A/N:

Mata ashita - See you tomorrow.

Nii-san - older brother (formal)

Genji's colleagues at Overwatch, many of whom he considered to be his friends, refused to tell him, despite his stubborn persistence and sometimes heated outbursts, where they were keeping his older brother.

Though their intentions were good, he couldn't help but feel that it wasn't their place to prevent him from seeing Hanzo. The most firm in their refusals was Mercy, who had witnessed first hand what the battle between the two brothers all those years ago had done to Genji, tearing him apart both mentally and physically in ways he would never fully recover from, and she was loathe to allow Hanzo the chance to somehow hurt hurt him again, but whether or not Genji chose to forgive his brother enough to want him in his life was his decision to make.

However, their cautiousness ultimately mattered little, as Genji did not need their help, not when Hanzo was so close. The twin dragons would always be drawn to each other. All Genji had to do was follow the pull.

It was six months since Hanzo's capture by Talon - a fate which befell him due to his own choice to remain behind to stall their assailants long enough for McCree to take the heavily damaged cyborg to safety - when Winston caught wind of a breach in a Talon base located on the outskirts of Hong Kong. They'd stormed the warehouse to find little to no resistance, as most of its occupants were already dead, the drying blood from their torn throats a viscous carpet of scarlet coating the concrete floors.

Now, three days after Hanzo's successful retrieval and return to Overwatch, Genji was going to see him for the first time since his capture.

It was cool in the room where they were holding him, and at the sight of his brother's huddled form, small and shrunken in the corner, Genji nearly gave voice to a disgusted snarl. Was this how Overwatch treated its allies?

"My name…" Shocked out of his anger, Genji crept closer, careful to move in the shadows. "My name is…" Ending the sentence in a frustrated growl, Hanzo grabbed fists of his hair and yanked, hunching lower, curling into himself.

Now that he was closer, Genji could see the spattering of azure scales creeping up his neck and jaw, the hardened plates overlapping over his hands, the wicked points of claws protruding from his nail beds, sharper than arrow heads and digging into his scalp. Dead skin peeled and flaked away from his shoulder blades, revealing more of the changes inflicted on him during his imprisonment.

"What have they done to you, brother?" The words came out mournful, unbidden, and Hanzo stiffened, suddenly and forcefully aware of his presence. He twisted towards the sound, snarling with a mouth full of fangs, and Genji stepped into the light, hands raised in a gesture of peace, wishing not for the first time that he could stand in front of his brother as the man he once was. If not welcome, then at least he would be familiar, something his brother could use to ground himself, to find the man he once was beneath the animal his enemies had, through some sort of torture and experimentation, brought roaring to the surface.

"Your name is Hanzo," Genji said softly, knowing his brother would hear. "We are brothers, you and I." He hesitated at the lack of recognition crossing his brother's transformed features, "Do you remember me?" He was vulnerable again, like a child.

There was little he could do besides watch as Hanzo slowly uncurled his claws from his disheveled mane. In swift, reptilian movements, he swiveled his neck to meet Genji's gaze, wide, unblinking eyes like pools of melted gold, with strips of ebony cutting through them. Around his jawline and chin, there were tufts of feathery fur. The hardened plating spread over his chest, pale blue and stronger than bone,seemed to meld with the tatters of his black yukata, while the skin on his forehead, nose, chin, and framing his draconic eyes was either scratched off or rubbed away. What drew Genji's attention the most, though, was not the ruin of his brother's appearance, but rather the spiraled horns protruding from his crown. They served no purpose, other than to lend his brother the appearance of a dragon, to lend to the irony of striving to turn a Shimada into the very source of their spirituality and power. "Was this nothing but a game to them?" Genji hissed under his breath, rage burning wildly inside him.

Hanzo flinched, a subtle change of expression barely noticeable in the poor lighting, but Genji immediately drew back, cooling his anger with several, calming breaths. Lowering himself closer to the ground with a single palm outstretched, Genji said, "Do not fear me, brother. I mean you no harm, nor shall any harm come to you so long as I am here."

He doesn't slip his hand through the bars, as he's rather partial to it, but feels a swell of triumph when Hanzo doesn't recoil from the proximity, the flickers of recognition dulling the edges of his feral bearing.

Slipping into their native tongue, Genji whispered, "Mata ashita, nii-san." As he snuck out, however, a low grunt from behind him reached his cybernetic ears, a sound very much like a gruff acknowledgement of his farewell.

And as he effortlessly darted through the narrow halls of Watchpoint, sticking to the shadows, blending in with his surroundings, Genji allowed himself a quiet, secret celebration of this latest triumph, in the form of a concealed smile that long refused to fade.

The next day, there were a pair of guards posted in front of the cell, though all it took was a simple misdirection, a ball bouncing in the opposite hallway, for a crack in their vigil to form, one which Genji quickly and effortlessly took advantage of.

This was a strategy which Genji took great pleasure in repeating, as every afternoon he utilized some variant of the same trick to sneak past their defenses and see his brother.

