"I do not know if I am comfortable with this, Genji."
"Won't you give it a chance, brother?" Genji's robotic hand gestured almost elegantly to the futon on the other side of the small table, minding the delicate china teapot and cups. "Please, sit."
Hanzo hesitated for another minute or so, then stiffly lowered onto his knees on the futon and set his bow on the ground beside him. Genji beamed behind his mask, then began preparing the tea.
"I feel a moment of quiet, open conversation will do us some good," he explained gently as he began making the tea. "It may help us to familiarise with one another again, and get things off our chests that our nature as Shimadas may otherwise make us too stubborn to admit." Hanzo made a soft grunt, watching Genji's hands. Metal, chrome, smooth. Not covered in sticky plaster, cuts and bruises anymore.
Quiet fell, and Genji poured the tea and handed it to his brother. They took their first sips together, and Hanzo let out a soft sigh.
"Ah... it's good."
"Hai. This is the tea the Shambali offer to human visitors in the Himalayas," the cyborg replied.
"... do you need food, or energy now?"
"I require energy... and food no longer has taste to me." The elder Shimada swallowed slightly, and bowed his head. "Hanzo, it is alright."
"Is it?," he gruffed. "You tell me you can no longer taste... all I remember now are those ecstatic expressions you had when we went out for ramen, or when you ate your favourite candies..."
"Hanzo."
"And now you can enjoy none of it."
"Ani-san." Hanzo lowered his cup to the table, closing his eyes.
"This was a mistake...," he murmured. "I appreciate the effort, but..."
"Nothing will be mended between us if we do not talk," Genji insisted in a gentle tone. "My master, Zenyatta, teaches those around him that forming bonds is the best way to resolve conflicting relationships. Our bond as brothers is damaged, but not lost. Not yet..." He would solemnly admit he had said that with a desperate tone. "So we must talk. We must talk, and... patch things up."
Hanzo stared hard at his tea, and his hands around the cup, still and sturdy as an oak tree.
"Hanzo... Oniisan," Genji breathed. "Please."
Hanzo took a deep breath, and closed his eyes again. "... where shall we start?" Genji's face lit up, and his body language spoke volumes of that.
"What have you been doing all this time?," he asked. "I thought you would have taken over father's empire!"
"... I could not." His grip tightened on the cup. "It was just like the story father told us... without my brother, I was lost." He tensed more and more. "Without you by my side... none of those riches seemed worth it."
Genji went still, watching his brother closely. "... You worked so hard for all father had to give us... all my life, I watched you struggle to gain the family's approval..."
"I know."
"And when they told you I was a liability, you tried to rectify it."
"I had to-"
"Only for that power to turn to ash." Hanzo's eyes opened slowly. "... Then killing me was pointless."
Hanzo's head snapped up, looking on the verge of collapse, hands slamming onto the table surface. "No! It made me realise all that power, that position, none of that was worth it! None of it was worth your life!"
"And you realised this after you thought you murdered me."
Hanzo grit his teeth, eyes stinging. "I was angry! It broke my heart, but I was furious with the way you brushed aside my pleas! As though nothing I had done for you before meant anything to you!"
Genji's calm air didn't falter, sitting in the same meditative position he had been when the conversation began. "We were both distraught," he said softly. "We both missed father."
Hanzo's shoulders trembled, and he slowly lowered back down. "I..."
"You had such expectations thrust upon you at such a fragile moment in time. They demanded too much of us while we were both in mourning." Genji focused steadily on his brother. "They had no right to demand anything of us the day after he passed away, Hanzo."
"... It was expected of me," he replied weakly. "I had to step up, I had to honour his legacy."
"You were a young man who had lost his dearly loved father not ten hours prior." Genji took a deep breath. "And I was no better."
Hanzo hung his head, fists trembling on the polished wood. "... The elders... They called you a pompous brat."
"That I was."
"I wanted to argue, but I didn't have a leg to stand on."
"Because they were right," Genji chuckled. Hanzo's head snapped up.
"How can you laugh at such things?!," he demanded. "You and I, we could have ruled father's empire together!"
"That was your dream, not mine." Genji wouldn't budge from his calm position, which only riled Hanzo further. He breathed heavily, snarling at his younger brother.
"Everything I did, every bone I broke, every day I worked with blood, sweat and tears, I did for you. For you, and for father!"
Genji calmly sipped his tea.
"And you, so selfish, so ungrateful- did it mean nothing to you?!," Hanzo bellowed, getting to his feet. "Were you just content with father spoiling you like a rich brat?!"
The cyborg slowly lowered the cup back to the table, composed and taking a deep breath. "That was indeed my defining flaw," he said. "I admit that now to you, as I did to myself long ago. I was a greedy child, so used to being pampered and coddled by you and father. And like any other spoiled child, I felt the world should stop and wait for me to finish mourning, as though it revolved around me... but at no point did I disregard all you had done for me, brother." He looked up at Hanzo. "We were both angry and hurt."
Every so often, Hanzo's muscles would convulse from the amount of tension he was containing. He stared at Genji, then opened his mouth to speak.
"Will you forgive me?," Genji asked.
His mouth closed again.
A long silence stretched out, and it felt like all Hanzo could do was breathe. But slowly, he lowered back down, and bowed his head.
"... yes," he murmured. "You already know the answer, yes."
Genji watched his older brother in silence, waiting for his shoulders to relax. "More tea?"
"Yes, thank you."
