Ye Anran and Mizuki Kawano walk into the tigers den.
Word count: 11,006
Warnings: lot of hurt-some comfort (at the end), character death, parental abuse, burning to death, detailed gore, implied past S/H at the end, no proof reader we die like Mizuki's parents
Ship(s): Anran x Mizuki
A/N: ITS FINALLY DONE AHHH ITS FINALLY DONE. falling to my knees. Eat up my fellow Mizuran/Anuki fans. You deserve the world!!!!! I was going to make a silly gif image for this but I'm literally about to walk into work rn as I post this and i'm impatient.
I genuinely hope you guys enjoy my self-indulgence cuz theu lowkey trauma bonding rn
Mizuki Kawano
Tokyo, Japan
November 15th, 2077
0430 hours
A faded reflection of Mizuki stared back at him as he gazed across the train car. Tired eyes hid under the brim of a baseball cap, frantically glancing back and forth as he sat cross-armed. A prickling sensation rose up every vertebrae the faster the bullet train sailed towards Tokyo. The city’s bright, congenial lights made Mizuki’s mouth water as his vision spun. There was little comfort on the train. The seats were stiff, the air was frigid, and the few people that rode in the car only made Mizuki scrutinize every little movement they made.
Anyone could be Hashimoto the closer you were to the capital. Any one of them could have orders to hunt him down. Cage him. Break his legs. Slit his throat. Whatever Shion ordered after that dreadful rescue mission months earlier.
The only thing of comfort found in this suffocating car was the weight that leaned against his shoulder. Anran napped soundly, head resting against him as her legs sat on a large duffle bag. The fire that seemingly powered her body lended what little heat it could to his chilled frame, but what could possibly help him in this situation? Burning Hashimoto’s headquarters to the ground couldn’t even provide that for his cursed soul. And he was about to do just that.
Districts rolled by minute after minute. Everyday workers, delinquents, drunks, and all other walks of life boarded the train, and stepped off when their stop had come. The sun had yet to rise over the concrete jungles of Japan, when the train jostled just enough on a turn to shift Anran out of her slumber. She groaned, squinting as she pressed her face into Mizuki’s jacket.
“Are we there yet?” She asked.
“Just another fifteen minutes.”
Gods above he was going to puke.
Anran sighed heavily before sitting upright. The weight lifted off Mizuki’s aching shoulder, leaving him a little colder. Anran brushed her hair from her eyes, humming.
“You look like you haven't slept.”
Mizuki shook his head. Despite being awake for over twenty-four hours by now, he couldn't shake the feeling of the spirits sitting on his chest. If he fell asleep, would he ever wake up? He needed to stay awake, if just a few hours longer to get this sin done with.
Anran never replied to his admission, but her eyes showed displeasure in it. She leaned back into her seat, spreading her legs as she always did, watching as bright buildings and ads passed by.
Hashimoto were bound to be everywhere now. They were inside the walls of their imaginary territory. Buildings became familiar for the split second he got to see them before they vanished into irrelevance to his and Anran's story. This was where his stomping grounds were confined to. Yet, he's seen too much of the world. He's seen these streets for what they really are. He’s seen his actions for what they were.
Mizuki broke from his thoughts as Anran rubbed circles into his hand with her thumbs. He didn't notice his leg had started bouncing.
“Sorry-”
“Don't.”
Mizuki blinked at her.
“I get it Mizuki… I can't even begin to imagine what you're thinking…”
Mizuki looked away from her gaze. He wished he could tell her everything. If only he wasn't so weak. If only he had been stronger for his father all those years ago, smart enough to find a way out. But what was a cursed man and his cursed son, with their cursed blood supposed to do? He would have never survived if Shion didn’t take him in under her wing.
Mizuki’s cybernetic hand sent phantom pains throughout his body. He shifted slightly into Anran, trying to find that comfort in her weight once more. Anran didn’t move away. Instead, she took her place on his shoulder. Despite being much taller than he, she always managed to squeeze her way around him.
Ye Anran
Tokyo, Japan
November 15th, 2077
0510 hours
The duffle bag made a loud thump as it hit the concrete. Anran crouched beside it, digging through its carefully packed contents. First was Mizuki’s uniform, which she had neatly folded atop his hat box. Anran lifted the clothes, thick and almost rubbery. He took it, eyes darting to-and-fro down both ends of the alleyway. He didn’t waste time to strip his layers of casual clothing to suit up. She quickly looked away. Though, it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him naked before. Anran chuckled despite her body holding itself together before she fell into a pile of nerves.
She stripped herself of her low profile clothing, skin prickling at the chill in the early winter air. She pulled her uniform from the bag, slipping it on quickly and melting into its natural heat. Just as she shuffled her shorts on, Mizuki appeared next to her, hand on her shoulder.
“You ready?” His brow was pinched, uncertainty lacing his gaze.
“There’s still time to call it quits, Mizu,” Anran stated gently.
“I have to do this, Anran. I can’t run now,” Mizuki picked up the hat box in the bag, zipping it open to reveal his kasa. He lifted it delicately onto his head.
Anran shifted her weight, reaching for a wrapped bundle of cloth at the bottom of the bag. Inside were her fans, folded neatly next to Mizuki’s kusarigama. She gingerly handed him his weapon, and dropped the cloth as she took both fans into her hands.
“Lead the way. I’ll be right with you,” Anran prompted.
Mizuki nodded towards the end of the alley, and began making his way over. Anran followed close behind, trying to repeat her teacher’s words to ease her thoughts as she looked up into the world above. Blocking out the sky was a towering building, lights illuminating through hundreds of windows. And almost as if it was looking down upon Anran, the head of a tiger glowed like a star above it all.
“We’ll go through the theater first. It’s the most combustible part of the bottom floor,” Mizuki stated, climbing over a half wall and landing smoothly in a patch of grass. He turned, throwing out a blade from his kusarigama. The blade sliced through a camera just out of view, sparks sputtering out as it clattered to the concrete.
Anran climbed the wall, watching his six as he approached an access door. He stuck a blade into the locking mechanism, pulling the electronics out and messing with a few wires that he pulled out. The door slid open after some time, and Mizuki slipped inside like a ghost. Anran took one last look, and stepped carefully inside. It was dark where they had entered, nothing illuminating the hall other than emergency floor lights, and the glow of Mizuki’s hat, kusarigama, and her own uniform and fans.
“Stop,” Mizuki ordered. Anran did so, stopping right at his flank.
Mizuki leered around a corner at the end of the hall. He reared his kusarigama, thrusting another blade to an unseen camera. He gave a thumbs up, and they continued. Anran held her breath, listening carefully as the sound of distant chatter caught her attention.
“Security at the entrance,” he whispered. “Ignore them. Just be careful.”
Anran gave a short nod, narrowing her stance as they entered the entry room of the theater. Warm lights shone overhead, casting dark shadows as they moved. Mizuki slipped into another room to his left, and opened a curtain just enough to peek through to overlook the main theater room. Anran looked over his shoulder. There were a few rows of cushions on the floor, and at the bottom sat the kabuki stage. Not much remained from the set of the play that was showing the night before, but just enough remained to reach close to the ceiling.
“Just behind the stage, there's a hall that leads to the lobby. That's the entrance into Hashimoto’s headquarters. There will be an elevator, but once more floors start burning, we’ll have to take the stairs,” Mizuki explained. “If we just set the first half floors ablaze, this place will crumble.”
“Sounds good to me,” Anran smiled.
Mizuki gave her an unseen smile from behind his mask as stepped out into the audience seating. He rummaged in a small bag at his side, and pulled out a small paper wrapped ball that twisted at the end. Mizuki tossed it onto the stage as they quietly moved past. Anran raised her fan, and shot fire at the small bundle. Immediately, the smoke bomb popped from the gunpowder inside igniting, sending droplets of fire across the wooden floor. Anran turned away as they were swallowed by the dark hall behind the stage. Lights embedded in the wall shone like the morning sun through blinds, sending imposing shadows across the length of the hall leading to a set of open doorways.