Hanzo no longer snarled at him when he entered, nor did he flinch at his careful approach. Though it was difficult to tell if he regarded the cyborg coming to visit each day as more than just a tolerable annoyance, Genji felt a swell of relief that his brother now trusted him enough to not feel threatened by his presence.

Progress was slow, and on Hanzo's worst days, when all of Genji's best efforts to reach his brother seemed to disappear in the night, it was difficult to keep from feeling discouraged, but even though Hanzo sometimes refused to acknowledge his presence, he always seemed to listen to Genji's stories, head tilted slightly to the side as the small, cold cell was warmed with tales of their childhood, of misadventures from happier, brighter times than this.

There was no knowing if telling Hanzo of their past together was helping or making things worse, but as there was no way to learn of exactly what had been done to him during his time with Talon, Genji was persistent, determined to aid in his brother's healing despite the frustration that sometimes arose from receiving such minimal responses.

Recovery took time. Acceptance was a journey.

He had learned much of the rewards of patience and persistence over the years, and as such, refused to leave Hanzo's side. "Come on, nii-san," with smooth, unhurried movements, he unclipped his visor, uncovering his heavily scarred features, "Look at me." It wasn't a command, nor was it a request, but something in between, and to Genji's surprise, Hanzo turned to face him, and upon taking in Genji's scars, drew in a harsh breath, brow furrowed, his slitted pupils contracting as though his younger brother were too painfully bright, like staring into the swirling clouds of a newborn star.

The doorknob jerked, startling both Shimadas, but when the latest visitor entered, Genji had already propelled himself to the ceiling, hands and legs braced against the walls to keep himself from falling and giving away his position. After carrying on the ruse of asking to see his brother each day, it would be rather embarrassing to be caught sneaking in visits like this.

"Hey, darlin'" drawled McCree, who was not the man usually sent to deliver Hanzo's meals, which likely explained why it was so late. "So, I've got some grub for ya," he lifted a raw steak in one hand and a plate of sushi in the other. Genji swallowed a noise of disgust as Hanzo looked contemplatively at both. "What I have for ya here is a raw slab of meat and a nice, dainty plate of sushi. Now, I know that meat looks mighty tempting but… Oh!" He was interrupted by the clawed hand extending through the bars, gesturing impatiently for the sushi as Hanzo fixed the cowboy with an unmistakable expression of irritation, and judging by the low whistle the cowboy uttered, the change in routine was both unexpected and a pleasant surprise.

"Well, ain't that something?" McCree grinned, speaking only after Hanzo had began spearing the fish and rice with his claws, "We'll have to get you chopsticks or something for next time, now that your manners have improved." At the potent glare McCree received, he raised his hands towards his chest, a bead of nervous sweat dripping down from his temple, "No offense meant, of course."

With a huff that could almost be construed as amused, Hanzo continued to partake in his meal. Gradually, McCree relaxed, allowing his arms to fall at his sides. "Guess you're not in the mood to try and eat me today?"

After a moment of thought, Hanzo leaned towards the bars, sniffed the air close to the cowboy as though tempted, and then curled his lips in a look of pure disdain. McCree crossed his arms. "Darlin', I don't know if I should be relieved or insulted."

If Genji didn't know better, he'd have sworn Hanzo had just made a joke.

Once Hanzo was finished, he pushed the plate beneath the bars, back to McCree, who obligingly picked it up, tipped his hat, and made as though to leave. Instead, he hovered in front of the door, sighed, then said over his shoulder, "It's good that you're starting to get better, Hanzo. Great, even. You see, there's someone who's been dying to see you, but we've been mighty worried you'll bite his head off if we let him, which would be bad for everyone all around, so we're starting with baby steps. Like getting you to eat like a man again." Hanzo, for his part, was staring hard at the cowboy, and maybe it was a trick of the light, or even just wishful thinking, but Genji could have sworn he saw him nod.

Opening the door, McCree tapped his chin, adding almost to himself, "Maybe it's about time we finally let Genji come and see you. It'd do you both some good, I bet."

Hanzo watched him go, his steely gaze lingering on the door even after Genji dropped down from the ceiling, landing with his knees and elbows bent in a crouch.

Soon, Genji found himself suppressing a chuckle at the aggrieved air with which his older brother finally regarded him, as he could nearly hear the message written so plainly in Hanzo's expression, The cowboy is a fool.

"Perhaps." Genji conceded, replying in a hushed, amused tone to the unspoken complaint. "He is also a good man."

With a grumpy huff, Hanzo shifted, turning his attention elsewhere, to the narrow furrows he'd scratched out of the concrete floor during the first few days of his 'adjustment period.'

As Genji watched, his jaw stretched in a long yawn, revealing all of his glittering teeth, and when it was done, his eyes flicked meaningfully towards the door.

Clipping on his visor, Genji hid a smile. "Alright, nii-san. I got the message. You can get some rest. We've made a lot of progress today." He gave a jaunty wave on his way out, already wondering how he was going to disguise the new skip in his step when he was supposed to be reaching the breaking point from not seeing his brother in a week.

Oh, well. If all he had to do to keep up the charade was act grumpy and surly, then he'd just try to imagine how Hanzo would behave in any given situation and work with that.

