Work Text
The first thought that comes to Hanzo's mind is that he hasn't seen Genji's natural hair colour since his brother was comatose in a hospital bed. “Hey.” Genji smiles and lifts his hand in aborted greeting, gripping the back of his neck and pushing off the door frame. Absent glasses draw attention to his splendid rendition of the Shimada wide-eyed look. “Is Jesse home?” “No, he's out with Fareeha.” Hanzo blinks and steps aside so Genji can navigate around Den and Lady, who trip over each other to reach him but receive no head-pats. “What's wrong?” “Nothing! You're such a pessimist,” Genji teases weakly, pulling off his sneakers. His expression betrays his tone as he jerks his Pokemon-emblazoned travel cup towards the dining area. “Can we talk?” The dogs retreat, ignored and huffing, to the couch while the two men sit. Hanzo feels his heart thrumming in his chest as Genji settles and blows out a breath, elbows on the table. “Zenyatta and I are starting the adoption process. We're going to an orientation session tomorrow.” Never has Hanzo been more relieved or less baffled by Genji's willingness to get straight to the point. “Well, that's sudden. What-” “It's not, actually. But I get why you'd think so,” Genji interrupts, drumming his fingers before fixing his tank top strap. “We've talked about it for a long time- pretty well since we started dating, I guess? But I was afraid to talk about it too much- we both were. We didn't want our decision to be swayed either way. Or like, if we went around telling everyone and ended up feeling- obligated to live up to expectations, or something? We wanted to make sure we're doing this for the right reasons, you know?” Hanzo nods slowly. “Yes, I suppose that makes sense.” “But yeah, it's starting tomorrow- the whole process is going to take at least a year, maybe more? There's no way to predict, really, there's so many more steps than I thought.” Genji combs his fingers through his hair, showing off the inky stains on his scalp and pausing only to sip his drink. “Zen is really excited, and so am I! But it's- heh, a lot more nerve-wracking than I expected? Like, we can give it our all and at any point in the process we could get denied and that's it. He's been telling me not to worry, because that's beyond our control, but that's exactly why I'm worried. Also you might have to complete some paperwork too, is that okay? Because-” “Genji.” Hanzo catches the lid of the cup before he can raise the straw to his lips again. “What's in here?” “Espresso?” “And how many have you had today?” Genji's lip curls back, but his eyes drop. “It's only my second, your old work does free refills now.” Hanzo sighs, tugging the drink away with little resistance. “I'm confiscating this for your own good.” He takes a sip. Blonde roast, of course. The heat soothes the hurt slightly, but he lets it tumble off his tongue all the same. If it's the wrong thing to say, then it'll be good fodder for his next therapy session. “Did you really think I'd discourage you?” “No, see, we probably kept it too quiet- but we wanted to make it purely our decision. It's a lifetime commitment, even more than marriage, honestly.” Genji half-grins, reaching out to rest his hand unobtrusively on Hanzo's tattooed wrist. “It's half of why I came over. You're the first one to know, and I wanted to tell you in person.” “I appreciate that.” Hanzo smiles slightly, folding his arms close despite the humidity clinging to the air. “What's the other half, then?” “Well, I'm so wound-up I could vomit, and I don't want to just dump all this on you but,” Genji makes a noise between a grunt and a whine as he scrubs his hands over his face. “I can't bother Zen anymore today. I don't want him thinking I don't want this.” “Well, you do, right?” Hanzo sits up straighter. “I know you love him, but this isn't something to take on out of obligation.” “No, of course! Trust me, I'm sure. I- kinda always wanted a kid.” Genji shrugs, propping his chin on his hand with a rueful smile. “Except I figured it would happen by way of a broken condom, a few years of cheques, then Tou-san or you would buy an apartment for the girl and I'd get a toddler to play with and some nannies to do the actual parenting.” Hanzo snorts, massaging his temple. “Well, you weren't wrong.” “Logically? No. Morally? Very much so.” Genji laughs in turn, half-swallowed by his hand while he swings his good leg back and forth beneath the table. “It's just- I'm equal parts excited and terrified, and excitement isn't winning today.” Hanzo hums low and nods. “That's actually a good sign. If you were completely confident, that would be inviting disaster.” “Heh, true.” Genji bounces his leg now, the noise and vibration setting Hanzo's teeth on edge. “The paperwork is insane, though. Medical reports, financial stuff, police checks- they want our fingerprints and everything. I don't know how anyone measures up.” “Making it impossible would be counterintuitive,” Hanzo reassures, shifting his chair back and sipping on Genji's drink. “You're offering a stable, healthy home with two capable, caring adults. What more could they want?” “Yeah, Zen's been saying as much, and he knows how it all works.” Genji's lips twitch up for a fond second, almost in spite of his dour expression. “But if they do enough digging on our side of the family, we're fucked.” And there it is, hanging heavy over the room like smog. They keep their eyes lowered, as if nothing is more interesting than the grain of the table. Den and Lady commence a game of playful snapping and chasing across the room, their soft woofs mingling with the muted noise of the street. “I doubt they'll investigate that deeply. Besides, Shimada is a common enough name.” “Yeah, but if they did.” They are silent another moment, as there is little to dispute. In the caseworker's position, Hanzo wouldn't knowingly hand over a vulnerable child to someone with- “You're not at fault for anything we did. You cannot be held accountable for what the adults around you did. You were a minor and your records are clean. So are mine, somehow.” Genji's swallow is audible. “I'm not so sure they'll see it that way.” Hanzo's chest tightens at the defeat in his voice, so unfamiliar and pained. The tightness quickly ignites into a fierce, simmering burn. “I look into things every so often, you know. They seem to have been absorbed into another family now. All of Oji-san's brothers are dead.” “Good fucking riddance.” Genji perks up, however faintly, at that. “But it doesn't change the past. There's only so much I can hide.” His hands tightens up, the vivid green body of his dragon flexing along his arm. “I'm scared that no matter what, I'm going to find a way to fuck this up.” Hanzo feels abruptly and entirely useless. “You mustn't think that way.” “I can't help it. Zen's wanted this his whole life, and he's so perfect for it. I can just see him with some little cutie on his lap, can't you?” Genji gestures with spread fingers, as if he could reach out and touch the scene that's visibly heartening him, only to brush it away. “And if I can't give him that, then- have I only been leading him on?” This is altogether more than Hanzo was prepared for when he answered Genji's 'U home?' text, but he does his best to assemble his thoughts quickly. He grasps Genji's forearm as he speaks, tone and touch almost harsh. “Don't say that, and don't talk like it's decided when nothing's even happened yet.” He tries to smile when he catches his brother's clouded eyes. “If the worst happens, you can always use a surrogate. Apparently no one gives a damn about your qualifications when it comes to your own children.” He manages to laugh at that, pushing into Hanzo's grip. “I know, but then we'd have to do the newborn thing, and we're really set on taking care of an existing kid instead of making another one.” A heavy sigh, a hand swept over his hair. “I guess all I can do is be as boring as possible and hope for the best.” Hanzo nods, and lets go with one last squeeze. “Indeed, but I think you can safely lean on Zen's reputation, also. You may be related to dead criminals, but he's related to a very much alive and well-respected holy man, that's not nothing.” “Mondatta hates being called that, I'm telling.” Genji giggles, slumping back in his seat, his leg kicking up again. Goddammit. “I hope you're right. I just hate this not-knowing, waiting-around part. I've got all this energy and nothing to do with it except freak out. Like for one, we're aiming for preschool age, so what if the kid runs into traffic with Zen, or when I'm on my crutches-” “That is a temporary concern, and I heard you're allowed to put leashes on them.” Hanzo slurps up the last of the stale coffee, painting incredulity over his own nerves. “You'll work yourself into an early grave at this rate.” “That's