Summary: Since their battle at the shrine, Genji had honestly believed that the revelation of his survival would put an end to his brother's annual visits to Hanamura. To his immense frustration, this turned out not to be the case.
TW: Hand trauma, Violence
Teme - bastard
Futari-tomo hontou shinitai no ka?! - Both of you honestly want to die?!
Return to Hanamura
It was nearly midnight.
For most, this would hold little significance. What was one more day in a line-up of thousands? But to the cyborg sitting alone in his quarters, pulsing quietly in the permeating gloom of a starless night on untouched sheets, it was the eve of an anniversary.
Soon, the horizon would brighten with splashes of color, peaches and soft yellows. The birds of Gibraltar would awaken from their slumber to sing the sun awake.
There was beauty in life, in color, in quiet, in stillness.
Poised in a lotus position, Genji inhaled deeply, slowly, listening to the rough mechanical rasp as the air flowed past his mechanisms and into damaged lungs. When that was done, he exhaled, then repeated, even more slowly. It calmed him, allowed the memories this day inevitably stirred to shift and settle like pebbles at the bottom of a river.
A soft ping from his phone roused him, and he turned to glance at the device on his nightstand casting its bluish tint against the wall. A notification stood illuminated on the screen: Hello, Genji.
A small smile curled his lips. "Hello, Athena. Texting's new."
Another notification appeared.
Apologies for contacting you at this late hour.
Though she likely couldn't see him outside of the public areas – unless she'd synced to his camera? - Genji shook his head, answering aloud once more, "It is no trouble, Athena. What seems to be the problem?"
It is likely nothing. However, Agent Shimada seems to be displaying some unusual behaviors.
Already slipping off the mattress, Genji snatched the device off the stand, striding briskly for the door, "What kind of behaviors?"
My logs indicate that usage of electricity lasted for about twenty-five minutes before all light fixtures were deactivated. At first, I assumed he had merely chosen to rest, but energy consumption is not just minimal, it's completely absent.
Having nearly flown down the hallway, Genji found himself standing awkwardly outside his brother's room, staring at the words. "To be honest," he muttered, mostly to himself, "Hanzo's never been the high maintenance-type."
No further messages lit up his screen, which he could only take to mean Athena was leaving to decision up to him. And for as much as Genji dreaded the thought of potentially waking Hanzo in the middle of the night, what sent a shivering chill down his spine wasn't the fear of discovering nothing was amiss. In addition to trusting Athena's judgment, Genji knew his brother.
There was no way he was okay right now.
And what irony was it that after spending so many hours waiting for a knock that never came, he would now find himself rapping tentatively on Hanzo's door. A long period of silence followed before he dared to call out, softly at first. And all the while, a terrible iciness spread through his chest, wrapping its fingers around his heart.
Enough. If Hanzo was lying awake in bed ignoring him, well, then he was in for a surprise.
Ports released a burst of steam with a low hiss, "Emergency Override. Overwatch designation: Sparrow." A status light on the access panel blinked from red to green, acknowledging the successful override. The door slid open, fitting into the wall to reveal an uninhabited room.
Was the tightness cutting off the air in his chest anger? Betrayal? Disappointment?
It was impossible to tell. There was too much to sort through, the majority of it blurred and indistinct when he tried to extricate them from the resounding echo of why consuming his thoughts. A brilliant verdant flooded the room as he entered it, feeling ungrounded and out-of-place.
Why was a playground frightening at night, hours after the children had eaten their dinners and been sent to bed? Why was an empty road so unsettling? Places become associated with people, objects, sounds. Perhaps that was why, despite Hanzo's absence, stepping into his quarters felt so strangely surreal, as though the walls themselves wanted him gone. Even so, Genji rested a palm on the neatly folded, creaseless sheets of the single bed, thinking bitterly of how thoroughly Hanzo had learned to erase his presence over the years.
It was true, then. Genji was a fool.
His port lights flickered, allowing the shadows to reclaim what was theirs for a brief moment, before flaring back to life. "Athena." Keeping his voice forcibly level and calm, he continued, "Can you tell me when my brother last logged out of the training arena?"
Last recorded log out occurred at 2300.
An hour. That was enough time to catch a flight, especially if he'd been planning this for some time. And he'd undoubtedly brought Storm Bow with him. The cello case was gone, though a quick peek at his drawers revealed that most of his clothes remained, as well as his toiletries.
So, the room was clean, not empty. Was that enough cause for hope?
Frowning, Genji glanced at the nightstand, where a pair of small items stood out to him. The first was a small paper crane, its sharp edges dulled with time and handling. The second was a brown-speckled sparrow feather.
