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Back in the day, Genji had known that he was expected to marry at some point and the thought had always woken a vague sense of dread inside him. His life had been about enjoyment without consequences and relationships without commitment. Consequently, the idea that he would have to slip a black-and-grey hakama over his head and promise to be with someone for the rest of eternity had scared him quite a bit. Most people had barely been able to capture his fleeting attention for more than a few days, what in the name of the gods was he supposed to do with someone for all those years until his death?
However much he had disliked the idea then, all this worrying he had done about the nature of marriage seemed to have at least manifested one thing in his mind: marriage meant being bound to someone forever. What had seemed like the promise of a chain around his ankles to his younger self had now, that he had experienced life with Zenyatta, attained the status of a goal.
Obviously he was old enough to realise marriages, in the end, meant very little. Divorces, outside of highly traditional families like his own, were common. Marriages could be done or upheld for tax or immigration purposes only. In the end, the meaning that they had was only the meaning one was willing to allow them. For Genji, though, that was still considerable.
There was no complicated ceremonial protocol to follow for the engagement he wanted, not even parents to ask. It was, then, a deceptively easy task; all it took was a quiet moment with Zenyatta and the courage to believe that Zenyatta would enjoy the thought of binding himself to Genji for the remainder of his existence.
And there, of course, laid the problem.
Obviously he was aware that Zenyatta loved him, for the omnic monk made no secret out of that and he was no liar. Still, doubt remained within Genji’s heart even after so much time. He had made Zenyatta a lot of trouble and work in the beginning and every once in a while, his doubts resurfaced and had him lean heavily on the monk for support and guidance. Perhaps Zenyatta would not always be happy to spend so much of his own life fixing Genji’s; perhaps, some days, he was just too kind to say that he wanted to be left alone with forever the same litany of problems.
On top of that came the fact that with Overwatch recalled, and Genji and Zenyatta having joined in their fight, quiet moments were hard to come by these days. Talon always seemed to be a step ahead of them in every venture and they were working hard to catch up with what resources they could scrape together. A few nations had already, under the guise of their secret services, made subtle inquiries about perhaps reinstating Overwatch in some capacity, but for now they were still running on fumes and the good will of their returning members.
-
They found themselves in a storage house in Massachusetts this time. They had gotten intel from one of their CIA contacts that Talon was planning to steal a special delivery from one of the omnium containment sections of Helix Security International. They had managed to wrestle the package from them, for now in the hands of Reinhardt, where it would not easily be taken from without a fight. However, there were still agents left in the warehouse and not all workers had been able to evacuate, so they could hardly leave them alone with the Talon people.
To his left, Genji saw Angela pointing the golden light of her beam at Lena, who zipped by so fast that Genji could hardly follow her even with his gaze. Winston was evading gunshots as he swung from the railing of the indoor balcony overhead, bouncing on top of Talon agents foolish enough not to run. Genji jumped up onto one of the large stacks of truck-sized crates and threw a volley of shuriken at a soldier who had pointed his gun at the back of Jack’s head. Down on the ground, he saw Reinhardt shielding his precious cargo and himself from shots that came from above.
The room was filled with screaming and shouting, echoing with gunfire and the steps of feet in heavy boots and armour. Genji was cleaning out the ranks on the balcony when he heard Lena exclaim: “Zenyatta!”
He turned so fast he almost ran the risk of catching the butt of a Talon agent’s gun to the back of the head. With a swift strike to the throat, Genji took him out, then threw himself over the railing. His synthetic legs easily absorbed a fall that would have shattered a normal human’s bones.
“Master?” he called frantically.
“Zenyatta’s down!” Lena answered, in Zenyatta’s stead. Genji jumped on top of another stack of storage containers and finally saw her, kneeling beside Zenyatta. He was spread out on the ground, perfectly still, some of his orbs idly rolling away over the concrete, others stopped at the edges of crates.