another thing! Do you think I'm too old? I don't want to watch the kid's graduation from a stretcher-” “Oh, for god's sake.” Hanzo shakes his head and stands, ruffling Den's ears as he stumbles by. “I'm going to make dinner. You're going to have some, go home, and appreciate however much uninterrupted time you and Zenyatta have left.” Genji uncurls his hand to hold up one defiant finger, lips pursed. “And take my meds.” “That too.” There is more discussed, over chopped vegetables and sizzling meat, but speculation far outweighs concrete answers. Genji is sent home with a tupperware container and a stiff hug. Hanzo is left with much to ponder. “They got nothin' to worry about, honestly.” Jesse insists across the pillows, laying on his stomach to stretch out his back, faintly smelling of engine grease. “I know it's different, but when it comes to fostering all they care is that you've eaten in the last twenty-four hours and aren't currently on drugs. They've got way too many kids and not enough places to put 'em.” “Maybe so, but I can't fault him for worrying.” Hanzo wets his lips and settles closer, tracing his fingers over the red of Jesse's dragon tattoo, barely visible in the dim. “I'll have Gabe message him. It's been a while, but he knows the system. Might be able to put his mind at ease.” “That's kind of you.” Hanzo lays a kiss on Jesse's shoulder, then on his lips, throwing arm and thigh over the delicious warmth of him as they whisper their good-nights. Jesse starts to snore, and Hanzo hopes his brother is seeking similar comfort across town. *** Genji has had surgical procedures less invasive than this process. There's plenty of good parts. The parenting classes that leave them full of anticipation, bittersweet heartache and much to talk about, the assembling of simple nursery furniture, and and even the child-proofing gives him an excuse to crawl around on the floor and make Zen laugh. But the to-do list feels overwhelming. They need this from their employers, that from their bank, even the cat's records from the veterinarian. At least their references are gleaming, easily obtained from nearly everyone they know. The first catch in their collective throats comes when Genji's international police check is delayed, and then delayed again. It finally arrives, blissfully blank, and Genji counts himself lucky to know people who know people. “I could kiss you square on the lips, do you know that?” “Please don't,” Gabe's voice crackles through his worn headphones. “Jack has a jealous streak.” Despite meds and meditation, his mind is only too happy to number all the things that could hinder them; they live in an apartment instead of a house, they don't have a car, Genji doesn't make enough from his contract copyediting job, they both wear makeup sometimes, there was beer in the fridge when the homestudy worker did their inspection, he smiles too much or not enough during their multiple interviews. “I'm sorry for acting like an asshole,” Genji mumbles when Zen slides onto the shower bench beside him after a long, tense day. “I'm exhausted- that's not an excuse, I know you are, too. I just want this part to be over already.” “I wholeheartedly agree.” Zenyatta sighs, working shampoo into Genji's hair with such gentleness that he almost gets a lump in his throat. Zen tilts his chin up after sweeping the lather back from his eyes. “I know it's frustrating, but all things in due time, my dear sparrow. We must be patient.” Hanzo is kind enough to field texts at work and shoulder complaints over food and drink. The medical forms prove to be a special kind of pain in the ass. “I just- shit. Sorry I keep going in circles, I know it's annoying.” “It's fine,” Hanzo tuts over the rapid click of keys in the background. He's manning the print shop alone while Satya's away. With the Boxing Week rush over, he seems content to work and listen to Genji bitch in the relative quiet of the early morning. “It just looks bad when you lay it all out in black and white, makes us sound like fucking invalids.” Genji grumbles, tossing a lazy breakfast wrap together out of leftovers. “And we have to provide records of every fucking thing. Chronic pain clinic, psych admission, did you know therapy counts as seeing a specialist? I swear, if I hear one more fax machine go-” “Psych admission?” The echo of Hanzo's voice in the empty store is more pronounced as Genji stills, his brother quick to clear his throat and press on. “Sorry, you probably didn't mean- it's none of my business, anyway.” “No, no, s'fine.” Genji mumbles, busying his hands again. “It was only for a couple days. I- I couldn't get off the pain pills by myself. That's all.” “Ah,” A lengthy pause. “So, like- rehab?” “No, it was this detox thing Angela got me set up with- doesn't matter.” Genji fills his water bottle in a loud rush. “I didn't mean to keep it a secret or whatever, I just don't like thinking about it.” A snort of laughter forced into his voice. “Got my medical weed card shortly after that, so I've had no issues since.” That's a whole other potential hiccup, but Genji feels about as inclined to whine about it now as he feels up to revamping his pain management plan. Hanzo laughs dryly, the scrape of a chair in the background. “Shit, I have to open. Sorry, do you want me to call at lunch?” “Nah, don't worry about it. Go make your money.” After parroting their goodbyes, Genji walks on quick, heavy feet to the bus stop, thinking in the present tense to avoid the rooting memories. He doesn't think about his brother staring blankly at the black screen of his phone for several minutes, or the alert he gets from Patreon later that afternoon that Hanzo's opening FebFast commissions again. They get rubber-stamped 'ready' on an icy day and wait, like runners on their marks for weeks, and weeks, and more weeks yet. The weight is easily brushed aside, but never truly forgotten. Zenyatta checks his phone almost obsessively. Summer comes again and they float in Winston's pool, Hanzo's dogs paddling gleefully around them. Hana announces her and her partners' attempts at starting a family in an artificially blasé tone from her inner tube. Genji discreetly slips his hand over from his own floatie to grip her shoulder, feeling the tension of his own muscles echoed there. It's all worth it in the end, because under the same sticky August sun that he had first kissed Zen, they get the call. Genji knows they shouldn't stake all their hopes on their first match, he's gone down enough depressing Internet rabbit holes to know better, but they can't get to the first information-sharing meeting fast enough. A little girl of three, on the spectrum and struggling with attachment courtesy of changing foster placements, but otherwise healthy and by her photos, extremely cute. Slightly small for her age, black hair cropped to her chin and as floofy as Genji's own after a shower, hooded eyes that aim an apprehensive yet intense stare towards the camera. A question mark in place of her past, having been left at maybe a few hours old, neatly bundled not on a doorstep, but on a changing table in a hospital bathroom on the first of May. When no relatives were claimed, the system dubbed her May Doe. “That's going to get confusing,” Jesse chuckles while Genji's babbling all the details to them over dinner. “We can change her name if the adoption goes through,” Genji shrugs, stuffing more chicken-fried steak into his mouth. “And I'm not supposed to say any of this yet, so don't snitch.” “I hope she gets to come home with us,” Zenyatta remarks over the sink of dishes, buzzing with energy and still dressed up from their first pre-placement visit despite it being well past dark. It had been brief and the girl barely looked their way, but that only makes Genji want to get to know her better, build a life for her that's consistent and safe enough for her to be herself. “I have a good feeling about her.” “I trust your intuition,” Genji hums as he dries, leaning over to smooch Zen's temple, then his cheek. Eventually abandoning the dishes to pick up the hastily-dried, soap-sticky hands that had guided him back to the light many times over and kiss them from fingertip to wrist. The smile on Zen's face is golden, and so precious to him. There is no one more deserving, and no one else he'd rather have at his side. *** “Did she warm up to you this time?” Hanzo asks, the straw of his drink between his teeth as he walks faster to keep up with Genji, who's vaulting himself forward on his crutches with extra vigour as of late. The mid-September breeze raises goosebumps, but neither of them are willing to go back to sleeves yet. “Hard to say. I mean, toddlers aren't exactly super communicative in the first place.” Genji hums, resting on his heel at a red light. “There's been so many adults in and out of