Mizuki stopped just short of the first door, straining to listen to who waited just beyond. In quick succession, he dashed inside, throwing a blade from his kusarigama into the head of a Hashimoto guard that stood at the desk behind the wall. Anran ran inside as a second guard jumped over the counter to charge Mizuki, but she was faster. Folding up her fan, the edges turned into a blade that sliced open the guard's throat. Crimson sprayed from his arteries onto the stone floor, and his body crumbled in quick succession.
“At least he can’t scream,” Anran thought with a shiver. The screaming never made work with Overwatch any easier.
The two approached the elevator that dawned the imagery of a tigers head. Watching them, Mizuki used a keycard he snatched from one of the guards to activate the elevator. With almost thirty levels, their job held a lot in store, but they couldn’t be slow with it. Ten minutes. That's all he gave. Ten minutes, roughly fifteen floors. The first few would be larger and take more time. But the further up the tower they went, the smaller the floors would become, and where they would make a run for it through the building's second fire escape.
The door closed on the lobby and the two bodies they left behind. The couple stood silently, eyes staring at the counter above the doors as it left the ground floor. Anran’s heart began to pound in her ears as a ringing echoed from deep in her thoughts. How many people were going to die today?
The elevator jolted to a stop, and as the doors opened, a cloud of smoke consumed Mizuki. He rushed forward, tossing one small package of gunpowder to the floor as he ran. Anran’s shoes burst into flames as she dashed along Mizuki’s path. She lit the gunpowder along the way with her fans or allowed the flames that pushed her forward to do the job. Tiny pops echoed behind her at first, but soon, large swaths of flames lapped at the office floor’s ceiling once the two made it to the second elevator.
“One minute, fifteen seconds,” Anran declared.
“Let's get it to a minute and five,” Mizuki added.
While they saw nobody on the first floor, the moment the second floor was revealed to them, a few guards snapped their attention onto them. Anran launched herself at them, a blast of flames erupting from her fans that caught their clothes on fire. They all screamed at once, some dropping to the floor, the others trying to smother it with their hands. Anran cringed internally, but dashed forward as Mizuki did, continuing their goal as planned. More packets of powder. More flames. Fire alarms began to blare after they stepped onto yet another elevator.
“A minute and three,” Anran said.
“We’ll make it,” Mizuki reassured. “We’ll make it.
The next floors were much the same. Powder, light, burn, move up. Kill a guard. Kill a grunt. Watch them scream as they burn to death. Mizuki got called out by a few of them every now and then, and while they gunned for their traitorous Mizuki, Anran left bodies in her wake.
“A minute.”
“Fifty-four seconds.”
“Forty-nine seconds”
“Forty seconds.”
By floor seven, Anran had lost count of the Hashimoto bodies they both left to be consumed by the flames. Also by then, the elevators had shut down due to the heat down in the lower floors melting away the electronics and cables.
Anran took a quick look outside the windows, spotting a crowd beginning to gather at the train station from across the block.
“The stairs, Anran!” Mizuki called from a door. He was visibly sweating.
Anran rushed ahead of Mizuki, running up the stairs. She yelped suddenly as a flurry of bullets rained down from above.
A man yelled in Japanese before shooting another storm of bullets down upon them. Mizuki grabbed Anran, blocking her with his body as he lashed his chain up at the man shooting them. It whirled around the man’s arm, and Mizuki pulled the chain with his own weight. The man yelled as he went over the railing, falling down the fire escape and hitting his neck and limbs all the way down. Mizuki dragged Anran along by her wrist until the next floor, finally letting her go when he kicked down the eighth floor’s door.
Hashimoto foot soldiers met them face to face, over a dozen of them with Talon’s weaponry in hand. Anran startled just as one shot. She ducked behind the wall, but cringed as a searing pain bloomed in her arm.
“Anran!” Mizuki gasped.
“I’m fine! I’m fine-” she flinched as a storm of bullets fell upon them.
“Go up the stairs, go!” Mizuki ran up the stairs, holding her close to him as he put pressure against the wound in her arm. The soldiers’ heavy foot falls echoed after them as they all tried shoving past each other to get to the intruders. “We need to leave.”
“But-” Anran began, but was quickly silenced with a stern “no.”
“We can’t. Not with you injured. We’ll take the exterior fire escape now. I know exactly how to get to it.”
Mizuki busted the ninth floor’s door down with his shoulder and threw down a handful of the smoke bombs behind Anran. She turned, lighting it. The wood flooring on this floor went up into flames immediately. Almost too quickly as it engulfed the entire doorway.
“Down this hall and take a left,” Mizuki commanded, throwing fewer and fewer smoke bombs along the way. Each one Anran lit ablaze. And each one, Anran felt more and more exhausted. The adrenaline from earlier had begun to wear off.
Turning the corner, Anran ran for the double doors at the end of the hall, the smell of smoke following in her wake as the floor below her feet went up into flames. Mizuki flung them open, grabbing her by the collar and yanking her inside. Anran turned quickly enough to fan the flames behind her into an inferno before Mizuki slammed the doors closed. Nobody could come from that hallway now. They’d be burnt to char before they put a single finger on the handles.
She turned to quickly examine the room they had entered. Weapons decorated the walls like every other room, but at the far end, a desk sat, the image of a looming tiger's head high above. Anran’s skin prickled.
“Is this-”
“Yes, just quickly!” Mizuki interrupted her, pulling the last of the smoke bombs from his bag and throwing them to the sides of the room.
Anran cursed under her breath, shooting flames from her fans at the packets of powder. Instantly, they exploded, sending flames across the ground and walls like pollen on the wind. Flames bellowed from under the entrance doors into the office, reaching for the ceiling as embers quickly lit new fires.
“Those doors. Behind the desk. They lead to the exterior fire escape!” Mizuki yelped as flames lapped at the fabric hovering behind him.
Anran rushed towards the doors, stuffing her fans into her belt, only to dig her heels hard into the ground as the doors opened before her. She didn’t have a second to think as metallic fingers gripped her neck. Anran kicked forward as hard as her burning legs could, but she was spun to face Mizuki, an arm now locking around her neck. She gasped desperately, clawing at the white sleeve of her attacker, but it was iron tight. Mizuki froze in horror just feet away.
The omnic’s free hand gripped Anran’s face, sending shocks of pain throughout Anran’s jaw as it was nearly on the verge of being crushed. She held back a cry, snarling and sneering to stare down the face she knew she would one day meet.
Shion’s optics zoomed on Anran’s face, brow furrowed slightly.
“Lady Shion-” Mizuki choked out.
“Such a pretty face she has! Doesn’t she, obake-kun?” Shion turned to look at Mizuki, mouth unmoving as she smiled. Yet, it dropped as quickly as it appeared, and the arm locking Anran into her chokehold pressed deeper into Anran’s throat. Anran screamed out, struggling harder against the omnic. “It’s much prettier in-person. She even bears her teeth!”
“Let her go!” Mizuki took a step forward, but stopped as the cold barrel of a gun pressed harshly into Anran’s temple.
“Don’t make me ruin such beauty, Mizuki,” Shion warned.
Mixed with the burning oxygen in the air and heat, Anran’s vision began to grow spotted in the corners. Her muscles ached with the fury of wasps, and her legs struggled to hold her own weight, dragging her closer to the floor. All her teachings were drifting away as adrenaline coursed through her veins once more. Every class of self-defense vanished with the smoke, and all that was left were the same thought.
Survive.
“Kill me if you must, but let her leave!”
“Oh, Mizuki, as if you’re stepping foot out of this room anyway,” the gun barrel left Anran’s head, and was turned on the kappa Yōkai.
Anran reached into her belt strap, swinging the fan’s blade upwards into Shion’s face. Electronic screams filled Anran’s ear as she shoved herself away, taking the fan with her. She turned on her heel, gasping for what little air remained in the room to face Shion next to Mizuki.
Shion recovered quickly, managing to parry a blade sent by Mizuki as the man snapped out of his state of fear. Her face plate had been torn by Anran’s blade, exposing layers of mechanical parts. Yet her piercing eyes remained, glancing between Mizuki and Anran as the three circled each other.
Seeing her here in person was a strange feeling. She had heard stories of Shion. Mainly late at night from Mizuki when he awoke from nightmares. But the stories the Yōkai told. It made her skin prickle. She really did look as crazy as she sounded.