Suddenly exhausted, Genji dragged a palm over his visor with a heavy sigh, "Athena? Is there any chance of you not alerting the others just yet?"
This time, the answer didn't come from his phone, and he set it down on the nightstand, listening instead to the synthesized voice speaking coolly through his helmet's built-in comm system, All status reports of active Overwatch members must be submitted for review by the end of a 48-hr period.
More than enough.
Opting out of leaving the way he'd came, he instead headed for the window. There were scuffmarks in the dust on the sill, large enough to have been made by a metallic foot. It was interesting to note that, from the knees down, he and Hanzo weren't all that different. After prying open the frame, Genji balanced on the threshold, his form stark and incandescent against the starless sky. Into the comm, he responded mechanically, "Understood." He paused before speaking again, quieter and more sincere, "And thank you."
Then he was falling, plummeting to the ground from a height that would break a man's legs, only to land harmlessly on his own, as his prosthetics absorbed the excess shock and redistributed it. With a familiar swell of gratitude towards a certain doctor, he set off, but not towards the airport. No, if he was going to fly overseas, he wasn't going to be the cyborg sitting in economy class with crying kids and peanut packets. After all, he was already technically going AWOL, so why not fly in style and beat Hanzo to Hanamura while he was at it?
With that in mind, he sprinted towards the jet hanger.
Though it would have been prudent to sleep on the flight, given what it was he intended to do, Hanzo didn't even bother with the attempt. Painted on the backs of his lids was a still frame he harbored no desire to perceive for longer than the second it took to blink. Instead, he reviewed the reinforced security of Hanamura, the slight changes to routine and shifts that were meant to counteract the eventuality of his arrival. Diminished as it was, the clan retained its fair share of enemies, many of whom were ready to divulge its secrets for a price. Once he was certain he'd covered all possible outcomes, Hanzo had spent the remainder of his flight in first class debating whether to deliberately provoke and mock the clan by entering the same way he'd done previously, or exercise caution by exploiting a path heretofore unutilized.
Once he'd reached the Shimada gates and synced his comm to their security channels, it became apparent that the castle had already been infiltrated by another, a pale armored Omnic armed with katana and throwing stars.
Apparently, he was being kept in the dungeon to await interrogation. The timing was too convenient, the situation ludicrous. It stank of a trap, yet Hanzo grit his teeth, contemplating his options, of which there was only one. Suppressing an annoyed grunt – the guards were distracted, not stupid – he found a crack in the high stone wall beside the gate and lodged Storm Bow into it to create a handhold. Forgoing the theatrics of previous visits, he clung to the shadows, moving soundlessly across the lawn, and ducking below the porch to avoid detection.
Upon confirming that the place was deserted, he darted under the roof of a practice dojo filled with tatami mats, wooden floors that effused scents of pine and oil. It was smaller than the main dojo, and further from the castle than he would have liked, considering he'd been hoping to enter from above the rafters, but… He couldn't deny a certain warmth at the sight of it. For all its tragedy and blood, this had been his home once. Perhaps, one day, he might be forgiven for the nostalgia and longing being within its borders instilled in him, even now.
In the end, he discarded the cello case for its bulk, leaving him with Storm Bow, and a quiver filled with cyberized arrows. He didn't hold out much hope for retrieving the case when all was said and done, though a part of him wished otherwise, as he had grown rather fond of it over the better part of a year. With that said, finding another one wouldn't be difficult, and that was the last he thought of it, pushing such trivialities aside to focus on evading detection, as well as discerning the identity of the Shimada's 'Omnic' as quickly as possible.
Of those who experienced the clan's interrogation methods first-hand, very few lived to tell the tale.
A single cell held within it an unwilling occupant, one who'd refused to speak more than two words to his captors since his imprisonment. Often, he scoffed wordlessly at any threats tossed his way, but otherwise maintained his silence. That was, until someone entered to stand in front of his cell. A moment passed where neither spoke. Genji kept his head down, refusing to give his captors even the satisfaction of acknowledgment, before a voice demanded with a familiar tone of disbelief and annoyance, "What are you doing here, Genji?"
The cyborg jerked with surprise, his head lifting sharply to take in the sight of his older brother standing outside the bars. There was blood on his knuckles. "I was captured…" Genji said slowly, still trying to process this new development. Eventually, though, his thoughts caught up with him. "Any plans on rescuing me?"
