"Don't just stand there!" Amelie snapped at the remaining omnic standing immobile behind her, where it seemed to ignore the struggle playing out in favor of staring blankly at her. She'd already wrapped her arms around the other omnic's torso in an effort to pry him off her co-pilot, but it barely even seemed to register her presence as it continued to slam his head against the hull of their Jaeger, all the while tightening the iron grip it had around Hanzo's windpipe. At the rate this was going, her co-pilot was really going to die. "Help me!"
The sound of her crying for help galvanized the machine into motion at the same time that Hanzo's assailant suddenly stilled, seemingly stunned by the reflection staring back in the Jaeger's black armor. Taking advantage of the momentary pause, Reyes, Amelie and the omnic fell on it, gripping, trapping, and pulling every limb they could get their hands around, until they eventually managed to pry the two apart, allowing Hanzo to stagger to his feet with a ragged gasp, a hand pressed gingerly against the shallow depressions in his neck. Ugly, mottled bruises were already beginning to form in darkening stripes across the injured flesh.
"Hanzo, Amelie," there was a pained grunt when the practically feral robot Reyes was fighting to keep restrained winded him with a well-placed elbow, "meet your new co-pilots."
The walk through the docking station and back to Amelie's quarters felt extremely exposed, like they were bearing down a runaway, surrounded by spotlights on all sides with an announcer explaining the preceding events to those in the crowd sitting too far back in the stands to see.
Hanzo strode quickly past the milling crowd with his chin tucked in and his head lowered to keep the unnatural flush darkening his features out of sight. Walking beside him, Amelie did her best to divert any attention his odd, evasive behavior would have usually garnered by glaring preemptively at anyone who so much as glanced in their direction.
It was only after they had returned and Hanzo had gotten himself settled on her meticulously made bed with a couple of painkillers and a bag of ice that she dropped the calm façade long enough to vent her frustrations. "What was Reyes thinking?" Low and dangerous as a cold winter's night, she hissed to the empty air, "That omnic almost killed you." While the outburst showed how much her rehabilitation had progressed since joining the Jaeger program, no doubt accelerated by the time she'd spent within his own mind, the fury she wielded was nonetheless a terrifying thing to behold. At her sides, her long, slender fingers twitched as though yearning for a trigger. "How can he expect us to put our lives in the hands of something that so clearly wants you dead?"
It had recognised him, that much was certain, but Hanzo did not recall doing anything which would warrant such a murderous rage from the omnic. Well, not recently, at least. He did not even recall seeing it before. "If the machine had truly wanted it so," Hanzo said with deliberate slowness, thinking back to the attack, "I highly doubt I would still be capable of speaking with you now."
Stepping closer, she persisted in a softer, quieter tone, "You could have him decommissioned." Then with a fond quirk to her lips, added, "It might be best to work with an omnic who doesn't hate you, mon cher."
He couldn't help but laugh at that.
I could have killed him, Genji hissed through their mental link, from within the confines of the cylinder he'd been thrown back into while the Marshall waited for him to cool his head. I could kill him still. My strength exceeds his now.
It didn't feel like his strength, though. It didn't feel like his body, but he was still high off the bloodlust running through his circuits, the heady sensation leftover from watching his brother's life fade beneath his fingertips erasing most of his doubts for the time being, except...
Except he had seen his reflection in the inky black hull of what Reyes had called a Jaeger, caught the scarlet bleeding into the electric green lights scattered over his form, the steam billowing from his vents like clouds of dragon's breath, and for an instant, he'd forgotten about his hatred, his need to avenge the life that had been stolen from him, and saw only the monster trying to kill his brother.
Damn it!
Who was it that had struck the other down in cold blood? Until the very end, he had tried to talk Hanzo down, even knowing that fighting with everything he'd had was the only way to survive. And for that, he'd been cursed to an immortal, unfeeling body, stripped of everything he'd once been so that he could continue to serve as a weapon.
