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This was a tale of two brothers. They were supposed to rule together but their fates were not aligned. Maybe Hanzo’s ruthlessness was partly to blame? Or Genji’s carefreeness? The thing was that their story was bound by blood and tainted by rage with a mix of vengeance. How come two people of the same family tear themselves apart? The two siblings have never been close, but they certainly weren’t at each other’s throats back in the day.
Everything went south when Sojiro, their father, died unexpectedly. Genji has never been interested in ruling the criminal empire that was his own family’s business so he should have let it slide. And he actually did. Why did Hanzo insist that he should help him ruling this unlawful clan? Genji let him do whatever his brother wanted, so why did he have to die? Why not let him go? It was not like he wanted this life, after all. All this killing, these illegal cases, these unjustified murders, that was not who he was. The war between the two Shimada brothers began shortly after and ended in a tragic way: Genji’s supposed death.
Regret filled the older ninja, and he left his clan soon after, just like his brother before their ultimate battle. Did Genji really need to die? Was their violent fight necessary? Or was it all just an excuse because he didn’t want to face responsibility? The truth was, he didn’t even know it himself. For years, he lived in the dark, and even more so after ending Genji’s life. Did he make the right choice? No, obviously not, and he knew it. But he did it anyway because it was his duty, he couldn’t falter, that was just how his father raised him. Any sign of weakness could prove deadly. From time to time, he happened to have some glimpses of memories they shared together when they were younger resurging in the back of his mind, but he whooshed them away quickly. Sometimes, he still saw his younger brother’s face when he picked up flowers in Hanamura. How could he know Genji would meet such an atrocious death? And be the one who did it?
*
Genji suffered. For all he knew, all he did by living was suffer. Thrown into a world he didn’t want to be any part of since his birth, maybe his death was the thing he so longed for. Maybe that was life’s offer to redemption, giving him the ability to start anew. His crimes would not be forgotten, but at least, he could be better than what he was. All his life he suffered. But not as much as the day he supposedly died. Fire rooted his heart, creating deep scars that would never heal, and a thick fog husked his mind. His body faded through an ocean of blood that turned into darkness. He should have died when his brother dealt the final blow but no, he had to survive. For what? To find a will to live? To let his older brother torment him so that his soul may never find rest? He wondered. And for months, he wandered aimlessly from a city to another, trying to rebuild who he once was, collecting answers, torturing himself with millions of questions stuck inside his broken mind. He never asked for help, never dared to look a stranger in the eye. He just stayed alone. But that didn’t last long, as he was only the remain of a walking corpse.
He did find help at some point. Overwatch found him and made him whole again. Genji Shimada had died but a new person inside him has been revived. Hard and cold steel replaced the flesh of his skin, and a cybernetic mask hid his face. Even if he wanted to remember who he used to be, this new look of his made it impossible. And it hurt, a lot. How could one accept that half of their body was not human? That HE wasn’t even human anymore? If the Overwatch team hadn’t been there for him, he wouldn’t be here anymore. He had so many people to thank for that, starting with Angela Ziegler, that Swiss doctor who brought him back from the dead. Her smile and her constant optimism made his recovery so much easier. There was also Gabriel Reyes, the leader of the Blackwatch team. Blackwatch was only created in the sole goal of doing Overwatch’s dirty work in the shadows but still, it wasn’t about merciless murders like his clan used to do. It wasn’t like they’ve killed many of their enemies. It was more about arresting them rather than killing them. The team may be dismantled nowadays but they have had their fair share of good moments, nevertheless. It made him think that maybe, it could be his new attempt at happiness. But just like a curse, happiness didn’t last for long when it came to him. He started to think that he was doomed to suffer all his life. Overwatch was destroyed and with it came that awful feeling of helplessness Genji felt the day his sword and his brother’s bow clashed for the first and last time. Once again, he was on his own, until a monk found him again. And with that meeting, he began to accept himself, what he had become and accept that he wouldn’t ever be human again, no matter how much he wished for it.
For his part, Hanzo sought redemption. At every step he made, he asked himself if he would earn it, considering all the damage he’s done throughout his life and all the suffering he brought upon hundreds of people, but he admitted his wrongdoings and he tried to be better. He honestly tried. After Genji’s death, he left Hanamura, abandoning his old life behind and with it, the man he once was. He couldn’t change who he was just by wishing for it, that’d be so easy otherwise. He couldn’t forget all the teachings of his father in a blink of an eye. Every time he closed his eyes at night, he heard screams and agonizing people cursing him, telling him the world would be a better place if he died. “You have no right to live”, “You should perish just like the beast that was your father”, “How can you even live with all this blood on your hands” … The truth was, he couldn’t. He couldn’t face all the things he did and that’s only out of cowardice that he left his home and resigned from his position. He was not ready to die yet but… he wasn’t sure if the world would let him live either. So he walked, and walked, and walked again until he was out of breath, until he could no longer see where he was going, until the wind pushed him towards the sea, until the last remnants of the memories of all the people he’s killed vanished from his mind. He wasn’t free – and he never will be – and he’ll accept it someday. Until then, he’ll learn how to live.
