Chapter Text
“I do what is necessary.” The voice was a breath of ice on his soul, “Genji, you are a disgrace our clan, your family, with your way of life.”
“I have done nothing, if the Shimada clan can be crumbled by one person, then perhaps it is not as strong and proud as it claims.”
The sting to his face left far deeper wounds; he wiped blood from his lip, their clashing a burning pit of dragon fire.
“You do not dishonor your name that way! You have more influence than you know, you are a son of this clan!”
“I did not ask for this burden.” He did not want it.
“That is irrelevant, I have no choice, if you will not help me and rule the Shimada clan by my side—it was our dream Genji, father would have—“
“That was and has always been your dream, not mine.”
“Then you are no brother of mine.”
Dragon fire raged, the roars of the legends fueling their anger, and then there was darkness.
. . .
A gentle breeze hummed over the green hill, bringing him to consciousness again with a soft whirr of mechanics. Rich, golden hues bathed the surrounding area in evening light and left hints of warmth as the air began to cool. With the lazy sway of the grass, the image displayed in his frame of vision painted a picture of peace and serenity, melting away the dark atmosphere of his dream. In such a radiant, natural place, almost anyone would be able to feel comfort and oneness with the world.
He, however, scowled behind a mask as he gazed down at the metal casings of his hands. A robotic appendage, resting atop an equally robotic knee, left no sense of humanity. Despite the evening lighting giving warm highlights to the smooth white casings, all he saw was cold unfeeling metal. Hollow of anything resembling the human he once was.
Genji hated these hands.
As the rest of his sensors thrummed to life, he picked up on the presence a few feet to his left. He’d nearly forgotten it was there, but the reminder made his shoulders slump in dismay as he turned his visor hidden gaze to glance over.
The omnic, in his seated position, hovered a few inches off of the ground in near perfect stillness. He made no motion to indicate he knew the other had awoken and was deep in a trance, even if he appeared stationary. His sparse clothing was ragged, and his metal body that was scratched with age and time was less refined than Genji’s. Inner workings and wires were clearly visible and the humanoid shape did not hide the reality that he was absolutely a machine. And yet, it eluded him how the omnic seemed to reflect and radiate the sun’s waning rays, while his own body absorbed and silenced it like a shadow.
It was annoying; and the omnic himself was even more of an irritant. The mere fact that this unusual robotic being, claiming he hailed as a monk from a monastery in Nepal, managed to have an air of humanity that just didn’t suit what he actually was frustrated him. And worse off, Genji couldn’t seem to get rid of him. No matter how much he tried to offer nothing more than a cold shoulder, and a closed off mind to anything he said.
In fact, he hadn’t really addressed him at all. He didn’t even know his name, nor did the monk know his. And even when he did bother to respond, he was short and curt in response to the other’s frustratingly gentle words.
And still, he didn’t leave.
While Genji brooded over the quiet insistence of the other to accompany him in his travels, the grouping of nine cyan lights that dotted the monk’s forehead flickered to life. He lifted his head, soft clicks and hisses of his body settling into motion a clear indication of what he was; he made “eye contact” with Genji. At least, what he assumed were eyes. The assumption he had of his eyes were likely optic sensors behind the angled cuts of metal. These were things he could only speculate.
Genji didn’t know for sure, but he felt like the omnic was smiling.
“It seems your own meditation gave way to sleep, my friend.” He noted, in that irritatingly calm voice of his. “I do hope it was peaceful?”
Omnics’ spoke with clearly robotic tones; there was no getting around it, so why did this one have such an unnerving effect on him. He looked away, humming curtly in response to his question. Genji couldn’t say he’d had deep prejudice against omnics before, but being made into something of an omnic and human combination made him unreasonably bitter. He wasn’t readily willing to admit that he had trouble accepting the new half of himself.
“It was fine.” He finally said when the omnic didn’t speak, assuming he was waiting for his response.
Chancing a sideways glance, he saw that the monk was gazing out at the scenery before him, looking positively tranquil. Genji followed the gaze, looking positively aggravated in comparison, his own form of defiance. Like fire and water side by side, he almost felt the need to shift away so as not to be drowned. He quelled the feeling and remained still.
“This place is untroubled by the conflict of the world, here the iris is strong.” The monk said, lacing his fingers together on his lap.
Genji thought he sounded like those riddle spouting characters from the stories, the wise old masters that were supposed to be all-knowing and helpful but really made no sense. They relied on thought provoking statements, and vague advice that rarely made sense until after the precise moment it would have been of use.
“One could sleep easy here, swept away into dreams, I do not blame you—if you did indeed sleep easy.”