Maybe he was a monster, a pitiful creature from those cautionary tales their father used to tell when they were small. But he wasn't the only one.
That might be true… His companion replied from the glass cylinder next to him after a silence so long that Genji jerked when the words appeared suddenly within his mind, interrupting his thoughts. The other omnic's mental voice sounded exhausted, the brief and disastrous meeting having taken its toll. Despite having done nothing wrong, he'd made no attempt to protest his sharing of Genji's punishment. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances, gratitude did not come readily to the younger Shimada. But you won't.
Yanking at the wires hindering his movements, Genji swiveled to glower at the nondescript faceplate tilted towards the floor, before remembering that he too wore an impassive sheet of metal in place of the human skin and muscle that had once molded so effortlessly to his moods. This only served to stoke the bitter shame and rage brewing within him.
Do not speak as though you know me, omnic. A snarl ripped straight through his mind passed between them. You, who would do their bidding like a loyal dog.
Instead of answering, Gerard sent back an image of a shrug through their link.
It had its intended effect.
Soon after, Reyes strode into the basement to find the omnic with green highlights spewing streams of garbled static, while the other refused to engage, though its shoulders trembled slightly in an excellent mimicry of a human struggling not to laugh.
While Reyes recalled Gerard as being almost supernaturally patient when he was alive, a trait that matched well with the strong-willed woman who'd chosen him to be her husband, he supposed being around a Shimada would inevitably draw out the latent trollish sides of anyone treated to the pleasure of their company for too long. Watching the scene play out, Reyes felt ridiculous for worrying about how the pair were fairing.
"Cut that racket, would you?" The unintelligible bickering came to an abrupt halt. Fists planted on his hips, Reyes surveyed them both with a keen eye, before eventually settling on Gerard. "You okay there?" No nicknames. No first names. Just a man making sure his weapon's in top-notch condition.
Picturing an exasperated eyeroll, Genji subtly rotated his faceplate. How come he's only worried about you?
A smirk passed through their connection. Probably because I'm a loyal dog.
"Unlike you, Shimada," the Marshall interrupted with such impeccable timing Genji questioned if he wasn't somehow in tune to their thoughts, as well, "he didn't commit assault not five minutes out of the tube. You're damn lucky the pilots aren't calling for your empty head on a spit."
Gerard twisted, pulling gently at the wires suspending him to face Reyes better when a series of beeps and clicks began issuing from his defunct vocal emitters.
The Marshall's eyes widened minutely, followed by an expression of focus. By the time the final tone had ended, he was nervously scratching the curly scruff of his beard with a chewed-down nail, "Amelie may have mentioned once or twice what I could do with myself if I let my psychotic pet harm another hair on that meticulously styled hairdo of his."
Genji felt the other omnic's surprise through their link, followed shortly by a wry chuckle as he ducked his head in quiet amusement.
That does sound like my wife.
A light entered the Marshall's dark eyes as he unwittingly mirrored the chuckle, a spark that was both friendly and warm. It melted years off him. "Even with you looking like this, it's sometimes hard to remember… " Then he roughly shook his head, casting off the memories clinging to him like cobwebs, and the weariness returned with interest. "No, I can't afford to get sentimental here." He rubbed at the deepening crease between his brows.
But when he spoke again, his scarred features were hard and composed. There was no trace of the weight they'd caught a mere glimpse of in his rigid posture.
Genji felt the mental link bonding him to his companion fluctuate after the change, becoming tinged with shades of disappointment and loss that he knew didn't belong to him. He shied away from it, deciding that he had enough issues of his own to deal with.
As he did before, Reyes released them from their glass prisons, then issued them new orders. They were to report to the mess hall, mingle with the pilots, but most importantly, they were there to, "Play nice." The Marshall narrowed his eyes dangerously when he saw the Shimada's omnic tense. "This is your first and final warning. Another incident like last time and not even this pretty face of mine will be enough to get you out of here."