With the speed of a flash of lightning, Shion raised both pistols and shot at Mizuki. One after the other, the man was forced to block with his little armor coverage or dodge completely with his shroud. Anran dove in, shooting flames at Shion. Yet they never touched. Shion dodged out of the way, passing Anran and kicked hard into the fourth year student’s stomach. Anran fell to the ground, winded once more as her mind spun. She whipped her head around, unable to focus her gaze, but forced herself to move as Shion rained bullets down on her. She lunged behind the woman’s desk shooting out flames from her fans as she moved.
The room was getting hotter. Fire alarms throughout the building were all blaring at once. She couldn’t focus. Not like this.
“Get off of her!” Mizuki yelled. Anran jumped out from behind cover as the other sent a chain flying for Shion. The chain made contact, wrapping around Shion’s leg and tripping her onto her back. Shion roared with anger, raising a pistol and shot Mizuki’s prosthetic arm clean off.
He cried out in pain from the nerves that connected his cybernetic to his nervous system. He leaned forward, grabbing at the jagged metal just above where his elbow had been seconds before. Shion stood back up, the chain falling to the ground with a loud clatter.
Anran rushed forward, taking a strong stance and kicking Shion in the face before she could react. Flames trailed her legs as she moved, setting Shion on fire for just one second in her exposed electronics. Hopping side-to-side, Anran moved with her fans at the ready.
“I bet mommy and daddy are real proud of that top student title,” Shion sneered. “But it doesn’t mean anything here, girl.”
With inhuman speed, Shion whipped a pistol at Arnan’s head, and while she managed to duck backwards, Shion raised a leg and kicked like a piston into Anran’s knee. The feeling came before the sound ever reached her ears. Pain crippled her to the ground as her leg snapped in the completely wrong direction. Flesh and bone broke through the skin, staining the bamboo floor with her viscera. Anran shouted, curling up on instinct as every single sense was overwhelmed with stimuli. The ringing. The ringing. The ringing.
“Anran!” Mizuki screamed.
Shion glared at him, and with one dash, she grabbed his fleshy arm, and broke it backwards.
He cried out, collapsing to the floor with two useless arms. Anran’s nose flared as she stared down Shion. Her throat was glowing, but whatever she was saying fell on deaf ears. The ringing was too loud.
Anran lunged forward despite the Earth-shattering pain that soared up her leg, knocking Shion to the floor. Her fans scattered into the flames, as did one of Shion’s pistols. One however, clattered to the ground feet away just out of reach for her and the Hashimoto elder. Anran reacted first, using Shion’s body as leverage to push herself forward in a desperate attempt to reach the pistol. Shion kicked at Anran’s broken leg, causing the woman to shriek in pain once more. Anran’s hand landed inches away from the grip of the pistol, and Shion pushed herself upwards to reach for her weapon. Anran gripped at the blazer Shion wore, yanking her back as hard as she could. Shion punched backwards, hitting Anran hard in her jaw.
The taste of iron flooded her tongue, and her vision blurred. She blinked quickly, trying to clear her dazed state. She pulled hard, reaching Shion at head level. Anran snapped her head back, and threw it forward into Shion’s. The omnic’s electrical screams broke through the ringing, reassuring her. She reared back once more, hitting her head against Shion’s once more. Blood pooled down Anran’s forehead, but she gritted her teeth, and for a third and fourth time, she slammed her head into Shion’s.
Shion reeled her arm back, weakly shoving Anran’s face away from her. Shion turned her body, digging her fingers into the floor and dragged herself forward. She watched as the elder felt around until her hand landed on the handle of the pistol.
Shion shoved Anran off of her and knelt to stand, but was dragged as Anran forced her way onto Shion’s back, pulling herself up with the woman. Using her one good leg, she stabilized herself just enough to grip Shion’s wrists, pushing the barrel of the pistol away from her general direction. Shion fought against her, snarling as coolant and sparks sputtered from holes in her chassis and face.
Anran pushed harder, watching as the barrel lowered slowly in the direction of Shion. The other’s eyes dilated, as if in fear. Then, a piercing blow shot from Anran’s gut. Shion kneed Anran as hard as her system’s allowed in this state, sending her stumbling backward onto the floor.
Her head slammed backwards into the bamboo flooring, sending the world spinning. The raging fire consumed the entirety of her vision. A true inferno. She sat up despite the pain. Despite the broken bones in her body. Despite the blood. And faced Shion.
Anran never heard the shot.
Mizuki Kawano
Tokyo, Japan
November 15th, 2077
0525 hours
Mizuki let out a guttural cry as Anran’s corpse collapsed to the floor. Blood had sprayed clean across the ground and onto Mizuki himself, burning bright orange as it reflected the flames that consumed most of the room.
Shion stood over Anran, a single pistol in hand as she stood unmoving. Her white clothes had been stained just as he had, pattering her sleeve crimson.
“Anran!” Mizuki cried, pulling himself forward with his broken arm. “No! NO!”
He desperately held her face with his only arm, eyes searching hers for life, only to find nothing. Her gaze was blank, devoid of the determination he saw every day of her life. Devoid of the love he woke up to in the morning on the rare nights they get to be together. Blood seeped into the flooring, dripping from her nose and the wound in the side of her head.
“Anran!”
“Anran, please!”
“Anran!”
“Anran.”
“Anran, I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry…”
“I’m sorry…”
Mizuki’s words drowned into sobs. Deep, guttural sobs that tore his throat and lungs apart as he held her face. He didn’t notice Shion had moved until she knelt next to his broken body, and lifted him up into her arms. She wrapped her arms as gently as she ever had, holding his head in against her burning hot chest. He wanted to pull away from her. To fight back. To kill her. But his body laid limp into hers, crying as that same orphaned boy he was so many years ago.
“You know there could never have been anybody else who could have ever loved you, obake-kun…” Shion whispered, brushing his hair from his face. “You’re still my cursed little boy… but you’ve bit my hand too many times for me to ever forgive you. This is all your fault, Mizuki. You got her killed here. She’s dead all because of you. Think of her brother, Mizuki.”
Mizuki couldn’t respond, but the images of Wuyang flashed through his mind. Her younger brother without his sister.
What would become of him?
“Before today? I couldn’t stop thinking about the different ways I’d put an end to you and that curse of yours, Mizuki. I wanted to take that other arm of yours and let you bleed out this time. I thought about tying you to cinderblocks and throwing you in a river. I thought of just shooting you dead where you stood.”
She tilted her head, holding Mizuki’s cheeks to look him face to face.
“But I think, letting you burn here, next to her body? That’s the best punishment I could’ve ever given you, obake-kun.”
Mizuki felt her metal lips press against his forehead, allowing him one moment to think. To see clearly for the first time in his life. What of his curse had been caused by the actions of others and not by the stars? Were the gods refusing to listen to him? Or had it all been a breakdown of his psyche since his mother died?
Mizuki’s tearfilled eyes scanned Anran’s face, trying to remember the words she had spoken the night of their first kiss. Of the night he confessed the truth to her about his past affiliation with the Hashimoto and Shion.
“They used you Mizuki… Gangs kill those who don’t repay them. You were their payment.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a well of tears surface despite the pain in his lungs and throat. He was only used. And he denied it then. He denied that his curse must’ve been fake. He needed an explanation. He just never liked the explanation that was the truth.
He opened his eyes again, only to be met with Anran’s gaze. Mizuki froze. Did her eyes move? Anran gasped. The fire in the room dove upon her, lifting her contorted body from the ground.
Shion dropped Mizuki, leaping to her feet in wordless shock. She raised her gun, shooting the blazing inferno, but the bullets only burned to ash upon touching the wall of flames. Anran’s fans clattered off the floor, returning to her hands as the inferno shot out in every direction. Mizuki blocked himself with his broken arm. He let out a cry as the flames scorched his skin, hearing a similar electronic scream from Shion as her body overheated.
Mizuki collapsed backwards, eyes trained as Anran stood before him, covered in blood, leg still contorted in a way that it should never bend. She stared down at Mizuki, face almost expressionless if not for how wide with shock her eyes were.
“Anran…” Mizuki gasped out.
