Chapter Text
Most days, Genji loved being the younger brother of the head of the Shimada clan. It afforded him a relatively easy life—grueling ninja training since he’d been nine aside—and he spent his days honing his body to a fine edge and his nights in pleasant company, playing games both in the arcade and with people.
The clan Elders had tried to pressure Hanzo to get rid of him when his older brother had inherited from their father after his passing, but the Wolf of the Shimada clan hadn’t been having any of that and in a coup that left their yakuza lieutenant’s heads spinning, seized power out of their grizzled hands and consolidated everything beneath him. Hanzo had chosen his brother over their family tradition, and while Genji wasn’t exactly useful in the strictest sense, there was no one on this earth who could question his loyalty to his elder brother and his family name.
Even when it was a giant hassle.
“Tell me again why this is happening?” he grouched, pulling at the collar of his suit. Spring was in full, florescent bloom but these penguin suits were hot as hell. Even if he did look hotter wearing one.
Hanzo sighed, rolling his eyes a bit. He was only twenty-seven but the pressure of running the clan and the family’s criminal business, not to mention twin dragon spirits bound to his flesh by ink—it was really no surprise that he was already showing little wisps of gray at his temples, slight lines ghosting about his eyes. He wore glasses now, not because he needed them but to distract from the fact that no one with bad eyesight could nail a target halfway across Hanamura, and yeah the town’s not big but Genji has seen him do it. “Because I am the ancestral Lord of Hanamura, and they asked specifically to stay at the old family temple. Seeing as how they’re peaceful, uninvolved, and foreign, they make a marvelous smokescreen for a little while. Besides, it looks good for us, gives us standing with the rest of the old families. And you told me you were going to dye your hair back to normal.”
Genji snorted, his own bright green hair short and fluttering in the unhelpful breeze. “I lied. They’ll be gone in a couple of weeks, how does that help us really?”
“Try a little over a month,” Hanzo said, a wry twist to his mouth and Genji groaned.
“A month? Ugh,” He scuffed one of his very expensive dress shoes against the stone of the courtyard, “They’re going to be so boring. This is going to suck.”
“You’ll live,” Hanzo told him, completely unconcerned, and Genji stuck his tongue out at him. His brother elbowed him and nodded ahead, “They’re here. Pretend you’re a normal person and not a barbarian for the next ten minutes, please.”
“I will draw penises on your dragons in permanent marker,” Genji hissed at him before schooling his face impassive to greet their guests, but it soon gave way to interest in spite of himself.
The Shambali order was nearly a household name in this day and age, and certainly Genji had seen pictures of their leaders and members on the ‘net and on television, but he’d never seen one before. Not in person.
There was a small entourage of monks that emerged from a trio of armored limos, body guards ringing the group, but they all parted like water. The two heads of the order walked in abreast, their movements so perfectly synced it looked choreographed. Tekhartha Mondatta and Tekhartha Zenyatta were dressed in matching white-and-gray kasaya, their hands before them, fingertips touching as if in prayer. They looked vastly distinct though, Mondatta’s faceplate and cranium were squared and matte white, Zenyatta’s rounded and glittering in chrome. Mondatta’s array of blue lights tilted in a diamond, where Zenyatta’s were arranged in grid-like rows. Zenyatta also had a set of strange, enormous mala around his shoulders.
There was the same quiet power and poise between the two, but there was no mistaking them.
Hanzo bowed respectfully, and Genji did the same, “Welcome to Hanamura. We are proud to have the Shambali in our midst. I am Hanzo Shimada, and this is my younger brother, Genji.”
They bowed as well and Mondatta spoke, “I am Tekhartha Mondatta and this is Tekhartha Zenyatta. Thank you for the welcome. We are greatly looking forward to our stay.”
“Our home is your home, if you have need of anything please ask me, or any of my staff and we will accommodate. I hope your stay will be as comfortable as possible.”
“Your consideration is appreciated,” Mondatta continued to be the voice of the delegation, “Would we be allowed to see the grounds before the temple? Many of the Shambali have never been to Japan before, and even Zenyatta here expressed interest in seeing the Sakura blossoms.”
Zenyatta inclined his head in agreement but said nothing.