After the catching a glimpse of the mechanical titans lurking in the docking station and their eccentric pilots, the fact that the mess hall was, in all aspects, perfectly normal was something of a let down. It had rows and rows of tables to accommodate for the tremendous number of people required to keep the Jaeger program functional, a buffet section where the staff could load up on salad and toppings, and a section for cooked foods, like meat, steamed vegetables, and mashed potatoes, where the workers lined up to have whatever was available slopped onto their tray.
The pilots were the biggest eaters by a landslide, as controlling the Jaegers burned through an immense amount of calories. Even after the battle was over, traces of their time in the Drift continued to drain them at an almost alarming rate.
They were all seated in a tight-knit group towards the back, which naturally meant that the omnic pair gravitated towards the front, effectively putting as much distance between them as possible. For no reason other than habit and a feeble attempt to blend in, Gerard snagged them two empty food trays, sliding one in front of Genji, whose hand shot out to stop its momentum in a perfect mimicry of muscle memory.
He shoved the tray aside, ignoring the attention his attitude was drawing from some of the human and omnic workers. They regarded him curiously, but the aggressive set of his shoulders and his tacit refusal to acknowledge any of the cautious greetings thrown his way was leaving behind a bad taste in their mouths.
Though his unblinking gaze was fixed solely on Hanzo, who'd shown up to the mess hall that day looking ridiculous in a pair of sunglasses with dark shades and a deep ocean blue scarf that he'd obviously borrowed from his co-pilot. Every now and then, he'd rub his temple as though nursing a headache, and kept his head down. A man with his drinking experience could imitate the symptoms of a hangover without sparing it much thought, and the act was made all the more convincing because he never once claimed to have consumed any alcohol. Instead, he let his strange attire and uncharacteristic exhaustion speak for themselves.
The others buzzed around him, like this wasn't as uncommon as it should have been. Sometimes, Genji's enhanced optics would catch a concerned glance, brief and quickly hidden. Whatever reason might make a straight-laced guy like Hanzo drink himself into a stupor wasn't something any of them wanted to acknowledge or talk about, but they all understood it.
Was hiding his humiliating injuries really worth ruining what little hope they had?
These people, he realised, are all going to die.
Genji jolted when the table jumped beneath him. He jerked his head up to see Gerard utilising the angles and lighting to craft an impressive scowl. It was the first instance of true anger Genji had ever sensed from him.
Honestly, though, it was bound to happen. Everyone got tired of dealing with his endless bullshit, eventually.
What he didn't expect was the steady pressure against his back. He glanced over his shoulder to see his brother's co-pilot pinning him with a glare that would have frozen the blood in his veins solid if he weren't currently running empty on the stuff.
Seeing his focus had shifted, Gerard followed the general direction of his V-shape patterned headlights, staring over the sea of gray and blue workman's clothes and t-shirts, only to accidentally get caught in the fringes of her chilly gaze.
Though they'd both served with Overwatch, he'd always been the reckless one, often coming home late to dinner with scrapes and bruises that, to him, had each represented a life he'd saved, but which had held an additional meaning for her – every pink, healing scar on his body was evidence of how close she always was to losing him.
She told him once after an argument, in that same resigned, yet achingly fond tone she always used when she knew her words couldn't stop him from marching back into hell to try and save as many lives as he could, "You'll burn your hands trying to save the stars from falling."
Why hadn't he listened? If he'd only paid more attention, he might have noticed something was off with her after her so-called 'release' from Talon. And going back even further, if he'd just spent more time at home, they might never have taken her in the first place.
She wore the length of her raven locks in a high ponytail that billowed from her scalp before ending in a needle's point a little past her waist. The hair was tied off at the top with a golden ribbon that seemed to be an exact replica of the scale-patterned strips attached to the Izanami's black crown. Her skin was less sun kissed than he remembered, more final stages of hypothermia, but when she noticed him, and the hostility emanating from her faded, replaced by simple curiosity, he knew that whatever had been done to her, whatever she had done, she was still his beloved Amelie.