His tone was knowing, and completely without shame. Clearly he did not believe the unimpressive response Genji had given him regarding the ‘fine’ sleep he had.
“Tch.” Genji stood, ready to wander for a while before nightfall and find shelter, and also to avoid being psychoanalyzed by robot-Ghandi. Besides, his dreams were of little concern to someone who did not understand their relevance to his history, and that was something he was even less willing to share.
He was aware of the other drifting behind him quietly, not speaking but seeming comfortable in the mutual silence. He would be unnervingly invisible if it were not for the sound caused by his floating and the barely noticeable shifts of mechanics. They wandered along for at least an hour before Genji couldn’t take the silence anymore; the monk usually would speak or impart his ‘wisdom’ in various, appropriately spaced moments. Instead, he was unusually silent.
He stopped abruptly and turned to face the monk who, to his surprise, was looking directly at him. At least, it felt like it, he felt he could rightly assume so based on where his head faced. It took him aback and he lost his words for a moment, being faced with such a directed gaze that felt deeply probing.
“Why are you still following me?” He demanded, gaining some ground of his own again, watching the other through his visor.
“I am drawn by your troubled spirit, and I found your aura burning a hole in the universe around you and seek to repair it.” The monk responded, undeterred by his harsh tone.
“My thoughts are not your business-“
“Of course they are not, I have kept my nose clear of them.” He said, amused by his own use of the idiom that did not suit his physical traits.
Genji glared incredulously behind his mask, unsure of how the monk could find humor now of all times, “How can you claim to know my troubles if you know not of my thoughts.”
“Do you not find those things clear in others? Empathy is a powerful tool; your presence speaks volumes about your soul.” He noted, honestly, “You are lost and wandering, with no clear destination, I saw it was clear that you are troubled deeply beyond the realm of your own understanding.”
“I am not lost.” Genji insisted.
“Ah, then I suppose I am interested in the conclusion of your long journey my friend.”
“And I am not your friend, why are you still here? I have not made you welcome.” He pressed, unsettled by the other still finding reason to be around him. Though it was deeply motivated by his lack of belief any soul at all would want to be around him, not after what he had become.
The omnic tilted his head, still ever at ease. “Do you wish me to depart?” He was not easily discouraged by the cyborgs attempts at evasive maneuvers, attempting to coerce a direct answer.
Genji was thrown off again, having not been given the option and embarrassingly aware of the fact that he’d never asked the other to leave. Nor had the omnic done anything harmful to provoke him. And this was the first time he had spoken frankly with him to inquire of his motives. Which, as he learned, were harmless albeit naïve. If he truly believed he could save him, he was sorely mistaken.
He let out a begrudging sigh, “Why do you feel that it is in your interest to help me, you do not even know my name?”
“I believed you would give it when you felt it was my business to know.” He mused. “Though if you will give it, I would be honored to have it, as it would be better than cyborg ninja.”
“And when was it my business to know yours?” Genji retaliated, irritated at the playful jesting of the other.
“You did not ask.” He swore he saw a twinkle in the omnic’s eye, “Do you wish to know? You had no interest or use for it so I did not want to bother you with its irrelevance.”
There was a hiss and release of steam built up from frustration at the others constant counter’s to his arguments, a childish nature that he hadn’t quite lost boiling up in him at not getting the answers he wanted.
“And could you stop being so cryptic, who are you?” He snapped, rising impatience causing his native language to filter in and out of use more frequently.
The monk had found a spider on the fabric over his knee and seemed distracted. He laid a finger out for the small being urging it to crawl on before he released it with care into the grass. The action was so—unnecessary and a reflection of the humanity the monk somehow possessed.
Once satisfied with the safety of the arachnid, he placed his hands in his lap, his peaceful nature evident in the subtle rise and fall of his floating position, completely at odds with the inferno of emotions raging inside Genji that grounded him firmly in the dirt at his feet.
“Tekhartha Zenyatta.”
Was it another philosophy? Something else evasive and foreign, he felt another bout of irritation rising to the top. Gearing up to lash out at this strange omnic, who didn’t seem to realize just how out of balance the tempest was in his soul, Genji clenched his fists and a soft scrape of metal armed him with three shuriken.
“Though, if it suits you, you may call me Zenyatta.”
He could still feel the smile the other directed at him, even though it wasn’t physically evident on his face. Genji had to stifle the emotions, and his weapons, as he realized the other was giving him his name and not just messing with his head again. He quickly collected himself, instilling at least a bare sense of calm on his mind.
“Then, Zenyatta, if you say I had no use for your name, why feel obligated place all of your unnecessary wisdom on me? I did not ask for it, for the same reason I did not ask your name.” He said, trying to find a loophole, a flaw in his logic to poke out. Though there were fragments of dishonesty as he’d been wondering what the omnic’s name was for days, not liking having a stranger following him about with nothing to call him.
