Chapter Text
“Master!”
Genji looked up from where he meditated at the overlook near the shrine, the cold Nepalese wind ruffling the white scarf attached the back of his helmet, enhanced eyesight beneath the golden glimmer of his visor easily picking out the familiar form of the Omnic walking towards him. “I thought you had cleaning duty with some of the other students?”
“One of the human students caught a barwing that flew in and managed to convince Master Hondatta it was bad luck before letting it loose in the temple. We do not have to be there tonight while they catch it.”
Genji sighed, “Not very honest of you.”
“I was not the one who did it, Master. I simply thought to take advantage of the fortuitous outcome to come see you. I do not usually get the chance on Tuesdays.”
The ninja smiled beneath his helmet a bit, “I would like that very much. However I don’t think this will play out the way you believe it will.”
The Omnic’s shoulder sagged a bit, “Will it not?”
Genji shifted his attention to where another member of the Shambali was hurrying over, “Master Genji! I am sorry to disturb your meditation, but there is a bird loose in the main temple. We were wondering if you could catch it, since you are very nimble.”
Genji shifted his attention to the Omnic student pointedly, who wilted further, “I will solve your bird problem for you, Hondatta. Give me a moment, and I will be along.”
Hondatta bowed, and turned to head back. Genji stood, adjusting his white-and-gray kasaya garments, the material whispering sensation over his white-and-silver cybernetics, and laid a hand on his student’s shoulder, “This should be fast. I will return when I’m finished. Wait for me here.”
The Omnic perked up and nodded, “I will, Master.”
“I want to see you meditating when I get back,” Genji called back as he walked towards the temple. “I mean it, Zenyatta!”
--
Genji caught the bird and released it outside, climbing the walls with ease to where it was hiding in the ceiling. He shrugged off Hondatta’s gratitude, and hurried back out to the overlook as quickly as he could without looking like he was rushing. He glanced around, eyes alighting on the gleaming form of his student, sitting in the over-bright Himalayan sunlight, curled in lotus position, and Genji’s heart stuttered and ached at the sight.
His feet slowed to a stop and for a long moment, he just took it in, pretending for a moment he was in another time and place.
He shook his head—it was not the time for that—and walked over.
The nine lights on Zenyatta’s forehead blinked and lit with a steady glow as his awareness came back, tilting his head to find Genji, whole form perking up, “You are back sooner than I expected.”
“Fortunately a small bird was no match for your old Master,” he took a seat next to Zenyatta.
“You are not that old,” Zenyatta said, laughing softly.
“Fifteen years older than you,” he said and winced as soon as he had.
Zenyatta tilted his head, growing quiet, one hand reaching up to lightly touch the nine lights on his crown, “That is true. I forgot for a moment that I am—“ His words faltered briefly, the speechlessness so very strange, “I forget things sometimes.”
“I am sorry I said anything,” He said gently, “let us not waste this surprise afternoon together on dark thoughts. Here and now, as I so often tell you. Here and now.”
Zenyatta nodded, “As long as you do not have other duties I would pry you from, Master?”
Genji reached over and squeezed the Omnic’s shoulder, “there is nothing that would be more important than spending an afternoon with you.” He felt proud as his student visibly beamed without any expression, the joy carried all in how he held himself. “I was hoping perhaps we could begin by meditating together.”
Zenyatta slumped faintly, clearly not what he’d had in mind but nodded, “I would like that very much, Master.”
“Center yourself, my student, and embrace Tranquility,” Genji murmured, bringing his hand up to his chest, thumb and forefinger extended. Zenyatta nodded and rested his forearms on his knees, palms up, thumb lightly touching the tip of his middle finger.
Genji held perfectly still, his running lights dimming, but was not meditating in truth. His attention was focused completely on his Omnic student, watching, waiting to see if it would happen—
Yes, there—
The sensors on Zenyatta’s palms glowed a pale blue, the nine lights of his crown going brighter as he settled deeper into the calm and tranquil state. His Omnic energy was stronger now than it had been. Visibly so after years of dedication and study.
For the first time, Genji felt like there might actually be a bit of hope—
In his mind’s eye he saw light, a flicker of blue and a golden glow.