She dashed forward, lifting his body over her shoulders, and turned on a dime. Fire blasted out of her shoes to propel her towards the two exit doors. As they were thrown open, the flames behind them exploded outwards at the introduction of oxygen. Mizuki was burned once more, pressing his face into Anran’s neck to not cry out. He knew this wasn’t a dream. But how?
How?
Anran leapt for a window down the hallway, gritting her teeth as she moved, and kicked out the pane with her good leg. Shion emerged from her office, still burning as she gave one last chase. Anran didn’t hesitate, looking back one last time, she jumped from the building, gripping onto Mizuki as hard as she could.
He tried not to look. He didn’t want to feel like he was falling. That the wind was soaring by him at the speed of hurricane level winds. He tried his best to trust Anran. But his eyes snapped open, and the last thing he saw was an MV-261 Orca in the sky, and the ground rapidly approaching as Anran shot fire from her shoes to slow their rapid descent.
Mizuki Kawano
Kyoto, Japan
November 20th, 2077
0930 hours
Mizuki followed the light in front of him with his eyes, trying his best to not squint as the doctor went from right to left, then left to right. Over and over again, the light moved, until he finally switched it off.
“You can turn on the lights now, Dr. Ziegler, I thank you,” the doctor spoke, turning to the Swiss woman who stood at the other end of the room.
The lights flicked back on, causing Mizuki to flinch, blinking rapidly to adjust despite the test he had just taken.
“You are a bit light sensitive at the moment, Mizuki, but you managed to avoid a concussion. Your scans came back finding that you don’t harbour any damage to your brain, which is the best we could’ve asked for,” the doctor spoke. “Your many wounds on the other hand… you will remain under inpatient care for at least another week to see how you hold up. After that, I can release you to outpatient care.”
Mizuki glanced up at Angela Ziegler, or as others called her, “Mercy.” She always insisted on Angela though. She nodded, smiling warmly at Mizuki. He glanced down at himself, seeing one arm in a cast, the other, completely missing. Mizuki swung his feet slightly. “Will I be getting a prosthetic? Even a temporary one?” He gruffed, lungs aching from the amount of smoke he inhaled days before.
Angela approached the bed, resting her hands on the end. She knew he didn’t like to be touched all too often. He liked that she remembered the small things.
“Not at the moment, no,” Angela stated gently. “You may not be an official Overwatch agent, Mizuki, but it doesn’t mean I won’t be able to make you a new arm once you’re medically released.”
“I don’t think Sojourn will like that,” Mizuki joked slightly.
Angela waved her hand dismissively. “Vivian will understand when she calms down.”
Mizuki averted his gaze. He still couldn’t get over the look on Sojourn’s face when he had woken up a few hours earlier. She was speaking to Angela just outside his room, and through the window in the door, her cybernetic optics looked comparable to Shion’s.
He shivered.
“Do you have any further questions for me?” The doctor spoke up.
Mizuki shook his head. With a hum, the doctor stood to his feet, and exited the room with a folder of documents. He quickly turned to Angela, his chest tightening.
“Is Anran okay? Where is she?” Mizuki demanded.
Angela formed a tight-lipped smile. “She’s stable… but she was in a much worse state than you.”
“Angela, she died,” Mizuki choked out.
Angela recoiled slightly. “Pardon?”
“I saw it with my own eyes! Shion- she… she shot her in the head,” Mizuki immediately began to tremble, feeling breathless as if a snake constricted around his throat.
“But Mizuki… there were no bullet wounds in her head…” she dipped her head slightly, whispering. “Are you sure you’re not-”
“I know what I saw,’ Mizuki snapped, but the regret quickly hit. Tears were quick to follow, but even then he couldn’t hide his shame with his hands. He didn’t have any he could use. “Sorry…”
“It’s okay Mizuki, just breathe,” Angela cooed. “If what you’re saying is true… then you must tell Vivian and I everything that happened.”
Mizuki glanced up towards the door, the glass being devoid of Sojourn, or anyone else for that matter. He nodded.
“I’ll be just a moment, okay? Just stay right where you are,” Angela gave one last smile before turning away, making her leave from the room.
Mizuki sat in a buzzing silence, eyes glued to the door for what felt like ions before he leaned backwards in his bed.
“She’s stable,” he muttered, voice cracking. “She’s stable. Oh… thank the gods… she’s stable.”
What was Anran thinking right now? Did she try to visit him when he was out? Do Kiriko and the others know he’s here? Did they visit him? Are they wondering why he’d ever go to the Hashimoto stronghold on his own without them and just with Anran? Are they on the news? Is Overwatch’s name all over this? Of course it is, they saw the ship at least. Is Anran angry? Is she worried about never being able to fight again because of her broken leg? Surely she could. Overwatch had one of the best doctors in the world… Or is she worried she’ll be removed from Overwatch because of him?
The last thought faded as the door opened. Sojourn was the first to enter, fists closed. Angela was close behind. He’ll have to confess to more than just why they were here. He’ll have to confess everything.
Clearing her throat, Angela was about to speak, when Sojourn intercepted her.
“You better have a pretty damn good explanation for why. The. Fuck! You were out here, with one of MY agents, burning down Hashimoto’s entire stronghold,” Sojourn scolded behind gritted teeth. Mizuki pressed back into the bed. This was going to be a shit show.
“Uhm-” Mizuki hesitated. “Can I… make a confession first?”
Sojourn’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”
Mizuki shifted his weight in his bed. He hated how much she could look like Shion. His hand in his cast began to tremble.
“I was orphaned when I was nine years old,” Mizuki began slowly.
Sojourn recoiled slightly, the anger being replaced by confusion. Angela grew stiff, but her gaze turned to hurt.
“I don’t see how-”
“I think the Hashimoto killed him… my dad I mean. Not whatever… curse I think- I thought I had,” Mizuki coughed harshly. This was an awful time for his lungs to act up. “He had a debt to them.”
“So you did this because you wanted revenge?” Sojourn crossed her arms.
“Vivian, let him speak,” Angela scolded.
Mizuki shook his head. “Yes. but- no. Uhm. When my dad died. Uhm.”
He shrank back even further into his bed before the truth came rushing out all at once without stopping to breathe. “Shion took me in as her pupil and I was meant to be an informant in the Yōkai to destroy them from the inside out and I decided I didn’t want to anymore so I left but they wanted to kill me but I was angered for what they did to me as a kid so that's why I came back and did this and because Anran agreed to it I brought her along but everything went to shit and now we’re in the hospital and I saw her die oh gods I saw her die!”
The silent buzzing returned. He looked between them, feeling his mouth water and skin grow hot.
“Mizuki-” Sojourn began, but before she could say anything else, Mizuki was leaning over the side of his bed, vomiting up acid.
Mizuki Kawano
Kyoto, Japan
November 20th, 2077
1130 hours
“So let me get this straight. You’re saying you saw her physically get shot in the head, die, then revive herself in a giant ball of flames?” Sojourn spoke, hands moving directly as she did.
Mizuki nodded at her, maneuvering with his fingers to open the lid to his jello cup. He leaned forward, grabbing the outside with his teeth and throwing his head back to eat the cup of lime jello whole. He looked at the two women in the room, Angela looked amused, Sojourn, disappointed.
The TV in his room had the news on, lowered just enough where it didn’t distract the three from their conversation. At least Angela and Sojourn for the most part. Mizuki looked over every now and then, watching updates about the burned down Hashimoto base. Photos showed the building up in flames that reached towards the early morning sky. Ambulances, fire trucks, and police surrounded the area, having shut down blocks of businesses for the entire day. It wasn’t until night when the building finally came crashing down.
It was completely gone. Gone. Including that old forge. But nothing else had been touched. No damage to surrounding businesses and buildings. And for that, he could only smile.
“She looked just as shocked as I was,” Mizuki muttered after bashfully rubbing his face with his shoulder.
Sojourn shifted in her chair, thinking intensely. She turned to Angela.
“Could this be something akin to Lena’s condition, Angela? Time reversing in some way?”
Angela shrugged. “It's possible. We would have to run further tests… but… they wouldn’t exactly be safe in any way, shape, or form.”
“I’m sure Winston and yourself could figure something out.”
“My current hypothesis is that-”
“Not now, my head already hurts, Angela.”
