The first meeting wasn't in a detention room with Commander Reyes. It wasn't with anyone else in fact.
It had been a bright beautiful day, and the sun was setting molten gold over the Bay of Gibraltar. Most of the watchpoint inhabitants had taken their canteen food outside to enjoy the pleasant evening. Genji had taken the opportunity to go down to the practice range, the only room entirely windowless, and thus likely to be deserted. It was rare he got the whole range to himself, and he wanted to take out Ryū Ichimonji away from prying eyes and possible injuries.
When he got to the range it was pleasantly cool and empty. In one corner was a large square of sparring mats, in another was a roped off shooting range with targets that could be lined up and a holographic projector that could simulate different terrains and scenarios. The other side of the hall was a simple, empty, large space with a parquet wooden floor, much more what Genji was used to.
He spent the first half an hour doing small exercises the doctor had suggested, getting used to the manoeuvrability of his cyber enhancements and letting his organic muscles stretch and warm up with them. He then took a more rigorous approach, he counted out his push-ups, and when his organic arm got tired, he moved his mechanical arm to his centre and kept going. He might not feel at one with the machine part of him, but it never ceased to amaze him how resilient it was, how it just kept going. He ran up the walls and flipped back off them. He jumped from standing and could reach three times higher than he ever had in his youth. An exhilaration flowed through him. He practised an empty-hand kata, taking the steps at first slowly across the dojo floor, then at speed, his mind pin-pointing the exact moment in each move intended to strike his opponent. A room full of invisible assailants fell under his touch as his feet formed ancient patterns on the floor. When he finished he was sweating, his augmentations flaring at the contact with moisture. He reached a hand behind his metal mask and ruffled his hair free of slick sweat. His breathing was heavy through the ventilator. He walked to the side where his katana and wakizashi lay next to his hoodie, bag, and spare ration packs. He picked up his katana reverently and pushed its hilt up from the scabbard with a thumb.
His head snapped up. Footsteps sounded in the hall. Genji clicked the katana back into its sheath. He crouched behind the low wall separating the dojo from the rest of the practice range. A figure had entered at the far end, apparently also taking advantage of the 'empty' room. Genji's heart was already sinking, at this distance he couldn't see who it was, but he had an inkling who might have used the same logic as him to come here at this time. He looked at his things. There was only one exit from the practice range, and not many in the watchpoint walked around with two swords. None, in fact, other than himself. He pulled his hoodie on and made sure his face was concealed. He silently replaced his ration packs in his rucksack and swung it onto his back. He took his swords one in each hand. He took a deep breath.
He strode straight through the centre of the practice range.
Hanzo had stopped at the shooting range. Overwatch recruits were always watching him when he came here, fascinated even by the way he strung his bow. Their faces were always filled with questions, like why did he used such an outdated weapon, or how long did it take to get the tattoo that wound up the bow arm he needed free for shooting. There were few opportunities when he could simply be by himself and shoot. He didn't need a crowd of people oohing and ahhing over where his arrows landed. He wanted perfection, and the sounds of people awed by what he saw as inadequacy irked him no end. The range was not as empty as he first assumed however. Someone had been so quiet that even he, who prided himself on his attentiveness, had not realised he wasn't alone. That thought disturbed him.
The figure who strode past ignored him. They were wearing a shapeless baggy hoodie that swamped all their features, and some kind of metal plating on their legs. It was the swords in their hands that caught Hanzo's attention. His eyes widened when he saw the daisho. He turned round fully, mouth parting. Up until now, he had been sceptical that Overwatch really had managed to revive his brother. There was no mistaking the legendary Shimada family blade being walked past him though. His eyes followed Genji, who made no show of recognising him or noticing him. Hanzo felt something tighten in his chest. He respected the silence, and let his brother pass undisturbed.
Genji's heart was hammering so hard he thought his last fully functioning organ might give out. He had to stop when he finally got through the double doors at the end of the hall. He drew in two long breaths. Hanzo had without a doubt known it was him. Thankfully his brother always opted for predictable silence when confronted with awkward situations. Genji squeezed his eyes shut. Then he opened them again, and walked as fast as he respectably could.
"You just walked right passed him?"
"Yes."
"Didn't stop or nothin'? Didn't say a word?"
"No."
