A/N:

goukon - a group blind date (karaoke is optional)

anija - brother

haori - a short, open robe

ohayo - good morning

un - yes (informal)

That night, a fearsome thunderstorm buffeted Watchpoint with gusts of wind that bent the trunks of trees, tore their branches and flung them into the sea. Anguished howls rattled the windows, as though some creature, forgotten by time, were attempting to break down its walls.

Lightning sliced the sky in a jagged pattern, erasing the dark with a blinding flash, followed by the earthshattering boom of the heavens breaking, falling, shattering like glass.

Lying in Hanzo's bed, tucked safely under the covers, the boy jerked at the sounds, gripping his sheets tighter in white knuckled fists as the storm raged on.

"You are afraid of thunder," Hanzo said. It was not a question, though there was a certain wonder to it, as he had not known this of Genji.

"If my brother were here, he would tell me not to be afraid. A Shimada does not show weakness." He recited the words with the thoughtless ease of one who had heard them repeated many times.

"Your brother believes himself to be wise," Hanzo responded slowly, thinking back to the pride that had prevented him from seeing how fractured his relationship with his brother had become, how much influence the elders had claimed over him. "But he does not know all. Fear is not merely weakness. It is what keeps us alive." He gestured towards the storm. "Thunder cannot hurt you. It is a sound, nothing more. But if you stepped outside, would you not be in danger? There is nothing wrong with fear, so long as you do not let it control you."

The walls shook, trembling under the onslaught as thunder rent through wind and rain with the force of an aftershock. The boy shuddered. "Could you tell me a story? T-to take my mind off of it?"

There was only one story that Hanzo knew by heart, by skin, by blood and sweat and bone, and so, despite the boy's initial protests, he wove a tale of two ancient dragons, brothers of the earth and sky.

Consumed by his lust for power, the Dragon of the South Wind struck down his brother. "I never liked that part," the child interrupted, his brow furrowed in thought.

"No…" The archer fixed him with an indiscernible expression. "I imagine you wouldn't." From outside the room, there came a low, strangled sound, though it was drowned out by the storm.

When Hanzo reached the end of the story, where the slain brother, now human, called down to the Dragon of the South Wind, the dragon refused to rejoin his brother, believing he was no longer worthy to walk the earth by his side.

"Well, that's dumb," interjected the boy, disappointment plain in the unhappy slump of his shoulders. "His brother already forgave him, right? So why can't he forgive himself?" He frowned. "I don't think I like this ending."

"Whether his brother forgives him or not, the wrong committed by the Dragon of the South Wind will not be erased."

"But he's not doing anyone any good if he spends the rest of his life brooding in the sky!" While this reaction was not entirely unexpected, Hanzo was beginning to finding it difficult not to take this personally, though he was certain that the child knew nothing of the terrible sin he'd committed. "Even if the Dragon of the North can't fly anymore, he can still do other things, right? Like climb trees and sing? Being human's not so bad once you get the hang of it."

"Perhaps," Hanzo conceded, thinking back to the few goukons that Genji had roped him into attending during their youth, "though I cannot attest to his singing abilities."

The boy giggled, likely amused by the image of a dragon attempting to sing. He seemed calmer now, so Hanzo stood, turning to leave so as to sleep on the couch, though he had a feeling that it would be some time still before he was alone.

A small hand gripped the sleeve of his kimono, not tightly enough that he could not break away if he so chose, but enough to draw his attention to the round, pleading brown eyes of his little brother. "Please don't leave. Nii-san will come to bring me home soon, I know he will, so please don't go."

"Are you still afraid?" Hanzo sank back into the chair, yearning to hold the boy's hand, to offer some measure of comfort, yet reluctant to touch him, as his touch was like that of Midas, except instead of bringing gold, it merely brought ruin. "Close your eyes, Genji." It was a slip of the tongue, one Hanzo immediately regretted, but the boy was already falling asleep, his eyes glazed and unfocused as he settled deeper into the covers. "No harm will come to you here. You are safe."

The boy yawned, smacking his lips with drowsy satisfaction. "Because you'll protect me, right?"

He waited for Hanzo to answer, refusing stubbornly to let sleep take him, until finally Hanzo sighed, "Naturally. There are many here in Overwatch who would-" He stopped mid-sentence upon noticing the boy making a sour face, apparently displeased with his answer. "…Yes. I will protect you."