Angela laughed before looking at Mizuki, a sigh escaping her nose. “Thank you, Mizuk. For telling us everything. I understand your life has certainly not been easy.”
Mizuki looked away, ashamed. “I hurt so many people.”
“I know someone you could speak to if you ever wish to. He's Genji’s mentor,” Angela said.
Mizuki shrugged, uncertain. “I don’t do well talking with others.”
“Clearly,” Sojourn crossed her arms. “But, on this self-imposed mission. You’re telling me Anran knew everything you just told us?”
“A majority of it.”
“Why?”
Mizuki froze. “Why?”
“Yeah. Why her specifically?” Sojourn raised a brow. “You haven’t told any of your little friends, so why her?”
Mizuki stammered. “I’m sure they won’t be friends with me after I do tell them-”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
Mizuki side-eyed Sojourn, sucking on his lips.
“Is there… something going on between you two?”
Mizuki felt his heart racing as he hacked up his lungs. Angela rushed forward, rubbing his back and speaking to him gently, yet he couldn’t understand as his mind raced.
“Christ- this situation is messier than it needs to be,” Sojourn groaned, rubbing her brow.
“Mizuki,” Angela spoke gently. “How long has this been going on?”
He tilted his head. “A little under six months now…”
“So just a few months after you officially left the Hashimoto?” Sojourn asked herself. She leaned forward, tapping her cybernetic hands together. “She’s doing a lot for you, you know? Sticking her neck out for you like this.”
“I know,” Mizuki said, feeling his eyes grow hot. He never felt so loved in his life for it.
Sojourn looked over to Angela, giving a single nod. Angela took her hand off Mizuki’s back, folding it with her other hand against her stomach.
“Mizuki, she would probably want you to go see her,” Angela murmured.
He blinked at her. “What does that mean?”
Mizuki Kawano
Kyoto, Japan
November 20th, 2077
1255 hours
Mizuki stared into Anran’s room as he stood motionless in the doorway, eyes focused on the form that laid amongst wires and tubes. A heart monitor beeped quietly above the bed, among a few other screens hovering in the air to track brain activity, amongst other things. He felt like he was going to faint in this cold, sterile room. The smell of chemicals was so strong, it burned his mouth and nose.
Next to Anran’s bed, Wuyang sat in a stiff office chair, head laying against the side of the bed as he held his comatosed sister’s hand. His face was hollow, with dark circles staining the skin under his eyes. He almost didn’t even register Mizuki entering the room until he took a few steps forward. The younger brother stiffened up, but didn’t look at Mizuki with any particular emotion as he nudged another chair over with his legs. The door closed behind them, leaving the two men alone.
The kappa Yōkai’s brow went upturned. “Haven’t we all?”
Wuyang gave a weak smile, before it dropped just as quickly. They went quiet, listening to the beep of the monitor for a long time.
“They say she’s healing absurdly fast,” Mizuki said after what must’ve been ten minutes of silence.
Wuyang gave a slightly amused huff. “Yeah she is. She can’t stay down for long. No… not my sister.”
Mizuki smiled sadly. “No. She certainly can’t.”
Silence once more, before Wuyang turned slowly to Mizuki.
“What happened in there?”
Mizuki squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, sighing. He better start getting used to explaining everything. Especially to his friends. “I need to give you some context first…”
And so he did. Mizuki explained the death of his mother. The debts of his father. And the sins of Shion after his father’s death. The reasons why he was in the Yōkai, and the advice he sought from Kiriko’s father before he was sent on his spy mission. And the day he left the Hashimoto. And throughout all of it, Wuyang’s face didn’t change.
“She knew most of it. And after some months, she joked about burning Hashimoto’s stronghold to the ground with Shion inside,” Mizuki explained. “And now? Now we’re here.”
“They told me you told them she died in there, Mizuki,” Wuyang blurted out. “How is she not dead now? How?
“I don’t know,” Mizuki sighed. He wished he was smart. He wished he got to go to school. “She just. She just came back.”
Wuyang searched Mizuki for a lie, but found nothing.
“I have my own question though. How did you guys know we were here?”
Wuyang smiled stiffly before grabbing his phone from the ground. “We track each other on our phones. She never turned hers off. So when you and her were missing, we followed after.”
“You guys saved us, you know?” Mizuki crossed his ankles, guilt prickling across every inch of his skin.
Wuyang looked at his sister, his eyes growing glossy. “I couldn’t save her from this, though…”
Mizuki felt his own eyes grow hot, glancing away as the tears fell.
“Neither could I. But she’ll wake up, ” Mizuki extended his broken arm as much as he could from his sling. Wuyang looked at it confused, but Mizuki wiggled his fingers for Wuyang’s hand. The year one student placed his hand in Mizuki’s. The Yōkai maneuvered his thumb to gently rub the top of Wuyang’s hand, just as Anran had always done for him. Wuyang’s eyes grew wide, and before Mizuki could speak again, Wuyang broke down into a mess of sobs.
Mizuki Kawano
Kyoto, Japan
December 5th, 2077
1740 hours
Anran was awake. Sort of. Wuyang had been the first to notice some days earlier that Anran’s eyes were open after he and Mizuki returned from eating lunch down in the hospital's cafeteria. The two men had shared a fair amount of moments together doing nothing but crying in silence, but in that moment, Mizuki had never seen Wuyang more overjoyed. Though, Mizuki’s relief returned to worry when witnessing Anran’s lack of reaction to her brother’s touch. It would only be a few minutes later, when a nurse explained that while she may be “awake,” she wasn’t exactly conscious.
“It’s simply what we refer to as ‘first awakening.’ She can’t process stimuli as she’s not conscious of her surroundings,” the nurse explained, having come in after Mizuki flagged her down. “But it’s recommended that you strengthen her sensory stimulation through touch, smell, even speaking to her or playing music helps. Something that reminds her she's still here.”
Wuyang seemed to understand more of what she meant than Mizuki, since the following days were nothing like the shows or movies he had watched. At some points in the day, Anran would be awake, staring at a single spot in the ceiling past her tractioned leg. Other moments, she was asleep making sounds akin to snoring.
After three days of this, Mizuki could see Anran’s reddish-brown eyes begin to flicker with some sort of recognition. Late in the night, he was watching over her while Wuyang slept on the couch in the room, and Anran had opened her eyes as she had done previously. Though, instead of staring down her usual spot, her eyes twitched in Mizuki’s direction. He had noticed the movement, but anxiety held his tongue until a crinkling of crows feet appeared in the corners of her eyes.
Mizuki's eyes had begun to burn as he struggled to take her hand that laid limply at her side into his own. A dull throb pulsed throughout his arm, but he pushed it to the back of his mind as he brought her knuckles to his lips, planting kisses against each and every one. Anran didn’t react to it, but Mizuki would never forget the glimmer of love behind her gaze deep below.
On the twenty-fifth, during the late afternoon, Anran had her first episode. She was in a vegetative state once more, staring at the same spot in the ceiling when a distressed wail escaped her lungs. It shook Mizuki awake, and he didn’t have a second to even realize what was happening before Wuyang and him were pushed to the back of the room as nurses flooded in.
The sounds that came from Anran were nothing like he had ever heard before. Shrieks and groans of distress startled Wuyang to utter silence as he stared at his sister as she fought the nurses. Whether she saw them as attackers or simply lashing out in an act of confusion, Mizuki would never know. But after a good thirty seconds, she was quiet again, and thankfully didn’t end up injuring herself or the nurses. Anran, however, was left wearing a pair of security mitts on her hands after that.
The days leading into December weren’t much different, but the episodes did get less and less violent. During them, she now only made groaning noises or tried to pull out IV’s or her feeding tube. Mizuki or Wuyang after the first few times didn’t need to get a nurse’s help anymore, as Anran gave up the first or second time they moved her hand away from whatever she tried to grab.
“At least her vegetative states aren’t as common now,” Mizuki joked at one point. It got a smile from Wuyang, and an unknowing grunt from Anran.
Then, just a few hours ago, a nurse entered the room.
“Mr. Kawano? Mr. Ye? A group of people are here asking about you three.”
Mizuki’s skin began to tingle.
“Did you say we’re here?” Mizuki’s brow scrunched.
