Storm - Overwatch High, Volume 1

Chapter One

First day. Breath in - breathe out. One foot in front of the other.

Hanzo Shimada stepped slowly into the school cafeteria, trying not to pass out. He'd faced worse than this. He'd wanted this. He shouldn't be afraid. Sweat trickled down his back and his brand-new polo shirt stuck to his skin, and he wanted more than anything else was to run and hide.

He fought it off. With stiff legs, he stepped into line. The boy just in front of him was whistling softly to himself. Hanzo could barely hear it over the cacophony of shouts, the squeak of chair legs against linoleum, but the tune was familiar. Curiosity suddenly overtook his caution. Hanzo followed the boy's lead, taking a tray and fork, then stepping into line for the food.

He soon found that this boy walked with an almost cartoonish swagger. As he watched, the kid waved and saluted to many of the people who'd already sat down, still whistling. He carried his tray in a casual left hand, nodding occasionally to the lunch ladies, who dropped clumps of grayish food onto his plate. It was like he owned the place.

Hanzo didn't even attempt the same confidence. He kept his head down, trying to ignore the immense din that surrounded him. One foot in front of the other. Breathe.

He stopped at the end of the line, and stared around wide-eyed for a place to sit. As far as he could see, there was none. Only lone chairs at tables full of raucous people. Panic rose again in his chest as he contemplated his prospects. He had been hoping that he'd be able to avoid most interpersonal contact until at least his second week - a feeble hope, but he was still upset that it was proving to be false.

A honeyed American voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"Hey."

Before Hanzo knew what had happened, the boy in front of him turned around casually and clapped him on the shoulder. Hanzo stiffened.

"How'd you like to come and sit with us, hm?" The boy grinned. "You look a little shy, is all. Thought you might like some company."

Hanzo felt his face flush. He spluttered for a moment, before stammering to a halt as the boy laughed.

"Sorry to startle you, darlin'," he said. Hanzo's stomach seemed to flip over. "I didn't mean no harm. Here - follow me. I think you'll fit right in. I'm Jesse, by the way. Jesse McCree." He shook Hanzo's hand with a firm grip, then swaggered off, waving for him to follow.

Hanzo's pulse went a mile a minute as he edged and elbowed his way through the crowd, trying to keep up. People who parted easily around Jesse seemed to almost crush Hanzo. Someone's foot stuck out right as he went past. He danced around it, trying to keep his balance, and in the process, bumped into someone else. His tray wobbled. Hanzo dived to steady it - somebody shouted - and in moments, he was on the floor, his food splattered everywhere, his arms shaking from the pain of the impact.

Hanzo mumbled apology after apology as people shouted at him and tears that he couldn't possibly let show burned just behind his eyes. He snatched up his tray and tried pathetically to clean the spilled food with his napkin.

"C'mere, kid." A strong hand helped him up, and a warm arm went around his shoulders. "Don't worry about it."

"Sorry. I'm sorry." He had to fight hard to hold himself together.

"Hush. Come on. It's not your fault." Jesse gave his arm a squeeze, then steered him left and sat him down at a full table, before taking the chair just to the left and slapping his tray down onto the table.

"Gang, this is the new kid," he said. "Gonna need you to be kind to him." Then before Hanzo could protest, Jesse pushed his own tray in front of Hanzo and said, "Eat up, pumpkin."