"Badass." McCree evaluated. They were sitting drinking milkshakes on the wilting but most comfortable couch in the Blackwatch commonroom. McCree had meticulously constructed a pipeline of multi-coloured bendystraws that linked the milkshake cartoon to one of Genji's digestion tubes.
"Doctor Ziegler will be mad if she finds out what I'm putting inside me."
"Don't change the subject, this is too good." Jesse sat back and sucked noisily on his milkshake, "And that bastard for sure knew it was you, right?"
Genji sighed,
"How many other people on base are walking around with Shimada ancestral blades?"
"I wish I could have seen the shapes his angry little eyebrows woulda made."
"Angry enormous eyebrows, more like."
Jesse snorted into his milkshake, and Genji's eyes lit with amusement.
"Oh lord, do I want to know what's happening in here?" Moira walked in and aimed for the fridge. She paused before she got there to look extremely unimpressed at the straw structure hooked up to Genji. "Really, are you two sure you're adults?"
"I didn't make no claim like that, ma'am." Jesse tilted his ever present hat at her. "Hey, Genji met his brother today."
Genji glared at him.
Moira turned back from the fridge, face changing entirely, she fixed Genji with mismatched eyes,
"You did?"
Genji sunk back into the comfort of his hoodie and merely scowled.
"'Course they just totally blanked each other, 'cause I mean it's Genji plus Genji squared we're talkin' bout here."
Moira raised an eyebrow. She reached into the fridge and brought out a jar with brown liquid sloshing inside.
"Yeah what the fuck is that, it's been in there weeks." McCree angled his straw to suck up rogue milkshake collecting in the carton corners.
"Just a little experiment." Moira unscrewed the lid. "Couple of gorged leeches that I was hoping might survive in lower temperatures." She swilled the jar, "Looks like that formulas going to need a little more work."
Jesse jumped back on the sofa, pulling his legs under him like the floor was a pool of sharks.
"Leeches! I thought they was pickles! I nearly had one in a sandwich last week!"
"Well you shouldn't take what's not yours, Jesse," Moira said mildly. "And please don't destroy that sofa any more than it already is. Blackwatch funding goes to better use in my lab than it does replacing furniture your clumsy clodhoppers have gone through."
"You put leeches in the communal fridge?" Genji was incredulous.
"Oh, now he talks."
"Who's talking?" Reyes strode in and made a show of waiting impatiently, arms folded and foot tapping, for Moira to finish with the fridge. "Sure isn't the guy I've got in a holding cell over the bay in Algeciras. You know that guy who got stopped at customs flying into Madrid – no you won't I didn't tell you. Well, he was smuggling an old E-type bastion motherboard into the country so he was passed my way but of course still has to be held in Spanish territory. Not talking at all. Spent all day on him and not a squeak. Maybe I'm losing my touch."
"Don't think you're at risk of losin' any touches, Boss. That man's definitely got the livin' hell scared outa him, I can tell from all the way over here an-"
"What the fuck is that?" Reyes squinted at the bendystraw pipeline. "Is this what you let them do when I'm not around?" He said accusingly to Moira.
"What?! No! I just got here."
"She-!" Jesse pointed an accusing finger, "She keeps leeches in the fridge! Our fridge! Leeches that look a mighty lot like pickles!"
"Who's she, the cat's mother?" Moira put the lid back on her jar of dead leeches, then put them back in the fridge and pulled out a beer instead.
"Don't put them back in?!" Jesse clapped his hands to his cheeks. "That's it I ain't never eatin' nothin' in there ever again." He murmured to Genji, who was still squeezing milkshake out his carton.
"You really keeping dead stuff in there?" Reyes murmured to Moira.
"They weren't dead when I put them in there, Commander," Moira said, still with her mildly amused tone, "And besides, these are dead, and I assume what you're waiting to get out from here." She tossed him a pack of beef jerky that he caught. "Which, by the way, Commander, does not need refrigeration – unlike my cold-resistant leech experiment."
"Cold-unresistant." Genji corrected.
"Shut it, smartarse. Go back to being silent and brooding." Moira cracked open her beer and sat on the second-most-comfortable sofa.
The commander opened his beef jerky and put one in his mouth and chewed. He sat down heavily next to Moira.
"These sofas are terrible. Remind me to buy new ones."