Hanzo nodded and gestured, “Of course, this way please.” He led them through the courtyard to where the majority of their ancient trees were beginning their bloom, spaced precisely apart so their canopy had grown to maximum spread, unhindered by buildings or other trees.
Hanamuran sakura trees, Prunus Hanamura, were a prized variety, cultivated and bred specifically; they were much sought after and rarely found elsewhere. Their blossoms were almost touching red they grew so pink and they benefitted from a prolonged blooming season, closer to a month rather than the scant two-to-three week period most other species displayed.
Genji grew up with them, seeing them day after day, but every spring even he would admit the transformation in Hanamura was magical. Like clouds caught on the ground, and the air was heady with the light, fragrant scent.
The monks looked on with visible wonder as Hanzo led them through, the breeze dropping petals all around them.
Genji watched as the monk Zenyatta stopped very abruptly, falling out of line as Hanzo and Mondatta continued, his brother telling the monk all about the history of the estate. Zenyatta held out his hand simply and waited, a moment later a whole blossom floating down to land in his open palm. The Omnic shifted, a clear happiness writ into his body language, and tucked the blossom inside his sash, giving Genji a glimpse of red and saffron lining.
The monk continued on, passing Genji where he’d paused and was he humming?
--
After Hanzo showed them around the estate and inside the main building itself they escorted the entourage to the temple of Hanamura, located on the Shimada family grounds. They passed under the immense torii gate, the stone walk lined with more ancient sakura trees. Genji was over at the temple frequently, but rarely inside it, instead leaping around its rooftop as he navigated over the roofs and walls.
There were no serving priestesses or monks here anymore, the structure largely a historical landmark and not an actual functioning temple. It was also not open to the public the majority of the year, but during the annual cherry blossom festival Hanamura held every spring the Shimada compound opened its doors to allow visitors into select parts of the estate, the temple among them. Genji had no doubt that they had also wanted to time their visit to be able to take in the festival.
In preparation for the arrival of the Shambali, the rooms within the temple had been prepared for Omnic habitation, but overall the Shimada family had kept the structure well preserved. Hanzo had sent the ruling tradition of the family up in blood and flames, but he honored nearly all else.
“We prepared everything to your specifications,” Hanzo said as he led the group inside. “We hope it is to your liking.”
Mondatta looked around and glanced at Zenyatta who nodded to him, and he in turn nodded at Hanzo, “It is wonderful. Thank you.”
Hanzo bowed again, “We will leave you to settle. I know Omnics do not eat like humans, but you are welcome to join us for the evening meal if you have more questions or would like more conversation.”
“Thank you I will join you, and Zenyatta may as well. The others may wish to meditate, our travels have been long, but we will send word of how many places to prepare.”
Hanzo nodded, “As you say. We will leave you to get settled.” He turned to go, reaching and setting a hand on Genji’s arm to guide him out, not because Genji needed the help but because Hanzo knew his brother would likely run off the instant he was free. As predicted, as soon as they left the temple and were away from the Shambali, Hanzo’s hand clamped down on his arm.
“Let go,” Genji whined, “Come on, I behaved myself.”
“You’re not done yet, we have to have dinner and then probably tea after and polite conversation. You remember how to be polite, don’t you?”
“If I say ‘no’, can I leave?”
“No, if you can’t be polite you have to be silent, but that hasn’t happened in twenty-four years and I’m not counting on it now.”
“Hanzoooo,” He whined, but his brother’s grip was iron.
“Please, Genji, just today. Just behave yourself today, and you can go back to whatever foolish nonsense you want to do tomorrow. I know you have it in you, that the manners drilled in growing up didn’t disappear into nothingness.”
Genji sighed gustily, “Fine. I’ll be good.”
“Thank you,” Hanzo said emphatically, letting go of his arm and pushing him a little towards the main building, “And dye your hair back!”
Genji gave him the middle finger as he strolled back to the house, “No!”
--
Dinner was as dull as he’d expected it to be. Only Mondatta and a few of the entourage and their security joined them for dinner. Hanzo and Mondatta continued to talk, mostly about the history of the Shimada clan, the temple, and Hanamura itself, which was all garbage every guest of his brother and their father before him had asked about and if he had to hear the same boring tales one more time he was going to do something crazy like jump out a window.
