#[Some Greek Level Tragic Bullshit (Drabble)]

[mizunoishi]

{心のマスク - The Hearts Mask}

             It’s like breathing in quicksand, the grating feeling of his throat rasping with the panic welling into his being. They’ve been gone a long time and death is a close friend of the shinobi, draping over him like a blanket. Yet it’s not comforting, nor does he welcome the guilt and the regret. It tastes like bile in his mouth, too bitter and hot to mean anything good. Fingers card through his long hair in shaky strokes, tugging angrily at the knots he finds. The pain is sharp and helps him focus, brown eyes darting around the small confines of his simple apartment. There’s too many memories strewn about and he curses himself as the panic wells back up in him like boiling water. 

              Little things set it off; the dumbest things really. It’s the scrolls about sealing jutsu which screams of his mother, or the dirt stains he forgot to clean on tatami mats that remind him of his father leaving in and out through the window of a home long since destroyed. He was a child, too young to experience such heavy loss; bitterly he reminds himself he’s still a child. Shinobi are not meant to wear their hearts on their sleeves. It’s dangerous and he isn’t in the most lethal and elite squad of Konoha simply because he cares about his team mates. Anger replaces the panic and Iruka balls his fists, stomping from the kitchen and over to the simple close that houses all his gear. 

                 There’s a push of chakra on the doors, one he knows well. It’s a familiar echo being sent back to him as he pushes down his wards and opens the closet. ‘There’s too much work to be done for this’ he thinks bitterly; the S-rank scroll now ashes in his trash bin seeming to mock him. It’s almost second nature now, putting on the distinctive armor. The ANBU’s anger still seethes under his skin, however, hot and heavy. His temper is famous among the other chuunin--dating back to his youth when he stopped playing pranks and devoted himself to the village. It wasn’t hard to understand his parents sacrifice as he was now. At first he couldn’t understand, even hated his parents for leaving, but now he knew what it really meant to serve as a shinobi of the leaf. There was no backing down and no sacrifice you could not be willing to make for the good of the village. 

                    This was his home and he had sworn to do all he could to protect the place most precious to him. There was an ominous click as all his weapons and gear finally settled into place and an elegantly painted white mask with the sweeping red designs of a fox shifted in its place in his dresser. Right, it was time to put Umino Iruka aside. Calloused and tanned fingers picked up the mask and a part of him begged for it to remain tucked away. Faces of the dead seemed to rise up from the pit he’d put them in and grabbed at him, warning there would be more if he went through with this. 

                    The mask was deftly set into place and the faces and chattering seemed to fade away. It was almost eerie how Iruka’s emotions slipped away and all that was left was cold calculation and the mission ahead. Disassociation was not uncommon amongst the elite ranks; emotions were often a risk that couldn’t be taken lest a shinobi risk the mission. Moving with a grace he hardly showed outside of this uniform, he slipped out his window and into the night. Wards flared back to life around his home as he did so, protecting the secrets left behind and the heart with them.

                       Iruka Umino was currently locked away in the memories and the anguish of the small apartment. The ANBU’s fox was on the prowl.

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{ LOSS }

             Eyes snap open from sleep as pure terror and anguish bubble into her being from the dull bond that has grown quiet over the vast distance. Krolia knows on instinct that its her mate down on earth and the fear of what could be happening sends her careening out of her bed and toward the sole window looking towards Earth on the Blades secret base. Her claws dig into the glass as her lungs seize with his own, non-existant smoke bubbling into them. Her mate is desperate through the bond and the fear is only getting worse. It’s all too much and she’s hurtling through the base, shoving a helmet on without bother to grab armor. What if Keith is in danger as well as her mate?

              Whatever choices she’d made didn’t matter when her maternal instincts were screaming for her to protect her mate and child. It was getting harder to breathe and the warm pulse of him in her chest where their hearts had synced was growing faint--throwing the beats off ever so slightly as his began to slow. It didn’t matter that Earth might as well be on the other end of the universe; Krolia would do anything to protect what she loved. She was in the cockpit before logic had a chance to set in--but thankfully her panicked state hadn’t gone un-noticed. 

