A/N: This, admittedly, was more a writing challenge for myself than anything. Based off some art I saw a few months ago, I wanted to switch Hanzo and Genji's roles and personalities, while also giving it a somewhat plausible story, and most importantly, not rewriting every detail of the scene from the Dragons short. As it turns out, it's harder than it seems.

Who clipped your wings, little sparrow?

When did you forget to fly?

Being the heir to the Shimada clan required discipline, and ceaseless training of both the mind and body, which was ironic considering that the majority of the clan's wealth was unlawfully gained. At some point during his budding adolescence, it had occurred to the eldest son of the reigning kumicho that the amount of effort he was putting into achieving perfection was patently ridiculous when the men and women he was being groomed to lead were all thieves and murderers. Soon afterwards, he came to the conclusion that the clan just wasn't worth it.

Instead, he allowed himself to get lost in cheery video game music and bright flashing colors, and concerned himself first and foremost with who had the highest score on Super Smash Bros XVI.

Game controller in his lap, he was sitting with his legs folded on a couch he'd dumpster dived from the town to furnish the oversized closet he'd repurposed to serve as his own gamer's den and sanctuary.

His long hair, which so often fell over his eyes, was tied back in a loose half-bun, and his shirt, an uncomfortably tight tank he'd borrowed from a friend and simply forgotten to return, did little to conceal the telltale azure dragon spiraled around his arm. It marked him as the heir, and after living in Hanamura his entire life, there were few who didn't recognize him by sight, but his friends thought it was cool and there were days when he could ignore what the tattoo represented long enough to agree.

He was set with a bowl of chips and a half-empty soda on the scratched-up and battered coffee table in front of him. Enough to sustain him for another three hours, at least.

Making a big show of ignoring the familiar silhouette of the clan's second heir emanating disapproval from the doorway, Hanzo reached into the bowl to grab a handful, then sighed as his player character was unceremoniously dropkicked off the platform by a pointy-eared elf.

Putting the screen on pause, Hanzo mentally geared himself up for an argument, before turning to acknowledge his younger brother, who was standing rigidly by the couch's armrest with his arms folded crossly over his chest. The clothes he wore were traditional, a forest green yukata for the summer that accentuated the golden brown specks in his eyes, soft and warm as a sparrow's down. The effect was offset, however, by heavy, furrowed brows and the displeased twist at the corner of his mouth.

Hanzo carefully bit back a sigh. Same as always, then. "What's on your mind, Genji?"

Now that he was being addressed, Genji's expression shuttered, becoming stern and cold as he dropped his arms to his sides, a move that strangely brought the image of an uncoiling viper to Hanzo's mind. "The Elders have been asking after you. They want to know why you've been skipping practice."

Inhaling slowly through his nose, Hanzo willed his muscles to remain relaxed. He'd expected this question to come up eventually, after all. Ever since he'd been hired to work the night shift at the town's most recently opened bar, it was only a matter of time. But though his boss seemed determined to work him into an early grave, there was little the clan would not do to him if it meant bringing the kumicho's eldest under their control. So though the man could be crude sometimes and wore beanies on his smoke breaks, which was something of a crime all by itself, he didn't deserve to die, not when he'd given Hanzo a chance by hiring him on as a bartender when no one else was willing to, for fear of what the clan would do to them.

There was a time when he and Genji used to tell each other everything, but that time had long passed. Burying that regret deep in his heart, Hanzo made himself sound as convincingly flippant as he could when he said, "Isn't it obvious? I didn't want to. What more reason do I need?"

It wasn't the response Genji had been hoping for but he didn't seem surprised. Taking advantage of the momentary lull in the conversation while Genji alternated from pinching the bridge of his nose to massaging his temples, Hanzo unrepentantly hit Resume on the video game, allowing the bright and happy theme to spew from the speakers. Sensing the attempt to distract him, Genji's scowl deepened. "Hanzo, you need to take this seriously. You are going to be the kumicho, someday. And when that day comes, you will need the Elders on your side."