Not long after that, the boy was fast asleep, murmuring quiet nonsense as though already plunged into a dream, and Hanzo slipped out into the living room, where he was unsurprised to find his brother leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, a soft glow in the dark.

"For what reason have you come, Genji?"

Judging by the subtle hunch in his shoulders, Hanzo guessed that he was sulking, but try as he might, he could not imagine why that would be the case, nor could he be certain that his observation was correct, not when the mask concealed so much, not when his voice, aided by artificial synthesizers to compensate for the extensive damage done to his throat, diluted so much of the emotion behind his words.

Standing there in the silence proceeding his question, Hanzo marveled at how he knew more about the Genji sleeping in his bed than the one standing before him, and had no one to blame for that but himself.

Rising to his feet like a shadow peeling itself away from the wall, Genji regarded Hanzo with that same expressionless mask, then slowly shook his head. "It's nothing," he muttered, resigned to whatever decision it was he'd come to. "Sleep well, anija."

He slipped soundlessly into the hallway, moving with the fluidity of absence, and Hanzo lingered, standing alone in the dark with a calloused palm placed over the heat radiating from the place where his brother's body had rested for some time, the silence and frustration of too many unspoken words enough to occupy his heart and mind until an intrepid blue jay chirped outside his window, heralding the arrival of dawn.

On the morning of Dr. Ziegler's test results, Hanzo worked the kinks out of his spine before stepping into his bedroom, prepared to wake the boy, only to be greeted by the sight of a small body rolling around on the floor. "I'm bored!"

Exhausted and annoyed beyond measure, Hanzo squeezed his eyes shut, massaging the bridge of his nose with the rough pads of his fingers. "It is much too early for this."

After two nights of sleeping and running around the halls without a change of clothes, the boy was beginning to smell, so Hanzo instructed him to exchange the outfit that was so in need of a wash with the white haori he'd plucked from his closet. Once the boy's shoulders were bare, his clothes, with the exception of his head protector and precious scarf, crumpled up in a pile on the floor, Hanzo wrapped the haori around him, then cinched it with a golden sash. It was the best he could do, given the circumstances. The cloth fell to the boy's ankles, flowing freely as he spun in quick circles to examine it.

Once that was done, the boy rushed into the bathroom to scrub his teeth, while Hanzo called ahead to let Dr. Ziegler know they would be paying her a visit before going down to breakfast.

"Ohayo, Genji," the doctor said kindly upon their arrival. She'd grown very attached to the rambunctious, spirited child during the short time he'd spent with them. "Has everything been going well between you and your roommate?"

"Un!" Straightening to his full height, and perhaps a little extra, he beamed, "I've been taking good care of him!"

Suppressing a smile, Dr. Ziegler lifted a single, delicate brow, silently asking Hanzo for his opinion on the matter.

The archer scoffed. "I am lucky to be alive."

There was a soft click of keys as the doctor pulled up the boy's results. At first, her expression conveyed mere curiosity, but then a slow horror distorted her features, paling her skin. Her gaze flickered between the child waiting eagerly for her to speak and Hanzo, who recognized the dread, mirrored it, felt it welling, an inescapable cold flooding his lungs.

"Genji," hearing his name called, the boy's attention snapped to Hanzo, "could you give us a moment?"

Initially, the boy's expression hardened into a scowl, every muscle going taut as he prepared to stand his ground, but then Dr. Ziegler repeated the request, though she phrased it in such a way that the boy left feeling accomplished. Only a truly brave warrior, of great knowledge and skill, could be trusted to stand guard outside the door, after all.

Once he was gone, the doctor did not hesitate. "The boy is an omnic." At Hanzo's lack of outward reaction, she frowned. She'd always known him to be stoic, yet had still expected something more volatile, not this grim, wounded acceptance. "Did you know this?"

Though he hadn't been certain, the news did not surprise him. "Though there are many forces in this world that I will never understand, none of them will bring back the brother who was lost to me."