                Thace grabbed the female galra, trying to get her to focus and she nearly ripped his throat out in her desperation. “Krolia!” he cried and her violence turned to shaking and panic once more. “Krolia please...old friend what is the matter...” The tears wouldn’t stop and she gripped the others arms tightly, almost cutting off circulation. “He’s dying! Thace please I have to go to him! I have to....” But there’s no saving him, their bond is weakening and it hurts so much all she can do is cry and cling like a lost child. 

                    Then it vanishes and a wail rears from her throat, echoing through the empty hanger. Tears and pained howls mingle together and Thace is forced to watch, only able to hold his friend as she mourns the death of her mate. Between the force of the sobs she grips at her chest, clinging to the fact though her heart is still beating to the same rythm her mates once had, though the empty hollow where his warmth once lingered rips her to shreds. Countless hours go by as she mourns and Thace takes her back to her cabins just as the blade begin to stir. 

                     Fingers brush over a locket she’s pulled out, a silly picture of her family that her mate somehow managed to pull off; something to keep them with her always. “They’re both gone...” she whispers, shaking under the blanket. “I think...he was trying to save our son...but he didn’t succeed and now...I have nothing left.”

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{Interfectorem Mechanica}

Prompto is more MT than he realizes; sure everything is going well until he blacks out. When he comes to there sure is a lot of blood and wait, is that Noctis? Why isn’t he moving--why are none of his friends moving?

WARNING: Character death, blood, mind control, prompto loses control of his body, it’s very sad

           It’s disconcerting, almost painful when the first signs of a headache shifts through his body and he flinches, gripping the side of his head as fingers drift through blonde locks nervously. He has to focus there’s a job to be done. Ignis glances at him, concern crosses his features but the fellow blonde just smiles and waves him off. He’s fine just a bit under the weather from everything he’s been through. That’s what he keeps telling himself as the headaches just get worse and worse. 

            There’s an ache in him now and his vision is swimming twisting as he feels the tattoo on his wrist start to burn in a way he’s never experienced. He collapses against a wall, his chest heaving. The last thing he sees is his friends worried faces as they gather around him before the world turns red and he passes out. Or at least, that’s what Prompto thinks when he wakes up, his limbs heavy and his body bruises and battered. 

               It feels like he’s just been in the biggest battle in his life and as he rubs at his aching temples, trying to figure it out, he briefly remembers Noctis shaking him and begging for him ‘not to go’. Odd, he doesn’t feel like he was really dying? Heavily he sits up and stretches his terribly aching body and then frowns, his blue eyes focusing on a small trail of blood that has pooled underneath him. Odd, he doesn’t feel cut open and if he was truly hurt the others would have tended to them. 

                 Speaking of his friends, it occurs to him that they are nowhere to be found. They would never leave him alone and there’s a sudden panic in his chest. Maybe one of them is injured? It’s highly possible that they’d been drug away and Prompto, unconscious, had been left to die. He’s stumbling now, panicked to find his friends as he follows the trail of blood, horrified at just how much there is. It’s probably hopeless but he’s not one to just give up on the people he cares so deeply about. 

                  So he keeps going, his legs stumbling and his mind a mess of anguish and fear. They have to be alive; they have to be. Noctis once said if Prompto lost faith whole world would be doomed; he’s clinging to that now. If he gives up hope then his friends might surely die; he can’t risk that so he fight through the fear and the pain. They’re alright he insists to himself and then as he rounds the corner his breath catches in his throat and he falls to his knees as everything rushes through him like a sharp and rusted knife. 

                    There’s so much blood and he can’t breathe as his eyes flit about the room. Noctis is in the middle of the room, pinned up by countless random weapons and metal rods, his now glassed-over eyes staring at the floor. Ignis is at his feet, curled up around the gaping hole in his guts. Finally Gladiolous is broken against some sort of machine, his sword still clutched in his now lifeless hand. It aches like he’s never known and he’s sobbing. 

                    His friends are dead and the pieces are coming together; the red in his eyes and the bruising in his body. He should have known that he was programmed; that somehow he wasn’t as human as he’d thought. Glancing up he catches a reflection of himself in metal and sees his torn clothes, the blood he’s soaked in, the blood of his friends. 

                      Prompto vomits, his whole body heaving what little is left in his stomach onto the floor and he cries miserably. He did this, he’s a monster. He single handedly destroyed not only the world but his world and as footsteps approach Prompto can do nothing; he can do nothing but wish for a swift death to come and set him free. 