Already fiddling with the controller, Hanzo absentmindedly retorted, "Relax, little brother. Dad's going to live forever."

It was an old reassurance that had always worked when Genji was small and still looked up to Hanzo like he put the stars in the sky and the fish in the sea, but now they only served to anger him. Stepping in front of the television so that Hanzo had no choice but to look at him, he snarled, "Do not try to placate me with fantasies, Hanzo. I am not the child you used to carry on your back, anymore."

Hanzo took a long moment to look at Genji, taking in the shadows lurking beneath his eyes and the headguard sitting on his forehead, despite the fact that they were home and that was supposed to be a safe place. And though he couldn't fault him for wearing it, it made it harder not to think of the little boy who'd brandished his first armor proudly, and without the weight of knowing that it may one day save his life. Seeing it now, it was apparent that there was nowhere where Genji felt safe. Gone was the boy who had once poked sticks into the koi pond, his cheerful spark of mischief, and his instant affection towards anyone with a smile.

Hanzo longed to tell him that the Elders couldn't be trusted, that the clan wasn't worth his loyalty, but Genji wasn't ready to hear that, yet. He wouldn't listen to him, hadn't listened to him in years. And everything Hanzo had been saving every yen he could spare of his salary for would be for naught. Slowly, Hanzo raised his head to meet Genji's cold glare, and replied, "You're right, Genji." The young ninja's mouth opened in surprise, but before he could speak, Hanzo continued, "You're a lot bigger than you were then."

With his cheeks flushing bruise purple, Genji bared his teeth as he prepared to storm out, "I was a fool to think that you would listen to reason."

This was how things always ended between them now. It was like they were acting out the same scene, and it was taking its toll, to the point that Hanzo almost preferred not to see his little brother, because everything about him was a reminder of the duty he was meant to shoulder. Genji parroted the Elders' orders and complaints as though he were little more than an extension of their will, and Hanzo was so tired of dealing with it all, and so afraid of his secret becoming known to the Elders if he told Genji the truth behind his absences, that instead of trying to calm Genji down or convince him to stay, Hanzo allowed him to leave without a word of protest on his part.

He kept his gaze glued to the flashing screen, though he couldn't see what was going on anymore nor bring himself to care. In his lap, the plastic game controller groaned under the pressure of a white-knuckled grip.

It wasn't long after that their father fell ill.

The disease ate away at his body and mind, reducing the once proud dragon to an invalid groping blindly at the empty air for loved ones long since lost.

And while he drew his last breath lying in his bed, surrounded by retainers and his sons, there were few who would deny that he died alone.

Out of respect to the man who had raised them, Genji gently closed his lids so that the dull, glassiness of his eyes could no longer be seen. Then he turned to Hanzo. Due to his own refusal to look at the him for the entirety of the time they'd spent waiting by their father's bedside in this morbid vigil, itself a result of repeated hurts and anger boiling to the surface, the open terror in full bloom over Hanzo's features came as a violent shock.

Their eyes met, something passed between them. And Genji's mouth opened to call to him, because he knew, somehow, what Hanzo was going to do next, but it was too late.

He ran.

For once disregarding how others would perceive him, Genji took after his brother, a mix of fear and rage burning and chilling him in turns. All he knew for sure was that he couldn't afford to let Hanzo run away again. Not now.

He caught up to him on the wooden path bordering the rock garden, where the gravel was stained with pale pinks from the cherry blossoms scattered among the stones. Reaching out, Genji's fingers just barely brushed Hanzo's shoulder, but it was enough to convince him to stop, to turn around. When he did, Genji saw that his suit was disheveled, his tie pulled loose. There was little left of his apathetic brother to be found.

Shaking his head in futile denial, Hanzo told him in a harsh and desperate whisper, "I can't lead them, Genji." He begged him to understand. "You don't know what they do… what they've already done."