her life, I don't blame her for giving us the cold shoulder.” “True, I'm sure it will improve. Besides, a day will come when she won't remember any of this.” “I hope so. Another kid at her last placement had some anger issues and went after her with a toy train, you should see the stitches.” “Jesus,” Hanzo nearly chokes on a mouthful of syrup and coffee. “Yeah, I mean, I feel bad for that kid too. There must be a reason, after all, you and I never got quite that violent.” Genji laughs, eyes on the shop windows as they pass by. “In a twisted turn of events, that's why they called us. She's pathologically afraid of other kids now, so they needed a placement with only adults. Plus we can sign, and Zen did respite care back in grad school, so it's looking like a perfect match!” “That's good,” Hanzo murmurs, his lips thinning out as concern roils in his stomach. “Are you sure you're ready to take all that on?” “Eh? Oh, yeah!” Genji's smile remains bright, relentless in his optimism. “We'll work on it and make sure she gets support. Her first day of school is a long time away.” “Well, I have to commend you. Caring for a special-needs child is no mean feat, it'll be a big adjustment.” “Oh, pft, it's not that dramatic,” Genji rolls his eyes, grunting as he swings over a spilled drink. “I grew up with you. She doesn't seem much different, really.” “...What is that supposed to mean?” The conversation comes up short after that. At home late that night, Hanzo is drawn into the well of himself by the gravity of his own narcissism, turning away from everything outside of himself. Obsessive researching and test-taking only serves to underscore the results he finds. He wants to dismiss it as self-fulfilling, tainted by bias, but the realization swells, sticks to him as securely as a neon concert wristband. “I didn't mean to- pathologize you, or anything,” Genji's hands flail, grabbing for the right word at the other end of Hanzo's couch. “I never should have assumed. I just figured since you and Satya hung out so much- God, this all sounds really stupid out loud. I was just happy for you, you know? That you found someone like-minded.” It had never been about that, but it was nice of him to decide as much. “I don't think of you any differently. It's who you've always been.” Genji's alarm goes off, and he jangles his bottle of ADHD stimulants with a weak grin. “See? We're both weird!” The joke misses its mark. The mere existence of Genji's meds proves the dissimilarity between them. Genji's words are soft when Hanzo's run out. He cautiously shuffles up behind him and catches him in a loose hug before he can object, speaking against his shoulder. “I like the way you are, I always have.” “You don't have to pursue a diagnosis,” Satya offers kindly on one of their after-work walks to their favourite bistro, arms brushing through their fall jackets. Her previously-unspoken suspicions feel like the nail in the coffin for him. “If you feel it's useful, then by all means, but only you get to decide that. You've lived inside your head long enough to know what you need.” “I just-” Hanzo stops and inhales when his throat burns, tissue balled in his hand. “With everything that's happened, I'm left wondering what else I don't know.” “About yourself, or your brother?” Hanzo lifts his eyes to meet Athena's cool blue gaze, her pen scritching ceaselessly on her writing pad. “Or both? The two of you are going through major identity shifts right now. It might be difficult, but it's the right time to ask those questions. If you don't, you might end up accepting the answers your brain makes up and living by a narrative that isn't true.” “Did you know?” Hanzo asks, startling Jesse when he returns from the bathroom, weighted blanket half-folded in his lap next to the rest of the laundry he brought in from the line. “When you married me, had you figured it out too?” If he had- if their relationship has been coloured by anything remotely like pity- “Not in those terms, darlin'.” Jesse sits beside him on the bed, gently turning his chin so he can kiss him almost too soft. “What you've said makes sense, but you've never been anything besides Hanzo to me. Nothin' more, nothin' less.” Another kiss brushed across his brow, a lowered voice in his ear. “Haven't I already told you all the things I love about you? I can start again. From the top, your dick-” “Enough,” Hanzo interrupts, but doesn't pull away until his phone dings. GS: I made her smile o(^▽^)o!!! I think it's a go for this weekend!! The new addition gets a few days to adjust before the wave of excited guests arrives. There are a few upsets, but Genji and Zen seem to handle them well, or at least their texts indicate as much. Zen seems no worse for wear when he opens the door for them, still shining with the glow of new parenthood that no longer seems exclusive to postpartum mothers. “May, these are your uncles.” Zen gestures to them with a flourish, drawing the attention of the tiny girl. She stands in sock feet, a purple t-shirt that's slightly too big for her and overly pink corduroys. Deep brown eyes peer upwards, settling on neither of them. “Can you say hi?” The child raises her hand in a quick wave, sticks her thumb in her mouth, and hurries onward to her room. “A little on the shy side,” Jesse chuckles, holding up the pastel gift bag on two fingers. “Brought you guys a little something, hope she likes it.” “Aw, nothing for me?” Genji jokes, taking the bag and tossing their jackets into the closet. “Did they say if she'll start speaking again?” Hanzo quietly inquires. “When she's good and ready, I'm sure.” Zenyatta nods, smiling briefly over his shoulder. “Her signing's quite good, we haven't had any grievous misunderstandings so far.” They finish a cup of chiya each while Genji and Zen detail every minor interaction with an inimitable enthusiasm that Hanzo hopes he won't find less endearing with time. May appears from around the corner, a plastic compact clutched in one fist. With surprising ease, she grips the denim of Jesse's pant leg and and hoists herself onto his knee, facing outwards and continuing her examination of what turns out to be a tiny doll's house. “Seems I've been selected.” Jesse smiles, nerves concealed effectively to all eyes but Hanzo's. He reaches out to look at the toy with her, but she drops it unceremoniously in favour of exploring his prosthetic hand. “Ah- don't pinch your fingers, now.” “She's mostly indifferent to adults,” Genji remarks, grinning as May continually ignores Jesse. She itches her forehead periodically, revealing the zig-zag of black stitches behind her short bangs. “Which is- maybe not great in the long term, but we'll work on that.” “We have plenty of time.” Zenyatta rubs Genji's knee affectionately. They're both on leave for a month, at least. Zenyatta will return to work and Genji is keen on sticking to freelancing on evenings and weekends until she starts school. “So when is the adoption finalized?” Hanzo asks, idly watching the little girl kick her feet while Jesse sits straighter than usual. “Not for another six months, at least,” Zen sighs, a small crack in his beatific smile. “It's a probationary period. The caseworker will visit periodically to ensure all is well, and then hopefully we'll get to go to court and sign the papers.” “Kinda like regular probation,” Jesse adds, snickering with Genji. Hanzo laughs perfunctorily, but finds himself mentally crossing his fingers. He won't dare voice it, but it would be just like the Shimadas to wait until the eleventh hour and find a way in- May hops fearlessly from Jesse's lap, landing on her feet and trotting over to the TV stand to yank ineffectively on a plastic tub. Genji isn't far behind her, kneeling at her side. “Do you want to play Legos? Can you say please?” May signs it back at him, drawing the circle on her chest in mirrored reverse. “Very good! Here you go.” Genji grins, lifting the tub down and removing the lid, then turning back to them. “Do you want to play with her, Hanzo? She's better at one-on-one stuff, she tends to get lost in the background with more people around.” Hanzo hasn't played with blocks since Genji was this age, but he decides to give it a shot. Folding himself down beside the small girl, he follows her lead and starts building something between a fort and a tower. Slotting the larger blocks together proves oddly satisfying. May seems similarly content, stacking rectangular ones into square towers that grow as tall as she can reach from sitting before starting anew. He lets the chatter fade into white noise, taking a moment to get a proper look at the child who is to be his niece. For an uprooted ward, she seems quite nonchalant, her eyes far away as she snaps together one brick after another. It's a familiar look, one he often wore in his youth before being