                     Everything worth living for is now gone.

[jiishv]

{Flight}

        When broken souls                                          – GO HOME

            Tender is the smile he can finally show without burden or pain as finally all is at rest; finally there is the peace he has so yearned for. The young prince feels free of the heavy weight that has drug him down for so long it’s as if after years of suffocating he can breathe clearly at last. Slender hands fold into his sleeves as he slips away from the crowd un-noticed by all but two people who limp after him with deep concern. What is the tragic kou prince doing? What is going through his now lightened mind?

            Kouen and Hakuei are worried for him; he suffered greatly for their kingdom and for them only to see that slip away into the nothingness with their changed world. Yet as he pauses, hearing their footsteps behind him he stands, surrounded by rukh; his own a pure white light that shines as brightly as his warm smile. Hakuei is the first to speak, Kouen feels his chest tightening with her words. He knows what his brother is planning and it breaks his heart. “Koumei...” she whispers. “What are you doing?”

           “I’m sorry...” And he means it, eyes lidding with a tinge of regret where he stands, glowing softly in his own light. “I know none of you might be able to forgive me...Kouha surely will be angry with me but--” The words trail off as he looks up above him where the sky is; a bright blue that somehow seems brighter now. “I’m tired. I don’t belong here anymore; despite what you may say my purpose in life is fulfilled and I see no reason to linger where now my deeds have no rhyme or reason.”

           Hakuei intends to protest, but Kouen beats her when he leaps forward, grabbing the young mans collar and shaking him. “What nonsense is this? Of course you are needed! None of us have the same purpose now but...there will be one! Don’t do this...you can’t leave us now after all we’ve been through!” It’s desperation shining in his eyes; how can he lose this precious person? Even Kouen is not so sure his heart can bear the strain. “That’s right!” Hakuei agrees, her hands grabbing the slender ones of her cousin. “You are valuable! You would be missed please...”

          The boys smile remains soft as he shrugs their hands off gently, stepping back into the light as his body begins to disappear. “I can’t ask you to understand and I can’t tell you why...” Ah yes, secrets he has kept so long in his heart that even now he cannot let them out; Chuu’un knows though, his faithful retainer (who will surely look for him when he is gone) will tell them why. Of all the people he is sure this man who was always by his side will understand how he can no longer linger. “But I can’t go on anymore; I’m tired.”

         It’s a repeat of words, but they still ring true as he closes his eyes; his feet are now engulfed in light. “Besides...I’m not really leaving you.” Koumei mutters, handing them each an object; to hakuei his fan and to Kouen...his earring and bracelet (prized possessions of their mothers). “Now I will watch over you always in...a very different way. Tell everyone goodbye for me and that...make sure they know I love them.” Then he’s gone, a thousand rukh soaring into the heavens and leaving tears behind.

           “And so at last the bird flies...” Mutters Kouen before both he and Hakuei dissolve into tears.

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[fumeiiyo]

〘 疼痛〙

            Death is hollow and cold, hands that brought him down cradling his face as a dampness falls on his skin. A rasp gurgles from his lungs as blood fill the places it never should. Why are you crying? He does not understand anything. The pain has long since stopped, he feels nothing.

            The clan always talked about death but nothing could have prepared Genji for the reality. It had been horrible, but perhaps the pain would have been preferable to the numbness as his breath slowly left him. Each breath was slower to come; more choked by the own fluid that once had flowed safely through his veins. Yet there was fear now, fear and confusion. Perhaps he’d been afraid the whole time, it was hard to explain. All of his emotions were a muddle as his mind reminded him of everything he’d done in life. It was pathetic--a boy searching for love and finding none of it. He wasn’t ready to die; there was so much more he wanted to do. 

             Hands reached up, clasping the ones over his face as his chest heaved, trying to take in air through the mass of fluid. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he fought to beg for his life; plead with his own brother to save him when his hands had brought him down. Darkness was creeping up on the edges of his vision, slowly drowning him further. The grip on his brothers hands tightened til it was surely unbearable, then the he was gone, fading into the blackness. It was empty and devoid of any sensation. 

