”
You clear your throat, stepping back to avoid any accidental heart palpitations. “Didn’t realize you moonlighted as a stylist.”
“Someone has to keep standards from slipping,” he retorts, his tone teasing.
You could’ve sworn you saw a smirk sweep across his face.
Over the next hour, you drift through more stores. Hanzo critiques every outfit with an almost unnerving precision. For someone who projects an air of detached calm, he certainly has opinions about fashion. But beneath his sharp remarks, you catch glimpses of something softer—little moments where his mask slips.
Like when you try on a ridiculous, rhinestone-covered jacket.
“If you wear that,” he says flatly, “I swear to God, I will leave you here.”
“AYY, but it’s so blingy, ” you argue, striking a dramatic pose.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “No. Just…no.”
You laugh, shaking your head as you set the jacket back. “Alright, alright. No glitter.”
Despite the ribbing, you’re having more fun than you expected. It took you a hot minute to realize—but Hanzo isn’t as cold as he seems. Judging from the fact that he never got into that tussle with Genji, he seems a bit less brooding than how the game portrayed him.
--------
By the third store, things slow down. Hanzo leans against a sleek display case while you browse through another rack of designer clothes. His usual sharpness seems to soften into something almost casual.
“Why the concert?” he asks suddenly, cutting through the comfortable silence.
You glance up, surprised by the question. “Hana’s idea. She won tickets from some tournaments. Only reason we could go was because she convinced commander Morrison. Something about wooing him with keeping up appearances for Overwatch’s image.”
“And you simply go along with whatever she suggests?” There’s a flicker of curiosity in his voice.
You shrug. “It’s easier than arguing with her. Besides… it’s kinda fun, having something normal to do.”
He considers that, his expression thoughtful. “Normal is… rare for people like us.”
You pause at the weight behind his words. “What about you?” you ask, leaning against the rack. “Do you ever do anything normal ?”
He chuckles softly. “Define ‘normal.’”
“I don’t know. Go out? Date? Watch dramas?~”
Hanzo raises an eyebrow. “You think I watch that trash ?”
“I think you secretly enjoy it,” you grin.
The corner of his mouth twitches in a half-smile. “I’ll admit nothing.”
The conversation lingers in the air, and before you can stop yourself, you ask, “So… what about dating? You got a secret love life you’re hiding?”
His head tilts slightly, but he doesn’t seem fazed by the question. “No secrets. Relationships are… complicated.”
“That’s a very… .vague answer, don’t ya think” you tease, though your heart thuds a little harder.
He exhales softly, folding his arms across his chest. “Being close to people means offering them a target. I learned long ago that attachment comes with risks.”
His words hang heavy for a moment, and you wonder just how much of himself he’s showing you right now.
“Sounds kinda lonely,” you say quietly.
A silence stretches between you before he answers. “Perhaps.”
You shift your weight, the playful tone slipping from your voice. “For what it’s worth… you’re not that intimidating. Not to me, anyway.”
He looks at you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, surprisingly, he smiles—a soft, genuine smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The tension lightens again as you nudge his arm playfully. “You better, Spider monkey. ”
He quickly frowns. “Don’t ever make a Twilight reference again .”
Oh…so he IS cultured!! You think to yourself.
As you both walk off to go to the dropship, and you hear him mumble something under his breath.
“What was that?”
“I said…It is just that sometimes, I swear you’ve been around longer than I.”
Dude….you have no idea.