*
As he was drinking a bottle of beer, Hanzo listened to the numerous conversations between the customers at the bar. Some talked about the ongoing war between humans and Omnics, others talked about how hot it was outside and he noticed one man, sat near a table a few feet away from him. He was on his own but from the looks of it, it didn’t seem to bother him. Most of his face was hidden by his hat so the ninja couldn’t see him clearly, except for the smoke coming out of his cigarette.
“I wonder if things would have been different if Overwatch was still around”, muttered an older man near the counter.
Overwatch… That damn good-for-nothing organization that made everything worse… The world didn’t need heroes. People who had faith in heroes were nothing more than pure idiots. The delusional feeling of being protected when all heroes care about is their own reputation… It was not worth it. The very concept of heroization was a mistake, it forced weak people to count on stronger individuals, but when these very same people are in a bind, they ended up trapped because they realize no one is going to come to their rescue. Rejection hurt, more than any other physical pain, and Hanzo knew that better than anyone.
The man with the hat lifted his head after putting out his cigarette. Smirking, he stood and threw some money on the table only to find his way to the counter, besides Hanzo.
“Maybe the world is a better place without Overwatch, or maybe it isn’t. But Overwatch or no Overwatch, people need to understand that the only people that can take care of themselves are themselves”, he asserted, putting another cigarette in his mouth.
He must have noticed the glare Hanzo gave him because he giggled.
“Howdy”.
Hanzo grunted but did not move an inch. That guy had some despicable aura and that was not because of the appalling scent of his smoke. Seeing that guy smoke just in front of him reminded him of how much his father used to smoke during training, and he didn’t like that. He didn’t like to remember about his past, it was all behind him now.
“What do you think of Overwatch?”, was all the old ninja could say, which made the stranger chuckle.
Now that he was fully aware that the stranger was beside him, he realized how tall and how… weird he was. It was like he came out from a western movie. The red scarf enveloping his shoulders, his hat shadowing his face, his kind of long but not too long hair, and the way he behaved reminded him of a cowboy. Hmm… Another damn hero.
“I don’t think of it too much, it’s all in the past now”, the cowboy murmured, with a sad voice.
All in the past? Did this guy work for Overwatch?
“And here I thought Overwatch only recruited kids”, Hanzo noted.
“Well it was either that or spending some time in prison”, the stranger replied.
Obviously, he’d be an outlaw, it wouldn’t fit the outfit otherwise. A giggle escaped the ninja’s mouth, which surprised them both. The cowboy turned to face Hanzo and smiled as he lowered his hat.
“I’m Jesse McCree, by the way.”
But the ninja was not friendly enough to introduce himself, which seemed to be okay for McCree.
“I get it, ninja guy. You wanna keep quiet about yourself, all secretive and all, and that’s fine by me. You know, you remind me of someone I worked with back in the day”, he started to say. “A ninja, just like you and kinda with the same accent too. Well, I guess it’s okay since you’re both Japanese. I mean, I guess? Ninjas are Japanese, right? Are you sure you two are not related?”
Hanzo didn’t seem interested in what McCree had to say though. He drank his beer, his mind focused on the posters in the room more than the conversation itself. That is, until a certain point.
“He didn’t like to speak about himself though. But again, there wasn’t many people that liked to talk about themselves. After all, we were nothing more than a bunch of criminals reunited in the same group. But he had this weird appearance, it was like he was… some sort of robot or something, ya know? I tried to push him into talking but he never told me anything. For some time, I even thought he was a new form of Omnic we never knew about.”
Hanzo’s throat felt like it was filled with glass suddenly and he coughed hard, to the point that his cheeks turned red. A robot? Genji? He knew his brother was alive and he also knew he began a new life on his own but to join Overwatch? He never thought he would do that. He was even more stupid than he already thought he was. After regaining some sort of composure, Hanzo dropped his bottle on the counter and asked:
“This group you were part of… What was it?”
“Ah, sorry amigo, can’t go into details”.
And with that, the cowboy left the counter without even looking at his newfound acquaintance. Hanzo knew the conversation was over but he wanted to know more. How much did he know Genji? How was he during missions? Did he ever mention Hanzo or his family? Was he…?
“Okay…?”
Hanzo finished his thought aloud. Why did he want to know if his brother was okay? Not paying attention to McCree who just left the place, Hanzo remained deep in thought, his mind in a confused state. No matter what their father imagined for their future, they both understood how much their views diverged. Hanzo didn’t want the fame, nor the glory and not necessarily the killing but he wanted to be proud, to earn something because he was worth it. Genji, on his hand, lived a laidback life, without any worry about the consequences that his actions would have upon his family’s business, he just... wanted a normal life. Sojiro must have known that dragons were not raised to live together but to kill each other instead. Even the legends proved that. But that would not lessen the burden. The burden he wore on his back was higher than his height, larger than his body, and way too big to be carried alone but this was the price he had to pay. This was the price of life.