chastised for not answering to his name, or looking up to find the clock reading a painfully late hour. It isn't fair to her. She's living through yet another grand change in her short life, and all he can do is think selfish thoughts, like how she'll be better off for having a label. That however cruel the world might be, she won't have to wake up in middle age and realize that everyone else knew all along what was fundamentally wrong with her and she- Athena's words ping quietly inside his skull. Would you ever say to someone else the things you've been saying about yourself? A helpful reminder, if not an entirely correct one. Hanzo doesn't hold others to his standards, they're only for him. He knows what he's capable of, or at least he used to know. He's at least able to stop projecting his own egoistic struggles onto a preschooler. A freckled, reddish-brown fist appears in the corner of his vision, holding out an oblong block with an eye painted on the side. He holds out his hand and May drops it, sparing a glance in his direction. He recalls giving such gifts, usually rocks selected from his daily-sorted collection, to a very young Genji who was just as likely to stick them up his nose as play with them. He thanks her, belatedly remembering to sign it, and places the block atop his mediocre fortress. May looks over and nods almost too seriously for her age. It's approving, and slightly adorable. Dinner features a separate dish for May, cut-up hot dogs and fluorescent orange pasta being the only thing she's currently interested in eating. The adults devour overstuffed dumplings and chatter away, though Genji and Zen's attention is frequently drawn back to her. “Come on,” Genji coaxes when she pushes away her half-finished plate, holding up one finger. “One more bite?” May defiantly shakes her head, lips curling into a frown. Genji chuckles and holds up another finger. “How about two more?” The girl pauses to think, nods, and returns to eating, holding her fork like a shovel. Jesse snickers at his side. “I wasn't so good at math at that age either.” “Maybe she's counting in a different base,” Zenyatta smiles, still aglow. “She's very bright. Watch- May, dear, how many are you?” She pauses mid-chew to hold up three fingers, much to their endeared amusement. Genji waits for her to swallow, his own plate emptying at half his usual rate, before wagging a finger in her face. “Now, whatever you do, don't smile.” May's eyes widen and she tightens her mouth shut, though the corners strain to turn up as Genji grows increasingly frantic in his demands. “Don't smile! Don't do it! Don't you dare-” May claps both hands over her mouth but a giggle, nasally and half-smothered, escapes. “I told you not to smile! You lose!” “Let the poor kid eat, you weirdo.” Genji briefly sticks his tongue out at Jesse, for the sole purpose of making May laugh some more. His own grin is a mile wide as he turns his attention back to her, never flagging as he takes a napking to the pasta gunk on her chin and gently shushes her when she fusses. The gnawing anxiety of last summer all but gone, Genji seems in his element, completely invested in the tiny stranger. And there lies the core of all Hanzo's fears. That his brother loves too hard and too fast, that some failure or malice will rip this happiness away and he won't be able to go on. Even the thought is enough to snap Hanzo's heart clean in two. He grips Jesse's knee beneath the table, breathing out when he receives a squeeze back. *** Among the many unexpected purchases involved in parenting, they end up buying one of those cloud storage plans just so they can save photos of May doing toddler things that astound and amuse them in ways that Genji's experiences as resident child entertainment system at the monastery never prepared him for. The only fair thing is to share the best photos with their circle of friends who had trooped in to meet May in twos and threes. With her balanced on his lap in the waiting room, Genji beams at his success in getting her to pull a funny face for the forward camera, sending it off to Hanzo and rushing to send another after the appointment ends. GS: Father-daughter bonding at the eye doctor (・ω・)b GS: HANZO LOOOOK The accompanying shot is May in the mall corridor, her hands tight around the thick plastic arms of her new, bright blue spectacles and her expression utterly and adorably bewildered. GS: Have you ever seen anything more precious in your entire life _(┐「ε:)_ GS: I might be dying HS: Very cute. I didn't know children could need glasses so young. GS: Me neither! Explains her headaches tho He looks up and experiences a now-regular heart palpitation in the two seconds he doesn't see her before spotting her pink coat ten feet away, where she's staring through a window at a magazine rack and repeatedly lifting and lowering her glasses. “You have to stay by Dada, okay? No getting lost.” May nods, but continues darting towards anything colourful and detailed. They miss their bus, but Genji gets a good video of her with her nose touching the glass of the model railway display, still flicking her glasses, and sends it off to Hanzo. GS: If she keeps this up, I'm going to get so much done today ＼(￣▽￣)／ best co-pay I ever made!! Those first several months are mostly that, keeping up with a set of determined legs and documenting all her incredibly cute antics. He tries to remember as much when hours are spent on ear-piercing tantrums, heartbreaking playground and public transit-provoked meltdowns, and arguing with a miniature human about the necessities of eating, sleeping, hygiene, jackets, and clothing in general. “Oh, I see how it is.” Genji jokes at their small fondue party for Angela's birthday, taking his seat beside Zen, who has May's tiny form sprawled and fully asleep across his lap. “Brat it up all day with me, but you're a perfect little angel for Baba, hm?” Zen chuckles merrily, his ginger ale and food sitting untouched. “I'm just glad she trusts me this much.” The note of sadness in his words prompts Genji to lean in for an entirely above-board kiss, the two of them sharing half-smiles as he sits back. Zenyatta's been coming home around bedtime a lot lately, even Angela squeezes in some of her trademark tough love about self-care and burnout before they head home for the night in Jesse's truck. Genji misses him, but doesn't dare unbutton his lips. His freelancing barely gets done and barely buys groceries. Zen's recent promotion is footing the bill for everything from rent to the swimming lessons they sign up for in late winter, when the weeks begin to slow and May becomes Maya. “It was my mother's name.” Zenyatta explains to Hanzo following a Saturday morning meditation session, while Genji works a brush through the girl's fluffy hair. “I never got to know her, but we want her name to reflect something of my side as well.” “So she'll be a Shimada, then?” Genji hears the concern in his brother's voice and shares a brief, meaningful look before chasing after Maya with a pair of socks. Nothing needs to be said. Their own names are much more public, and if whoever remains of the Shimadas haven't bothered by now, the only thing to do is hope they never will. Zenyatta's kindly tone hopefully eases the tension in Hanzo's chest as it does Genji's. “Tekhartha is a name the Shambali take for themselves. She's welcome to change her name when she gets older if it no longer fits, as Mondatta and I did.” Hanzo mutters something in placid agreement, the rest of their conversation lost in the five-minute struggle between encouraging Maya's independence and just doing up the buttons for her already. “Okay,” Genji claps his hands, herding the nylon-and-wool swaddled child into the living room, tossing a dinosaur-shaped backpack over his arm. “Say bye-bye before you lose your glasses again, Uncle Hanzo has to go to work before we come back.” Maya has, of her own volition, taken to squeezing people's forearms in lieu of hugs. The strength is sweet in her tiny hands, her motions stiffened comically by the layers of her outerwear. Hanzo pats her shoulder and Zenyatta squeezes her hand back, bending to kiss her crown. “See you later, my dear. Baba loves you very much.” Maya's smile is small and demure, almost aristocratic yet sincere. “Thanks, I know.” The three adults snort in unison as she trots towards the door, Zen and Hanzo doubling over the kotatsu. Genji presses a hand against the wall as he wheezes, barely able to catch his breath even when a fierce voice shouts at his feet. “Dada! Swim now!” His new same-different life is mostly that, errands and fretting and sprawling out beside Maya on the carpet as she enacts labyrinthine games with dolls, blocks, and tiny cars. He puts a juicebox in her hands after dinner and they enjoy cartoons until she starts to