Rain pads across the rooftops like a living thing
every drop its footstep
the mist, its sigh.
Hanzo gazes out
to see the rainfall pooling on the flagstones
and feels the air lying heavy over Hanamura.
The lightning flashes.
The thunder calls
and something in him answers.
He longs to feel rain on his skin
to drink it in.
Denied, of course.
It would not be proper to splash in puddles,
child though he is.
Father would not approve.
Dry beneath the dojo roof
Hanzo sits alone in meditation
outwardly, the perfect statue
of the perfect son.
While Genji, laughing
plays in the rain that falls on Hanamura
and Hanzo fights the urge to join him.
The brothers learn to fight
at first, with fists
and feet
shurikens
swords
naginata
kama
and the bow.
Then with wisdom
The Art of War
and The Book of Five Rings.
(though Genji never had patience for books that weren't mere stories
like the ones Father read to them when they were children
tales of heroes
and of demons.
Impractical and senseless, Hanzo said
useless as Genji's tokusatsu
though one day in the dojo
Genji struck a pose
Unbreakable body!
so earnestly
that Hanzo forgot himself and joined)
Hanzo is stronger
but Genji is faster
and when they spar
neither admits that the other won.
Father pronounces them acceptable
though not quite competent yet.
He calls Genji careless
Never turn your back to the enemy. And Hanzo impatient You must wait for the proper time to strike.
But he is pleased.
For now.
Hanzo bears the needles with stoic grace.
The dragons itch beneath Hanzo's skin
and in it, now
in the tattoo that he admits he hasn't earned the right to wear.
It was a present from Father
a reminder
and a promise.
You carry the dragons with you always.
Father says they are a sign
the favour of the gods
the Shimada clan's birthright
their protectors and guardians.
But, also, their weapons.
When Father calls the dragons
his sons watch, enraptured
but Father is indifferent
as though commanding any common servant.
They will obey you too, when you learn how to summon them.
(Genji attends, for once.
Lately he spends more afternoons in the arcade than in the dojo.
Say "dragons", and he comes running
with ramen dripping down his chin.)
They are within you, sleeping.
Hanzo nudges
and they wake.
No, "wake" is not the word.
They burst like lightning
and when they fly from him
he marvels that any dragon would
deign to obey a human.
Father looks on
too haughty to praise his son
for doing what any Shimada could do
but he is almost smiling.
Genji can't do it.
Not for lack of trying.
Hanzo gloats, unseemly as it is
and calls the dragons once more
though the effort drains him
and despite himself, he staggers
Genji reaches out a hand
to steady his brother
and Hanzo slaps it aside.
Hanzo dreams of storms
the wind, a servant to his wings
his voice, the thunder
his breath, the lightning
his power, unquestioned-
He wakes to sunlight
and for the briefest moment
curses the clear skies.
Hanzo wears the responsible elder brother's mask.
You neglect your swordplay
and your studies.
You disappear for hours.
(softer, now)
Father worries.
Hanzo worries too.
In truth
he misses his brother
more than his sparring partner.
He spares a thought:
an afternoon of ramen and arcade games.
But there is always one more lesson
one more tutor.
The clan must come first. Always.
Hanzo will be master one day
and no one knows what will become of Genji.
Genji will not meet his eyes.
Why should Father worry for me, when he has you?
Our father-
Father pats my head and calls me Sparrow.
Then he looks at you and glows with pride.
Genji slips away.
Hanzo does not follow.
On Father's orders
and to Father's satisfaction
Hanzo kills a man.
It is not a clean death
though Hanzo thrusts the sword just as he was taught.
Training could not prepare him for the wet sound
of steel through flesh
Nor the way his blade scrapes against the bone.
Hanzo pierces a lung
and this man, who Father called the enemy
dies choking on his blood.
Hanzo wipes clean his blade
with unsteady hands.
He meets the dead man's eyes
just once.
(And then again
in nightmares.)
Father walks away
composed as always.
Genji feigns applause.
They have made a fine attack dog of you, brother.
What a brave and noble warrior, to strike down an unarmed man.
This is the price of keeping order.
Hanzo's voice
speaking Father's words.
And the fate of those who disrespect our family.
You should mark it well.
Oh, I do.
Genji is not contrite
not in the least.
He is smirking.
Lord of Hanamura
master of the Shimada clan
summoner of dragons.
But Sojiro Shimada is as mortal as any other man.
Father leaves, to join Mother in the afterlife.
Hanzo mourns him as is only proper
and stands by his father's body
the perfect statue
of his father's perfect son.
His father's only perfect son.
Hanzo's eyes dart to the empty spot beside him
and the new lord of Hanamura sighs.
Genji creeps home just before dawn.
Or, rather, staggers
slick with rain.
The scent of incense clings to Hanzo
as he takes his brother by the shoulder
to shove him against a wall.
Where have you been?
As though it wasn't obvious.
Genji mumbles something in response
and slumps against his brother
too drunk to stand.
Disgraceful.
I should leave you here, to sully Father's halls
(no, not Father's, not anymore)
like the refuse you are.
He doesn't.
Wastrel though he is
Genji is his brother.
Hanzo drags him off to bed
instead of leaving him
for the servants to deal with.
In the morning, Genji offers no apologies.
You noticed I was gone?
Hanzo fumes.
This is not the first time Genji's come home drunk.
Nor will it be the last.
But it's carved a rift between them
or widened one that was already there.
The elders take Hanzo aside one day.
It's about Genji.
Of course.
He is lazy.
He is impudent.