He wished—
Zenyatta shifted restlessly and though he made not a sound, he was clearly unsettled, his mind elsewhere and unfocused. Genji picked up faint movement writ through his body, the twitch of his fingers, the slightest of adjustments in posture from the pistons in his neck and torso, his form imperfect.
“Perhaps meditation isn’t to your interest today.”
Zenyatta sagged a bit, caught out. “I am sorry, Master. My mind is elsewhere.”
“I can tell. What are you thinking of that keeps you from your meditation?”
“You, Master,” Zenyatta answered almost thoughtlessly and Genji stiffened, his heart stuttering and beating madly within his chest at the words. Zenyatta then scrambled onward, as if realizing what he said, “I mean to say I was thinking about what you do, Master,” He tried. “You are so capable and accomplished; I had been hoping to spend the afternoon differently.” His body language was so hopeful, than Genji knew he was going to humor him even as he tried to get his emotions back under his control.
He was a Master swordsman and a Master Monk of the Shambali order; he was supposed to be better than this. He’d always made it look so easy—
“What did you have in mind then, hmm?”
“I was hoping today you might assist me in combat training, Master.”
Genji sighed, he should’ve known, “Zenyatta…”
“Please, Master Genji?” his student leaned forward, entreating, and it was almost more than the cyborg could bear, “I know you have been reluctant to teach this to me, but surely you can see it would be a boon to know how to defend myself? As you say so often, the world is a dangerous place.”
Genji rubbed the groove between his facemask and his forehead in exasperation, “Where did you get all this combat nonsense in your head from anyway? Why would you want to learn to be destructive? You’re training to be a monk.”
Zenyatta was quiet a moment, “Because of you, Master. You are a monk, yet you train, you fight. You see the value in it. Besides, I know I—” He trailed off a bit again, searching for the right words to express himself, “I know that I must have known something of it, before.”
Genji was quiet a long moment, “When I was learning to master my own body and soul, my teacher told me to be true to myself, and that meant mastering the violence in my soul, not ignoring it or smothering it, killing a part of myself. But you, Zenyatta, you have no violence in your soul, no malice.” His hand slid up to the Omnic’s collar, thumb stroking along the gold line of his jaw before he could think better of it. “There is no reason for you to fight, and invite that darkness in. While it is true, you knew something of it before, you do not have to do the same thing now.”
Zenyatta seemed to think on this, leaning faintly into his hand, almost unconsciously, “Whatever may have been true before, this is true now. Perhaps I have less darkness than you, Master. But life is balance, peace and violence in equal measure. How can I be ready to meet it out in the world if I do not first learn it from a figure I trust?”
“You would not rather stay here in the monastery and practice your mastery and wisdom of the Iris?”
“Of course not, Master. What good could I do for humans and Omnics if I were stuck here forever?”
“Of course not,” Genji echoed, and sighed, hands fisting. “…Very well. But,” He continued, steamrolling the enthusiastic Omnic, “You will obey my every word, promise me, Zenyatta. I do not wish to damage you.”
“I promise, Master, thank you.”
He nodded, and stood up, Zenyatta following suit, “You may be the most promising student at the monastery, but this isn’t something you necessarily have experience with. As you said, whatever may have been is not what is true now. It may not be something you take to well.” Genji wasn’t sure how he wanted this to go, for his dear student to be abysmal offensively, to have a reason to stay safe, or to see him excel like he always did, like Genji always wanted. To see him fight, just like—
He shook his head, he had to stop this. For Zenyatta’s sake.
“Will you go and get your katana?” The Omnic asked, hopeful and Genji shook his head.
“No. You are unarmed, and my control with a blade is great, but I will not risk the harm to you. We will spar hand-to-hand.”
Fortunately Zenyatta nodded and did not push the issue, “Thank you for the chance.”
“I am going to regret this,” Genji muttered and Zenyatta chuckled softly.
“Only because I am going to be right,” he said and shifted into an offensive stance.
Genji huffed a sigh, but Zenyatta’s form was nearly flawless for never having done this before. What he got for letting a machine with perfect technical recall watch him train so often. He should’ve known it would bite him in the ass, “You’re always right, Zenyatta, as I always tell you. I don’t know why I even bother teaching you anymore, you don’t need my words very often.”