"How about I remind you about that new fume cupboard I was due last month."
"Oh that." Reyes waved Moira's proposal away, "I'll get to that." He popped another piece of jerky in his mouth.
"Specs were on your desk thirty-eight days ago, Commander."
"Alright." Reyes said around a mouthful, "I'll do it tomorrow. Once I've got back from Algeciras. Hey, Genji, fancy a boat trip tomorrow?"
"What! How come he gets to go!? I always used to be your interrogation person!"
"Have you got reloadable shuriken coming out your arm and glowing red eyes, Jesse? No. You're about as intimidating a roadside kids show."
"That's very insensitive, Commander," Moira put in.
"Thank-you!" Jesse cried indignantly.
"Insensitive towards our resident cyborg, who may not wish his appearance to be used to intimidate ne'er-do-wells." Moira continued.
"I get not the least bit of love 'n' support from this here family." McCree folded his arms and huffed.
Genji unhooked his bendystraws and plugged his tubing back in,
"I'll come, Commander." Genji said.
"Good. It's a nice trip. Beautiful sea. Beautiful city."
"Beautiful barely legal prisoner interrogation." Moira put in.
"Don't put him off." Reyes wagged a finger at Moira.
"So unfair." McCree muttered.
Genji felt for his friend.
"Commander, about the Hanamura mission."
The room fell silent.
"Yeah. What about it?" Reyes said slowly.
"Could it be a three-person team on the ground." Genji looked to McCree. "Could Jesse come?"
Reyes frowned,
"Doubt the Yakuza will think much of a foreign loud-mouthed American in their midst."
"I take after the boss like that." McCree put in.
"Actually, that won't matter at all." Genji said simply, "Foreigners are something of an intrigue in the remoter parts of Japan. People are happier to let manners slide and put away some of their harder tempers for the sake of a guest. The Yakuza are no exception. Everyone delights in showing their home to a foreigner. They find it all very amusing and very exciting. Livens up the same old routine. McCree would be an asset to the mission, breaking tension between old contacts and I, whilst also ensuring my brother and I don't kill each other before the mission gets going."
The room fell silent again. Reyes chewed on his jerky in thought. Eventually he shrugged,
"It's your team, you can have whoever you want if you think it'll get the job done."
Genji sat back in the couch, comfortable. Everyone else was stiff and quiet.
Jesse could feel the tension and uncertainty heavy on the air. He cleared his throat in an effort to cut through the awkwardness.
"Ahem. What's this now? I gotta work for this guy?" He jerked his thumb Genji's way, "I'm two years older than him, so by rights that command gets to go to me."
"Hanzo's a year older than you." Genji said, killing the conversation in the room again.
"The team's Genji's." Reyes said after a long moment, trying to smooth over the fractures in the atmosphere.
Moira downed the rest of her beer.
"Charming conversation, boys. But I think I'm going to retire." She pointed a finger at Reyes, "Don't forget that fume cabinet." She stalked off towards her quarters.
There was silence in the room after that. The sun had truly set and left long warm shadows stretching in stripes from the windows to deep corners. Eventually Reyes reached for the television remote and flicked on a drama in Spanish. Genji liked the way the room was lit only by the blue light of the TV and felt at ease in the presence of his friend and his commander.
Jesse was restless, unsure what to say or do. He looked up and saw Genji was watching the drama on the screen too.
"You understand that?" He nudged Genji.
"Downloaded subtitles. Have them going across my vision." Genji whispered back.
"Quiet!" Reyes hissed, and turned up the volume on the TV.
McCree moved closer,
"What's happening now?" He said under his breath to Genji.
"My subtitles are in Japanese. I can't translate that fast."
"You guys!" McCree stood up. "So unreasonable."
Reyes pulled a slipper off his foot and threw it at Jesse. Jesse ducked but took it as his cue to leave.
Genji remained curled up in his corner of the sofa, vaguely watching the show but mostly lulled into rest by the blue light and calm ambience.
When Reyes turned off the television an hour later, Genji was fast asleep. Reyes paused, checking the weight of his footsteps. He gingerly laid a blanket over the sleeping figure. Then felt foolish, because he'd draped it over the cyborg part of Genji that felt no cold. He grumbled to himself about becoming soft, then sloped out the room, collecting his stray slipper as he left.
