Chapter 1 : September 16, 2067
-as the evening falls,
from along the moors the autumn wind
blows chill into the heart
and the quails raise their plaintative cry
in the deep grass of secluded Fukakusa-
–
The Omnic Crisis had made tourism and travelling difficult if not impossible, much of the hiking trails alongside the mountains were empty of human life. The potential for violence was too high, and with the embassies too busy with more urgent matters than helping tourists get their visas.
When peace finally came, however, the masses began to trickle in. Adventurers and novices alike, wanted to take in a beauty far from the mechanized cities they resided in. The Shambali welcomed those who wished to learn their dogmatic teachings, omnic or human. Having set up their perch on the craggy cliffs of the low Himalayas, they were accessible enough… but still with a bit of excitement while travelling to them.
Near the foothills of the mountains, the main monastery looming overhead, two beings were relaxing after a long day of… engagement.
The kindly monk Zenyatta would float amongst the travellers, striking up a conversation at any chance he could parse out. His approach may have isolated him from the rest of the Shambali, but it had its benefits. He could juggle his orbs, tell witty jokes, and have serious discussions with individuals, all within the same hour!
His pupil was stuck with the more quiet work, watching his master speak while keeping an eye out for anyone who might wish to do him harm. Though the Shimada Clan was one that was well-known to the common folk in eastern Asia, no one could recognize its youngest son in their midst. Watching, laughing, occasionally corralling his master away from a group whose intentions were not positive. The tourist season meant many long hours of this work, and while Zenyatta did not require nourishment to keep this pace up, Genji did.
After gently suggesting that they needed to rest for the day, he agreed to stop for the evening. The sun was slowly ticking downwards, the sky cut in half by the white-capped mountains deeping in blue hue by the minute. Genji could see the yellow lungwort swaying in the evening winds in the valley, shuttering from the cold. The warmth of summer still lingered in the air, despite every evening being a little more chilly than the previous one.
No matter. They had given him a mouth to eat, and so he shall eat, even if it did not quite taste the same as it had before. The food carts straddling the worn footpaths of the pilgrimage trails gave him a steady supply of street food, and he readily took advantage. Jasmine tea and sokham bexe for an evening snack it was.
They resided in the ruins of another monastery, red paint on stone columns worn from the many winters it faced unkept. As the sun continued to set, Genji sat on a worn blanket, padded underneath with straw, and unpackaged the treats he acquired on the road. The pastry was still warm, and the scent of butter and fat seeped under his faceplate to his nostrils. The steam from the still-hot tea swirled around his head, floral and pungent in the cold air. A twist of a lid, a measured pour, and it cooled quickly.
Not requiring any of this to survive, Zenyatta watched on from a distance, resting in the courtyard. Bemused, he called out to his pupil:
"What did you do to acquire those?" he asked, knowing full well that neither of them were paid for their preachings. Genji had already removed his faceplate and had a mouthful of the steamy bun in his mouth. His dark eyes twinkled in humor; he knew that Zenyatta was not accusing him to stealing.
"We all have our methods," he responded smoothly, then swallowing the bun down. It was goat this time, tangy and sweet. "I told the merchant's daughter a joke. She laughed and did not find it offensive or disagreeable. He knows us, knows that the one of us needs food." He chuckled, taking another bite.
"Very good," Zenyatta responded, "Provided it did not offend the lady's sensibilities." The monk knew full well of his pupil's previous affinity for women, and would jab at him for it from time to time.
"No no, Master," Genji said more firmly, but with mirth, "Those days are long behind me."
"Does not mean that you cannot use your past to help your in the present," the omnic responded, humor in his voice. Genji chuckled under his breath as he finished the last bite of the bun. He took the tea cup, small and brown with a chip at the corner, to his lips and took a sip.
Intoxicating.
"Meditations tonight?"
"Not tonight, Genji," Zenyatta responded, approaching him, "One must relish in earthly pleasures every now and again, and the moon is full tonight." He pulled a paper bag out from a pocket in his robes, handing it to the cyborg.
"Have the evening to take it all in," he continued, "Being human-"
"Partially so," Genji reminded him, taking the bag.
"-yes… you have a fondness for those esoteric moments on this Earth. You seek out pleasures to feel connected to the universe."
"… thank you, Master," Genji responded, sounding somewhat ashamed.
"I do not judge you, my pupil," Zenyatta continued with some tenderness, "It is a part of who you are. Embrace it; I cannot, for I do not feel these things. I can only understand them from what you teach me." He nodded in approval at the cyborg, and with that backed up towards the doorway, open out into the cobblestone courtyard.
Genji slowly opened the bag, to find a single cookie, a khapsey dusted in powdered sugar.