yawn. Then it's bathtime, storytime, and bedtime, her preferences for each quietly expressed and always accepted, save when she prefers not to go to bed at all. But sometimes it's sitting in the glider that always gets her to sleep eventually, elbows on the bed railing that keeps her little body from flopping out of bed mid-dream, and staring at her through the dark, wondering if he's a good enough person to do this or if he's only fooling himself. Maya slumbers undisturbed, soft toys arranged just so and one foot peeping out from under her blanket as she makes sweet little sleepy noises. The scar on her forehead less visible now than more recent scratches from Chuck, who ran out of patience when Maya yanked inquisitively on her tail and has since avoided her. There are a thousand questions in her future. Some draw complete blanks- the identity of her biological parents, if they'll ever reappear and in what way, the reason she was left behind. There are no answers to those for now, save the dozens of 'adoption reunions gone wrong' videos he had watched in an episode of hyperfocus before they had even met her. Zenyatta had been kind enough then to gently close his laptop and tug him towards their bed. Zenyatta is always kind enough, patient enough, Genji can't say the same for himself. He's exceptionally tired and irritable some days, he snaps when he shouldn't and exacerbates stressful moments. Things he thought were long put away drift to the surface, like Hanzo's old remarks, that he was spoiled, self-centred, and careless. He's different now, but he feels the stain of those words and the behaviours that prompted them. He can't be anything like that person anymore. He has to be strong, he has to be good, he has to protect her. But what if he can't? His parents had tried to do all that and more, with more capable hands than his, and all he could do in return was hold their failures against them long after they were gone. Some with good reason, more often without. He can no longer recall the superficial causes of most of their shouting matches, only the pain and anger swirling underneath. Anyone who got too close, he dragged them under with him. “You shouldn't have bothered having me, then!” Genji had barked over his shoulder one night, in response to some perceived slight by his mother, who was probably trying haul his drunken teenage ass back inside and away from the car he had ordered. “I never asked to be born!” The pathetic, spiteful naivete of that choice of words makes him recoil. But she let him leave after that. He never apologized. Tou-san never scolded him for it, so she must have kept it to herself. Now her words fall out of his mouth almost daily, and he had never thanked her for a single thing. What if Maya grows up and wishes for a different life, a different set of parents? Will he get the chance to apologize for his fuck-ups? What if he gets sick again and- “Genji?” The whisper makes him twitch up, his eyes darting back to ensure Maya's still sleeping. Zen peers in through the cracked-open door, still dressed neatly from some fancy meeting or another, his eyes creased with concern. Genji slips from the room like a cat burglar, shamefacedly joining Zenyatta when he takes a seat on the couch. “How was it?” “The same sanctimonious, barely-productive quarrelling as always.” Zen's lips flicker into a wry smile before he props his head on one hand. “What's the matter?” Dishonesty has long proved pointless in their relationship, so he lets the truth spill out. His words soften and fray as he goes on, feeling himself shrink. “I'm so scared I'm not cut out for this. I'm keyed up all day long about everything. I don't want to let her down, or you.” “You aren't,” Zenyatta is primed to reassure, taking his hand and caressing the scars on his knuckles. “You're doing wonderfully, I see it in her every day. She's your biggest fan, and I think she's really starting to blossom.” “It doesn't feel that way, though.” Genji frowns, his throat raw as he shakes his head. “What if she grows up and hates me? Hates us? There's no do-overs with this, and I-” “Genji, my love.” Zenyatta gently turns his face up towards his, a tired sort of anguish in his tone. “You mustn't catastrophize. I try to look at it this way- Mondatta and Bajai made their mistakes in raising me, and I don't love them any less for it. They did their best and they loved me, that was enough. It will be the same for us.” Genji nods after a moment, a smirk curving his mouth. “Still haven't forgiven her for the bowl cut, huh?” Zen's expression pinches into disgust, his eyes narrowing. “We needn't discuss the bowl cut.” Genji snickers into his fist. Zenyatta's tender strokes over the fuzz of his jaw leave him wanting to turn away, but he forces more words out. “I- I honestly don't feel like I'm doing enough, contributing enough.” “Neither do I,” Zen replies, to the raise of Genji's eyebrow. “That's why I'm not doing any more overtime starting next week. It was that or resign. I'd rather run a cash register than sacrifice myself and my family on the altar of productivity, at least then I'd actually be helping people.” “Oh wow.” Genji blinks, a bit behind for being so tired but not at all missing the fire banked in Zenyatta's gaze. “What did they say?” “They're finally hiring another program coordinator, and my salary won't be cut.” Zen reaches for his travel cup on the coffee table, sipping with a wicked smile. “It's rather funny how things unfold when I raise my voice.” “Way to go, babe.” Genji laughs, taking his glasses off to clean them on his shirt, conveniently avoiding Zen's eyes. “I didn't know it was bothering you this much.” “Well, I've mostly kept it to myself.” Zen toys with his mala, tone soft and sheepish. “I've seen how tired you've been, I didn't want to burden you with my work nonsense.” “Pft, that's legitimately stressful,” Genji snorts, sweeping back his overgrown, dried-out hair. “I'm home all day, I've got nothing to complain about. I just need to handle my shit.” “That's not true,” Zen frowns, sweetness in his tone. “Caring for a child, handling domestic affairs, all of it is very labour-intensive and important. You have every right to be worn out, and to tell me when you are.” “But so do you,” Genji counters. “Indeed.” Zenyatta sighs, shifting closer and running a hand over Genji's sweatpant-covered thigh. “This is why I put my foot down about all these evening hours. I want to give you your own time, I want to actually participate in her life.” Another soft sigh. “We both need a break, I think.” “And we need to talk more.” Genji smiles slightly, inclining his head. “So we don't keep ending up here.” “I agree.” Zenyatta smiles back, eyes down. “Well, we'll be able to do that now that I won't be such an absentee husband.” In the broken, chemical mess of Genji's adulthood, one of the few consistently effective solutions to the part-time hell of his brain is turning his attention outward, even when it's harder than moving mountains. “Hey.” He catches Zen's eye, stroking affectionately over the slender curve of his waist. “You're amazing. I'm so glad you're the dad I like to fuck.” Zenyatta laughs, irrepressible and half-delirious, and Genji joins in even as they hush each other. Eventually, Zen's spindly fingers cup the back of his neck, pulling him in for a deep, lingering kiss, nipping his bottom lip as they pull apart. Genji buries his face against Zenyatta's neck for a moment or two, cradling him close and inhaling the peaceful scent of incense that always seems to hover around him. “I've missed this.” “I've missed you, more than I can say.” Zenyatta whispers in turn, his arms snug across Genji's back. The sound of tiny feet hitting the floor has them drawing apart. “Uh oh.” “I'll take the first one,” Genji snorts in spite of himself, moving to stand before Zen stops him. “No, I'll get her.” Zen smiles gently, hoisting himself back into his manual chair. “You go take a shower. I think an early night will do us some good before tomorrow.” Genji winces, understanding the Zen-speak for a reminder of their caseworker meeting tomorrow. “Right, will do.” Zen steals one more chaste smooch before heading down the hall. Genji can't help but grin at the sharp stop of Maya's feet, Zen's tone equal parts sweet and unbending. “And where do you think you're going, little one?” As Zenyatta coaxes her back to bed with well-polished technique, Genji kicks his pants off in the bathroom while scrolling through his phone. If anyone is amenable to babysitting Friday night, he'll make damn sure they get their break. *** In that first, breath-held almost-year, Hanzo only witnesses his brother crumble twice. The first is during the earliest taste of summer, a balmy weekend where their oversized groupchat is filled with well-wishes for Brigitte as they