“That is hardly true,” Zenyatta protested, “Intuiting answers is no substitution for actual experience, and I value all of your input greatly. Please do not doubt your influence.”
Genji smiled beneath his visor, chest aching. Oh Zenyatta, he thought, you have no idea.
Aloud, he said, “If I need to stop I will do so immediately, but if I misjudge and you need to call a halt then you need to say so. You say stop and this all stops.”
“I will be fine, Master Genji,” Zenyatta said warmly, “I cannot imagine you misjudging anything.”
Genji’s heart clenched painfully, “Everyone has made mistakes, Zenyatta. Now, combat is a lot like meditation. Control is key, you must focus on the here and now, and keep your thoughts ordered. You must keep your body under control, the difference is that it will be in motion instead of still, and to add to it you must attempt to anticipate your opponent’s strikes and movements as well. But many of the core thoughts and ideologies are the same. Control, it is always about control, but it is also about letting go. You trust yourself and your body. You won’t have muscle memory, but Omnics should still retain impulse pathways of remembered motion.”
Zenyatta nodded, “I understand. I wish to try.”
Genji nodded, “Then whenever you are ready, you may come for me, Zenyatta.”
Zenyatta shifted on his feet, as if feeling his weight and his bearing, which was a silly thing for a machine to do, but this machine had always done things a bit differently. A wonderful, perfect oddity. He was quick too, striking out at Genji faster than any human novice would, but Genji was as much a machine as a man, and blocked, catching the blow on his forearm and grabbing and twisting.
Between one second and the next Zenyatta was sprawled on the stone.
“Not bad for a beginner,” Genji teased.
“Hmm,” The Omnic made a soft sound of consideration, “I see what you mean about trusting your body. This is faster than the mind may consider.”
“The human mind, but you are not a human. You will pick this up much faster than one. Learn from my movements, calculate and predict,” Genji instructed, “Give me your arm, I will go through this slowly, show you what I did.”
Zenyatta stood and held out his arm, trusting his teacher deeply and offering no hesitation. Genji’s chest tightened with feeling but he lifted his own, “See, I blocked you like this, and while I had your arm close to my body it was a simple matter to grasp,” he demonstrated, mimicking his earlier grip, “And with the right leverage,” he tugged against the Omnic’s metal limb but did not toss him this time, “You see?”
“I do. Please, may I try again?”
Genji nodded, “Yes, again!”
Zenyatta was again knocked down twice more and twice more Genji showed him how he countered his movements.
By the fourth time Zenyatta struck at Genji, Genji could no longer knock him over.
Zenyatta learned fast. He always had.
Perhaps it wasn’t learning, a traitorous thought in his mind hoped, perhaps he’s—
No, he wouldn’t do that to himself.
He caught Zenyatta’s blows as the Omnic’s strikes came, the two of them nearly dancing across the overlook, letting him do all the offensive movement, content to simply counter him. “Master, I can tell you are distracted,” Zenyatta said, the words sharp, though not with anger but slipping out from the stranglehold of his focus on trying to get through Genji’s effortless defense. “Am I so easy to counter you that do not even need to pay attention to me?”
“You are just beginning,” Genji said, gripping one of the Omnic’s strikes and trying to knock him over again, but Zenyatta shifted his weight and twisted free, resisting the attempt, “You are doing well for a beginner, but you are a novice, and to my body these motions come as easily and unconsciously as breathing.”
“You think I could not take you by surprise,” Zenyatta struck low this time, and Genji caught one with a knee and the other with the outside of his forearm.
“You always surprise me, Zenyatta,” he allowed, laughing quietly at how determined he was.
“I will have to try harder then,” he struck high again, predictable, and Genji blocked, the Omnic then went low. Genji moved to defend against this as well Zenyatta pulled back, a feint, and then leapt and kicked out with his leg.
Always a surprise, his student.
But Genji had always been good at dealing with the unexpected.
He ducked and grabbed the leg out of the air and twisted, intending to lay him flat again, swinging him down.
There was a pulse of Omnic energy and suddenly Genji could not move him.
“Master!” Zenyatta floated haphazardly in the air, surprising even himself and Genji let him go as if burned and stepped back, the student shifting and righting himself, floating easily for a moment longer and then touching down gently. “I was floating,” He murmured, awed, “Did you see it, Master Genji?”