"Goes great with tea," the omnic interjected, "So the merchant tells me. If you need me, I will be outside, watching the moon." He shifted out of the room, illuminated by the ever-growing moonlight. Genji watched him go, and with a slight smile, he took the cookie out of the bag. A bite, flaky texture, sweet and still savory…
He stood up, and walked out to the edge of his room. The walls were open, so he could readily see the sky above. Sitting again, his own face and body were cast in pale green moonlight. Metal and plastic formed a cowl up to his neck, with his face and most of his head still reminiscent of a human. Thick black hair, trimmed on the sides to keep it snug to his headpiece, his face marred a few scars. One deep one cut through his eye, replaced with one with capacities far beyond that of its human neighbor. He took a deep breath in, hearing the hum of his lungs inside his chest.
His body was finely tuned, a work of art by machinist standards. It whirred and pulsed without the need of expensive oils or tuneups; he could survive for possible decades without having to have his body checked up. It had taken years for him to come to terms that this new body was a gift, it served a purpose of his own. Not just the purposes of those who designed and created it.
Another bite of the treat, another sip of tea.
Genji gazed intently at the sky, deepening to an indigo blue. Swirling lavender clouds cut through the pale moon, staring down at the two machines gazing at it.
This body was his now.
Another bite, another sip of tea.
Not theirs.
He took another bite, but something felt wrong. Too dry, the pastry with pockets of air slid down his throat. He was usually so careful with his food, wishing to savor every bite. A slip-up, certainly no consequences could come of this-
-hic-
Zenyatta turned his still head towards Genji at the sound, one that he had heard human children make when they ate too quickly.
-hic-
A cybernetic body, so perfectly crafted, could not have a flaw such as this… something so small and unessential. As Genji let out another hic, the vision in his artificial eye became clouded over, then crisp again. Except, in front of his was an image of someone so very familiar to him.
Angela.
She wore a pressed lab coat, with the Overwatch medical emblem embroidered on the front. Blond hair pulled back, thin-rimmed glasses pushed up on her nose, she fumbled with a clipboard in her hands. She looked young and vibrant, and around her other staff members were bustling about their day to day tasks. The numbers at the top right corner of the feed called out "12/10/2068". This was years before the battle, before the collapse of the headquarters and the organization itself; not too long after he woke up from the procedure that gave him this body in the first place.
Genji grew tense, in shock at the face in front of him. Then she began to speak:
"Hello Genji!" she said cheerily, pausing to make sure the camera was recording, "If you are receiving this message, this means that you have activated the HIC function of your nutrient processing unit. If you are receiving this message in error, please scroll down and press the 'cancel' button."
She had installed a tutorial system in his cybernetic brain, when he first started his rehabilitation and she could not be with him. He could scroll through pages with his thoughts, click and recap functions of his own body.
"The HIC function… it serves no real purpose," she said sheepishly, pushing up her glasses again, "Hiccups are a very human bodily function, and I figured I would throw something in that could help your transition. Might also teach you to not eat so quickly-" Angela let out a soft chuckle, checking something off on her clipboard before looking back up at the camera, more soberly this time.
"If you want me to disable it, please let me know. Thank you."
The camera feed cut off, buzzing into a field of black and white static. Genji settled back into his seat, feeling his hands shaking. He had thought of her, in some way or another, for every day since he had left the headquarters in Geneva those many years ago. He could see her in the fog of his memories, smell her hair, feel her hands meeting his while steadying his steps… In order to continue his own progress, he shut her out of his head. But to hear her voice and see her so very clearly, it shook him.
Shutting his eyes for a moment to compose himself, he saw the screen in front of him again. She was frozen in time there, a faint smile on her face as the camera's recording ceased. His eyes darted around the screen, looking for some way to repeat the video… but then, he saw something he had not seen before.
A 'messages' tab, in the upper left corner, with red numbers next to it. Nearly forty messages were in that folder, unread. It had been years since he even looked at this screen, let alone looked at any messages. He swallowed hard, dreading the thought of looking at them.
He scrolled through them…
Most were from her.
"Is something the matter, my Pupil?" he heard a familiar voice call out.
"… just some ghosts coming back to haunt me," Genji murmured with some bitterness.
"Remember what we had talked about," Zenyatta continued, more firmly, "To become truly at peace, we must confront our past, come to terms with it." It seemed so long ago since he had stumbled upon the suffering cyborg, his heart and mind wracking with self-doubt and anger. He witnessed a glimpse of that former self in this moment, and it concerned him greatly.
"I thought I was finished with all of this."
There was a moment of silence, the wind whipping through the empty temple. The two stared at each other, with Zenyatta breaking the quiet after a minute or so.
"What we uncover, we must confront, no matter how much we do not want to." He was not going to allow Genji to slip back to his old ways; he had put too much effort into his training, and as his brightest pupil yet… well, even if Zenyatta claimed to have no favorites, he was certainly invested deeply into Genji's training.
The cyborg realized that he could not win this conflict. Genji let out a harsh laugh; "So my work for tonight isn't finished after all?" He stood up stiffly, her looking at him through the screen, still as a stone. He started off to the inner section of his room, not waiting for his master to respond.
"You know me by now, dearest Pupil," Zenyatta mused as he heard Genji sit back on the straw-stuffed blanket,
"Our work is never finished."