Relief flooded through him, only to be met with a wave of undisguised scorn radiating from the younger Shimada brother.
Gerard shifted to face him with a challenge, Is it such a bad thing for me to be happy my wife is still alive?
You are too soft. Genji scoffed. The yakuza would have chewed you up and eaten you for breakfast.
Is that so? Gerard shot back with a paper-thin veneer of calm. Though the other man's attitude had quickly begun to grate on his nerves, it was especially so now that their freedom depended on him behaving himself. What does that say about you, then?
For once, the younger Shimada took his time before answering, Only that I wasn't cruel enough to survive.
And yet, Gerard continued to press, your brother breathes.
When the other omnic twisted his torso to better observe his brother, Gerard got the message loud and clear that he was killing two birds with the action by also turning his back on the conversation. That merely proves my point.
Although Hanzo barely interacted, preferring to eat his meal in silence, the atmosphere around him was so energized with sporadic bursts of boisterous laughter and that young Egyptian girl running around, stirring up trouble, and he was so clearly a part of it, that Genji felt a thrill of envy shoot through him. Gone were the days when he would be the life of the party... and whose fault was that?
A balloon collided with the back of Hanzo's head, soaking him, and he sputtered, throwing Fareeha, who still had her arm half-raised, too stunned by her incredible aim to react quickly, a nasty look that promised swift retribution.
Watching the scene play out, Gerard commented dryly, He seems like a real monster.
But of course he could speak so glibly – he hadn't spent an entire childhood being brushed off and ignored. Once, when they were boys, he'd been proud to call Hanzo his friend, but Genji had witnessed the slow death of the boy without truly understanding its significance until the man who took his place stole everything from him. In order to protect the Family, Hanzo destroyed the only family he had left.
And it was all meaningless. He abandoned the Shimada-gumi, leaving them to shrivel into insignificance as the kaiju laid waste to the world.
No, Hanzo did not harbor a hidden heart of gold. It would be a miracle if he even had a soul.
"Stop this foolishness, you ridiculous man." It was the exasperation evident in the flat tone of Hanzo's co-pilot that peaked his interest more than the words. Few had dared speak to him so casually during their youth. Genji half-expected his brother to snap at her, until he intuitively activated his optics, and the image of Hanzo hunched over some indefinable object became him fiddling with the tie of a sloshing red water balloon and the shaft of a suction-cup arrow he'd lifted from the dojo. "She is a child."
"I have been dreaming of this moment for weeks. Try though you may, you cannot stop me from reclaiming my honor." Although he uttered the strange claim with complete sincerity, there was a subtle yet undeniably telling quirk to his lips that suggested this was an oft-played game between him and the child, as did the nonchalant trading of bets around the table. It was all so casual, so familial, that the ghost of Genji's human heart ached. What he'd believed to be watching his normally reticent and introverted brother merely tolerating his coworkers and their odd quirks was actually the cool acceptance of the strange familial unit he'd been adopted into.
Among the soldiers, criminals, and vagabonds, Hanzo had found some measure of peace within himself. It was so astonishing to see the laughter lurking at the corners of his dark eyes that Genji's thought processes briefly shorted out, leaving vague impressions of relief and wonder as his older brother proved he could still be a ridiculous dork by aiming the dummy arrow with its sloshing burden at the impish Egyptian girl sticking her tongue out at him from the far end of the table.
Having spotted the projectile upon its release, Fareeha's jaw dropped, and she stood gaping until the arrow reached its apex, nearly grazing the ceiling, then she ducked under the table with a squeak. Seeking an explanation for the girl's abrupt retreat, McCree looked up, laid amber eyes on the wobbliest, heaviest, most aero-dynamically challenged projectile he'd ever seen, and followed her under, ducking just in time to have it sail directly over his hat and right into the Russian pilot. Her body shielded Mei for the most part, leaving her with little more than a dripping fringe and some cool spray on her neck, but Morrison, and Amari weren't so lucky.