gear up for a second round of IVF. Hanzo exits the shower with Jesse's hand lingering on his hip, finding another message on his phone amidst the emoji-strewn cacophony. GS: Did you know chicken pox can go into a kids lungs HS: What?? GS: Yeah me the fuck either HS: Is she okay? Should I come? GS: No no, sorry, it's ok. We're getting discharged, it's just gonna be a rough week for her The accompanying photo of Maya curled up on a hospital bed, her blisters doubled and Zen sprawled uncomfortably beside her, is gutting enough to get Jesse all choked up. Hanzo is only slightly better off. Children get sick all the time, it would be fine. She'll be fine. Genji's text updates are understandably clipped for the next few days, until the sun sets on Monday night and his phone rings. The wailing in the background forces his ears to strain. “I'm sorry, I know you're busy. Angela's been over but she has work and I know you do too,” his brother's words are a ragged rush between the cries. “I just- I need a break, for a couple hours, can you-” “Of course.” Jesse drops him off with a worried kiss, impressing that he call when he needs him, no matter how late. Hanzo opens the door to a disconcertingly wan and unwashed Genji with Maya starfished in his arms, her weeping rusty and her skin covered in cracked red spots. It looks more like the plague than any case of chicken pox Hanzo's ever seen. “Has she been-” “Yes,” Genji answers in the lull of heaving sobs, the child sounding as frayed as he looks. “I can't get her to settle for more than a couple hours at a time. She's exhausted, nothing is helping anymore.” “What did Angela say?” Hanzo asks, hastily veiling his fear as he takes the half-limp girl into his arms, her mittened hands smacking fruitlessly against him. She's unpleasantly warm, from fever or overexertion he doesn't know. “Keep giving her medicine and keep her comfortable,” Genji mutters, rubbing his puffy eyes. “She's been really helpful, but Zen came down with fu- shingles this morning. He's resting at the monastery and I need to get food tomorrow and I don't know-” “I've got her. Lay down,” Hanzo orders in a crisp tone that somehow doesn't warrant so much a reproachful look. Genji slumps onto the couch, yanking his noise-cancelling headphones on and throwing an arm over his face. Hanzo retreats to the girl's room, the animal noise of her crying sharp enough to set him on edge. But if he finds it bothersome after a few minutes- He feels unqualified, having reserved whatever finite paternal energy he possesses for two mutts who demand little in return for high dividends of love and amusement. But the pain on the child's face, mixed with confusion and indignation over her condition prompts him to make do with what little he knows. The night turns on like a puzzle, combining comforts in an effort to soothe in between coaxing water to her lips and blocking her scratching. First he cools her as gently as he can with washcloths, as their mother had done with his own childhood fevers, then he dabs on the sticky pink lotion that seems to temporarily dull the burning-itchy sores. After that, he wraps her thinnest blanket around her and rocks ceaselessly on the glider, stroking her hair and singing half-remembered lyrics from stormy nights long past, when Genji would crawl into Hanzo's bed and bawl until their father came to guide them back to sleep. Maya's misery eases gradually, her crying less wilful and more an involuntary side effect of being unable to process so much discomfort and being too wound up to sleep. Bit by bit, her eyes droop until Hanzo feels confident in checking his dimmed phone. Cringing at the time, he resolves to get a few hours of sleep, do what he must at the shop, and come back at once. Amélie might be willing to do a quick grocery run for him before her first class. With tremendous care, he sets Maya onto her bed. Hanzo watches her a while, heartened by her wheezy breaths, the little serape they had gotten her clutched in one fist and her face flaking with dried tears and snot. He shuffles out, watching for toys in the dim glow of the nightlight and shutting the door as softly as he can. He's loath to wake Genji from his heap on the couch, but the child's presence necessitates passing the responsibility torch. He shakes his shoulder, frowning at his hazy expression and whispering. “She's asleep, I'll be back before lunch.” “No, no, s'fine. Now that she's-” Genji's mouth shuts with an audible click when the crying weakly starts up again in the next room, his hands mashing painfully against his face. “Let me, It isn't fair to-” “No, go home, you have your own responsibilities.” Genji grabs his crutches over his discarded leg, visibly pulling himself together as he stands, distant steel in his eyes. “Mine is to take care of her, I can handle it.” Hanzo is silent as he watches Genji clumsily swing down the hall, feeling his joints and stumps already igniting from the sleep he's missed and knowing Genji's body must be completely engulfed by now. He stands still for maybe twenty minutes, until his brother's quiet pleas subside, peeking in to see him squeezed into the half-caged toddler bed with Maya, asleep and smeared pink in the cradle of his arms. Only then does Hanzo finally understand how Genji survived. The second time is the night before the long-awaited finalization date. Hanzo's working on a commission gone doubly overtime, the living room tinted blue by the glow of his monitor, when his phone buzzes on the desk. Genji's voice is raspy and apologetic with the late hour, Hanzo is quick to dismiss his fretting and lets him unload, his eyes fixed mechanically on the screen as the words pour into his ears. “I know I'm supposed to be excited- I am excited. But this is only gonna happen once and I feel like I'm not appreciating it properly, which only makes it harder to be excited.” “Yes, I've been told that's called a shame spiral,” Hanzo hums, deleting a too-far-gone layer of shading. “You should probably stop that.” “Oh, you don't say?” Genji snorts, the light derision much more familiar. “I just- I don't know, I feel like everything up till now has been a rehearsal and it starts for real tomorrow. She's finally going to be ours and I'm- I'm so fucking scared.” Hanzo's pen stills at the frantic undertone in his brother's voice. “Genji.” “I can't fuck this up, Hanzo, I can't.” Genji exhales loud enough to create static, reediness strangling his voice. “There's so much time between now and when she's an adult and I love her so fucking much but that's not enough and I don't know-” “Genji,” Hanzo interrupts sternly, not even glancing at the clock as he lifts the microphone closer to his mouth. “Listen to me. You're going to be a good father- you are a good father, and you need to stop acting like you're doing this all alone. You have Zenyatta, for one, remember? The man you married, the one you should be sleeping next to right now?” Genji lets out a half-dissociated laugh, the sound bouncing distantly. “...Thanks. I'm sorry, I just- really needed to hear that right now.” Hanzo's jaw clenches at the tremble audible in the tinny voice. “It's nothing. What's with that echo?” “Oh, I'm sitting in the shower so I don't wake them up. It's kinda nice, feels like I can just sit in here forever and avoid all my problems.” Hanzo groans, sparing a glance over his shoulder before rubbing a hand over his face. “Goddammit, you sound like me.” “Oh no, it's happening! The change!” Genji giggles, a little more energy in it this time, before going quiet a while. “I've been thinking a lot about the stories I used to tell myself, about Kaa-san and Tou-san and you, what I thought the truth was. I wonder what stories Maya's going to tell herself, I wonder what kind of adult she'll be.” “Hopefully one who knows how to dress herself, unlike one of her fathers.” “You're such an ass,” Genji snipes back with no real ire, followed by another pause. “I should let you go.” Hanzo hums, forcing his lips to form a question even though he fears a few of the possible answers. “Are you sure you're okay? You can tell me if you aren't, I want to know.” Yet again his words come out too forceful, never quite as precise as they are in his head, but Genji's tone is oddly tinged with gratitude. “No, I'm good, I promise. You're right, I need to get out of my head.” “Mind saying that again so I can record it?” “Oh fuck off.” Hanzo chuckles, toying with the cord of his headphones. “Go to bed, alright? No one wants to deal with sleep-deprived you tomorrow.” Genji feigns irritation, but his words land softly against Hanzo's ear. “Okay, okay. Good night, anija. I love you.” A beat, then another. “Love you, too.” Concealer disguises what a few hours rest reveals in the blinding sunshine outside the courthouse. Hanzo's suit jacket warms to