Hanzo also asked about what the Shambali were looking to do in Japan, which was marginally more interesting, fortunately for his sanity and put his self-defenestration on hold.
“We plan on visiting a few of the notable landmarks in the area,” Mondatta said readily, but there was no excitement to his tone, only a gentle rise and fall with the cadence of his sentences. “We are giving a series of speeches as well, later in the week. I am looking forward to it.”
Genji snorted into his rice as he shoveled it in his mouth, keeping his manners just barely outside the realm of rude. He’d learned early on exactly how far he could push some things. Mondatta may be a spiritual visionary but he seemed to have all the emotional expanse of a pretty stone. He was so distant and aloof it was a wonder anyone had listened to him.
Hanzo pinched him under the lip of the table. Maybe he was pushing too far.
“I’m sure that will be quite an event. I am not sure what will be on my schedule, but if I can I will attend to show my support,” Hanzo told him. “My brother will as well.” He pinched again.
Genji grunted and offered a tight smile, “Of course. I’d be happy to.”
“Wonderful,” Mondatta said, hands clasping together, “I am gratified to hear that, and would like it very much. While I am speaking first, I would suggest you do your best to see my brother Zenyatta speak at the reception afterward. He has such a marvelous way with words. It will be worth your time.”
Not if he’s like you, Genji thought privately, and wondered how exactly he was going to survive through tea.
--
Fortunately tea was brief, the monks easily distracted by the blossoms, and tea turned into another walk on the grounds. Genji found it very easy to slip away then, ducking behind a corner and leaping up to the deck on the second level. He fled to his room where he changed out of the stiff suit to more comfortable clothes, his white-and-orange training ensemble, Katana and wakizashi across his back, and felt human again. From there it was a quick sprint out to the Zen garden before the main gate, where he sat on the small catwalk over the open building housing the ancient Shimada Bell. He let his legs dangle over the edge, kicking idly. Hanzo was going to kill him later—probably—but he’d been at the end of his patience and figured his brother would at least appreciate him removing himself rather than making his own fun.
He leaned his arms on the railing and huffed, looking out at the huge wooden gate, the sun setting slowly, changing the color on the rich wood as the light dipped into golden tones.
He liked being the younger brother of the Shimada leader, but sometimes it made him crazy.
A noise from below had him shifting to peer down, and he saw the other Shambali leader, Zenyatta, strolling around the edges of the Zen garden, making his way towards the bell. He was humming again, a gentle series of harmonious tones, musical nonsense but ear-pleasing all the same.
Genji shifted and moved inside onto the rafters, feet silent, watching, having nothing better to do. The monk reached out, tracing gentle fingers over the edges of the dragon crest cast in the metal, head tilting, clearly curious.
“I am surprised you are not with your brother,” The monk said without warning.
Genji jumped a bit, not expecting the Omnic to have known he was there. He called down, “Hanzo has things well in hand, and no offense but Mondatta is asking all the boring questions.”
Hanzo was really going to kill him if he found out how he’d spoken to an honored guest.
But the monk laughed, the sound soft and pleasant, “I sense that being boring is a cardinal offense to you, Young Lord Shimada.” He finally turned his head upward, finding Genji unerringly in the ceiling. “Perhaps you will come and speak to me instead?”
And because Hanzo wasn’t there to keep him in line he pretty much said what he wanted to, “I guess that depends, are you as dull as Mondatta?”
Another soft chuckle and Zenyatta gave him something he could not resist, “I guess you will have to find out,” a challenge.
Genji grinned a bit and dropped down, “I guess I will.” He was half-a-head taller than Zenyatta, inanely he found this pleasing.
“So, you find my brother boring?” Zenyatta didn’t seem offended, and beckoned to him, walking back out towards the blossoms. Genji trailed after, unbothered about following as bade, unlike when Hanzo tried to push him to do things he didn’t feel like.
“So boring. It was like listening to a recording,” Genji sighed, “He was talking at us. If I hadn’t been Hanzo’s brother he probably would’ve talked right over me.”