From the growing expression of horror on Hanzo's face as Zarya and Morrison climbed to their feet, he knew his days were numbered.
There was a moment of silence, strained as an overwound violin string an instant before it snaps. Hanzo had enough time to flick his anxious gaze towards his co-pilot, who suddenly seemed entirely too preoccupied by her glass of orange juice to be of any assistance, and then Zarya launched herself across the table, going for his legs. Hanzo, already skittish, narrowly leapt out of her reach, after which his clawed prosthetics landed directly on the table, shaking glasses and plates but, incredibly, leaving every meal and piece of silverware unharmed. That remained true for an entire two seconds before Zarya clambered after him like an enraged bull chasing a deer, and their passing was accompanied by a chorus of indignant shouts and tipped glasses. That day, lunch was ruined by a pair of stomping boots and clicking metal claws.
The American pilot rushed around the front to cut them off, not expecting Hanzo to sail gracefully over his head, while Zarya charged relentlessly forward, crashing into Morrison with the delicate touch of a freight train.
Standing over their tangled bodies with a look of pure wonder on his face, as though pondering what deity he would have to thank for the stroke of luck that just saved his hide, Hanzo glanced over his shoulder to see that several meals had been splattered across the table, the floor, and most of his fellow Jaeger pilots. Though the entire mess hall had borne witness to his failed prank retaliation and subsequent flight from a Russian woman strong enough to subdue a bear with her bare hands, it was the sight of Fareeha and McCree laughing uproariously on their backsides that really made the tips of his ears burn.
One thing was certain – if the kaiju didn't kill him, those two almost certainly would.
"I'll meet you back at quarters," he grunted to Amelie, and Genji abruptly straightened, ready to pounce on this chance to confront Hanzo when he was alone.
Beside him, Gerard went rigid. He struggled with the decision of intervening or letting the drama between the brothers play itself out, but then Amelie flicked her keen gaze in their direction, and dismissively pushed her tray aside, "Let us both go." She frowned down at her unfinished eggs before deftly swinging her legs over the bench and rising to her full height. "I was not that hungry, anyway."
The look Hanzo regarded her with was one of pure gratitude, and they strode briskly towards the exit before either the Russian or American pilot had a chance to get their bearings back.
Meanwhile, Genji, who could scarcely believe the changes he'd witnessed in his stubborn and inflexible brother, settled down into his seat.
Hanzo was infamous for repeatedly turning down invites to karaoke and parties and bars when they were younger, so why was it now that the king of turning his nose up at fun was tying water balloons to filched dummy arrows and sprinting over table tops?
The problem, of course, was that Genji wasn't dumb. He could see a connection when it was staring him straight in the face. Without the responsibility of leading the clan looming in his future or the burden of struggling to control his wild younger brother, Hanzo had finally learned how to lighten up. Curling his cybernetic fingers into fists, Genji realised how ridiculously pointless his repeated attempts at bringing his anija out of his shell over the years had been. If he'd really wanted to help Hanzo live a little, all he'd had to do was die.
But, hey, better late than never, right?
Omnics, as it turned out, did not need sleep. While they could be forced into a stand-by mode that replicated the process, it was dreamless and empty. Reyes, who despite all his posturing and bluster, did his best to treat them like he would any other thinking, feeling soldiers, gave them his unspoken blessing to wander around the Shatterdome, instead.
Ostensibly, it was to further familiarize them with its corridors, so they could move quickly to where their presence was required in an emergency, but the omnics weren't fooled. Since the upcoming battle could very well spell their last days on Earth, the Marshall wanted to grant them as many opportunities to enjoy it as he could manage.
