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“Zenyatta?” Genji stepped out into the garden, looking around until he spotted the omnic sitting beneath the lone willow tree, focused intently on whatever was in his lap. He looked up when he heard Genji called to him, the lights on his head brightening; his way of smiling.
“Genji, there you are. I was wondering where you were.”
Genji tilted his head as he approached, kneeling in front of the other as he stared at the box he was holding. “I was wondering the same. Hence why I came looking. May I ask what is in the box?”
Zenyatta gently picked the box up and set it between them, lifting the lid and taking out the object inside. It was a simple bowl, made of what looked like stone, about as big as his hands. What made it remarkable however were the veins of gold that ran through it, irregular and with no obvious design.
“I went for a walk earlier and came across a traveling merchant. His cart had gotten stuck, so I helped him move it. He gave this to me in turn.” Zenyatta turned the bowl in his hands. “Do you know of the practice of kintsugi?”
Genji nodded. “I've never personally seen one before however. I am a bit surprised he'd give it to you. From what I understand, they are rather sought after.
Zenyatta dipped his head, shoulders hunching a bit. “He actually told me to take whatever I wished. He was very grateful. I initially wanted to refuse, however, when I saw this, it reminded me of you.”
Genji tensed up, looking at the bowl in the monk’s hands. “Zenyatta,” his voice hitched. “I do not know what to say, honestly.” He reached out with both his hands. “May I hold it?”
Zenyatta nodded and handed the bowl over, happy Genji wished to hold it. When they had first met he had been so afraid to touch anything less sturdy then his sword; even when they began a romantic relationship, months passed before he could even touch Zenyatta confidently.
“I am afraid what holds me together is much less precious then gold.”
Zenyatta couldn’t help but smile at the soft words. As far as they had come, Genji still held such a humble, if not sometimes depressed, view of himself. “I disagree. How does one value a soul?”
“A soul?” Genji’s visor brightened briefly. “I was referring to my body.”
“I know.” Zenyatta placed his hands over Genji’s, admiring the contrast they made. “However, if you were without a soul, you would be just an unmoving conglomeration of parts. You would not laugh at the horrible jokes I tell, or enjoy the way the rain sounds. You would not tell me you love me every night when you think I have fallen asleep.” Zenyatta chuckles, watching Genji duck his head in embarrassment. “What holds you together, what makes you perfect and wonderful is you, not the body you reside in. Your soul is more golden then this bowl could ever hope to be.”
Genji sat in silence for a long time, staring at the bowl and their joined hands. Eventually he raised his head, steam puffing gently from the vents on his shoulders. “I still must disagree Master. If I am the bowl, then you are the gold. Without you I would still be very much broken.”
Zenyatta tightened his hold on Genji’s hands, bringing one up to his face and pressing against it in his version of a kiss. “You flatter me.”
“I speak truthfully.”
Zenyatta laughed, leaning forward and bumping their foreheads together. “Even so. I thank you, Genji.”
“I should be thanking you. For everything.”
Zenyatta hummed and levitated off the ground, Genji following behind. “Since my walk was cut short this morning, I was thinking of taking another. Would you honor me with your presence?”
“I would love nothing more.”