“No. This entire hospital signed agreements with Overwatch. But they claimed to be friends of yours in connection with Overwatch.”
“Kiriko?” Wuyang piped up.
“A girl said her name was something like that along those lines.”
Mizuki rushed out of the room, skidding past a few of the other nurses as he made his way to the elevator. Wuyang wasn’t far behind. Once in the lobby, Mizuki’s eyes landed on a group of kids his age. Chikasa. Nobuto. Ryōta. Sakura. Kiriko. All sitting around speaking in hushed tones. Mizuki moved forward, his pace quickening with every step. Chikasa was the first to see him, and she waved with the ferocity of a storm.
“Mizuki!” She shrilled, rushing forward. Everyone else snapped their attention to him, and rushed at him just as Chikasa hurled herself at him. He braced for everyone else, and as expected, he was nearly thrown to the floor with the chirping of excitement and sighs of relief. Mizuki stood frozen, overwhelmed at the attention not only from himself, but other people in the lobby giving curious looks.
“Guys- please-” Mizuki strained as a coughing fit erupted from his chest. “Easy on the goods. They’re damaged.”
“Don’t you know how worried we were?!” Kiriko shoved past the others, gently separating Mizuki from the tight group hug. She was about to continue when Mizuki shushed her.
“Not in here. There’s people listening. Let's go outside,” Mizuki had suggested.
Everyone agreed. Even Wuyang, who hadn’t left the hospital since he first entered with Anran and Mizuki himself being rushed into emergency surgery. The entrance of the hospital looked like it would have a well-maintained garden any other time of the year, but since the first snowfall two weeks ago, everything had gone into hibernation. Luckily, Sakura had spare jackets in her car, allowing Wuyang and Mizuki to at least not freeze in the cold late evening air. And there they talked. Mostly about what had been going on the news and where everyone had been.
“They said that there's been over a hundred bodies recovered from the wreck,” Nobuto mentioned. “That’s a big hit you two did in there.”
“I guess so, huh…” Mizuki muttered. Shion was still out there though. He was sure of it. Sakura would’ve mentioned her being dead.
“I’m guessing your hat went down with it, huh?” Nobuto smiled cheekily. Mizuki shifted in his seat at the picnic bench.
“Sorry-”
“I’ll just make you a new one, no worries-”
“You can’t.”
The group fell silent, blinking at Mizuki. Wuyang tensed.
“Mizuki-”
“Guys, this wasn’t just an attack I planned for Overwatch and the Yōkai. I did it for my own reasons too,” Mizuki said through gritted teeth.
“Mizuki… you don’t have to say anything right now…” Wuyang whispered to him.
“I can’t lie to you guys anymore,” Mizuki drowned Wuyang out of his ear. He had been through this song and dance three times now. First Anran. Then Sojourn and Angela. Then Wuyang. How could he not tell the people that saw him as their friend? Someone they can trust.
He had been anything but trustworthy. And the talk had only become harder with every time he explained himself.
“Up until the day we rescued Genji from the Hashimoto, I had been working with the Hashimoto since I was nine years old. The only reason I ever joined the Yōkai was to be a spy for them.”
Mizuki had expected the reaction to be intense since he first started wondering what they would do if they ever found out. But the pendulum had swung so far in different directions with the group's reaction, he didn’t even realize he was pinned to the ground until he saw Kiriko’s ragefilled tears fall onto Sakura’s spare puffer jacket.
Mizuki Kawano
Kyoto, Japan
December 9th, 2077
0730 hours
“Ow- ow- okay stop-” Mizuki sneered, turning away from Nobuto after cleaning the scabbed wound on his busted lip.
“Do you want it to scar?” Nobuto sighed.
“Not my biggest concern right now,” Mizuki stated. His eyes landed on Anran through the glass in the door. She was sitting upright in bed, hugging Wuyang with shivering shoulders as he spoke. She was awake. Truly awake. And now they finally got to speak with her after an entire day of tests.
“Listen, Mizuki- Kiri will come around,” Nobuto said gently, but Mizuki side-eyed him.
“She busted my lip open.”
Nobuto sucked on his teeth, glancing away. “She just needs to talk to her father. She’ll listen to him explain your story before any of us can.”
Mizuki sighed from his nose. “I doubt it. I don’t deserve it anyway.”
Nobuto was about to speak again when Wuyang opened the door, his eyes puffy and red.
“Uhm- she’s ready to talk to you, Mizuki,” Wuyang sniffled as he rubbed his eyes.
Mizuki gave the younger sibling a gentle smile, putting a hand on his shoulder before entering the room.
The door closed behind him, and in the low light of the room, Anran gave him a tearful, closed lip smile. Mizuki rushed forward, wrapping his broken arm around her as hers weakly grasped at the back of his shirt. He pressed his face into her oily hair, squeezing his eyes shut as he began to cry.
“I’m sorry, Anran,” Mizuki sobbed, sputtering out his words like that lonely nine-year old boy he once was. “I-I-I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry. I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone,”
“Mizu,” her voice cracked, but she didn’t say anything more as he cried into her jet black hair.
All he could do was apologize. Over and over again he apologized for everything.
“I should have never brought you here,” Mizuki whimpered. Anran shifted her hands to trace over his shoulders and cup his cheeks, he faced her, eyes searching hers for anger or regret. But he found none.
“I don’t blame you Mizuki. I don’t,” she whispered before bringing his face towards hers and planted gentle kisses from his forehead, to his nose, to his lips, and to his chin. When she pulled away, her cheeks were wet with her own tears. “Please don’t blame yourself.”
Mizuki glanced away, trembling. How could he not blame himself? Almost everything in his life until this point, he had always blamed himself.
“I’m here, Mizuki,” she brushed his shaggy hair back. “I’m here, and so are you.”
He gave her a weak smile.
“It’s all gone,” Mizuki whispered quietly. “The entire building.”
“The entire thing?” She breathed.
“It all collapsed onto its foundations. Straight down. The fire was too hot.”
Anran stared into his eyes, searching them as he searched hers.
“And Shion?”
He pressed his lips together and shook his head. She was still out there. If she wasn’t angry before, she certainly was now.
Anran sighed as she closed her eyes. She took a moment to think as she took his broken hand into her own, rubbing circles into it with her thumbs. “There’s always another day. But tell me. What about general Hashimoto activity?”
“Low from what I hear but- Anran, you shouldn’t be worrying yourself with the Hashimoto right now.”
“Haven’t they told you? I’m as healthy as you by now.”
He had. And it wouldn’t be any less unnerving in any other world. Before she was so far critical, they apparently believed her leg break was too far damaged to save it. But now? She was projected to be out of her full leg cast by the weekend.
“More so.”
She smiled. A wide, toothy smile.
“I’m just better,” she mused, grabbing him by the shirt to kiss him once more on the lips. He leaned into the kiss, feeling all warm and giddy inside. He was loved… truly loved… he wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
“GUYS?!”
Mizuki and Anran jumped upright as both of their gazes whipped around to see Wuyang standing in the doorway with a tray of food, his jaw having fallen to the floor.
Ye Anran
Gothenberg, Sweden
December 14th, 2077
1715 hours
“How’s the arm holding up?” Sojourn asked, setting down her cup of coffee with a soft thump.
“It’s alright. Just need to get used to it,” Mizuki wiggled his new prosthetic’s fingers.
“Yeah? Well, don’t get too comfortable with it. Angela and Torbjörn are working on something for you,” Sojourn said. She laced her fingers together, glancing Anran up and down. “What about you? How are you holding up?”
“The brain fog is still there sometimes, and I’m still a little tight in the muscles after stretching,” Anran pinched her brows slightly. “But nothing really hurts.”
“And your leg?”
“Completley healed with no complications.”
Anran glanced at Mizuki’s arm, which sat idly in its sling.
“That's great to hear, Anran,” Sojourn tipped her head, taking a sip of coffee. But Anran noticed the slight change in her eyes. The one she took when she wasn’t pleased with one thing or another. “I’m sure you guys know I’m not here to just do a check-in, right?”
Mizuki nodded silently, gaze turning to look towards the door in the converted office room.
“Of course,” Anran nodded shortly. Her heart was pounding in her ears.