“Oh but it was necessary, the iris sees your turmoil and there is wisdom in shedding light on the darkness you struggle to escape…” The omnic paused, with a hand cupping his chin, “Perhaps my imparted wisdom would have been better served when you were ready to hear it. I suppose that I cannot deny selfish reasons, I hoped that maybe my presence could curb your loneliness. That may have been an overconfidence of my own capabilities, but my intentions were good.”
He resigned these thoughts to Genji, who was again taken aback by the strange way of being the other had. Even though he was built omnic, his freethinking and admission to faulty thought was so human that it was unsettling. He was having a hard time differentiating the robot from the living being without growing confused, the imbalance inside himself growing with it. Which one of them was more human?
“An understatement; and clearly you have overconfidence in my own capability to have friends.” He agreed, folding his arms against his chest.
“I don’t think you realize the warmth you retain inside—“
Genji snapped his gaze in his direction, “There is none, it was stripped of me with my body. Now I’m nothing more than a machine.”
Zenyatta was not offended by the claim, but he was curious, “Hmm, I suppose if that is what you define yourself as. If you truly only see a cold, heartless machine, that is what you will become. Your pain says otherwise, you ache because you struggle to accept that what you have become is still capable of humanity.”
Genji opened and closed his mouth, void of retort or argument. The other had been hinting at it, but clearly hit the nail on the head with the brutality of his statement. The wound broke open and he felt the problem reinstate itself at the forefront of his mind. And it hurt, if he still felt the wilting emotions he had when he was betrayed and first forced to accept this unfair second life, he would have shed tears there in front of the omnic.
Zenyatta did not press him after that, letting the other fall into silent acceptance of his problem. He had awaited Genji’s acknowledgement of his struggle for some time while he had traveled by his side. And he knew once Genji accepted the storm he was caught up in, that he would be able to help him. He wanted to desperately; he was not lying when he had confessed he felt drawn to the cyborg. There was a beautiful soul crying out inside of him, begging for the crushing weight of internalized discourse to finally end.
If only the cyborg would drop some of his bravado—and learn to trust someone else.
“Genji.”
Zenyatta perked up, “Genji, I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.”
He sighed audibly, “I do not see why, I’m just a shell of what I once was.”
“Do you find me to be as empty and hollow?”
Taken aback, Genji tried to find word to avoid offending the monk, though he was not sure why he needed to defend his thoughts. Omnic’s were robots, certainly they couldn’t go behind their programming. Even as he thought it, he was never convinced of it.
He back pedaled, “That’s not-.”
“I am not offended, Genji.” Zenyatta reassured him, “But perhaps you mistake the soul as something only attached to flesh and bone. Yet here I am, having cognitive conversation with you. I am capable beyond processors and programming to learn, feel and experience the world as you do and as you once did.”
Scoffing, the ever skeptical cyborg shook his head, “I am no more human than you, look at us, we cannot exist as humans do. We cannot see as they do, enjoy food and drink, smell the grass—we cannot even feel as they do. Touch is evasive, empty, only made up of pressure and processes that keep us aware of our surroundings. We are no more than weapons made to fight for mankind…”
“You mean to tell me that you have forgotten how to touch?” The monk seemed perplexed, albeit in a knowing way, “Do I appear as a weapon to you?”
“I didn’t—forget, I cannot do it. Sensors only do so much.” He said, scoffing at the feeling of being chastised, “And, well, no you do not. But that was the reason you were created wasn’t it?”
“I cannot be sure of what thoughts went into my creation, but like you I was born into this world under specific circumstances, and through experience and simply living, I became part of something greater. Surely you have not lost that, you are not who you were when you were born, does that make you incapable of changing again?”
The psychological probing was beginning to overwhelm and frustrate him.
“Very well, since you seem so confident, why don’t you teach me how?” He said, scornfully.
To the omnic, it felt there was a change in the winds, a lost soul finally crying out for solace. Zenyatta was humbled as the time had come for Genji to begin his rebirth, and he was truly graced by the iris to be a privileged part of it. He vowed to himself that he would put himself forth into this without refrain or hesitation, for the troubled cyborg would need his all.
Genji saw the response written on his face; and there it was again, the twinkle in the optic slit on the omnic’s face. He cursed his foolishness to challenge him, now he would never leave. Though for some reason, and he would deny it, his words gave him a glimmer of hope and against his better judgement he was beginning to believe him.
“I would be delighted to.” Though he lacked expression, it would seem that Zenyatta was brimming with barely concealed joy."
“Let us begin my student.”