Depending on perspective, these artificial lives of theirs were either a short, cruel joke or, considering they were technically already dead, a blessing.
Gerard drifted from Genji's side the instant the Shatterdome cleared for the night, with most of the workers and pilots returned to their barracks. He had his own demons to wrestle, after all. Still, while Genji was not unaware of how difficult he was making it to be around him at the moment, he was by no means a solitary creature, and thus his steps led him to unconsciously seek out company.
The scientists were likely still awake, still prepping for the attack, studying the kaiju in their toilless efforts to save every life they could, but while Winston must have adapted to long nights with little sleep, Mercy was still a teenager. Even powered on coffee, the burn-out came quick and fierce. When Genji peered through the lit window to the lab, one hand cupped over the pulsing lights on his faceplate, it was to see the gorilla hard at work, tapping rapidly on multiple keyboards with an open jar of peanut butter on his right, while a young girl with sleep-mussed locks slept soundly on a gurney further inside. There was a gray, military-issued blanket wrapped around her shoulders, several empty coffee mugs on the floor, and a thin trail of drool spilling onto the elbow positioned under her cheek.
Floating in cylinders filled with a viscous yellow liquid was an organ so enormous it could only belong to a kaiju. Its severed appendages bumped idly against the sides, almost as though the thing were still alive.
Slightly sickened by the thought, Genji left the labs without a backwards glance. Uncaring of where his legs took him, he soon found himself back in the docking station, staring up at the gods of men that slept there, lying in silent wait for the apocalypse to come knocking.
They were… incredible.
With heights to rival the tallest skyscrapers in Tokyo, they towered over him, making him feel small and wholly insignificant, the way a child might feel standing at the feet of his heroes.
Somehow, even if the kaiju razed the planet and humanity came to an abrupt and violent end, Genji couldn't imagine that these titans would fall. They would stand forever, watching the world that had created them burn.
Filled with awe, Genji meandered aimlessly past the behemoths, including Kong Fury and the Russian Jaeger, Frostbite, each of them built for barreling into the kaiju and then punching them into paste. They were thicker, heavier than the rest. What would cripple the average Jaeger would be a mere annoyance for them.
Wild Abandon, he saw now, was built like a brawler, with most of its mass concentrated towards its torso to grant it a strong center of balance and enough weight behind its punches to put a new crater in the moon. Morrison and Amari's was built for combat at mid-range, with pulse rifles built into its limbs, but should circumstances demand it, they could easily shift into sniping mode, allowing them to take out kaiju seconds after they breached the surface.
And in the midst of the brawlers and the behemoths was Izanami. It was slender compared to the others, built for flexibility and speed. Instead of rounded corners and curves, the Jaeger's body was more stream-lined and angular, with a diamond-shaped head and smoothed edges. It stood like a sentinel, a warrior and, Genji couldn't help but think, bore more than a passing resemblance to its Japanese pilot.
A glowing spark, drifting lazily down the length of the titan's form, compelled Genji to raise his faceplate higher, and he watched for awhile as men on a scaffold did some minor repairs on the hull. They might have even been fixing the dents left behind after he'd slammed his brother's face into it.
Genji doubted that was actually the case, but it was a cheery thought, nonetheless.
It took him longer than it should have to notice the clawed metal boot dangling from several floors up. Seizing this chance, Genji quickly located the nearest staircase, and then sprinted as far as it would go. Since Hanzo's perch had appeared to be at about chest-level with the Jaegers, Genji assumed that it was something of a makeshift observation deck, but it was late – the pilots were asleep, the technicians and engineers were concentrated fully on their work.
There would be no interruptions this time.
Soon, Hanzo would be made to pay for his sins, or he would finish what he started in Hanamura. At this point, Genji would have welcomed either outcome.
When he at last reached the top,, moving silently now so as not to alert his brother to his presence, Genji stepped forward, itching for the weight of a blade in his grasp, but was caught off caught by the distance evident in Hanzo's dark eyes. He was watching the construction with an unfocused gaze, the lines carved into his features over the years standing stark against cheeks drained of color.