Zenyatta sighed a bit, “Mondatta has been known to do that. He is at his best lecturing a large crowd, but one-on-one he can come across as perhaps a touch distant.”
“Why don’t you do it then? You didn’t say a word the whole time.”
Zenyatta tilted his head and Genji could practically taste the amusement he felt, “Why, Young Master Shimada, are you saying perhaps I might be more interesting?”
Genji grinned a bit, glad the Omnic was so sharp, “We’re still finding out. But I don’t think you could’ve been worse.”
He hummed, “Not terribly high praise, but I am confident I can change your mind.”
“Oh?” Genji loved confidence. It made things more exciting.
“My approach is different than Mondatta’s. I prefer to empathize with people, find common ground and connect on a more personal level. That is why I take the smaller groups and he takes the filled stadiums.”
“I see how that would work better.”
Zenyatta nodded, “I find that it is much easier to bridge gaps of prejudice and hate when you are connecting with someone personally. Being shouted at or lectured is no way to change someone’s mind. True change only comes with true empathy from both sides of a disagreement.”
“So what, you think you’re going to try and ‘empathize’ with me right now or something? That we’ll somehow connect better?” Genji asked, watching as the monk stood beneath the blossoms, lights growing brighter and bluer as the sky slowly darkened, sunset tipping low. The slim, pale form cut a striking image amongst the pink and gold and blue of the closing day.
Zenyatta hummed, tilting his head to watch him, “No, I expect that a conversation would not be the best way to empathize with you, Young Lord Shimada. Though I am sure I could manage it, in time.”
Genji didn’t want to admit Zenyatta right, but this Omnic was pressing all the right buttons to hold his interest. “And what exactly would be?”
There was a soft sound of consideration, “I expect the fastest way to do so would be to beat you in a fight.” He nodded pointedly at the katana.
Genji laughed, “Maybe, but you couldn’t.”
“Ah, that spark of confidence has turned to arrogance, then?” But Genji’s flash of irritation was assuaged by the Omnic’s tone, teasing, and not admonishing.
“Not at all,” Maybe a little, “I’m good, and I know it.”
“It is good to have pride in your abilities, but do not let arrogance blind you to your weaknesses,” his tone was gentle and had he a mouth, Genji would’ve bet money he’d be smiling.
Genji grinned, “You think you could beat me. That’s funny.” It was really cute, actually. He liked this one.
“I suspect we could argue about it back and forth until the sun sets and rises anew, but I have a feeling this little debate will only be settled one way.” The monk’s voice was doing things to him; it was sort of desperately unfair he was an Omnic. Human people were so rarely this interesting.
“Ooh, I think you might be right. You sure this is a fight you want to lose?” beneath his skin his dragon spirit stirred, roused by the promise of combat.
“I think it will be a most interesting diversion. Will you permit this?”
“Oh yes,” He grinned a touch feral, the dragon awake behind his eyes, and he could feel the flush of power it would bring to his blade, the slight shift of soul and scales along the ink in his back.
Zenyatta brought his hands together, “Wonderful. I will let you choose when to begin then.”
Genji laughed, “Right now?”
Zenyatta nodded, “Yes, I believe so.”
“You don’t even have a weapon.”
“Will that be a problem for you?”
Oh, Genji was not going to let him get away with that cheek. The ninja slipped into an offensive stance, hand reaching up and behind to his katana, “You are in for it, Omnic.”
“We will see,” Zenyatta said placidly.
Genji shifted his weight subtly, watching the monk who stood with his hands behind his back, looking for all the world like he was helpless. Genji was interested in this strange Omnic, but that wasn’t going to stop him from kicking ass like he did best.
He sprung forward, intending to finish things with one quick swing, touch his blade against that mechanical throat just to make his point—
—His feet had left the deck by millimeters before the Omni’s hand swung around and something flashed blue and smashed into his chest, knocking him clean out of the air and onto his back, winding him. He gasped, eyes wide, dragon spirit reeling just the same, head turning to see what the hell had hit him—
—Looked up in time to see the monk’s mala free-floating and orbiting, spin once, flashing blue with power before sinking back to rest innocently around his shoulders.
What the actual fuck.
“Holy sh—“
“Genji Shimada!”