When Hanzo made as though to reach out to him, however, Genji moved out of his range so quickly he stumbled. It was while he struggled to right himself that fury rushed through his mind, polluting his thoughts so that the only thing that remained within him were words edged with truth's razor teeth, "Of course I know, Hanzo! But how would you?" He strode forward, erasing the distance between them in a blink, but Hanzo was too stunned, too transfixed by the outburst to even think about stepping back. "You distanced yourself from the clan! You abandoned our father, forced him to shoulder the weight of ruling an empire alone!" Suddenly, the rage evaporated, with what remained making it abundantly clear that the young boy who had once looked to Hanzo for protection and guidance had never been entirely erased by the clan's teachings. So quietly Hanzo had to strain to hear it, Genji said with his head bowed, "You left me."

For a moment, neither of them spoke, because even though their retainers and their servants would be coming to retrieve them at any moment, Hanzo needed time to process and Genji needed to recover his composure. It was while he was reaching for calm that it occurred to him how strange it was that no one had come looking for them, yet. There were no raised voices indicating a search, no soft footfalls on the wooden floors.

His mind immediately leapt to the Elders, to clandestine conversations behind closed doors… but that wasn't possible. They couldn't very well expect him to lose both his father and his brother on the same day.

Unaware of Genji's brewing conflict, Hanzo briefly closed his eyes. "They made me kill when I was fifteen, Genji. Fifteen. Nothing worth saving would make a kid do that." It was right around then that Genji's smiles began to gain their sharp, sardonic edge, that his skin became a flame too scalding to touch, and he started to take his training and his lessons seriously…

With a curse hissed through his teeth, Hanzo gripped Genji by the shoulders, and looked at him, really looked at him. Every emotion he'd been displaying before had vanished, as though they'd been shoved behind a wall. That wasn't a skill that was taught. It was gained through necessity.

"They've done it to you, too, haven't they?" Genji stared at him blankly, smooth and flawless as sheet rock. Hanzo visibly resisted the urge to shake him. "How long have the Elders been making you been kill people?"

He craned his neck to spot the walkways that led to their father's quarters, hoping to catch a glimpse of where he assumed the Elders were still waiting for their return. Somehow, he would make them pay for this.

"Do you know what they've asked me to do, Hanzo?" It was the flat and dead tone Genji used that snapped his attention back to the young ninja looking up at him. Realizing his hands were still squeezing Genji's shoulders, Hanzo quickly released him, and kept his hands raised as far away from the shuriken and kunai hidden beneath the waist of his jacket as he could.

He didn't move or lower his hands, not even after Genji slowly unsheathed his own sword. It glinted silver in the sunlight, beautiful and deadly.

Taking his eyes off his brother, just as every tutor in his life had advised he not do when faced with a steady resolve and an intent to kill, Hanzo allowed his gaze to roam idly over the courtyard. He and Genji had played there often when they were boys. It would be a terrible shame to stain it with his blood. "I can guess."

"Don't..."Genji's hands shook around the hilt of his katana, betraying him. "Don't make me do this."

"I'm not making you do anything," even Hanzo was surprised by how calm he managed to sound. "It's your choice, little brother. I've already made mine." He let his hands drop to his sides.

Though reluctant, Genji glanced consideringly at the wall bordering the courtyard. It was several feet higher than either of them could jump, but that wouldn't be enough to stop a truly determined ninja. And though Hanzo had been slacking in his training, recently, the reality was that his skills were beyond reproach. If anyone could make that climb, he could.

Now that an alternative had been presented, Genji could feel doubt taking root within him, and yet he could hear the words of the Elders echoing in his mind, "They'll kill you if I let you go."

Despite the fact that Genji's concern was entirely warranted, Hanzo was confident enough in his own skills to scoff, "They can try."

But then Genji looked down at his blade. His shoulders edged forward, bunching around his neck like he was trying to shrink into himself.

"They'll kill me."