Having assumed that Hanzo was happy with his new life, now that he was at least free of both the clan and his troublemaking brother, Genji stopped short, utterly thrown by how forlorn he looked, sitting alone with his back bent and his legs hanging carelessly off the edge.
Then, without turning his head away from the Jaeger, Hanzo growled, "What is it you want, omnic?"
So, he was already aware of his presence.
Of course he was.
So many of Genji's pranks had been ruined when they were children because Hanzo always seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to his little brother sneaking up behind him. Back then, it had only forced Genji to get creative with pranks, sometimes even enlisting the staff for help, but that time had ended long before the kaiju ravaged their home. The lonely boy desperate for his older brother's attention was dead, buried underneath the rubble of the Shimada clan.
Though Genji halted his approach, wary since Hanzo had never been one to forgive any slight against him, the archer shifted minutely, as though extending a silent invitation.
Not knowing what to make of it, Genji remained where he was, several feet away, his gaze darting anxiously between the offered space and Hanzo, who quirked an inquiring brow at his hesitance.
A hint of challenge in the look rankled the ninja's pride enough that he crossed the distance in one stride and then plopped down beside him, limbs folding easily into the lotus position. The act came across as far more petulant than he'd intended, rising to the bait like a pouty child, and so it was with shame spreading outwards from his chest that he swiveled to see the good-natured amusement taking residence on his brother's aged features.
Genji pointedly averted his gaze, turning it back to Izanami, whose center glowed with scarlet and orange radiance under the heated tools of the men working so diligently on making absolutely certain that the death bringer was in the best condition it could be for its pilots and every soul that depended on them to put a stop to the alien invasion.
With armor so black it seemed to carry a bluish sheen, the Jaeger had to be one of the coolest mechanical innovations that Genji had ever seen. Sure, he'd gone through a giant robot phase, had spent hours piecing together models of various Gundams and taken a certain amount of pride in the 12-inch Voltron action figure sitting on his nightstand, but he'd never expected to actually see one in real life.
It was quite literally a dream come true.
A familiar chuckle snapped him back to the present, and he turned to see Hanzo with a palm cupped over his mouth as he attempted to courteously suppress any further outbursts, "Forgive me," he said, though his dark eyes still crinkled with fond remembrance. "For a moment, you reminded me very much of my brother."
Settling down with a sigh, he leaned forward, curving his back and placing interlocked fingers on his lap while his unwavering gaze remained steadily on the Izanami. "He would have loved this place."
Hearing Hanzo speak of him so easily rekindled the scorching heat of Genji's rage. He wanted nothing more than to scream at Hanzo, to demand of him how he could dare speak of the younger brother he'd murdered to an utter stranger. Didn't he feel any pain, any regret at all?
Instead of allowing his anger to control his actions a second time, however, he tried to redirect the conversation by tracing symbols from their native language on the deck. Hanzo watched with increasing fascination as the seemingly abstract movements took the form and meaning of an excellent question.
一人で？
Should you really allow yourself to be alone with me?
Dark imprints of metal fingers still marked Hanzo's throat, so vivid and precise Genji could even clearly make out his own segmented joints on his skin, but it was the stylishly close-cropped sides, the casually tied bun, and single thick lock of bangs framing Hanzo's sharp jawline that he couldn't ignore. The brother he'd known would have never adopted such a modern look.
While Hanzo pondered his response, he twisted the tail-end of his bangs around the tip of a finger. "The Shatterdome is expansive, yet can feel very small when you see the same faces, everyday. Consequently, I am not always pleasant to be around." The edge of his lips curled in a bitter, self-deprecating twist. "When that happens, I like to come here. It helps me gain perspective."
"Why?" Hanzo asked with a subtle note of pitch black humor. "Are you going to try to kill me again?"