He jerked and groaned, his head thunked back against the desk as Hanzo’s furious shout echoed through the courtyard. He was fucked now. Wincing at nothing that had to do with his wheezing breath he turned and saw his brother nearly-charging over, hands fisted and expression stormy with fury and embarrassment.
Behind him Mondatta and some of the other Shambali watched. They had seen.
He fell back. Dead. He was a dead man.
“I cannot believe you,” Hanzo hissed at him, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen his brother this mad. “I asked you for one thing, Genji, to behave and you’re picking fights with monks now? Our honored guests? What is wrong with you?” Hanzo turned and bowed low to Mondatta and Zenyatta, who had both walked over to where Hanzo was probably about to drop a sword or a dragon onto his still-prone baby brother. “I am so sorry, esteemed Shambali; I have no words to excuse my brother’s rash actions. I have no idea why—“
But Zenyatta held up his hand, “Peace, Lord Shimada. No harm was done. I goaded the interaction, we were settling a debate. He was not picking a fight. Please do not be angry with him, he has done nothing wrong.” Zenyatta moved past a bemused Hanzo and offered a hand to Genji on the ground. Genji blinked up at him, the setting sun glinting off his chrome, casting gold and blue over his body, the petals murmuring in the wind, and the young ninja didn’t think he’d ever wanted another person more in his entire life. “Are you alright, Young Master Shimada?”
Genji took it, hoping his awe didn’t slip into his face too obviously. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m okay. What the hell was that?”
Mondatta sighed, “Zenyatta, tell me you did not.”
Zenyatta straightened and seemed to project his best aura of serenity, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Mondatta shook his head and turned back to Hanzo, “Lord Shimada, this was not your brother’s doing. I believe the blame may lay with Zenyatta in this. He can be a bit difficult sometimes.”
Zenyatta didn’t even look at Mondatta, still watching Genji.
Genji only had eyes for him in this moment anyway.
Hanzo looked like he wasn’t sure he was keeping up. “If… you are certain,” he allowed.
Mondatta nodded and gestured, “Please, may we continue?”
Hanzo nodded and then glared again at his brother and said quietly, “We are still going to have words about this later.”
Genji sighed and nodded, he knew there was no escaping that.
Hanzo rejoined Mondatta and the other Shambali and led them off to see the massive Koi pond.
“I am sorry,” Zenyatta apologized once they were alone again, “I did not hear them coming either.”
Genji grinned, massaging his chest where the blow of whatever it was still stung, “And yet you’d heard my silent steps in the Bell House. What had you so distracted?”
Zenyatta hummed, amusement out in full again, “What indeed?”
Genji grinned. God this Omnic was close to perfect. If only he were human. “So are you going to at least tell me what the hell you hit me with?”
“I suppose that depends. Am I even a little interesting to you now?” The Omnic teased and Genji laughed.
“I asked first.”
“So you did,” Zenyatta held up a hand and blue Omnic energy coalesced in his palm, swirling and otherworldly. “I am able to manipulate the energy of the universe around me and in my own body to do different things as needed. This includes mastery of my Omnic orbs—“ The mala around his neck flashed and spun once to illustrate, “—as well as tools to defend myself. This is an Orb of Destruction. It has one purpose, and that’s to cause damage. Fortunately I have only rare use for it.”
“Whoa,” Genji reached up but didn’t touch, letting his fingers come close without connecting. The air around the orb was cool just past uncomfortable, “It’s beautiful.” He rubbed his chest again.
“Thank you. I can do other things with it as well.” He flicked his hand and the energy dispersed, and new, golden power collected in his hand, like captured sunlight, and he flicked it gently at Genji who winced—
—and then blinked his eyes open again as a warm, embracing feeling settled over him, and the pain in his chest faded to nothing. “What?” he looked up to find the little orb turning over his shoulder, a cord of pure light connecting to him.
“I am also able to heal wounds, to some extent. Certainly it is more than enough to heal a bruise on such delicate skin,” Zenyatta teased unrepentantly.
“That’s so fucking cool,” He breathed, completely involuntarily.
Zenyatta chuckled and bowed his head a touch, “Thank you. And the answer to my question?”