A lengthy rumble drifted from the cell, too casual to be considered a growl, too slurred to hold any discernable meaning. Pausing at the door with one hand on the threshold, Genji glanced over his shoulder to see Hanzo clenching his hands into fists, tongue darting out between his fangs in palpable frustration. "Patience, nii-san. It will come. We will try again when I return tomorrow. Mata ashita."

It wasn't until Genji was well on his way back to his quarters that it struck how similar his brother's incoherent utterance had sounded to his own farewell.

There was an information-gathering mission the next day, one which required his own expertise in the art of surveillance and stealth, and since he wasn't yet cleared to visit his brother, a topic which he made certain to bring up by the hour, there was no getting around it. Genji completed the mission as quickly as he could without threatening its chances of success, fearful that too much time apart would erase many of the steps Hanzo had taken towards recovery.

The road to healing was slippery and steep, a fact which Genji knew from experience. Without someone to guide him up it, it would be only too easy for Hanzo to lose his step and fall.

However, it would seem his fears were unfounded, as Hanzo merely regarded him with a mildly sullen expression the next day, clearly upset, but still cognizant enough to sit with perfect posture, back straight as the hilt of a blade. "There was a mission," Genji rushed to explain. "I came as soon as I could."

Time passed. Genji held his breath, anticipating his brother's reaction, but Hanzo merely huffed, seemingly accepting the reason for Genji's absence, and Genji's synthetic muscles loosened at the sight, finally relaxing. A quiet chuckle escaped him before he could think better of it. He looked up to see Hanzo staring at him, perplexed, with one brow raised in silent question. "Sorry." Genji shrugged with easy nonchalance, as though they were simply having a chat in the dojo, back before their father passed away, and every remnant of their innocence crumbled into dust. "Even with circumstances as they are, being here with you makes me feel like a kid again."

At the admission, Hanzo's searching gaze fell squarely on his green visor, seeing past it, before he pointedly looked away.

Genji settled comfortably into a lotus position, having prepared a special tale for this visit to make up for his absence the day before. "Do you remember when you were learning how to conceal your presence in the trees?" Hanzo showed no sign that he did, but that was expected. "The elders wanted to accelerate your teaching, so they moved you up to traveling unseen in the branches. I was jealous. You got good so quickly, it felt like I was being left behind, so I snuck away from my tutors and climbed to the highest branch of a sakura in the courtyard," Hanzo's sharpened ears twitched at this point. Genji most certainly had his attention, "and leapt to the next branch over, intending to master the practice on my own."

"I, of course, failed miserably. Bumped my head rather badly on the trunk, cried a little, and never told a soul." Genji shook his head, rocking gently. "It was too embarrassing."

Not even trying to hide his interest now, Hanzo regarded Genji steadily, his golden eyes glittering with intelligence. "Now, I suppose, it's easy to see that all I really wanted was to be more like you." It was tiring to speak of the past with such openness. Tiring and uncomfortable, like prodding an old wound. He waited for a response of some sort, a sign that Hanzo had understood, and upon receiving none, slumped dejectedly against the wall behind him.

"That was a long time ago, Genji," came a tired voice, raspy and guttural from disuse.

More than a little shocked, Genji leapt to his feet. "You can speak, brother? Since when?" The questions came rapidly, tinged with unease, suspicion, and doubt.

Hanzo's mouth twisted into a rueful smirk. "Not so long as you think." He gestured for Genji to sit. "The very knowledge of my name has been forcibly intertwined with recollections of our battle. Every time I remember, I relive that day. It is… easier to become a beast."

Moved, Genji reached for him, unafraid of his claws or his scales or his fangs. Through the bars, he saw his brother. And that was all that mattered. Hanzo jerked, yanking his hand away from Genji's touch, unaware of the hurt crossing his brother's face beneath his helmet as he continued in an agonized whisper, "Don't. I will forget you again. I can't… stop it."

"Then I will remind you," Genji insisted, relieved and bolstered by the knowledge that his brother was not once more rejecting him. "As much as it takes. We may thrive in darkness, brother, but it is not our home." Gesturing to the concrete floor and walls, he added, "You deserve so much more than this."

He would talk to the others, convince them that Hanzo was sane, that he remained an ally of Overwatch. Though his appearance may have changed drastically from his ordeal, there still beat the heart of a warrior in his breast.

Dragons did not belong in cages.

"Genji?"

He looked up to meet his brother's unwavering gaze, "Hm?"

Hanzo licked his lips, jaw working as though forming words. At first, all Genji could hear was a hiss, causing him to worry, but then the sibilant sounds coalesced, becoming sharper, separating into distinct syllables. "Mata ashita."

A/N: Whew. Those few years of saying, "Mata ashita," at the end of every Japanese lesson finally came in handy. As you might have guessed, this is my first work for this fandom. I have planned about three more chapters, each of which will be a stand-alone story. If I've made any mistakes, feel free to mention it in a review or drop me a message. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't having a lot of fun with this, and I'd love to share as much of it as I can.