scalding as he rests on the very edge of the concrete railing. Jesse smokes at his side, his own jacket unbuttoned and his toe lightly tapping the cement. Genji, Zenyatta, and Maya arrive in Fareeha and Angela's little car, Hanzo looking on as they handle the entanglements of manual wheelchair and carseat until a familiar sonorous voice surprises him. “Right on time, I was so worried we'd be late.” Hanzo turns and smiles in surprise at the sight of his other brother-in-law in a tan jacket and slacks, Jyoti a step behind in a blazer. “I wasn't aware you owned a suit.” “It's been gathering mothballs for some time now,” Mondatta chuckles, the thin gold hoops in his ears glinting in the sunlight. “We were hoping to keep a lower profile today.” “What a momentous occasion!” Reinhardt declares as he hurries up from their parked car, dressed in a similar ensemble and standing tall and broad at Mondatta's back. “We have all waited long enough, when does it start?” “Although I'm not so sure it's working,” Jyoti adds behind their hand, prompting a snort from the rest of them. Jesse crushes his cigarillo beneath his heel as the others walk up. Fareeha and Angela looking smart, Zenyatta and Genji flush with excitement, and little Maya, the picture of grumpiness in her shiny red dress and frog-print tights. “She got ready almost all by herself today, didn't you, sweetheart?” Zenyatta beams down at daughter, one of her chubby hands clasped in Genji's fist. Maya scowls and chucks the sippy cup Angela offers her straight against the ground. “Wanna go home now!” “Still not having it, huh? That's okay.” Genji bends to scoop her up, pushing back her glasses and teasingly poking at her pouting bottom lip. “Everybody ready?” In the midst of their small group cheer, Hanzo feels his anxieties swim into his throat, strong and acidic despite their transparency. Jesse subtly rubs his back on the way in, pretending to speak to the entire group. “God, this is gonna feel absolutely amazin' when it's all over.” *** Everything, including their last-minute panicked dash to find their attorney in the winding slate halls, disappears when they raise their right hands. Maya spends the formal half-hour whining and crawling between his arms and Zenyatta's lap as they swear to care for and support her. Despite the excitement and nausea bubbling below their surfaces, they manage to retain some poise, answering questions while the little girl flattens herself at their feet and tries to pry off her shiny black shoes. Genji's throat nearly closes over when the judge leans forward on her elbows to ask Maya if she wants the two men to be her parents. It's meant in cheek, as she's too young to have an official say in any of this, but tact and context are still far removed from her vocabulary and the thought of something innocent being interpreted as concerning opens a pit in his stomach. Maya buries her face against Zenyatta's shoulder in response, clinging tight and grumbling loudly. “Baba, go home please!” The judge simply laughs and bangs her gavel. “Good enough for me!” The pictures are brief, Maya similarly standoffish when presented with small candy-coloured gift bags from the judge and their lawyer, but Genji is grinning like a fool. Surrounded by the people who are now officially her extended family, standing elated and relieved in the buzzing downtown air, everything feels more right than ever before. Maya's mood is much improved by a snack and a nap, and they join their friends in something between a baby shower and a victory celebration at the Shambali monastery. Everyone kneels or sits on cushions in the grass, the spread of food laid out on folded blankets and the chatter constant beneath the afternoon sky. “I still can't believe it.” Yungchen crouches down to hand Maya a momo and takes the opportunity to tug on Zenyatta's cheek. “Zen-bhai has a little one of his own! It doesn't seem possible.” “I know!” Sita leans down to pinch the other side, grinning brightly. “You were three feet tall just yesterday, what happened?” “I'm thirty-seven now, you realize,” Zenyatta answers back, very nearly glaring as he bats his sisters in faith away. “Are you ever going to give it a rest?” The monks giggle and return to their seats. Genji glances over at Jesse, stealing bits of food off Fareeha's plate and waiting for her to notice. “I wouldn't count on it.” Zen simply sighs, smile turning fond when Maya offers Genji her half-eaten dumpling and he enthusiastically mimes a bite of it. The summer heat is such that threatening grey clouds are met with cries of relief rather than disappointment. They move to the veranda to open gifts, mostly cards with donations towards a small trust fund set up by Mondatta and Hanzo for whatever future Maya chooses for herself. She opens the cards herself with surprising delicacy, though she's only interested in the contents if the card has a pretty picture on the front. The wrapped packages draw her focus much more easily. “What do we say?” Zen prompts as Maya squeals with delight on opening a fossil kit. Dinosaurs are her current favourite thing in the world, and her excitement is the cutest thing Genji's ever seen. Maya looks up nervously at Angela, nodding before signing reflexively. “Thank you, dear.” Scratch that, she topped herself yet again. His poor heart can't take this. “So how'd the ultrasound go?” Genji asks Brigitte as Reinhardt comes around with another tray of sodas and iced tea. The anticipation of their court date had almost blotted out the announcement that, if all goes well, Hana's family will also be gaining a new addition. “Oh!” Brigitte instinctively touches the barely-there bump of her belly, a flustered waver breaking the usual evenness of her voice. “It was- good! Every- thing is healthy and good, yeah.” She and Lúcio share a conspicuous glance while Hana rapidly, almost obliviously types something on her phone. Genji's lips pull to one side, his eyebrows raised as he straightens up against the wall. “What are you hiding?” “Nothing bad!” Lúcio holds his palms up, cheeks flushing. “Everything's good, honest. We can um, spill the deets later. This is your party, after all.” “What deets? Don't hold out on me!” Genji jabs a finger towards his daughter, who's walking alongside Zen in the light rain, exploring the wet grass with bare feet. “Maya! Engage puppy eyes!” Maya simply looks at him and keeps walking. Chuck must have taught her that. “Did you find out the sex or something?” Satya asks, folded neatly next to Hanzo as they lean against one of the thick wooden posts holding up the porch roof. The two of them always manage to look like they're modelling, it's almost rude. “No it's- uh, should we-?” Lúcio looks searchingly at his co-partner, who can only offer a hesitant shrug. “We don't want to make this about us, don't-” “Genji, Zen, Maya, I'm sorry,” Hana says gravely, shutting off her phone and standing. “But I can't wait any longer.” She grasps Brigitte and Lucio's hands and lifts them up high, as if announcing the winner of a boxing match. “We're having twins, you guys!” And the crowd goes wild. Several glasses are spilled in the rush to congratulate the three. Ana hangs back, having already heard the news from Jack and Gabe. Reinhardt and Torbjörn already knew, of course, but remain excited in their own ways. Genji nearly has to elbow his way to the centre, grabbing hold of Lúcio and relishing one of his sweet, tight hugs. His voice is still nervous whereas Hana and Brigitte are now openly beaming with pride. “Sorry to hold out, we didn't want to steal your thunder.” “Don't be sorry, this is awesome!” Genji scoffs, pulling his friend in again and feeling the unspoken ache of the sacrifices made to get this far, more difficult than his and Zen's path in some aspects. “See? I told you we'd get to be dads together!” *** The sun sends orange slivers between the thin grey clouds and the party gradually disperses. Hanzo leads his niece inside at her urgent request for a toilet. She holds his first two fingers in a tight grip as they wander through the long, scarcely-lit halls. “I talked to a unicorn,” she removes her own fingers from her mouth to inform him, eyes on her feet as she steps over the cracks between the planks of wood. “Hmm. I'm not certain that you did, but tell me more.” She unfortunately doesn't continue that line of thought, because she spots Genji, leaning in the back doorway and watching the waning drizzle. It's truly astonishing how fast tiny feet can sprint, her sock feet skidding to a stop beside him as she reaches out with both arms. “Dada, Dada, Dada! Up, up!” Genji scoops her up with a smile and a grunt, propping her onto his hip and directing all his attention to her. She claps his stubbly cheeks in her hands and rapidly tells him something Hanzo doesn't quite catch. His