“Reinhardt, can you take him?” Lena shouted.
“Of course!”
With ease, the giant German man in his power armour approached, still holding up his energy shield, and lifted Zenyatta’s lifeless form off the ground with his free hand. Zenyatta hung over his arm like the oversized version of a child’s doll.
Genji forcibly tore himself away from the view, even as his heart seemed ready to jump out of his ribcage – and really, what would he need it for anymore, if Zenyatta was dead? But he had to focus, had to make sure they got out of here and someone could have a look at him. The worst might not have come to pass.
Where he had exercised some mercy before, Genji tore through the Talon agents now with little regard for the injuries he caused. Above him, Winston and Jack were cleaning up with Angela’s help, while Lena kept the agents off Reinhardt. Genji had no idea how long they had fought when it was over. There was a red fog of rage in his head he hadn’t know for a long time.
“Be careful not to shake him too much, it could dislocate damaged parts,” he heard Angela tell Reinhardt. She added something in German he didn’t understand. As they hurried through the large metal doors with the man he loved, Genji, knowing there was nothing he could do to help now, stooped down and collected the scattered orbs in his arms. He was still looking for some that eluded him as something zipped to the spot right in front of his face. Lena stood there, holding the missing two bronze balls.
“Come, let’s go with them, luv,” she said, with a sad smile, “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
-
“Calm down, boy. His mainframe’s just rattled.”
Torbjörn was no friend of omnics, he had made that abundantly clear in the past. However, he did keep Zenyatta and Bastion in working order, perhaps out of some sort of builder’s compulsion. One time, when he had still refused to help the omnics on their team, Genji had watched Angela do some repairs on Bastion – as Genji himself proved, she was also proficient in mechanics, but not quite the savant that Torbjörn was. Torbjörn had hovered nervously around her elbow and corrected her every move until she had handed the spool of tin-solder she had just been working with to him with an expression that indicated she would rather have thrown it. Since then, he had done the repairs himself, even if he complained about it.
Reluctantly, Genji backed off a step when Torbjörn sent him another exasperated look. Zenyatta laid splayed out in front of him on the work table. When all energy was drained from him, it was so easy to see that he was simply a collection of metal and wires, just the parts, not the sum, and Genji grew cold just thinking about the fact that he might never move again.
Torbjörn put down some small instrument that looked like an electrical scalpel.
“He’s gonna boot up in a few minutes. I’m getting coffee,” Torbjörn declared.
When the door to his work station slid open, it revealed Angela, Winston and Lena sitting at a table just outside. They got up with anticipation in their faces.
“Is he going to be okay?” Lena asked, fearfully.
Lena had always been impressed by the Shambali, but Zenyatta had also won over the rest of Genji’s Overwatch colleagues quite fast; even Torbjörn sometimes slipped up and grinned at one of his dry quips. Non-confrontational and generally interested in everyone and everything around him as Zenyatta was, it was easy to like him. Genji, of course, could attest to that.
“Well, I repaired him. Was there ever any doubt?” Torbjörn asked. “Just tell the metal man not to take so many bullets to the head. At some point one might pierce through and hit the wrong node of cables.”
The three of them entered the room to join Genji. With a smile, Angela clasped his shoulder as she saw him standing there still contemplating Zenyatta’s still frame.
“Soon, he’ll be as good as new,” she said.
“I know. It’s just difficult to see him like this.”
It had been so easy to neglect their relationship with the whole chaos of Overwatch resuming once more. When had they last meditated together? Most of the time, they could not even spend the night with each other because they were needed in different cities, or even on separate continents. Genji promised himself that he would not so easily be taken from him again. Their time together was finite, in all probability much shorter than he could even guess, for they led dangerous lives.