                 He couldn’t say how long he drifted like that; swallowed whole by the nothingness. There was a light, voices, but the deepness called to him. Pitifully he reached out to the light, but he could not reach it. He didn’t want to die; not yet. He wasn’t ready. Clawing against the thick ink around him Genji fought; fought to reach that light--slowly growing smaller. Part of him wishes he never had. The pain that burst into being the moment he opened his eyes ripped from his throat. Death had not hurt this bad; death had not been the grind of metal and the pull of his ruined flesh. 

                   There were faces he did not recognize; voices he could not understand. Bright lights made his eyes water as he clawed at the table, realizing he could only feel his left arm. Everything else was fire and metal. “Help me! Hanzo help me!” The Japanese spilled from his throat like knives, but he could not stop the screams. Hanzo had killed him; Hanzo had doomed him to this pain. What had he done? Why had his brother subjected him to this unbearable punishment? Genji couldn’t understand. 

                    A woman’s face, covered in blood (his blood) appeared above him. She spoke words he could not hear, then there was a pinch in his arm; barely noticeable above everything else. A numbness once more washed over him, his body going limp before his eyes rolled back and he fell into the dark once more. When next he awoke the pain had lessened, but there was a feeling of something being off. It was more a gut feeling than anything else. When he opened his eyes he was in a hospital bed, a monitor beeping next to him. Was that his heartbeat? Was he not dead?

                   Something was lodged in his throat, helping him breathe he realized, but he gagged, gripping the edge of the hospital bed shakily as he searched for some sort of button to call the nurse. He didn’t have to wait long as the blonde woman returned, now free of blood and looking relieved. “Oh thank goodness you’re awake.” she began, carefully helping the tube out of Genji’s sore throat. “Would you like some water?” A slow nod caused a slight whir in his head and he frowned, but ignored it for now. 

                      His legs, body, and right arm felt oddly heavy, his face sort of pinched by his jaw and he frowned. Was it stitches? Scarring maybe? He had no way of knowing how long he’d been out. Was Hanzo the one who had done this? There were so many questions and no answers in sight, so instead he reached for the offered water and then froze. He’d lifted his right arm to take it, but it was not his arm. Panic set out over him and he jerked upright, ignoring the white hot pain that shot up his spine. He stared at the hand and then at the doctor. “What...” he croaked, the monitor picking up speed with his panic. 

                     Words were coming out of her mouth, but he could not hear them over the roar of fear washing over him. Jerking out of the bed he grabbed the IV bag and then stumbled, eyes glancing down to see object that were very much not his legs. A mirror, he needed a mirror now. Despite the shouts of panic behind him he pressed on out of the room, stumbling along the wall on these things that should not have been attached and ached against his skin horribly. 

                      Bursting into the bathroom he ignored the startled sound of another male, a soldier he guessed, before reaching the mirror. Genji’s breathing hitched as he looked over the slightly blurred image of himself. The only human parts he could see was from his neck up, but even then his lower jaw had been replaced with a synthetic material. There were wires connecting his nerves to his brain, to his heart, everywhere. He looked more like an omnic that had slapped on a few human parts than a person. The scream tore out of him so quickly it took him shattering the mirror to realize he’d been the one it had come from. 

                     The blonde woman hurried in, touching his shoulders. “Genji...” she started softly, letting him pull away out of her touch. “It was the only way we could think to save you.” Sobs wracked through his body, anger bubbling up inside him as he turned on her, surrounded by broken glass and a body ruined beyond repair. “Save me? You think this is saving me?” He hissed. “You have turned me into a monster! What, did you think I would thank you for this? I would have rather died!”

                      The woman blinks at that, reeling back. “Yes but...you--” she’s cut off by a barking laugh as Genji wipes at the tears. “Fuck you. You are not a god, but you have played as one. Stay away from me...” And she does. As the years go by many things change, he forgives her; but even if he doesn’t wish to admit it, that anger is still there--seething, waiting for a chance to tear her apart for making him suffer so when he had already accepted death.

[mizunoishi]

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{SOLIS OCCASUM}

The Chocobros show up to save Prompto; but it’s already too late...

