Instead, he's staring dumbfounded at a ghost. Though older, scarred, pieced together like some broken piece of pottery, he knows his brother's face just the same. But this time there is no whelming sense of guilt that accompanies the realization.
The memories of that night, the accusations, the fury followed by despair and heartbreak, those are all lost to the mist that's claimed hold of his mind. All that's left is--
He takes a step closer, the water sloshing with each step, and one hand tentatively reaches up. Fingertips brush the very edge of Genji's face, as if trying to reassure himself that what he's seeing is real and solid.
"...Genji."
It's really him. Impossible as it seems. And Hanzo stares numbly for a moment or two before stiffly lifting his arms and pulling his brother in. Tightly. A little awkwardly, in truth. He'd never hugged anyone or been hugged before in his life, he doesn't really know how, but what else can he do?
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Instead, he's staring dumbfounded at a ghost. Though older, scarred, pieced together like some broken piece of pottery, he knows his brother's face just the same. But this time there is no whelming sense of guilt that accompanies the realization.
The memories of that night, the accusations, the fury followed by despair and heartbreak, those are all lost to the mist that's claimed hold of his mind. All that's left is--
He takes a step closer, the water sloshing with each step, and one hand tentatively reaches up. Fingertips brush the very edge of Genji's face, as if trying to reassure himself that what he's seeing is real and solid.
"...Genji."
It's really him. Impossible as it seems. And Hanzo stares numbly for a moment or two before stiffly lifting his arms and pulling his brother in. Tightly. A little awkwardly, in truth. He'd never hugged anyone or been hugged before in his life, he doesn't really know how, but what else can he do?