Genji grinned at him, “I guess you’re okay.” Zenyatta tilted his head and waited until the young man laughed, “Okay, okay. If everyone was half as interesting as you are it would not be such a task to hold my attention.”
Zenyatta hummed, practically radiating contentment, “Ah, and there is the high praise I was fishing for. Thank you.”
Genji chuckled and reached out to nudge his arm, “You’re an odd one.”
“And that is the highest praise you could’ve offered me, Young Master Shimada.”
--
When he saw Hanzo later the first thing his brother did was smack him upside his head and nearly snarl at him, “You are a fool.”
“What? He said it wasn’t my fault!” Genji ran a hand through his hair, pouting.
“Genji, he could’ve punched you right in your foolish face and you still should’ve let it go. Did nothing I said to you today penetrate your thick skull or has that awful dye poisoned your tiny brain?”
Genji glared at him, “No, but it’s because it’s hard to hear anything over the sound of your absolute pig-headedness.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Hanzo groaned. “I am not the unreasonable on here!”
“Yes you are! We finished talking about this, its fine!”
Hanzo rubbed between his eyes, “Genji, it is not. They were kind enough to give you a pass this time, but even you have to understand that something like this can’t happen again.”
Genji shrugged, “It won’t.” It would. He wanted another shot at that Omnic, wanted to try again now that he knew what he was getting into.
“Can you promise me that, Genji?”
Genji groaned, “Hanzoooo.”
“I want you to say it. I want your word.”
The younger Shimada sighed gustily, and scuffed a foot, “Dammit. Fine. I won’t pick a fight with him again.” But if Zenyatta brought it up his promise would still technically be true.
Hanzo nodded and sighed, “I do appreciate this isn’t easy for you. I know you’re used to doing things as you please and a sudden set of restrictions is chaffing, but I would very much appreciate if you could just leave them alone for the time they’re here if you cannot find it in yourself to be respectful. Please, Genji, a month isn’t that long.”
Genji sighs and nodded, nudging his arm, “Okay. I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you, Genji.”
--
Genji flopped back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t tired in the least, and his mind kept turning like a whirling wind. Every thought centered around that monk, the whirling eye of the storm.
Zenyatta.
God it wasn’t fair. Why was he an Omnic? If he’d been human Genji would’ve been in relentless pursuit already. Would’ve been working hardest to woo him, lead him back to his bed where he’d use his hands and mouth to take him apart slowly until all he knew was Genji’s name. But no, that interesting, powerful soul staying in his own home was an Omnic.
He sighed, hand rubbing across his stomach through his clothes idly. Being attracted to an Omnic was like being attracted to an engine block with all those pistons, and Genji didn’t really do inanimate objects.
But… he really hadn’t been inanimate, had he?
Poised, quiet, but there was this really interesting penchant for leashed movement, the way his arm had thrown out that orb at him, fast as anything he’d ever seen before. He’d looked pretty damn striking too, pale body and pale clothes in the sunset amongst the petals, he’d been lovely in his own way there, Genji supposed.
He’d been quick too, mentally sharp as any blade, and Genji had enough experience to know there really was no substitute for a lover who was intelligent. Looks alone didn’t captivate him anymore; he wanted companions with some substance to them. Arm candy was fleetingly delicious but failed to satisfy. But that Omnic had kept up with him, gone toe-to-toe physically, mentally, conversationally, and then at the end—
—He’d stood up for him. He’d stood up to Hanzo for him. No one had done that for him since his brother forcefully reorganized the Shimada family. He’d interceded to keep blame from him, he’d been kind to him, seemed to care what he thought even though he was just some dumb playboy.
And God the way he’d looked then in that moment, hand extended, the sunset casting light and shadow over the metal of his body. His hand had been warm in Genji’s own and ergonomically shaped, pleasant there, like it was meant to slot against him. Maybe other parts were too; maybe they’d fit together all over, Zenyatta made to slot under him, the contrast of cool metal and warm parts against his skin as he thrust—
He shivered, cock hard in his pants and grinned a little at himself.
Maybe the monk being an Omnic wasn’t all that much of a problem after all. He’d never been good at denying himself anything.
He sat up and slipped out of bed.
He had a midnight visit to pay to the temple.