To his dismay, however, Hanzo actually seemed to consider. Shrugging, though a certain light in his dark eyes gave him away, he replied, "Well, no, but as I am here regardless, I suppose I might as well."
"Oh. Is it an inconvenience?" Genji muttered petulantly, slipping into Japanese. "I'll be sure to tell the guys that knocked me out that they picked a bad time for you."
He was sulking, Hanzo realized, forcing him to disguise an amused chuckle with a cough. Even with the visor on, he could sense Genji narrowing his eyes with suspicion, and so quickly moved to change the topic by venturing, "Why have you not used your dragon to break free of this place?"
"They all still think Genji Shimada is dead. Who am I to correct them?"
Probably the only person who could, but Hanzo understood what was said beneath his words. He was free now. Free of the elders, the clan, the crime. They would send killers after him, after those he loved. With that in mind, it was truly a wonder he had ever revealed himself to Hanzo at the shrine. Were their positions reversed, Hanzo had little doubt as to whether he could have done the same.
Back on the task at hand, the bars seemed old, rusted. Giving it an overall impression of neglect and decay that was purposeful, meant to fill the prisoner with the subconscious dread of being forgotten. Beneath the auburn flakes lay reinforced steel, and in that steel, an electric current. Touching the bars barehanded wouldn't kill, but it would severely dampen any enthusiasm there might have been to try again.
But what would happen if Genji touched it?
Having once seen the aftermath of an EMP fired off in an anti-Omnic riot, Hanzo knew what dead Omnics looked like. It was said that robots couldn't contain a soul, that it was impossible, yet something was clearly missing from their husks. A spark of life that made them more than metal.
An image of Genji stumbling backwards, his green lights flickering weakly before shutting down forever, flitted through Hanzo's mind. Feeling Genji's gaze on him, he forced down a shudder. "Step away from the bars. I will have you free in a moment."
After a moment's hesitation, Genji climbed to his feet and did what was asked, which would have been so much better if Hanzo actually had an idea of what he was going to do next. There wasn't much time before the other guards realized two of their own were out of commission.
A flash bang wouldn't them much good, nor would thermo radar, besides letting them know they were screwed slightly ahead of time. But scatter arrow… their tips were superheated. And if the blast were contained to a single point…
Pushing his doubts aside, Hanzo grabbed the feathered shaft of one of his scatter arrows, stared contemplatively at its head, then raised it high and slammed it into the lock. It tried to expand instantly, as it was designed to. With the way blocked, it began to emit high-pitched whine as sparks erupted from the mechanism. The shaft shook, then shot outwards, towards where Hanzo stood. Hastily, he stepped out of the way, allowing it to bury itself in the wall several inches deep. Once the shock and the sparks died down, the pair looked to the lock to see it was melted, and the quiet hum of the current was gone.
Impressed, Genji nudged the bars. They swung open. "You had no idea that was going to work, did you?"
Naturally, Hanzo refused to divulge trade secrets, and hurried towards the exit, with the expectation that Genji would follow. It would have been easy for them to evade the guards on the way out – child's play, really – except they were already waiting around the corner, fingers on their triggers and tasers armed. Additionally, the men Hanzo had punched unconscious on the way in were awake once more, and judging by their murderous expressions as they attempted to clean the streaks of blood dried beneath their nostrils, were feeling less than charitable towards the former heirs.
All at once, Hanzo felt three points of fire ignite his veins, boil his blood, seize his muscles, and send his mind into an incoherent mess of tortured agony. He collapsed to the tile like a felled oak, the impact barely registering. As darkness encroached on his vision, he thought he might have heard a synthesized snarl come from directly above his prone form.
And despite furiously fighting, raging against it with a sense of urgency that superseded pain, unconsciousness inevitably won out.
Awareness, when stolen by force, has a tendency to return in parts, as though testing the waters, for fear of being ripped away once again.
Hanzo heard words, snapped and low, before he understood their meaning. He felt a hard, metal surface supporting his back before understanding its significance. His thoughts came to him at crawl, his body alternated between dull aches and burns. His lungs, he noted wryly, appeared to be tender, suggesting some abuse had occurred after he'd lost consciousness. Being careful to keep his features unexpressive and his muscles loose, Hanzo attempted to piece together what had happened. That is, until a quiet, whispered, "Anija?" brought it all rushing back.