WARNING: Character death; heavy angst

          It’s getting harder to tell what day it is, if he’s even breathing right or if it’s just some mindless action that keeps him here, wherever here is. The brightness of his eyes has become shadowed and there’s this sandpaper taste in his mouth. Sure he eats and drinks but it’s not enough and he’s pretty sure he’s starving but that’s not why he’s fading; that isn’t why the life inside him is slowly burning out like a candle at the end of its use. Fingers wiggle slightly against bonds, trying to feel more alive than the boy is. The corners of the room have slowly been fading black the more time goes on and he’s pretty sure he’s going blind, but that’s the least of his problems. 

             His muscles ache but it doesn’t really hurt anymore, just a dull throb that he finds to be a minor annoyance; no the true horror of it all is that there’s less mass for his muscles to hold up. He’s so possibly skinny and he’s sure he’s burning the fat on his own body in some weird subconscious struggle to stay alive. It’s pretty pathetic really, there’s no point in fighting for survival when it’s clear that he’s not going to make it out of this. Sure, at first he wouldn’t stop screaming, fighting each and every awful minute to get free and go back to his friends. Slowly it became clear he couldn’t get out of this on his own so he changed tactics. The blonde had become compliant, taking all his torture in stride and waiting for his friends. Yet days went by and slowly the food and drink was less and there was no sign of his friends. 

                  Hope dwindled, flickering out of existence as Prompto began to believe what he never wanted to; the others had abandoned him. He wasn’t angry...sure that seemed like a much more pleasant option, but how could the young man be mad? There was a world to save and a mission to complete, the truth was that he just simply wasn’t worth the risk. The realization stung and he cried a lot but eventually he grew numb, feeling in his heart dulling till there was almost nothing left. Something gurgled in his throat, making breathing difficult as his mind wandered over the events of his life leading up to this moment. The taste of copper and iron filled his mouth and he spat, grimacing as the red fluid splattered onto the metal floor below, joining the rest of the now stained marks below him. 

                      Prompto was dying and he couldn’t bring himself to even care. Sure, maybe some other time he might have been scared but he was so numb anymore that he could only think about his past. It wasn’t like he didn’t know this was coming anyway; he’d realized death was going to claim him the moment all hope had faded from his mind. There was no rescue coming, they were far away and busy saving the world. He could see them now, bravely fighting against all odds, moving like a single unit instead of three separate people. It was ok, they didn’t need him...had never needed him. The blonde had long ago come to the terms that he was the extra, the spare in Noctis’ little company. 

                          Eyes slipped shut, his body growing cold. It didn’t matter, he couldn’t see anything anymore but the all encompassing darkness slowly creeping in to take him away forever. A brief thought flickered through him that if he’d never helped Pryna and got that letter from Lady Lunafreya he might have lived out his horribly lonely life and never gotten caught; he might have lived a good long life. Suddenly dying didn’t seem so bad; even if it was brief he’d had a good life. He’d met a dog who led him to a girl who led him to a prince and he’d made friends. He’d lived, really actually lived and there was something to be said for that. 

                            “Thank you--” he breathed out, voice rasping into the empty and dark room. It had been a pretty great adventure and in the end he’d do it all again. Yeah, he’d had a good life. The slender body slumped in the confines of the weird metal imprisonment, a smile on chapped and bloody lips as at last all the life left him and Prompto’s soul slipped from his body and away to the gods. 

                             Noctis found him first, an hour later after his body had already gone cold. The prince fell to his knees, breath catching in his throat and sword vanishing from his hand in a sparkle of blue magic. “Fuck--” breathed out Gladio, his hands balling into fists and for a good several minutes none of the trio could say anything. Tears slipped down Nocts cheeks and Ignis put a hand on his shoulder, knowing that the Prince was blaming himself. There was nothing any of them could say to ease the ache of losing their friend. It was as if just that much more light had been stolen from their quickly darkening world. 

                              “He’s...smiling--” Came the soft voice of Ignis, breaking through the anguish slowly building in the room. Everyone paused, turning to regard the body hanging limply from its binding and discovered that yes, indeed, there was a peaceful smile on the blondes lips. “He deserved better” Noctis hissed.

                      And for as long as Ignis and Gladiolus lived they could never disagree. 