Surprised, Genji's cybernetic fingers hovered aimlessly over the floor, twitching at random as sporadic electric surges jolted the circuitry. Then they glided through the familiar strokes of the kanji standing stark against a white background in his mind.
多分。
In truth, he didn't know, anymore.
Regardless, Hanzo accepted the vague statement with a slow nod. "If you are patient, you may not have to," he commented wryly. "The kaiju are not known for taking prisoners."
怖いか？
"Am I afraid?" The archer's brows rose in disbelief, and he twisted sharply to face the omnic sitting beside him with a suspicion that gradually relaxed into tired, weary acceptance. "I would be a fool if I wasn't."
"I know you seek my death, and I'm sure that whatever your reason may be, it is more than justified" – Stop it. Stop acting so goddamn noble when you're the one who did this to me – "but mankind does not deserve to die for the mistakes of one man." He paused to allow time for that to sink in. "This life is new to you, you should have been given the chance to live it before we thrust you into our war, but if you help us win, help us stop the monsters for good, I will gladly offer you mine."
It wasn't fair. Over time, Genji's death had been downgraded from a tragedy to a statistic, one lost soul in a sea of millions. But while Hanzo had moved on in the face of the oncoming apocalypse, Genji could still feel the katana's blade cutting through him, could still see the blurry outline of his brother staring down at his broken body. His hate had fangs, it had claws, and it would not be sated by a willing sacrifice.
When he'd wrapped his hands around Hanzo's throat, it'd been in the hopes of killing the traitor who'd chosen the clan over his own flesh and blood, but what satisfaction could be gained from slaying a man exhausted by his efforts to save humanity? The Hanzo before him now feared for the lives of his teammates, of his fellow pilots, of his partner. He was not the proud and aloof heir he had once been.
But he was still a murderer. No amount of time or introspection would change that.
Still, Genji unfolded his awkward limbs, unaccustomed as he was to their lightness and length, and pushed himself to his feet. His mind a tangled mess, he turned his back on Hanzo without any further acknowledgement, and had almost disappeared into the shadows entirely when he heard a muttered, "Wait."
Feeling as though he were trapped in a dream where he was not quite in control of his own body, Genji glanced over his shoulder to see Hanzo digging into the pockets of his jeans to pull out something that peeked out from between his fist - thin, delicate, and pure white.
Once Genji was close enough, he uncurled his fingers to reveal a paper lily. It was slightly crinkled at the edges, its creases and folds askew in a way that suggested the flower was the end result of many attempts from rough and calloused hands that were long out of practice with the art, but that only strengthened its beauty in Genji's eyes.
He cupped its petals gently, careful not to crush it. The relieved exhale Hanzo uttered did not go unnoticed.
With a shudder that traveled through his limbs, Genji tore his gaze off the lily. His head shot up to see Hanzo regarding him with unexpected warmth, though it was not without a hint of sadness. "Think of it as something to remember us by."
Finally, Genji couldn't take anymore. He could not recognise who he had once been in what he had become, nor could he recognise his brother. After losing his home, his family, and even his life, the thought of losing Hanzo should not have scared him, yet he was the only connection left to his old life, to the old world.
And by tomorrow, he could be gone.
Confused and conflicted by the maelstrom stirring inside him, Genji spun on his heel and fled down the hall.
Just as he was about to barrel around the corner, movement in his peripheral caught his eye, stopping him short. A shadow broke off from the wall behind Hanzo, taking the form of a woman with swaying black hair, and padded up beside him. He shifted without comment, and she settled down next to him, linking her slender fingers easily with his.
For Genji, the night closed as he watched the backs of those solitary souls, like lonely stars determined to keep each other company in the wide expanse of space, and the Jaegers that joined them in one fate, one purpose.
To stare unblinkingly into the storm. To fight the hurricane.
A/N:
一人で？- Alone?
多分。- Probably.
強いか？- Are you afraid?