Today was the day he honored Genji at the shrine. Genji, who was alive, and who had followed him to this place. In seeking to honor his still living brother, Hanzo may very well have killed him. This time, he didn't bother stifling a groan, receiving a relieved, staticky sigh in return. "I was beginning to worry." Hanzo opened his eyes to see Genji's visor staring back at him, his concern evident despite its barrier. They were sitting on the dungeon floor, moved to an adjacent cell with an undamaged lock, though Hanzo was quick to notice that the bars weren't closed. In their stead, a pair of clean-shaven men stared coolly back at them. Each were wearing the suits and sunglasses customary of the hired security, though one was slender in build, suggesting youth, if not inexperience. The other was broader in the shoulders, more wary than his companion. Hanzo tried to remember if he'd ever encountered the man on a previous visit to his brother's shrine. There was no way to be sure, but he rather hoped he had.
Just in case, he curled his lips away from his teeth, mimicking a grin. The guard's eyes narrowed. "You won't be smiling like that when this is finished."
The second straightened upon realizing he was awake, stepping forward. "Good we can finally start," he commented, as he approached on Hanzo's side. "I was getting tired of waiting for the Omnic's master to wake up." Genji could feel Hanzo stiffen against his back, rankled by the words, and subtly shook his head. They'd already gone over this. It was better that the clan didn't know who he was. Ignorant words had ceased to bother him.
Then the younger guard grabbed Hanzo roughly by the chin, yanking his head up to rove his eyes over his features, before shoving him away so hard it jostled them both.
"Put those hands near him again," Genji swore when the guard stood up, twisting as best he could to face him, "and you will lose them."
The guard cocked his head, a strange expression crossing his face as he appeared to think over his words. "There's no way that's Genji, Mozu." He said finally to his companion. "He'd hate Hanzo even more than we do."
Right. He was just an Omnic. There was no merit in torturing an Omnic.
Mozu didn't appear convinced, though, because he too strode into the cell, where without a word, he reached for Genji's visor.
Without thinking Hanzo blurted, "Are you certain you want to do that?" It came out confident, despite its improvised nature. And he had their attention. "If you take off his mask, in accordance with his programming, he will shortly self-destruct."
The younger guard stumbled in his haste to put distance between them, exclaiming, "What kind of insane defense mechanism is that?" The other, however, appeared merely intrigued. Genji, for his part, seemed to be waiting to see how this desperate bid of his would resolve itself. Well, that made two of them.
Splitting his mouth into a macabre grin, Hanzo replied with the taste of blood on his tongue, "The kind built to keep nosy busybodies such as yourselves out of my affairs." Immediately, the guard's expression hardened, rage overriding his fear.
His words didn't seem to have any effect on Mozu. He examined Genji's form, taking in the sleekness of his design with a hint of admiration. "I've never seen any Omnics quite like this. Is it a new model?"
Hanzo affected a bored sigh, "Or perhaps I am simply better funded than your employ-"
A clawed hand raked across his cheek, leaving three streaks of fire in its wake. With a garbled shout, Genji lunged for the assailant, struggling against the ropes binding them until they shrieked at the strain.
Unperturbed, the young guard merely frowned at the display. "This must be his Omnic. Remember the way he was in training? Only something programmed to like him would defend this man."
Training? Then they weren't hired guns?
Grunting his displeasure, Mozu rose to his feet. His hand moved to his gun as he stared coldly down at the cyborg. "What a loyal dog, you are."
Sensing the danger, Hanzo opened his mouth to draw the attention back to him, only to nearly bite his tongue when Genji rocked backwards, slamming his head into his. "What are you doing?" he hissed out of the side of his mouth, wincing at the starbursts of pain shooting from the back of his skull.
"Distracting them." Genji whispered back quickly. "Help me."
Louder, he said, "And you call yourself a ninja?!" He struggled, a feckless Omnic frightened of the impending doom its master had brought upon it.
The younger guard cackled. "Alright, enough of that. You're no good to us if you kill each other." He reached out for either of them. It was hard to tell because once his hand was in range, Hanzo swiveled around with the speed of a viper, sinking his teeth into thin fingers, breaking through skin until thick blood washed over his tongue.
A brutal impact at the back of his head forced his jaw open, allowing the guard to yank his wounded fingers out of range. Dizzy and unfocused, Hanzo thought he saw a smear of crimson on the butt of Hattori's gun.
When the guard led his injured companion out of the cell to care for the bites that were very nearly amputations, Genji muttered, "Are you alright?"
"I've been better," Hanzo answered tightly. Genji's port lights were hurting his eyes. "But I'll live."
Shifting slightly, Genji nodded. "Well, you'll have to have Mercy check you out when we get back. Who knows where that guy's been?" Hanzo stared blankly at him for a moment before barking a laugh. The force and sound of it both sent spikes of white-hot agony through his skull, but he could tell that Genji was pleased, and somehow, that made it worth it.