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[fumeiiyo]

〘 犠牲 〙

“Do not seek D E A T H, it will find you. Rather seek the 𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃 which makes D E A T H a 𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕗𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥”

           From the time of birth, to the last gasping moments of ones death, humans struggle and fight. Every reason is different; changes as the human grows and blossoms into age and supposed wisdom. Yet, some reasons do not come to us until the soul is weary and heavy; bending with the weight of all the heart now knows. Genji had not been born with a reason of his own, nor had he found one as he grew. Life was hollow, empty in its twists and turns, leading the young Shimada to a future he just could never see. He’d been drunk and fuzzy headed enough times in the back of some alley to wonder if slipping away in darkness was really such a bad way to go, especially when he had nothing and no one to live for. It’s a dark world, one that swallowed him further when the only family he’d had betrayed him. 

            It had never crossed his fear-ridden mind in youth that Hanzo might have just been the reason he’d kept going. Hindsight is a cruel mistress, showing you only after the deed is done just what a different path would have looked like; the path that a person might should have followed. The cyber ninja had more regrets than he cared to count, choosing frivolous pursuits over his brother for one. Though he’d been starved for love and a gentle touch, there was little excuse for the hell he’d surely put him through, but then if he’d never ‘died’ perhaps many others would not be alive. Zenyatta spoke often of fate and one ‘ending up exactly where they are meant to be’ but the words had not yet stuck in his machine-fueled pulse. 

          There were many lessons he had yet to learn--but loving had been the hardest; was still so difficult. McCree was an enigma; a puzzle that he’d never encountered nor had to crack. Despite their dark days in blackwatch and the emptiness that still haunts their eyes, the cowboy reaches out to touch his skin, calls him beautiful, and captures his heart. It isn’t easy, he’s damaged in a way he cannot properly explain. Genji expresses his anguish in poor ways and they’ve had their fair share of fights; sometimes he wonders if the tender brushes of fingers is enough. He’s incomplete like this--cannot please another in a way that someone who is whole might be able to. He doesn’t need to eat or drink, barely has to sleep--he feels anything but human. 

           Hanzo’s presence should be a comfort, but it only stirs some anguish in his soul. He is no longer the brother that his sibling still mourns, nor is he a proper lover for McCree. The thoughts keep him restless no matter the time of day; pacing and stretching til his faux muscles ache with the strain. Yet, there are good days. There are days when Hanzo comes to sit with him over a cup of tea, or meditate with him. There are days where McCree surprises him with some random flower he picked or little kisses on his scarred skin, muttering sweet nothings. Yes, he is pained and burdened by the past, but with this small family he’s slowly beginning to feel at peace. Family is all that Genji has ever wanted; has yearned for since he was young. 

             Yet it cannot last, not when they have a journey to complete. The recall is urgent, Winston desperate to restore peace. There is no doubt that he would rather continue in these moments of bliss, but the hybrid knows better than to believe remaining neutral will be sustainable in the face of such a crisis. So he, McCree, and Hanzo wander away from their lives of peace and serenity and into the arms of Overwatch once more. The world is slowly falling apart, crumbling and breaking in a way that they just can’t keep up with, but they keep trying. The operation is still small; barely functioning as it is and he’s been on more missions than he can count now. The cowboy and his sibling get upset over it, but he always just gently reminds them that he doesn’t require as much as the others. Certainly he needs maintenance and some nourishment but it’s hardly on the level the other agents require. 

              It’s not a big deal, he can take it. The words echo almost mockingly in his head as he winces at the minor pain in his leg, fluid still dripping steadily. He probably won’t die from something so minor--especially when his leg comes off, but the feeling is unpleasant and there’s still a mission to see to. If it was just Genji, then perhaps he could handle it--but Hanzo and McCree are also here and if the static is any indication their comms are down. The mission has gone wrong, there’s no time to worry about completing it. Pulling out his sword he sucks in a steadying breath, preparing for the rush he’s going to have to make on a bum leg. Once upon a time he might not have cared; would have told the two other agents that they were on their own for being careless. 

                That is not who he is, not anymore. The pain is starting to get to him a little, so he shuts down the nerves in his legs and keeps going. Angela will likely scold him about the damage he’s causing later, but he can’t care. That’s his family out there and he isn’t putting it on the line because his synthetic body doesn’t handle bullets well. Tracking them down isn’t easy, takes a while and he is worse off than the other two agents. Hanzo has a bruise on his head and McCree looks like he had to roll in some dirt to escape. A sigh of relief escaped the youngest shimada, happy that it was just misfortune that lost the comms. “We need to abort the mission.” he mutters, glancing warily around the seemingly empty hanger. It doesn’t feel right that such a large space would be devoid of anything. 