The quiet admission galvanized Hanzo into action, and he took a step forward despite the sharp edge of the sword still leveled at his chest. "Then come with me, Genji." He waited to see if Genji would respond, then surged ahead. "I've been saving up money so we could both leave this place, and I have enough now that we should be able to live comfortably, at least for a little while." Although he knew it to be true, even had the bank receipts to prove it, hearing it finally said aloud made Hanzo uncomfortably aware of how unbelievable it all sounded. Running his fingers through his hair with a worried frown, he tried, "Look, my point is we don't need the clan. We can find someplace else to live. I can find another job wherever we end up and you can finally go to college, be a normal kid for once." And he couldn't see Genji's face, only the stiffness of his back, so there was no telling if his little brother was actually listening or gearing himself up to murder him, but Hanzo decided to trust him, the way he should have done from the beginning. He put a hand on the blade, and said as gently as he could, "All you have to do is put down the sword."

There was a sound like a choked back cry and Hanzo felt the blade begin to dip. It gave him hope, and then he looked over Genji's shoulders, at the Elder standing behind him who definitely hadn't been there before. He seemed to be mouthing something. Hanzo blinked, confused. It was a split second of distraction that cost him. He heard Genji shout out a warning an instant before something cold penetrated his stomach, and he looked down to see Genji's katana protruding from his flesh emanate a vibrant green mist that matched the lingering influence of the dragon in Genji's wide and glowing eyes.

Covering Genji's bloodspecked hands with his own, Hanzo said the first thing he could think of, "It's okay."

Soon after, the strength in his legs abandoned him, forcing Genji to catch him before he fell and jarred the sword. The young ninja shook his head.

"It's not," he repeated. "It's not, it's not-"

He placed a hand on Genji's cheek, and was surprised to find his little brother's face was streaked with tears. "This… isn't your fault. I shouldn't have left you… with them." Though it cost him more energy than he could afford to lose, he forced himself to keep going. "I let them do this to you... I'm so sorry." As terrible as it was that he was going to die, and as much as he didn't want to, Hanzo couldn't help but think of how close he'd been to freeing them both. It was so unfair it was practically an insult.

He stayed awake long enough to hear Genji scream his name as his body was ripped out of his arms and dragged away.

Not long after, Genji climbed over the courtyard wall and deserted the clan. He'd managed to convince the Elders that he believed eliminating Hanzo was necessary, though his loss wounded him deeply. And once they trusted him enough to grant him his only wish, that he may have some space to mourn his brother in private, he fulfilled the very daydream he'd had that day and scaled the wall with two kunai in his hands.

He found work as a mercenary, though it was more out of convenience than desperation, since when he'd left the clan, he'd made sure to take more than a little of their funds with them. No, it was so that he could keep a close watch on the clan. Mercenaries existed on the outskirts of the criminal circle – separate, yet near enough that news of illegal movements and dying syndicates traveled to their ears, as well.

While Genji bided his time, unsure of what to do with his newfound freedom besides seek vengeance on the very clan that had destroyed his family and any hope he'd had for achieving happiness, he learned how to cook. It was such a stepping stone up from buying microwavable meals at the grocery story that when he finally baked a cake that wasn't burned black on the bottom or soggy in the middle, he'd nearly cried.

He also attended online college courses, through which he discovered a passion for game design that led to a somewhat lucrative hobby he could indulge in between assignments.

It wasn't easy to form a routine when he was always on the move, but though his daily life was often erratic, there was one day in every year where he could be counted on to be dangerously predictable which, as it happened, was directly what had led to his locking swords with a duel-wielding headache.

"Woah, you're ripped!" His adversary crowed as they crossed blades once more under the cherry blossoms in Hanamura, in the exact same courtyard where Hanzo had fallen by his hand. "Where do you find the time to work out?"

Shaking with the effort of fending off the swordsman's inhuman strength, Genji managed a grunted, "You… are the mouthiest assassin I have ever faced."

But the stranger only laughed. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

Then he disengaged to effortlessly leap an impossible distance and height and land nimbly atop the courtyard wall, where he twirled a pair of short blades, each with a curved edge and grooves cut into the steel. "You've come a long way to honor a man you murdered, and yet you're still trapped here. I wonder what Hanzo would say if he could see you now, and know that he died for nothing."