Genji for his part could not seem to find the voice for words, and was staring openly beneath his visor. His chest was a knot of feeling and his mind churned with turmoil. He untangled it as best he could, as Zenyatta was clearly awaiting a response.
You brought this upon yourself, he thought cruelly.
“I did, Zenyatta, that was amazing. Your energy is strong to be able to support yourself. What were you… thinking about?”
Zenyatta tilted his head, “You, Master Genji. But I was feeling…” he grew quite a moment, considering. “It was… well, I suppose not instinct or muscle memory, but I did it without thinking. Automatic,” he said, finding the word for it, “It was automatic.”
Genji’s hands clenched once, and then released, “I see.” He drew a long breath and sighed, “Training is over.”
“But—“
“Come with me,” He said, before he could change his mind, “There is something I need to give you.”
--
Genji led Zenyatta to his room in the monastery. His katana and wakizashi rested on their stands to the side. Along the wall was a mural from his hometown of Hanamura, and in the corner was a mattress covered with a few blankets. Atop a small chest of drawers were several framed photographs, one of he and his brother Hanzo as young men back when he was whole, another of his team in the early days of Overwatch, and the last was he and his brother more recently, taken just four short years ago. It was a mess of a picture, too much movement, Genji was still, his cybernetics white and off-brown and his running lights dark, but Hanzo, hair starting to silver as he approached middle age, bound in a small tail by golden ribbon, was clearly fussing at something off-camera, face a grimace of annoyance, half his body slightly blurred as he moved to something off to the right where one mechanical arm with a stylized skull on the forearm and blue hydraulic hoses visible, had reached into the picture from elsewhere. At the top right corner of the picture there was a single mechanical finger of the photographer that had slipped over the lens by accident.
It was a terrible picture, but a very good memory, so Genji had kept it.
Beside the drawers, nearly out of sight on the floor was a small wooden chest. It had sat there, closed, for almost the entirety of Genji’s three year habitation of the small room. He went in and picked it up now, bringing it to the center of the room and holding it out to Zenyatta, “Here,” He murmured, “Open it.”
Zenyatta did, opening the lid and made a soft curious sound, reaching in to touch one metal finger gently over what he found, “What are they, Master?”
“They were yours. Before.”
“Mine?” Zenyatta sounded surprised and from within the box lifted a golden orb. “You are certain? I do not—“ He gasped as suddenly the orb in his hand lit up, the rings along its outside lighting blue.
“I am positive,” Genji murmured, voice low, “These were yours. They recognize you, as your energy recognizes them.”
“I do not remember,” Zenyatta murmured unhappily.
“Perhaps not, but I think it time I returned them to you. Perhaps it was not my place to keep them from you at all, but—“
“No,” Zenyatta shook his head, watching in awe as the orb began to float in a wobbly orbit, “Thank you, Master. Thank you for taking such care of them. I will do my best to be worthy.”
“It is not about being worthy,” Genji said, voice firm. “They are yours. There is no one else they could ever belong to. Do not worry about being worthy of them. Only be yourself, and that is all that matters.”
Zenyatta nodded, but when he spoke he was unhappy, “I do not remember.”
“You do not have to,” Genji murmured, chest hurting, knotted with his own wishes.
“I will have to practice with them,” Zenyatta said, determination bouncing back, like he always did. “I would like to show your Overwatch friends, if I can master them. Oh, and your brother, when he visits.”
“I am,” Genji struggled behind his visor for a moment, “I am sure they would all love to see.”
--
Genji only needed a few hours of hibernation to keep his internal computers running optimally per night, to recharge the cells that powered his augmented flesh, and usually spent the rest of the long Himalayan nights meditating quietly in his room until just before dawn, when he would move outside to the Eastern Overlook.
He’d finished his hibernation some hours ago and had been meditating in the absolute silence of the mountains, legs folded in a perfect lotus position, one hand before him at chest level, index finger and thumb extended, but a sound had him slipping from the stillness of his mind. The gold of his visor blinked on, his running lights flickering ochre in the darkness.
He had thought this might happen, having given his student back the orbs, and waited for the quiet call he knew would come.
