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Long ago, when he first began his arduous journey towards peace, Zenyatta took up the ancient, long-standing practice of meditation. A skill that, he discovered, aided him greatly in his pursuit of both internal and external peace. Zenyatta found himself reliant upon his meditation, using it to clear his mind and his soul of worries. He hovered hardly more than a foot above the ground, feeling the ghostly caress of an early autumn breeze. Off in the distance, a bird sang. Closer, he heard the calm business of the temple. Closer still was the rhythmic, soothing breaths of his pupil, Genji, who was welcomed to share Zenyatta’s moment of weightlessness; relaxed, free of everyday worries, connected spiritually with themselves and the earth around them…
Or, they would be, if Genji was able to sit still.
Coaxed out of his meditation by the sound of rustling grass and creaking metal, Zenyatta floated down until he sat cross-legged on the ground beside his student. Something must be troubling him, Zenyatta reasoned, turning to face Genji, who stared resolutely forward. He shifted again.
“It is beautiful today,” Zenyatta mused, keeping his attention on his student, who gave an endearing start as Zenyatta caught him unawares.
“I- yes. The air is clear, yet it holds weight. Perhaps it will rain soon?”
Zenyatta chuckled, “If that is the case, then we should return soon. Excellent observation.”
He allowed the conversation to drift off into silence once more. Zenyatta tried the air and his programming read an 80% chance of precipitation. He felt a burst of pride for his student’s blossoming connection to not only himself, but his surroundings. Genji had come a long way from that frightened, lost disposition he used to carry. Zenyatta was glad that he had finally began to feel comfortable with his body, enough to trust his own judgement. Zenyatta could not have asked for a better student.
Nor could he have asked for a more fidgety student. Leaving meditation for a rainy day, he once more turned his full attention to his restless pupil. “It appears that there is more than one storm brewing, Genji,” he remarked, noting that his voice startled his student once again.
“Pardon me, master,” Genji said, sheepish, which prompted a soft laugh from the omnic.
“There is no harm done. Please, Genji, tell me what troubles you. I am happy to help in any way I can.”
The air between the two fell silent. Zenyatta waited patiently for Genji to gather his thoughts. He watched as his student’s hands clenched into fists, straining with an unknown tension. The minutes went by with no further conversation, while the atmosphere grew heavier with the weight of whatever hung over Genji’s mind. Zenyatta grew worried for his student.
“Genji, you do not have to tell me, if you do not wish it.”
“No, master, forgive me,” Genji said with a resolute shake of his head. “I have difficulty finding the right words. This is a… delicate matter.”
“Would you like my assistance?”
Genji hesitated, then nodded. “Please.”
Zenyatta felt warmth in his core. Genji’s manners have improved exponentially as well. “Let us begin with the subject. Who, or what, is troubling you?”
“…You, master.”
Zenyatta stilled in surprise, expecting the object of Genji’s worries to be his brother, or his body, but not Zenyatta himself. The earlier warmth turned ice-cold. “Have I done something to upset you?”
“No!” Genji replied quickly, “Not at all, master. It isn’t that sort of trouble.”
Zenyatta allowed himself to relax. “Good, I do not want to cause you unnecessary stress. Now, can you tell me what you feel when you ponder this problem? Attune your mind with your spirit.”
He watched as Genji inhaled and exhaled, muscular shoulders drifting with each weary breath. “…Dread,” Genji admitted, which did nothing to quell Zenyatta’s worry. “And… joy. At the same time.” That was unexpected. Puzzled and beyond curious, Zenyatta simply sat and listened.
“I feel happy, when I think of you, and I feel protective. Anxious, as well. I think of you and I know how much I love you, but doubt prevents me from…” Genji suddenly stopped and turned away, staring at a random patch of grass while his master sat beside him, stunned into silence.
Love. Zenyatta gazed at his student, who he had seen grow and discover himself, who he had guided to peace, who he felt an immense, suffocating affection towards. The warmth in his core returned, far more potent, as if strengthened by the name it was given. Love.
“Genji,” Zenyatta said, his voice low and quiet and concealing his joy. “It is alright. I understand now, and you can let go of those worries.”
Genji looked at him in surprise. “You aren’t disgusted?”
“Never. Why would I be?”
“Because I am not of your kind, disfigured, broken…”
“You are also my student and my dear friend, whose companionship I value very highly.” Zenyatta crept closer, slow enough to give Genji time to move away, if he wished. The omnic was pleased to find that Genji leaned toward him, as if they were magnetized. Zenyatta placed one hand on his student’s shoulder, and the other on his cheek. If he concentrated hard enough, Zenyatta could sense Genji’s life pulsing beneath his artificial fingertips.
“This is… okay?” Genji asked. Zenyatta chuckled.
“It will always be okay.”
At the affirmation, Genji drew in a sharp breath and pressed forward, throwing his arms around the omnic and drawing them close together. Zenyatta felt a sensation not unlike floating as Genji embraced him. His soul felt weightless, at peace, like he was exactly where he was meant to be.
“Zenyatta…” Genji breathed, his voice drawn tight with emotion. One of his hands covered Zenyatta’s, lacing their fingers together in an action that sent a fluttery feeling racing through Zenyatta’s wires. The omnic could not help but laugh.
“What?” Genji asked.
“Butterflies,” Zenyatta answered, before closing the remaining distance between them, bumping their face plates together in lieu of a kiss. A spark danced between them, a sudden jolt of sensation that Zenyatta savored.
They stayed wrapped up in each other until Zenyatta could hardly tell where he ended and Genji began. The omnic would have been content to stay in that serene moment for many more hours, had Genji not pulled away.
“The rain started,” Genji answered. Indeed, little droplets were beginning to form on their bodies.
“I suppose we should return to the temple, then,” Zenyatta said, moving away from his pupil and immediately missing his warmth. Desiring contact, he offered his hand to Genji. “Shall we?”
Genji’s voice carried a smile as he took Zenyatta’s hand in his own. “Of course.”