“What you two did was not only completely irresponsible to your own lives, but to the detriment of others and Overwatch’s thin relationship with the IJC. We’re already under strict restrictions on where we can station, who we repel attacks against, and who we can intercept. Talon, Null Sector, and their associates, being those only options,” she continued. “While the Hashimoto are known to have affiliations with Talon thanks to their weapon smuggling, their ties are strained since the last mission in Japan months ago.”
She looked at Mizuki. “While we appreciated the Yōkai’s help then with saving Genji, and we are glad we could bring Kiriko’s father home, none of you are Overwatch agents. What we have is a temporary alliance with you kids in Japan to gain intel on the Hashimoto’s connection with Talon. We aren’t an agency where we lend out our agents for freelance work.”
Sojourn’s attention fell upon Anran, making her muscles tense. “Is that clear?”
“Of course, Sojourn,” Anran pressed her lips tightly.
“You’re both young, and passionate about wanting to help the world, but we can’t have our agents doing what we did in the old days. What you do must go through me. What is assigned to you, is what you do. And if you do something of this magnitude again, you’re out.”
Anran sat idly in her chair, looking out the window into Ironclad’s gated off yard. The snow was heavy that day, and most of the agents had stayed within their assigned rooms across the factory or in hotels. Though, a few walked about, notably, Wuyang, who was speaking to Baptiste about something.
Her brother deserved the recognition he got being here. Overwatch. The international task force every kid her age wanted to be in when they grew up. With her name in the mud, she’d only drag Wuyang down with her. Then her parents would really have something to never be happy about. They’d be right in the end.
“I don’t intend to do anything out of line again, Sojourn. You have my word,” Anran promised.
Sojourn swirled her half empty mug, deep in thought as she too watched Wuyang and Baptiste disappear into the main factory doors.
“Don’t let this get into your heads, but also don’t get me wrong with everything I’m saying to you both. What you two did was one hell of a job in the end. You have weakened the Hashimoto Tokyo branch to such an extent that it was a huge blow to Talon too. If Vendetta doesn’t drop their alliance with their weapon trade, or at least scale back, I’d be surprised.”
Anran’s heart fluttered ever so slightly between her ribs.
“The Hashimoto will try to brush it off, I can tell you that,” Mizuki spoke up. “They’ll act like they can pop up anywhere, but that building? The Hashimoto have been residing there since its founding. Everything was in that tower. All lines of communication went to the top before it ever went out to any of the other branches.”
“How long do you suggest before they lick their wounds clean?” Sojourn asked.
“My guess?” Mizuki lowered his gaze as his eyes darted around in his mind. “Three months post-attack. They’ll recover somewhat somewhere new. When they’ll be in full operation? I doubt it’ll ever be that strong again. Any debts? Any ‘protection’ they provided? It’ll never recover in that area for a long, long time.”
“And Shion? What about her?”
Anran’s skin prickled as the woman’s face flashed in her mind. Why did her head hurt so much thinking about her now?
“Honestly? I’m not sure what her next move would be,” Mizuki shrunk slightly. “All I know is that I can guarantee she’s never been more furious in her life.”
“Furious I’m guessing is an understatement?”
“She’ll try everything she can to find me. Find the other members of the Yōkai. Anran. Even Wuyang,”
“I’ll kill her before she ever even gets a glimpse of him,” Anran snapped. Sojourn recoiled slightly at the sudden aggression, but she didn’t look surprised.
“We’ll be sure to keep everyone safe. Overwatch is here for a reason. If she makes an appearance again, I’ll be sure to handle it myself. And when I do, I won’t let her get away like last time.”
Ye Anran
Gothenberg, Sweden
December 14th, 2077
2020 hours
Anran gently pushed open the unlocked hotel room door. She squinted, eyes adjusted to the dark to see Mizuki’s silhouette turn in bed, illuminated by a phone screen. After a few moments, a small lamp switched to life, covering the room in amber light. Mizuki sat up, his top barren of a shirt. Anran smiled softly, locking the door behind her as she made her way over to sit on the bed.
“What did they say?” Mizuki inquired.
“I’ll have a new suit from Wuxing in two weeks,” she sighed. “I said they have to use the exact same technology in my last one. I have to test out my abilities to the fullest extent, and I can’t do that without my original suit.”
“Anran…” Mizuki began before sighing. “I don’t think it's smart trying to replicate what happened in Tokyo.”
“I don’t either, but I need to understand what caused it. It has to be something with the technology in the suit. Ever since I had this model, I never noticed it, but- my injuries healed faster than they ever did previously. In college, during training, I got injured often. But since joining Overwatch? Any injury seemed like it never happened.”
“And you’re just now noticing?” Mizuki asked quietly.
“Yeah. Everything that happened in Tokyo? It's been making me question every wound,” Anran sat next to Mizuki, pressing her side against his. “My current theory with Angela is that all the top students in their classes got the latest technology, right?’
“Sure.”
“Well, my suit, mainly my gloves, and Wuyang’s staff and gloves, share similar qualities thanks to his friend, Ming,” Anran explained. “I assume that since my suit had Wuyang’s healing technology embedded inside, that the fire I produce, or the fire around me, allows my body to heal.”
Mizuki nodded slightly. “But what happened wasn’t just a simple wound, Anran. You got shot in the head.”
The memory flashed through her mind. Blurry. But it was there.
“I know…”
Shion was there one moment, then nothing. The only thing after that was waking up in a hospital with Wuyang speaking to her. Her body began to tremble.
“Anran?” Mizuki’s voice pitched.
What would’ve happened if she never woke up?
“Anran, are you alright?”
Would her brother have had to take control over her medical rights and tell the hospital to take her off life support?
Mizuki’s voice echoed in her head. A soft ringing began in her ears as her chest constricted.
What kind of sister would she have been? Putting her brother through that pain. She already put him through enough growing up under the stress of their parents. She already caused enough heartbreak from what happened in Tokyo. And what if her theory was right, and her suit was made without the same technology as Wuyang’s gear? She’d be dead.
The ringing grew louder, shaking her skull like an earthquake.
Mizuki would’ve died too. Alone, he would’ve died with that demon. And it all would’ve been her fault. It would’ve been her fault as it always had been.
“Anran!” Mizuki’s voice broke through the deafening ringing.
One of her wrists was grasped tightly by Mizuki, who sat on his knees in front of her. Tears were running down her cheeks, and upon seeing his worried face, she broke. Anran leaned into Mizuki’s chest, sobbing hard into his bare skin. Mizuki’s arm wrapped around her in the best hug he could manage, pulling her down with him into the soft bed.
“It’s okay, Anran. It’s okay,” Mizuki whispered, leaning over to switch the lamp off. In the dark, he pulled her close to his frame, and began stroking her loose hair down her back. “I’m here. I’m right here…”
Anran had never cried so hard in front of another soul. Not even the day she failed Wuyang and he broke his leg. Not even the day she got into a screaming match with her parents about the scars on her ankles.
Mizuki took one of her hands into his own, and began to softly rub circled into it with his thumb.
“You’re safe, Anran. You’re safe. I’ll stay with you as long as the stars burn.”
Mizuran/Anzuki/Cursed Flame headcanons bc they're always in my brain and I must spread my propaganda. Hope the 4 Mizuran shippers appreciate these
Below the cut!!
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Mizuki's hands are constantly cold, even his prosthetic, while Anran's are always warm.
He's told her about his spirits more than once. Whenever he goes into a sort of episode over them getting too loud, she makes sure to bring him salt and reassure him nothing will happen
Mizuki was (and still is) very scared to get attached to her. It'll hurt her, kill her, the curse will get her.. She says otherwise. She loves him despite the risk.
The Yokai accepted Anran very quickly. Sometimes Mizuki thinks they like her more than they like him.
Mizuki loves to feed stray cats, especially black ones. Anran refuses to go near him until he uses a lint roller everytime he comes back from doing so.
Wuyang does nnoot approve of Mizuki. He finds something fishy about him. It makes Anran want to pull her hair out.
Anran's an acts of service and physical touch kind of person, while Mizuki prefers words of affirmation or gift giving.