Until that point, Genji had been content to merely ignore his goading and drive him off, as he wasn't willing to risk harming the scattered sakura or disturb the gravel that still retained its rusty red hue beneath the walkway, the very spot onto which Hanzo's blood had spilled, but at the implication that he had wasted his brother's sacrifice, buried hatred and grief came rising to the surface, and a draconic snarl issued from his lips.

With his katana gleaming in the moonlight, Genji charged forward to bound from the boulder at the base of the sakura to the nearest branch, his long two-tone hair whipping around him like a dragon's mane, and he swiped at the assassin's legs, but the intruder jumped effortlessly to dodge the blow, and in the same breath showered the courtyard with shuriken, forcing Genji to waste precious time deflecting the projectiles while the assassin leapt down into the courtyard to sprint into the shrine.

After pausing to yank a neon blue tipped shuriken out of a thick bough, Genji growled under his breath and gave chase, only to find the veiled assassin kneeling at the ancient scroll of their ancestors and the platform upon which the immaculate and untouched blade of the kumicho's eldest son rested. "Leave this place," he demanded, and his grip tightened on the hilt on his katana in an unspoken threat. "You do not belong here."

To his eyes, the assassin's full-body armor looked jarringly incongruent to the shrine's traditional furnishings, a smudge of neon blue and black against the scarlet columns and earth brown scroll, but there was something graceful in his movements as he fluidly rose to stand, and tilted his head to regard him. Something that poked and prodded at memories long left buried.

The assassin unsheathed twin blades made of black steel. "Neither do you."

After tossing a handful of kunai at the intruder, which he evaded with an infuriating casual ease, Genji snarled -"You know nothing about me!" – and charged forward to demonstrate exactly why no adversary had ever managed to fell him. Green mist trailed over his shoulder and down his arm to spiral around his sword as the weapon became an extension of himself, the blade was his fangs and his claws and they would rend, tear, devour anyone who dared stand in his way, "Ryuujin no ken wo kurae!"

Tracking streaks of electric blue light, the assassin raced to meet him, and their blades clashed with the fury and power of storm fronts colliding over a turbulent sea, and the metal shrieked and howled, sparks flying at the contact. And though most would have fallen to terror or despair at the sight of the spectral dragon bearing down on them, Genji could have sworn that what he heard through the mechanical filter was a light chuckle. Then an ethereal glow emanated from the lights spiraling down his arms. It spilled on the assassin's blades before taking an impossible shape, and the assassin roared, "Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!"

And a pair of azure dragons with thick, scaly bodies surged to meet his own, but theirs was not a clash, but a resonance. A joining. They rose above their heads, arcing against the shrine's ceiling, before the assassin disengaged long enough to swing his blades in a long arc that the great beasts followed with no hint of reluctance, and then aimed their points at Genji, whose dark brown eyes widened with unexpected fear as the gaping maws reared to bear down on him, but instead of tearing him to pieces as they would their foes, the dragons merely overwhelmed him with a foreign power that buzzed beneath his skin and filled his core as they rushed through him. There were emotions, feelings, too, but they were immense and old, too much for his human mind to grasp, but when the experience was over and he collapsed to his knees on the balcony, having been pushed back by their immutable force, it was to a lightness in his breast that he could not even begin to understand.

At his side, on the polished wooden floor, lay his blade, cold and abandoned. The assassin kicked it away, plumes of steam rising from the vents along his torso. Less than a blink passed before the assassin had the sharp edges of his blades pressed against Genji's throat, and he raised his chin imperiously, "What are you waiting for? I do not fear death."

And he waited for the painful sting that would finally grant him, if not redemption, then peace, but the stranger merely dipped his head to meet the defiance in his gaze. "Good." The assassin sheathed his blades. "Because I'm not going to kill you… little brother."

In an instant, Genji was on his feet, the bow slow over his shoulder unslung and nocked with an arrow pointed unwaveringly at this foe who would dare – "My brother is dead!"