On the monitor that Zenyatta was connected to, a program began suddenly spiking the flat line it had been drawing on a scrolling graph, then evening out into a sinus curve. Genji found his regrets blown away for the moment by a sudden gust of hope, closing in quickly on Zenyatta. At first, he heard a small noise, computer-like, more like the way Bastion communicated; that, he assumed, was his voice box resuming function. Then, the lights on his forehead sprang to life, first one in the upper row, then one on the lower left, some blinking, some slowly fading in and out, before all suddenly glowed in unison.
Slowly, Zenyatta moved his head.
“Genji?” he asked, his voice still somewhat warbled.
“Zenyatta, how are you feeling?”
Almost instinctively, Genji found himself moving his hand to the metal node behind two pistons which was at about the height that a human might have had their belly button. From many intimate times together, he knew that it was one of the parts of Zenyatta that ran rather warm when he was functioning properly; and indeed, under his synthetic fingertips, he could feel the heat returning. His heart felt a little easier still.
“Ah… better.” His head turned a little further. He took in the other three visitors. “Thank you all for coming,” he managed, his voice slowly filtering out the static and disturbances to return to its usual timbre. “Did you rebuild me, Dr. Ziegler?”
“No, that was Torbjörn, even if he did grumble about it,” she said with a chuckle.
“I must show him my gratitude, then. And all of you for your compassion.”
“You made us worry there,” Winston said. “But get better, and it’s forgiven.”
“Yeah! Oh, and Genji and me found all your orbs. They must be in a box here somewhere.”
With those words, Lena was off, looking for where they had stashed them.
“Very kind of you. One of my sisters made them for me a long time ago, I wouldn’t have known where to get replacements,” Zenyatta said. His empty-eyed gaze returned to Genji, who was still leaning over him. “You still look so troubled, Genji. I will be fine. Give me a little time to restore my systems.”
“I know that now,” Genji said. However, the threat of losing him had been there – not for the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. He really had no time to waste, did he? How foolish of him to have ever thought otherwise. There was no perfect moment, none that could save him from possible rejection; there was only now.
Genji took Zenyatta’s hand in his own.
“Zenyatta, will you marry me?”
The words were out of his mouth before he had thought on them. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lena dropping a couple of the orbs she had picked up, one of which landed on her toes. She grimaced, hopping onto her other foot, then gaped at them again.
Zenyatta, too, seemed overwhelmed with surprise.
“The request honours me, but I don’t think omnics can be married.”
“They can in Numbani,” Genji said. He had looked into it months ago.
Zenyatta’s fingers curled around his.
“Then I think we must make a trip to Numbani soon,” he said, mildly.
All Genji’s systems, biological or otherwise, were flooded with a wave of impulses, singing with electricity, his blood rushing in his ears. He leaned down to easily lift Zenyatta up in his arms and squeeze him to his chest.
“Oh my God, congratulations! I didn’t even know you two were a couple!” Lena exclaimed, finally over her shock.
“Really? I never thought it was anything different,” Angela said, bemused.
“I had my suspicions when you said you only needed one room,” Winston noted.
Carefully letting go of his lover, Genji turned and bowed his head to his three friends.
“I’m sorry for surprising you like that. We had always planned to tell you, though not like this. However, I just didn’t think I could wait now. I have for much longer than I should have.”
“It’s fine,” Angela assured him. “Congratulations from me, too!”
“And me,” Winston said with a nod of his head. “I think you will be the first Overwatch special agents to officially be married. Interesting that it should be an omnic, considering the circumstances under which we were formed,” he said, with a thoughtful expression. “It’s good to see how far the world has come.”
“How do you do it in Japan? Are you going to get wedding rings?” Lena asked, gently elbowing Genji’s side even as she looked at Zenyatta’s hand in his. “I suppose it would be difficult to keep it on your fingers, though, Zenyatta.”
“You could always weld it to him,” Winston joked, “although that would really be a promise for the ages, I don’t think you’d get rid of it again without replacing the whole finger.”
Zenyatta looked up at Genji.
“That is a risk I would be willing to take,” he said, with a smile in his voice.