This is just a quick little something I was dared to write by a friend of mine. I'm actually really happy with the result that I might turn it into a series. I'm not too sure yet.

Reviews are greatly appreciated! Hope you enjoy!

(edited for better flow)

Maybe One Day

防衛戦願おう

"Let us hope for a different outcome."

Genji waited in the shadows of the buildings, still as a statue. Patience, his current weapon.

There were only a few more names left on the list and then his mission would be complete. Finally. It's been a long time coming. Overwatch had been more than helpful in his quest to track down and dismantle the Shimada Clan, the family he no longer held any attachments to. They betrayed him, cast him aside like he was nothing more than a dirt-ridden rag. His own brother, the only family he had left after their father's sudden death, dealt his final blow... or at least that's what they were led to believe. The young Shimada heir survived, alive in this ungodly body that was no more than an haphazard experiment.

The jostling of the door shook him from his reverie. He crouched lower, waiting with bated breath for his target.

Her footsteps padded with confidence against the wooden floorboards. Her long onyx hair swayed freely in the light breeze, a tired sigh escaping her lips. The fact that she was the only audible sound in the otherwise silent night gave him pause.

He should have been done with it then and there, to strike her down as easily as the rest, but his human heart compelled him to rebel.

Genji jumped down from his perch, landing effortlessly on the ground. With practiced ease, he slipped in through the door before it properly closed behind her. His actions, while faint, did not go unnoticed. The woman froze in her step but did not startle.

"So, you're the one assassinating the Shimada Clan," she stated. The monotonous tone told him she had been awaiting his arrival. Not surprising since the high-ranking members were being taken out by an unknown assailant. Genji watched as she spun around to face him fully. Unlike the others, who either pathetically begged for their lives or attempted to attack first, she made no sudden movements. Instead, she calmly gazed upon the intruder in her home, displaying no shock at the cyborg body he had yet to grow accustomed to.

Genji stared longer than he would later admit, taken aback by her appearance. She had changed in these many years; she was taller, more mature, more womanly. A stark difference to the lanky teenager he remembered teasing her as. Her face remained the same (pouty lips; the perpetually furrowed brow), the only difference being her eyes. The warm, wondrous twinkle he admired long ago was all but gone, replaced with an emotionless, icy glare. Reminiscent of the path she walked on.

No, now wasn't the time for conflicting emotions. This was his mission; he'd see it through no matter what.

"I figured you'd pay me a visit sooner or later," she scoffed as she shifted her weight to cross her arms. "Though I didn't expect to die at the hands of an omnic."

Genji suppressed the urge to flinch at her words. To hear her speak so callously to him was disconcerting and foreign. Hoping she'd respond with a mirthful quip or jest was wishful thinking. His modified voice would go unrecognized and still his reply was slow and hesitant. "What I am is of little concern," he finally responded as he unsheathed his sword. He pointed the tip of his blade at the woman, challenging her. "Shimada Natsuki, prepare yourself."

Natsuki tutted, revealing twin blades from behind her back. "I will not go down without a fight."

She matched his every attack with a parry of her own. Her strikes were quick and concise, minimizing the effort exerted yet maximizing her power. She was downright graceful in her movements. She's improved, Genji inwardly smirked before dashing forward to go on the offensive. Their dance continued, both of them ignoring the poor furniture caught in the skirmish. They were evenly matched for what it's worth, but Genji's augmented body allowed the scales to tip in his favor.

She was quick, but he was quicker.

The woman grunted when her back collided with the floor, her legs having been kicked out from under her. She attempted to roll to her feet but the sharp edge of steel pressed against her exposed neck made her freeze. Pinned, she opted to glare venomously at the assassin. If looks could kill… And then, unexpectedly, the fire in her eyes diminished. Her stoic expression filled with anguish as she accepted defeat.

"Do it," she spat, almost pleadingly. "End everything... so I can be free."

The sword twitched against her skin, its owner showing shock if not for the metal mask he wore.

"Why do you stay?" Genji couldn't help but ask. "You've known the Shimada Clan has been on Overwatch's radar for some time, yet you remain."

"Who knows?" she laughed humorously, glancing off to the side. "Perhaps it's the only reminder I have of an old friend." Following her gaze, he spotted a wooden figurine on the windowsill, carved in the shape of a bird. A sparrow. It was old and worn out but he remembered exactly where and when he gave it to her. It was an arbitrary gift on his part, but she had kept it—treasured it, even. When he turned back, Natsuki was staring right at him, into his soul. "The punishment for defecting is death," she uttered. "Even if I were to leave, there will always be assassins after me. You might as well get it over with now."

The long minute that passed between them felt like an eternity, neither daring to move. The woman continued to bore brown eyes into the cybernetic man, patiently awaiting his judgement. She wanted freedom from the entrapments of a life that she was born into. She wanted death over a tireless life on the run. It was time to let it go. He would grant her wish.

Natsuki blinked when the blade was removed from her throat, and he stepping away from her. She stumbled to her feet, reaching up with one hand to touch her neck subconsciously. The other grabbed her weapon, just in case. Her brows furrowed while she gazed incredulously at his back.

"Why?" she demanded to know. "Why are you letting me live?"

Genji glanced at her from over his shoulder. "The Shimada Clan is finished," he explained. "All that will remain is a former leader... and a woman who was enslaved by the name." He carefully gauged her reaction—dumbfounded and contemplative—before adding, "Be free and live your own life... Natchan."

She reactively growled at the nickname, one in which time and time again she reiterated that she hated. "Natchan?" she repeated quietly, the hidden meaning slowly sinking in. "No one calls me that except for—" It dawned on her like she was hit by a truck. An audible gasp caused her weapon to drop unceremoniously to the floor again. The clatter did little to distract her from her revelation. Confused tears misted her eyes as she stammered out, "G-Genji...?"

The cyborg disappeared in a cloud of smoke, ignoring her pleas to wait.

When he was transformed into a living weapon, Genji believed he had put all of his desires behind him. He knew dismantling his family's criminal empire would eventually lead him to her. The moment she appeared, however, returned a flood of memories. It was nothing more than a silly, childhood crush, temporary and fleeting like his many ill-fated relationships of the past, and yet dread filled his stomach when she became his next target.

He let her live. He wanted her to live.

Maybe it was for his own selfish reasons.

Maybe, after his mission was complete, he could see her again. To face her properly after all these years.

Maybe one day.