He squanders money and dishonours the clan.
He shames himself
and his birthright.
He disrespects our family.
Correct him.
He must amend his ways.
And if he will not?
Correct him.
That is all.
Such things were whispered when Sojiro was alive.
Now that he is gone, they are admitted openly.
And louder, day by day.
Something must be done.
Hanzo has lackeys now
who will do things
that would dirty Master's hands.
One offers to dispose of Genji.
It would be silent. Quick.
A clean death.
He is my brother.
He owes Genji this honour.
One final chance.
I will deal with him myself.
They stand in the Shimada dojo
where once they had play-fought as children
where once they had sparred
where now they wear real swords.
Where Genji stands
offering no apologies
nor the least display of shame.
(These days, Genji's swords are just for show
like expensive jewellery
or a fancy watch
worn only to impress his friends.
His skills have rusted.)
Hanzo feels the dragons stir
beneath his skin.
You are a disgrace.
An ultimatum:
redeem yourself
or face the dragons.
They will be less merciful than I.
Genji laughs
drunk again
or just insolent.
And should I be like you? A criminal? A murderer?
So obsessed with becoming Father
that I forget to live?
Hanzo takes a swordsman's stance
one drilled into them as children.
How dare you-
To Genji's credit, he does not plead
nor show any sign of fear.
But this is not the stoic face of a warrior
unmoved by death.
This is mockery.
Will you truly kill me, Hanzo? To maintain order?
Hanzo had intended mercy
but he is lord of Hanamura now
and not to be disdained by such as this.
Not now.
Not ever.
He sees so clearly now.
Genji's impudence
incurable.
For a heartbeat
Genji turns his back.
Hanzo's sword flashes like lightning.
Genji's blood rains on Hanamura.
And this man, who Hanzo called brother-
Genji.
You were always careless.
Hanzo wipes clean his blade
with shaking hands
and cannot meet the dead man's eyes.
(Except in nightmares.)
The elders look on
too haughty to praise Hanzo
for doing what any Shimada should do
but they are almost smiling.
That night, Hanzo dreams
not of a drunken fool
not of storms
but of a child
laughing in the rain.
His family's empire
built on drugs
and weapons
(and worse)
and blood
and fear
and cruelty.
When pushed, it topples.
He has enemies who know things they should not.
Guard schedules
shipping manifests
private documents
even blueprints.
This is vengeance.
The wrath of the gods, falling on him
for what he did to Genji
and what he does now, in their father's name.
Hanzo sees them
gathering on the horizon like thunderclouds
and, eyes fixed on the empty spot beside him
he waits.
Even a dragon cannot turn back the storm.
Hanzo flees in the night
and only for a moment
thinks of surrendering himself.
At times
drunk on sake
and on sorrow
he thinks of little else.
Years later
the brothers reunite
beneath the skies of Hanamura.
Hanzo offering prayers and incense
for one he thought murdered
and Genji offering forgiveness
to a man who will not hear it.
They sit now
drinking tea, and only tea.
(No alcohol. Never again.
Genji's sheepish, for once.
Doctor Ziegler's orders.)
Since the Shimada clan fell
Hanzo has had few moments like this.
It has been...lonely.
He was hunted like a prize stag
driven from his home
fallen from pampered scion
to mere vagrant.
He has slept in dirt
near-starved
killed for money
or survival
or nothing at all.
Hardly the life their father intended.
Scant complaints, next to what Genji must have suffered.
What was left of you, after...I...
Barely enough.
He says it simply.
No bitterness
nor resentment.
(Well, perhaps a little.)
As he explains it, he was saved twice.
Once by Doctor Ziegler
who healed his wounds
and built him new eyes
new legs
and sleek armour to hide his scars.
In return, I helped Blackwatch destroy our family.
There is sorrow in Genji's voice
filtered as it is through cybernetics
and the depths of time.
Sorrow, but not regret.
I killed for them, and gladly.
(For Blackwatch hides in shadow
and their hands are stained
with the blood of the wicked and unjust.)
(For when they were children
Shimada Castle was not a den of criminals.
It was home.)
There is something else when he speaks of Doctor Ziegler
of Angela
of her gentle smile
and kind eyes.
Hanzo's never heard that tone from him before.
You loved her.
I-
Genji is silent for a long moment.
I hated what she made of me.
A metal shell to hide a broken body
and a heart kept beating by machines.
Rebuilt, but at what cost?
I hated what I had become.
I was angry. At you. At the world.
If I had met you then, I would not have shown you mercy.
(They do not speak of their reunion
when Hanzo had felt Genji's sword pressed to his throat
but not a speck of fear.)
When Overwatch fell, I wandered until I met my master
and he helped me to find peace within myself.
A peace I did not think could be found.
Zenyatta, the Omnic monk.
The one who lives in mountains
and preaches that machines have souls.
One day, you should meet him.
Genji is alight with tales of Zenyatta's wisdom.
This is not a side of him that Hanzo has ever seen.
Perhaps this Omnic-
Still.
There is no peace for me.
Let us find it.
Come with me, brother.
Come with me.
As though it were so simple.
As though Genji's presence is not
a constant reminder
of all Hanzo's crimes
and their family's, too.
I must think on this.
As though he sees a more inviting path.
The world is set open before them
like one of Genji's novels.
Hanzo reaches out
to turn the page.
That night Hanzo dreams of Hanamura
of Father's lessons
of storm winds
of a child laughing in the rain.
This time
just this once
Hanzo joins his brother
and the rain soaks them
as they play
together.