[ Genji leaves and takes with him most of Hanzo's energy. Just as his brother imagined, he needed the rest and he was asleep fast enough, the night fading into memory as the daily work over Overwatch missions take control all over again, leaving Hanzo barely enough time to think, let alone consider the possibilities that might unfold between himself and his brother now that they were, for now, reconciled.
Everything continues as it was and, for a time, Hanzo forgets that they had even found each other that night, that Genji had come to him and he had found himself undone by his brother's honesty and certainty. There's mission after mission, Winston still doing good on his promise to send Hanzo to far off places even though he doesn't mind the chance to run into his brother, now. He still pretends to see the world in black and white, still pretends he hasn't known the true beauty of everything since he was a young boy, still pretends that he has no need for friends nor companionship.
No one presses him, not really. It might be that they have finally recognised Hanzo's need for solitude, the way he does his best to stay adrift from it all, to regain all the things he had lost when honour and duty came before anything else.
That all changes when he comes back from a mission, exhausted and bruised from head to toe. He has a nasty cut on his cheek and a few matching pairs scattered across his body, but it's not the end of the world; he has survived worse, time and time again, assassins come to take his life that leave with an arrow between their eyes. He's prepared to find his way to his quarters when someone approaches and all he can hear are a few words that ring in his ears; Genji, hurt and doctor.
Nothing else matters.
He's always been fast and Hanzo makes use of his speed now, rushing through the corridors of the base to make his way to the hospital. He slams open the doors and ignores Ziegler's harsh commands, eyes searching the beds before he's somehow stumbled over to Genji and dropped down into a chair, reaching out to touch a hand to the other man's without pause. ]
Genji...
[ Even Ziegler stops talking, perhaps realising that he's not here for a nefarious purpose; he's here to reach out for his brother, fear clogging his throat - and, carefully, she leaves the two of them alone. ]
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Everything continues as it was and, for a time, Hanzo forgets that they had even found each other that night, that Genji had come to him and he had found himself undone by his brother's honesty and certainty. There's mission after mission, Winston still doing good on his promise to send Hanzo to far off places even though he doesn't mind the chance to run into his brother, now. He still pretends to see the world in black and white, still pretends he hasn't known the true beauty of everything since he was a young boy, still pretends that he has no need for friends nor companionship.
No one presses him, not really. It might be that they have finally recognised Hanzo's need for solitude, the way he does his best to stay adrift from it all, to regain all the things he had lost when honour and duty came before anything else.
That all changes when he comes back from a mission, exhausted and bruised from head to toe. He has a nasty cut on his cheek and a few matching pairs scattered across his body, but it's not the end of the world; he has survived worse, time and time again, assassins come to take his life that leave with an arrow between their eyes. He's prepared to find his way to his quarters when someone approaches and all he can hear are a few words that ring in his ears; Genji, hurt and doctor.
Nothing else matters.
He's always been fast and Hanzo makes use of his speed now, rushing through the corridors of the base to make his way to the hospital. He slams open the doors and ignores Ziegler's harsh commands, eyes searching the beds before he's somehow stumbled over to Genji and dropped down into a chair, reaching out to touch a hand to the other man's without pause. ]
Genji...
[ Even Ziegler stops talking, perhaps realising that he's not here for a nefarious purpose; he's here to reach out for his brother, fear clogging his throat - and, carefully, she leaves the two of them alone. ]