The Dragon's Curse (A Hanzo X Reader Fanfic)

She Would Want You to Have This

"It's a start--" You hissed as the cold water cascaded down your sanguine, cratered abrasions. Your arms tensed themselves to block out the dizzying sting, but Jesse held you in place, and you could only whimper and groan for the duration of your cleansing.

"Okay, it's done now. Let's cover that properly, and don't worry--Mercy has done this to me a crap ton of times, I know the tropes."

"I never doubted your skill, Mcree," you said. "But please do it quickly--the pain is just--argh! And also...let's keep this a secret from Hanzo: This is not the right time for him to know that his brother is alive.""

"Of course, doll." The rugged man nodded. "Whatever ya say."

***

Hanzo stirred on the mattress where he lay, groaning as a bruising sensation filled his muscles, his joints--his whole body altogether. He was awake, no longer stunned by the effects of the curse, and the first thing he wanted to do was look for you, make sure that you were alright while he passed out from exhaustion. He tried swinging his legs over to the open side of the bed, but realized soon enough that he still lacked the strength to even lift them above his head. Everything hurt; he was finally conscious, yes--but what good was that when his whole afflicted person was equivalent to the weight of thirty sacks of bricks?

The Shimada knew he has hit a new low when even sitting up from his lying position has already proved itself to be a cumbersome chore.

Still, he was determined to see you, find out how you've fared in the duration that he was out. But just when he was about to call your name, he heard the loud rustling of paper from outside the bedroom, and soon, there was the table being dragged across the living room and a conversation ensuing: It was between you and Jesse, that was for sure, but your voices were so hushed and minimal that Hanzo couldn't quite grasp the topic of your talk from where he laid.

He knew he had to go outside and find out for himself. 

Every step he took was torture, and he barely felt the floor beneath his bare feet from the numbing cold that began to spread from his toes. Hanzo felt like he was beat up all over, and he walked over to the ajar doorway in the fashion of a baby deer, wobbly and threatening to give out on itself on any second. He was not as strong as he'd like, and a hand on the wall was his constant source of balance and support.

"(Y/N)..." he whispered hoarsely, throat dry from dehydration. He peeked head first outside to the living room and saw the papers strewn about, furniture overturned, creating a splintered, white mess across the space. "W-What happened here?"

"Hanzo!" You turned to face him, horrified that he had gotten out of bed so soon. "Are you out of your mind--you shouldn't be walking!" You saw how he struggled taking new steps in front of the other, how he could barely support his own weight, and thinking quickly, you ran to his side, holding him up as best as your smaller frame could. 

"Your hand," he said snapping out from his fatigue to better see the reddish taint from your knuckles seeping out through the layers of white bandages. "What happened, who did this to you?!"

"Hanzo, it's fine--everything is fine, it was nothing really!" 

"No!" He cut you off, skating his gaze to the destruction around him. "Tell me, (Y/N): Was I responsible for this? Did I hurt you?" As if the situation couldn't get worse, Hanzo's eyes met the hem of your yukata, and he saw the glimpse of a bandage once more, wrapping itself around your bleeding ankle, the skin there hot to the touch.

"Answer me, (Y/N)!" He roared, grabbing at your arms so that you may not escape this confrontation. 

Under his firm hold, he saw you harshly jerking from him, crying out in the process as you tried to remove his hold off you. Taken aback by the raw pain that scratched your throat, Hanzo let you go as you staggered back, watching how you hissed and groaned in agony, trying to soothe the hidden injury that hindered your arm.