                    He lends a spare comm piece to his brother, allowing his doting boyfriend to fuss over the wound on his leg when there’s a piercing grind of metal, so loud it shakes all three men to their core. Omnic. It’s difficult, knowing that some omnics are kind and warm--while others just stick to their programming. Even if it’s not a bot he knows, it still feels wrong to cut them down. Still, this one is huge and stands up nearly to the ceiling. It fires before any of them has time to react, knocking them all back. Hanzo is lucky and has time to brace for the impacat, Genji is alright despite the twisting pain in his spine, but McCree hits a sharp edge and collapses on the ground like a sack of moldy potatoes. 

                  Panic wells in Genji at the sight, he tries to get up to help his boyfriend but his right side tilts and he almost falls. Bitterly he realized his leg is twisted and mangled, having taken the brunt of the blast. He can walk and stand, but only just. McCree needs medical attention now, but there’s no way that Genji can carry him. An alarm sounds in his helmet and suddenly it’s hard to breathe. Yanking his helmet off he lets his dark hair flop in around his wounded face, gasping as his body breaks down. The systems keeping his lungs and heart working are failing. He’s not getting the oxygen he needs and his heart is racing far too fast, even for him. He’s dying, there’s no way Hanzo can save them both--couldn’t save Genji even if there was no robot to fight. A decision has to be made; a difficult one. 

                “Anija...” It’s a soft plea to listen, one that his sibling answers as they cower behind a corner in the hanger, the omnics feet scraping closer with a loud screech. Touching his shoulder their gazes meet and he sees the pain almost instantly. “No...” It’s panicked, a rush of air as their hands tangle tightly, almost painfully. Genji understands, Hanzo would rather die himself than lose his beloved younger brother once more, especially when they’ve finally both found happiness. “Anjia there’s no time. McCree isn’t going to make it if he doesn’t get help soon and I’m too injured to take him. It has to be you.” There’s another warning blare as his suit flashes red briefly and he gasps on almost nothing, his heart leaping in his throat so fast it feels like it might fly right out. Dying was horrible the first time, but this time he’s ready. 

                McCree, his brother...they’d been his reason to stay, to live--without either of them he would be lost; if just one of them died he would never recover. It was selfish, but the truth was he was living on borrowed time already. He wipes the desperate tears from his brothers eyes and hugs him as gently as he can, feeling the shake of his shoulders. “I am at peace--now go, find your peace.” His own eyes fill with tears as he presses a final kiss to McCree’s still lips. “Goodbye Jesse.” He whispers. “Live to find that ranch you always wanted--live to see peace.” Then he’s standing, his joints almost shrieking with the effort as his synthetic systems try to keep his human parts alive. He’s a mess--but he’s never felt more human. 

                “We will come back for you--” Hanzo knows that this is goodbye, but the anguish in his eyes tells Genji that he cannot say it out loud. His brother is bidding him farewell the only way he can and he is grateful for that. There is no second guessing as he charges the omnic, forcing his body past every limit he’s ever know. It tears him apart til he is nothing but a torso, yet it falls. Genji’s not breathing, unable to take in anything as he lays on the cold metal floor, fluid and blood leaking from him with the force of his life. He had a very shaky start, a rocky middle, but the end? Yeah, even like this, he can’t find it in himself to feel anything other than peace. He welcomes death like an old friend, his face a gentle smile as he closes his eyes for the last time. Finally, he’s free of all the pain and anguish. Finally he is whole. 

                Hanzo is torn apart. However foolish, he held onto the hope his brother might live as he had before; prayed to every god he knew that they’d make it back in time. His brother is so still, his body almost a ruined as the day he’d thought they’d been torn apart. His tears are quiet, falling on the still face of a man who died happy. It aches, even if he knows it was likely the end his sibling wanted, that he failed him once more. McCree is beside himself, sobbing into the chest, begging for a heartbeat as he clutches at hands that will never hold his once more. Their lives had been a mess, a tangle of ghosts and regret, but it had been theirs and he cherished it. “Darling I’m sorry...” he gasps out. “Please come back to us.”

                Genji does not respond, not even as the saltwater soaks his skin. He lays in peace and tranquility, calm in his final sacrifice.