Anran has a lot of lucky cats and good luck charms from Mizuki. He knows she probably doesn't appreciate the cats because of her allergy, but they're there for luck, not because they're cats.
so who else grew up rushing home to watch sailor moon after school
edit: WAIT I forgot to thank @wrexwas for all the great reference shots they took of these skins!!! Go check out their profile for some really high quality in game photography
Basically the same thing I did for male tanks, but for the ladies! Again, more so general nighttime routines than simply sleeping ones.
Minimum 4 for all of them!
Alphabetical order below the cut
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D.va
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Hooorrible sleep schedule, absolutely horrid. Lives on nano cola and caffeine to survive the day, does not get enough sleep.
Heavy sleeper. Also snores if she's really comfortable or that day tired her out too much.
Takes a simple warm shower before bed, or simply washes her face and takes a shower in the morning if she's too tired.
Does own cute pajama sets, but usually ends up sleeping in panties and whatever shirt she had on that day.
Loves any sort of music or noise to fall asleep to. She loves sleeping while it's raining outside, and often turns on music or any sort of noise for herself.
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Domina
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Ttheeee longest night time routine known to mankind. Prepares to go to sleep a whole two hours before even looking at her bed.
Strict sleep schedule that she sticks to. She doesn't need an alarm, her body simply wakes her up when her day needs to start.
↑ Does have an alarm. Often oversleeps it and has to rush her morning routine.
Face mask, eye mask, hair mask, silk robe, the whole deal. A proper heiress needs to make sure her skin and hair look their best even while she's asleep.
A surprisingly restless sleeper. Doesn't feel well rested enough most days.
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Junker Queen
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Restless back sleeper. See: her cinematic. Her nightmare doesn't resurface often, but when it does, it has her tossing and turning often.
Even if she's having a good night of sleep, she's still tossing and turning. Ends up with her head off the pillow, her sheets rolled up and her blanket across the room.
No real nighttime routine. Just hits the sheets and passes out.
Usually sleeps in whatever clothes she wore during the day. Doesn't care enough to own seperate sleeping shirts or pants.
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Orisa
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Let's pretend she needs to sleep for the sake of this. The horse deserves rest too.
Has her own seperate sleeping corner, or sleeps in Efi's bed.
Efi does occasionally sleep on her back, with thicks sheets and pillows of course
Folds her legs under herself like a cat and emits a quite whirring sound.
Even when sleeping she's very alert. Will wake up immediately if needed.
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Zarya
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Works out before bed, followed by a long, warm shower and a detailed skin care routine.
Standard two-piece pajama set and bunny slippers. The slippers stay off the bed, but it's still apart of her sleepwear.
Side sleeper who never uses a blanket. Somehow never feels cold, and would rather use the blanket itself as another pillow than as a blanket.
Very peaceful sleeper, but needs white noise. It helps her relax and go to sleep quicker.
Is this weirdly specific? Might be idk. But personal headcanons of how I think the male tanks (Hammond and Winston included) sleep!! And night time routines in general.
Akande is a man with standards. He knows exactly how much sleep his body needs and insist adequate rest is one of the most important things in one's life.
He likes to work out just before bed. Nothing too extreme, but if he feels he hasn't worked his body enough, he'll go for a jog or lift some weights before a nice, warm shower.
Despite the fact that he's a high profile mastermind and criminal, Akande's sleepwear is a simple tanktop and shorts. It's comfortable, never too hot and incase he does get cold, he can simply grab a blanket.
More often than not a side sleeper. Left side specifically. Barely moves in his sleep, though might wake up on his back from time to time.
He takes the doomfist gauntlet itself off and switches to a much lighter prosthetic for the night. Easier to handle and more comfortable.
Eyemask user. Owns two of them just incase one might need a wash. He needs complete darkness and white noise to sleep.
Not too deep, but not too light of a sleeper either. He'll wake up to his alarm, but never to much else.
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Hazard
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Due to the mutation of his prosthetics, Findlay has no real choice other than to be a stomach sleeper. Though even before his incident, he preferred sleeping on his stomach.
Unless one of the other Phreaks does it for him, his bed is unmade, though clean. He doesn't see the point in constantly making the bed if he's going to sleep in it later anyway.
Light sleeper. Struggles with sleeping on some days, though never too often. His family makes him feel safe, but with what he's been through, sometimes he just can't seem to fall asleep.
Despite being a light sleeper, he very much snores. Loud. Can wake up a small child type of loud. The Phreaks dont like to let him sleep on the couch because his snoring might wake them up.
Lets Maisie sleep in the bed with him. Insists she and any other dog ever should be allowed to sleep in the bed.
No real bedtime routine. He sleeps when he feels like it and doesn't really feel the need to do anything specifically to help him sleep better.
Sleeps in simple boxers. White or black.
Absolute cuddle bug. Will lay on top of Susie and refuse to let her get up until he's had enough sleep.
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Mauga
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Not a care in the world about where, when and who he's with, if he gets comfortable, he gets knocked out.
Reeeally deep sleeper. Like a bomb could go off next to him and he wouldn't wake up.
Typical man nighttime routine. Shower + shave + aftershave. Sleep.
Aaall over the place in that hammock bed of his. On his back, one hand behind his head, other arm hanging off, one leg up, other off the hammock. Just laying however.
Needs noise and a little light to sleep. No real reason, he just can't seem to fall asleep in total darkness and silence.
Heart boxers. Heart or any sort of tropical pattern. No shirt, nothing, just boxers.
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Ramattra
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Do omnics sleep? No idea! But for the sake of my mind, they have to charge and "sleep" when doing so.
Light sleeper. The slighest noise is enough to wake him.
Usually back sleeper, but can (and does) sleep sitting up.
Emits a light whirring noise while sleeping.
Sleeps in what he wears during the day, no seperate sleepwear.
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Reinhardt
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Heeaavvyy sleeper. Heavy. Snores very loudly too. You cannot sleep in the same room as this guy.
Despite being a heavy sleeper, he does occasionally wake up at night, sometimes being unable to fall back asleep. Less often now, but he never quite got over what happened in Eichenwalde.
Very long, warm shower before bed with a trim to his beard. He doesn't trim it shorter, simply wants it to look neat and clean while growing it.
White boxers with red hearts and a white tank top. Basic man, basic sleepwear.
Stomach or back sleeper. Either way he ends up with his head off his pillow, an arm off the bed and his blanket across the room.
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Roadhog
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Back and side sleeper. Surprisingly still when he sleeps, basically doesn't move.
Look at him and tell me he doesn't snore. Insaanee snorer. He'll wake up an entire apartment complex with his snoring.
Only sometimes takes the mask off to bed. He needs complete and total darkness to sleep, and keeping it on helps him achieve it sometimes.
Hheeavy sleeper. A brick to the head couldnt wake him up.
Sleeps with a Pachimari. Will be devastated if he wakes up with to it fallen off the bed.
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Sigma
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Light sleeper, can barely sleep a lot of the time. The melody keeps him awake.
When he can sleep, he sleeps on his back whilst levitating.
Prepares to go to bed every night with a quick shower, usually cold. Hums that maddening melody to himself during it.
Needs complete darkness, since he can't get complete silence, and thus uses an eyemask when sleeping.
Traditional two-piece pajama set. Blue with white stripes.
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Winston
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I'm sorry why is this like his ONLY namecard?? Off point but I swear I couldn't find a different one.
Sleeps in a hammock. One that's kind of small for him, but he is a genetically modified gorilla, so.
Hangs off said hammock with every limb except his head.
Surprisingly in-depth nighttime routine. Shower, hair(fur?) care, along with skincare that Lena taught him. Full on step-by-step every night.
Likes to read before bed. What he reads varies quite a bit, but he'll always reas atleast 4-5 pages of a book before falling asleep.
Needs white noise to sleep, basically anything works. He can't sleep in complete silence.
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Hammond
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Sleeps in a cat bed. A very fancy one at that. Cat bed with full pillows and a blanket all to himself
A looot of treats hidden under his pillow. He loves a nightly snack.
No real bedtime routine other than taking his suit off. He's a simple hamster.
The Wrecking Ball itself is used as a bed sometimes. If he doesn't feel like getting out at the end of the day, he'll sleep in there.
baratheonpilled
discoholicmusic
origamiaround
kianamaiart
tangentwithtanner
jacobvanloon