Tentatively, she reached for his wrist. Hanzo allowed the light brush of her fingers as they curled around his skin, though not for his sake, as he was fully aware of the doctor's own need for comfort. "I may need to deactivate him, Hanzo." She was strained, burdened by the stress of her practical mind warring with her heart, a conflict Hanzo could all too easily sympathy with. "Morrison was right, if this is some sort of trap-"

"Allow me to speak with him, Dr. Ziegler." Startled by the interruption, her lips parted in surprise. He could sense the indecision within her, the uncertainty. Even if the boy was made from gears and tubes and synthetic skin, he still thought of himself as Genji. He was still just a child.

No matter what form he took, she could not bear to see Genji hurt again.

Keeping that in mind, Hanzo smoothly withdrew from her touch. Her honey-gold eyes followed him as he stood, until, finally, she gave a single, tired nod.

It was all the permission he needed to do what was necessary.

Right outside the door, the boy was standing rigid as a soldier, shoulders drawn back in exaggerated posture. Upon seeing Hanzo, he lit up, before remembering that the duty he had been tasked with was very serious, and thus rearranged his youthful features into a scowl.

Forgoing any greeting, Hanzo sidled up next to him, quietly joining him on his watch. They remained like that for awhile, the boy watching the halls for intruders, for thieves and ninja and pirates, and the archer watching the boy, imagining what it would like to lose the joy and fun such a child had brought forcefully into his life for the second time.

He cleared his throat. "Do you think you could spare a minute to answer a question of mine?" Still distracted by the phantoms of imagined enemies, the boy spared him a quick nod. "Why did you choose me? You could have stayed with any of the members at Overwatch, they would have welcomed you, spoiled you, yet you specifically asked for me."

Reading his thoughts was a simple task, as the boy, despite his upbringing, or rather the upbringing he'd been programmed with, struggled with both the concept and practice of concealing his emotions. He was flabbergasted by how Hanzo even knew of his request, especially when he'd specifically asked Morrison not to tell anyone, but didn't consider that his pointed glance in the archer's direction during their clandestine conversation would have betrayed his intentions more decisively than had he shouted them through a megaphone.

Scuffing the floor with his feet, the boy finally looked up at Hanzo, a little shyly, and said, "Everytime you looked at me, you seemed so sad. I wanted to know why."

Hanzo gritted his teeth.

This was an omnic, not a child. It should not have mattered that it cared for him. If anything, considering its appearance, the omnic had been unknowingly carrying out orders to stay close to him, so that Hanzo would grow attached to it. Too attached to allow for its deactivation, even after it revealed itself as a threat.

No. It wasn't a child, nor was it Genji, though every time the boy – as he could not help but continue to think of him – carded his fingers through auburn undertones that glinted in the lights, or looked around with round, amber eyes that Hanzo could recall also seeing in faded pictures of their mother, Hanzo felt a fresh wave of remorse for all that his actions had stolen from his brother.

How did the omnic know Genji's mannerisms so well? How did it recall their shared history together so easily, citing details not even Hanzo himself could recall, repeating thoughts, feelings, and memories that only his brother could know?

In any case, those were all questions that Dr. Ziegler would soon be able to answer.

"Genji?" The boy looked up, a pink flush staining his cheeks. "There is something I must tell you-"

Red light flooded the hallways as alarms began to blare, signaling intruders. Morrison could be heard shouting into his comm, demanding to know how the Talon agents streaming into their base had gotten past their defenses. Hanzo flicked on his own comm, listening with the same brand of quiet acceptance he'd demonstrated in Dr. Ziegler's clinic as Winston explained that an unknown signal was jamming their systems. "It took its time, moving slowly so I wouldn't notice. Without any knowledge of its source, it will be difficult to isolate, but I will do what I can."

Morrison grunted, "That's all I ask, Winston," then leapt to join the fray. Gunshots echoed down the halls. It would not be long before they were overrun.

"Stay with the doctor," Hanzo snapped, readying his bow, pulling it taut as he prepared to join his comrades already engaged in battle and even the odds, but the boy latched onto his wrist, his mouth pressed together in a thin, stubborn line.

"I can help!"

Pretending to relent, Hanzo relaxed, lowering his weapon as though resigned, but when the boy dropped his guard, he opened the door to Mercy's clinic and shoved him inside. "You can help by staying here," he said simply, ignoring the shouts that followed his back as he sprinted to confront the intruders who clearly found so little value in their lives, as to throw them away by diving into the shared den of two dragons.