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"McCree," Genji glanced to the gunslinger. "May I...borrow your lighter?"
The lines on McCree's face were grim. He knew what Genji was intending to do. Nevertheless, he slipped his archaic lighter into the cyborg's hand. "Here."
"Thank you," Genji muttered, giving a curt nod.
Holding the lighter in his flesh hand, he took several steps, slow, barely rustling the grass beneath his feet. Soon, he found himself right in front of the log pile.
Genji reached into the thick pockets of his hoodie, taking out the cursed picture. Folds were visible, its corners were all ragged, but the main image stayed untainted nonetheless.
It was a selfie that he took years ago, preserved into thick paper. His former self was smiling, hair all bright and green as he held the camera, his body devoid of any scars. Sitting right next to him was Hanzo. The elder brother refused to smile, but his gaze did not hold any malice or contempt. Genji liked to think that it was because he was silently at peace. Perhaps it was because they were underneath their favorite cherry blossom tree, the one where the two used to chase each other around, the one where they had picnics with their parents, the one where they watched the fireworks spring colors into the sky, as they were allowed a taste of freedom during the summer festivals.
It was the very same tree that Genji was standing below. He could remember the elder Shimada telling him that his favorite season was spring, it was when the petals fully bloomed, after all.
A part of Genji's chest ached, wishing to go back to those days.
Another, stronger part of him knew that it was not to be.
A flick of his thumb and the lighter sparked to life. His fingers trembled as he held the picture over the fire, and the image became distorted, gradually turning to black. Even when flames engulfed the entire photo, he never felt the heat, for his hand lacked any senses. It was a jumble of chrome and metal.
He let go, letting the paper drift away into the logs. The fire caught wood, and soon enough, the logs crackled as the last remnants of the memory disintegrated into ash.
The campfire’s amber glow lit up the night, and Genji felt a hand on his shoulder.
“C’mon,” McCree told him, unusually quiet and somber. “Gotta get back to the base.”
Genji turned around and faced his friend, reluctant. Yet he nodded, eyes downcast as they walked away, the cyborg trailing behind.
But he couldn’t let it go, not like this. Not when everything and anything he loved was tainted, corrupted, and destroyed, all because of him. His dragon stirred, sensing, fueling his ire as he clenched his hands, his fists being so tense that they shook.
McCree turned around, he heard his friend halt in his tracks. But his teammate refused to look at him.
“...Genji?”
Genji glanced to his right. A branch on the floor, slightly thick, appeared in his vision. He grabbed it, gripping it with both hands. He turned to the campfire.
He swung at the logs, screaming.
He roared as he knocked away the logs. The fire spread to the trunk, creeping into the branches, and the tree was set alight.
He swung at the remaining logs, screaming again, releasing everything he had pent-up for years, just like the way he did with all those training bots as they were ripped apart into sparking pieces, just like the way he wanted to against his brother, to make that murderer feel the loss of self, the suffering that he was forced to endure.
“...nji..Genji…”
He heard McCree, but he was faint in Genji’s mind. Even as the heat of the embers kicked back scorching his face, even as the bright pink blossoms wilted and fell, he did not stop; he could not stop. His brother never did, so why should he?
“Genji! Enough!”
McCree was in front of him, gripping the branch with both hands as the smaller man tried to wrest it away from him. The light barely crossed McCree’s features, but Genji could make out the desperation in his voice. “Look!”
As his friend’s head craned to the smoke-filled sky, Genji breathed heavily, trying to calm himself as his attention shifted to what was behind McCree.
There was the tree, its trunk wide, its branches large and twisted with old age. Yet it could barely be recognizable as a cherry blossom tree anymore. What was once flowers were now flames, the petals which drifted in the wind were now replaced by ash, and the healthy dark brown wood was turned into a full, burnt black. It all blazed in a vast, devouring inferno.
In his blind rage, he destroyed something beautiful.
And he can never reverse it.
He can never take it back.
Perhaps he was not very different from his brother, after all.
All of the anger ebbed away, and Genji let go of the branch, numb. The adrenaline which rushed through his systems wore off, he could only stand still as he looked down, his vision blurred.
His cybernetic knees gave away as he sunk to the floor. He curled in on himself, his left palm pressed against his eyes as his the entirety of his body shook. For all the parts of him that were now machine, he was relieved that he was human enough to shed tears. It meant that he could still feel. Though at times, he wondered if it wouldn’t be so painful to have his emotions replaced by hard, calculating code.
He was selfish, he knew, wanting to die while he was granted life. But what was the use of his life when he felt so empty?
He heard the gentle rustle of grass, and a pair of arms, rough and calloused yet warm, wrapped slowly around him as if the cyborg was a fragile case of glass. Genji removed his hand and looked up, then he froze. McCree was the one locking him into a careful embrace.
Any other moment and he would have pushed the other man away in a violent shove, reprimanding him for even daring to touch him. Yet no matter how much Genji willed himself to, his deprived heart refused, so he opted to only stare.
McCree’s- no, Jesse’s arms wound tighter around him. “I’ve burned too,” he spoke softly, almost in a whisper, “Long before you. Houses, trains, relationships…”
From the fire’s baleful glow, the slightest glint of tears could be seen on the gunslinger’s eyes. Genji wished to reach his thumb out and swipe those tears away. He remembered the stories Jesse told him, some of which were rough, sorrowful ones of his former gang life. He also recalled finding the man nearly stumbling over himself in some secluded area of the base, his words slurred with a whiskey bottle in hand as he tried to drink his guilt away.
Was that why Jesse reached out to him? Because he himself was broken too?
Genji uncurled himself, sitting up straight. Jesse moved to unwind his arms, but he tensed as Genji returned the embrace. It was awkward, really. Although he was hidden underneath a hoodie, the cyborg hoped the other man wouldn’t be too uncomfortable with his metallic arm. Yet Jesse relaxed, and an odd sense of peace washed over Genji. They sat there, still as shadows. Small, insignificant figures amidst the tree which blazed on at the top of a hill. Still as shadows, even as sirens rang through the Hanamura city streets; the authorities were likely coming.
Jesse shifted, his eyes set upon the smoke billowing from the flames. “This tree won’t be the same, but it can grow.” The gunslinger let go, Genji’s heart sank. But Jesse remained beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Jesse’s smile was small, barely noticeable, something more subtle and unlike the cocky grins he’d see at times. Yet in it, Genji could find a glint of hope. “With time, it’ll bloom again.”
The tree continued to burn bright in front of the two men. Broken, damaged, yet still beautiful, in its own way. The sirens were ever louder now, it would probably be for the best if they left.
But Genji was exhausted, his rage sapped nearly all the energy from his limbs. His body was heavy, like living boulders. Gravity pulled at him, and he found himself leaning against Jesse. His head rested on the man’s shoulder.
Jesse wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer, and Genji’s eyelids grew heavy, his systems slowing down. Sleep would be nice, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt safe in someone else's arms.
“...Thank you.” He muttered. If only he had said it sooner. He was silently glad that he did so now.
Jesse’s grip tightened. “No problem, partner.”
Genji’s final thoughts before he let himself slip into the darkness was that the flames of the burning tree no longer felt like a swallowing inferno. Instead, it held the muted sound of a crackling fireplace, a place that would thaw a cold soul such as himself into the encompassing blanket of warmth.