Unfortunately, it did not go unnoticed. "Teme." Pale and carved from fury, the young guard stalked towards them, stopping only briefly when Mozu attempted to restrain him.
"That's enough! You're being baited."
Snarling, the younger guard ripped his good arm away from him, clutching the other close to his chest as scarlet streams continued to weep from the bandage hastily wrapped around his wounds. Marching forward, he snatched his gun from its holster to aim at Hanzo's temple. "Futari-tomo hontou shinitai no ka?!" Just then, the ropes grew slack, shocking the men on both sides of the barrel, but before either of them could react, Genji leapt to his feet to shove a shuriken into the guard's carotid artery.
Stepping over the choking, dying man, Genji said only, "Let's go."
Hanzo hesitated. Stopping in his tracks, Genji glanced back with a question on his lips to see him picking up the guard's slick gun with a grimace of distaste. He waved Genji on to check the hallway, just to make sure they didn't make the same mistake twice, and after only a brief pause, he was gone, leaving Hanzo alone with the sole remaining guard. He was slumped against the wall, staring at the body with his fingers running through his hair. Hanzo moved to step past him. "He admired you, you know." He stopped. "Once," Mozu added with a bitter chuckle. A memory surfaced, that of training alongside children in the dojo, shortly before the end. Those children would all be adults, now, guards and ninjas. Assassins.
"I know," the heir said softly, his head bowed. "I'm sorry."
Slowly, the guard turned to look at him, and Hanzo searched for some emotion, be it hatred or fear. There was nothing. "Leave. Run like always. Do whatever you want, I don't care. Just go."
Without another word, Hanzo left and didn't look back, leaving the man to his grief. He found Genji waiting for him outside. Before he could speak, Hanzo held up a hand to stop him, "Think you could find a place to hide?" Not in the corridor, obviously, but there had to be somewhere even the most eye-catching cyborg in existence could remain undetected.
"I'm sure I could," Genji answered stiffly, interrupting his train of thought. "But I'm not going to if you're not." Of all the stubborn, nonsensical, ridiculous, idiotic-"Why aren't you, by the way?"
Shaking his head, Hanzo started down the corridor, since dawdling was what got them into this mess in the first place. "I came here with a purpose. A purpose I must carry out." Glancing back at Genji, he reiterated, "I have to do this." An alcove towards the end provided some respite, enough for him to activate Storm Bow's tracker. With any luck, they'd stored his weapons with Dragonblade, though they were likely being watched in case of this exact eventuality.
The alcove was damp and claustrophobic, saturated with the cloying scent of rot and dust. It barely fit the pair of them, lending itself to a sense of inescapability when, from his side, Genji fiercely whispered into the gloom, "Hanzo, help me understand. Why is this so important to you?"
Disbelieving, Hanzo tilted his head to stare at him. How could he honestly not know when it was so obvious? Barely audible, he breathed, "Because you're alive."
For a time, Genji said nothing, too startled by the admission to respond. In the distance, panicked shouts could be heard. Feeling as though the ground had shifted, Hanzo closed his eyes in an attempt to steady himself, only to suck in a sharp breath when Genji gripped him tightly to prevent him from slumping. "Hey… You're in no state to be fighting, anija." Hanzo frowned. His head pounded.
"Surely, you and Agent McCree have overcome greater odds than this?" Genji didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he craned his neck to peer outside, where a crowd of guards, human and Omnic alike, were preparing to descend upon them.
After setting Hanzo against the wall as gently as he could manage, Genji told him, "Stay here. Do not move from this spot. I will come back for you soon." That wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to leave, yet Genji slipped into the corridor, instigating a cacophony of shouts and gunshots. Someone groaned, low and pained. It took a minute for Hanzo to consider that it might have been him. Worry choked him, the thought of losing Genji to the clan unbearable.
Eventually, silence reigned, though the occasional moan could still be discerned, which meant that Genji had spared the guards. It took too long for the light at the end of the alcove to be obscured by his form, but then, there he was with Storm Bow and Dragonblade strapped to his back. Scuffed and bloodied, but undeniably whole. Through the headache and unsteadiness, Hanzo managed an honest smile.
Quickly taking him under the shoulder, Genji helped him make the trip to the shrine, where they burned incense at the base of the torn scroll in honor of what was and what might still be, leaving in their wake a single sparrow feather. One last time.
A/N: Hanzo's been mourning a memory for a decade. He may need to put that to rest before he can truly move on.