Sure enough moments later there was a soft, hesitant, “Master?” From outside the curtain to his room.
“Come in, Zenyatta,” The curtain shifted and the Omnic stepped inside, his body language bleeding uncertainty, even though this was hardly the first time this had happened. Genji noted the three orbs that already circled slowly in the air around him, constantly held by his control of his energy. He always learned so fast. “Did you have another dream?”
Zenyatta nodded, “I did, Master. I am sorry to disturb you.”
Genji nodded and beckoned, “Come here then.”
Zenyatta didn’t have to be told twice, having come here in the small hours of the morning after certain dreams to seek comfort many times over the years. He climbed onto the mattress next to Genji and sat stiffly, and the cyborg sighed a bit and reached out, wrapping an arm around the slight Omnic and dragging close. Zenyatta didn’t have an issue coming to seek out his Master’s comfort in the middle of the night or even joining him on his bed, but he never seemed to be able to take that last step without Genji initiating.
Slowly, the tension bled out of his student’s mechanical limbs and he sagged against Genji, his head dropping to lie upon the cyborg’s shoulder and his arms reached to hold around him, as though he might drift away.
Genji wrapped his arms around Zenyatta tightly, offering comfort, giving away nothing of the feelings he held within. He was in purgatory in these moments, caught between heaven and hell, staring up a mountain of sins that seemed insurmountable, and no one to guide his way.
“I am sorry I always disturb you like this, Master,” Zenyatta murmured, apologetic like he always was.
“Tell me about your dream,” Genji said instead, voice soft, needing to hear, even if it added sins to his head, one hand coming to rest across the broadest part of the Omnic’s back.
“I dreamt,” His voice faltered, “I dreamt about another Omnic, one I had never seen before.”
“Another Omnic?” Genji begin hesitantly, the subject not being what he expected, and yet at the same time there was a part of him that desperately hoped it wasn’t the only thing he could think of. “Who was it? What did they look like?”
“He,” Zenyatta considered, “He had a white face.”
Genji’s eyes closed beneath his visor, throat bobbing. “Mondatta,” he said quietly, “His name was Tekhartha Mondatta.”
“Mondatta,” The name held a degree of recognition, “Another fragment of memory then,” He said softly, as if the dreams that drove him out of his own room to seek solace in Genji’s could be anything else. “It was all so disconnected. I only saw that white face for a moment. He wore a kasaya like yours and the other monks’, and his hands were folded behind his back. I think he was standing and looking out over the mountains, but then sometimes it seemed like he was falling. There was cool, distant laughter and I felt such a profound sense of loss.”
“I know you students are probably told ad nauseum that Mondatta founded the order, but you probably don’t hear a lot about the person he was.” Genji told him, “He was wise, and patient, if a bit distant at times, but he tried to do the best he could for all people, and gave of himself in his entirety.”
“He was assassinated,” Zenyatta murmured from somewhere against Genji’s collar, remembering what he had been taught.
“That’s right.”
“Were we friends?”
“Yes,” Genji whispered, “The best. You disagreed, took different paths eventually, but you were always friends. He was your teacher first and I hope I am doing at least a fraction of what he taught you.”
“He was? But, you said you were trying to give me back what I lost, Master, I thought you were—“
“No,” Genji murmured, heart aching, “That is… that is not how we met. I… arrived later.”
“Was he your teacher as well?” Zenyatta wondered.
“No, but he and my teacher were close before his death. They were brothers, in a sense that transcended blood,” Genji said, hand petting along the exposed parts of the Omnic’s back a bit helplessly.
Zenyatta could feel only the slightest of pressure from Genji’s touch but sighed softly and seemed to press closer all the same, “He must have been an amazing leader.”
“Mondatta taught you the truth of the Iris. Originally it was he who helped you cultivate your mastery of your Omnic energy, until finally you surpassed him.” He reached up fingers tapping lightly against one of the suspended orbs to illustrate.
“I wish I remembered him,” Zenyatta said, sad, “I wish I could have the chance to speak with him.”
“I do as well,” Genji whispered and held him tighter, closing his eyes and wanting, heart mourning for this Omnic in his arms. “I wish it with all my heart and soul, Zenyatta.”