With slow, unhurried movements, the assassin unlatched the visor and the faceplate attached, allowing Genji to see his own image reflected in eyes that were unmistakably and achingly familiar to him.

"...Hanzo?"

"I wasn't going to reveal myself to you, partly because I didn't want to hurt you, but mostly because I was afraid you'd try to kill me again." Though it was said jokingly, Genji couldn't help the involuntary flinch that seized him. Despite his best efforts, it did not go unnoticed, for when Hanzo spoke again, his tone had softened considerably, "As fate would have it, though… I need your help."

Genji averted his eyes, unable to bear the sight of the inhuman monstrosity he'd turned his brother into for long. "What could you possibly need from me?"

Unperturbed by Genji's refusal to look at him, the cyborg placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "My friends are fighting to make this world a better place, and they could use your skills." Ending the brief contact, Hanzo kept walking, "However you may feel about me, I truly believe that Overwatch would benefit from having you on their side, and that you would benefit from the arrangement, as well."

Overwatch. That was the organization the Elders had claimed Hanzo had been in contact with. Their fixation with dismantling the Shimada clan's funds and supporters and the expertise with which they did so had certainly seemed personal enough to suggest that someone from the family was involved.

"And what if, after all this time, what I feel for you is hatred?" The words burst from Genji's lips, unbidden. Hanzo hesitated at the railing. "You let me think you were dead for 10 years."

"Is it?" He sounded genuinely curious, just as he had on those nights when he'd come home from an outing a little too late and a little too high off of life and other substances, to find Genji curled up and miserable on the bathroom floor, his back against the tile wall with his knees drawn up against his chest, with hands rubbed raw and lying open at his sides. He'd wanted to know, wanted to help, but Genji had been too afraid of his reaction to tell him just who it was that the responsibility for the jobs he refused to take fell to. "Do you hate me, Genji?"

Those were the experiences that had shaped his final perception of his brother – a thoughtless man worth little more than good intentions.

And yet, "I mourned you."

With a quiet sigh, the cyborg stepped away from the railing, and turned once more to face him. "I know. And I won't ask you to forgive yourself, but I hope you know that what I said that day was true." A gentle breeze swept through the shrine, carrying with it the sweet scent of cherry blossoms. "I never blamed you."

Then he stepped back, increasing the distance so as to leap from the balcony to the nearest sloped rooftop, where he landed in a crouch.

After a hesitation so brief it could be measured in a heartbeat, Genji raced to the edge to train the point of an arrow on the cyborg's back.

"Then you are a fool!"

Hanzo stood tall, his dark form a stark contrast against the backdrop of the rising sun. "Ha. Is that anyway to talk to your elders? You've grown impertinent in your old age, Genji." He glanced over his shoulder to glimpse the last rays of moonlight reflecting off shimmering patches on Genji's cheeks, and visibly relented. "What you decide to do is your choice, Genji. I won't force you to join, but... I'm not going to wait another ten years to see you again."

"And what makes you think I will patiently wait for you?"

The cyborg's head jerked in surprise, taken off guard for the first time. When he spoke again, it was with a tinge of pride that sapped the strength from Genji's limbs. "Until the day we meet again, brother."

A swirling cloud of dense smoke engulfed him, obscuring his form from Genji's sight, and he lowered his bow, already aware of the cyborg's departure.

Hanamura in the dawn was beautiful, filled with hues of pinks and purple that stained the mountain as the village below began to wake, but Genji didn't linger to enjoy to the view. Instead, he carefully cradled the blossom lying at his feet, and returned to the shrine to place the flower and a blue-tipped shuriken at the base of Hanzo's katana.

In the end, he did not know how long he remained, kneeling at the shrine of a man who yet lived despite its dangers, only that his brother had given him much to think on.

A/N: Just to be clear, what the Elder standing behind Genji did was trigger a physical response, like jerking violently. It wasn't so much mind control as an involuntary muscle spasm that resulted in him accidentally stabbing Hanzo, because even in an au where everything is switched, I can't imagine Genji killing his brother. At least, not if Hanzo didn't try to kill him first.