own focus caught on the adoring, subtly enraptured look in his brother's eyes, the achingly tender smile on his face. Such a saccharine, ordinary image is enough to finally prompt Hanzo to discreetly turn on his heel and let the emotion of the day wash over him. He isn't made of stone, after all. He isn't sure what's most to blame; Their father's features recreated, living on beneath Genji's scars and snark, blended with their mother's deep gaze and the kindness she maintained beneath her steely exterior, Maya in his arms as Genji had so often been held in theirs. That his brother has suffered so much and remains capable of greater compassion than he had ever imagined. That Hanzo is allowed to be a part of- “Honeybee?” Hanzo looks up through burning tears and realizes he's blindly stumbled into the library where Jesse stands examining some books, thumb hooked into his belt loop and eyes crinkled with worry. Hanzo can't quite find his voice, gesturing in a manner meant to be reassuring, and Jesse understands. “Aw, darlin',” Jesse croons, almost a whisper. He crosses the floor quickly, bringing Hanzo in close and stealing kisses off his wet eyes. There is strength in his voice, and sentiment also, hushed and tight as he rubs light circles between his shoulder blades. “I know, I'm proud of 'em, too.” Hanzo is hopeless to articulate even his gratitude, but he doesn't need to, at least for now. They leave the Shambali to evening prayer and head for the last two cars parked at the curb. Maya is fast asleep, slumped against Zenyatta's shoulder. In his quiet, Hanzo notices Ana touch Fareeha's arm and point towards the girl, speaking low. “That's how you used to fall asleep, when we'd go on our walks. Do you remember?” The sun holds in the sky as the streetlamps flick on around them, the city painted dark, shiny, and slick. Genji tips his head out the window to catch the fresh air, Hanzo glimpsing him in the side mirror. The white streaks in his wind-whipped hair recently re-dyed that vivid green, cast darker by the surrounding black. Hanzo's own slightly-premature greys are inching up from his shaved sides to the length on top. Maybe it's time to let it all grow out, it might look less stupid now that he has proper facial hair, now also growing threaded with silver. At Genji and Zen's apartment complex, Maya is reluctantly removed from her booster seat and brought around for good-nights. Jesse gently squeezes her little hand, reaching out to flick a lock of hair from her face. “G'night, pumpkin. See ya for dinner Tuesday, right?” He chuckles at her groggy nod, watching Genji trying to balance some of the gift bags while Zen carries the seat, Maya's backpack, and the rest. “Sure you don't need help carrying anything up?” “Nah, we're fine. Thanks though.” Genji hikes the girl up and comes around to Hanzo's side. “For everything, I mean it. Say bye-bye, sweetie.” “Bye-bye,” she mumbles, one hand fisted in Genji's t-shirt collar, where her glasses hang precariously. Her hair is standing on end from a long day of playing and running, a perpetual spark of curiosity ever-present in her half-shut eyes. She nuzzles almost forcefully beneath Genji's chin, a teddy bear trapped between their chests, a smile blooming anew on her father's lips despite the permanent bags beneath his eyes and the crow's feet deepening at their corners. They share a warm look, and Hanzo smiles and clasps her faintly sticky hand. “Good night, Maya.” The rain picks up again as they drive away, his hand finding the curve of Jesse's thigh and his mind turning to their dogs, the load of towels in the hamper, the refreshing mundanity after months and months of straining towards an uncertain outcome. There is much uncertain still and yet, Genji remains recognizable to him, that girl- his niece retains the second chance granted by the unlikely love of two people not meant to meet. “It feels dangerous to enjoy things for too long,” He had admitted during a borderline manic ramble in Athena's office. “That if I- if I hold on too tight, if I forget- I'm inviting disaster. As long as I'm aware of what could happen, at least I won't be blindsided.” “Very understandable,” the reserved woman had kindly responded. “But cheating yourself out of joy won't protect anyone. I try to avoid cliches, but your life is a gift, one that deserves to be enjoyed.” Hanzo exhales and lets all his muscles go limp. The relief of fears gone unrealized mixed with the sweetness of the rain and the almost too-warm press of Jesse's hand at every red light carries him off somewhere blissful. “We're home.” Jesse hums as the engine shudders to a halt, chuckling kindly in his direction. “Do you need to be carried up to bed, too?” Hanzo drags his eyes back open, a smile stretching his lips, his head lolled back against the seat. “Mm, perhaps.” *** “Baba,” Maya demands on tip-toe at his feet, almost fluorescent in her primary yellow pajama set. “Baba, kiss!” Zenyatta laughs and lifts her with ease, kissing her forehead where her bangs hang wet from the bath that roused her from near-sleep. It may be a two-story night, but neither of them mind. “Baby bear, too!” She insists, holding up the pink teddy Jesse and Hanzo had picked out for her last fall. Only once it is kissed as well does she kneel up on his thighs and smack her lips wetly against his cheek. She sits back down, toying with the bear's limbs, quietly postponing her bedtime that much longer. “Is today my birthday?” “No, my dear one, that was only three months ago.” Zen smiles, holding up three fingers for her. “Today's a different special day, remember? It's your adoption day.” “Oh, okay.” Maya nods and resumes playing with her bear. “That means you're officially part of our family,” Genji adds, emerging from the bathroom with some wet splotches still drying on his shirt. “No more moving, no more visits from Annette, we're your dads forever now. Do you know how long forever is?” “A really, really long time,” Maya answers confidently, rocking slowly on Zenyatta's lap as Genji crouches down beside them. “That's right!” Genji grins, so effortlessly affectionate with her. “It's a really big deal, that's why we had a party. We're really excited to be your dads.” His voice lowers considerably as he leans closer, stroking a hand lightly over her hair. “We love you so much, Maya. We're so glad you get to stay with us.” Maya's eyes stay on her lap, lips working for a moment before she holds the soft toy out. “Baby bear says he loves you so much.” Genji laughs, booping the toy's threaded nose, but Zenyatta feels almost removed for a moment, as though deep in meditation. He looks down on the tiny person on his lap, how precious her existence is, how she engages with Genji, who smiles and waits and indulges all her curiosities, endlessly satisfied by a glimpse of her cheeky little smile. She is perfect, and she is theirs. How often in commune with the Iris had he asked for this, a child and someone to raise them with? Here she has appeared, as mysteriously as any fairy tale, and here is Genji, a man so giving and beautiful in spirit that Zenyatta couldn't dream of loving anyone more, or being surrounded by more love than they were today. “How about we go to bed now, hm?” Genji suggests, snickering at the girl's resigned nod. “What do you think- oh, Zen.” Genji's smile softens as he pulls himself up to thumb Zenyatta's tears away. “Don't start, you'll get me going!” “I'm okay- shh, I'm not upset, sweetheart, I'm really happy.” Zen soothes but lets her inch away, eyes wide at his weepy gaze. “Sometimes grown-ups have big feelings, too.” “Don't worry,” Genji assures, rubbing her back before he leans forward to chastely brush their lips together. “I kissed him better, see?” Zen laughs, holding their daughter close a little while longer as she resettles, always distressed by any emotional upsets in those around her. When she's relaxed and almost nodding off against him, Genji leans in as Zenyatta's tears keep welling, his lips so warm against his temple and his voice gone rough. “I know, me too.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Baba keeps promising that she'll like school eventually, but Maya's pretty sure she'll always like Saturdays best. On Saturdays, if she isn't too sleepy, she can get up early and help Baba water the plants on the balcony. If it's chilly, he zips her into one of Dada's hoodies and reminds her to watch her feet as the hem drags on the ground. She likes the way the concrete feels cool and scratchy beneath her feet. After breakfast is swimming. The other kids in her class are a little older and sort of ignore her, but that's okay. Floating in the water is as good as her rocking chair, once she gets moving everything flows, her mind rushes, and she can fly. Sometimes she gets scolded for not listening, but she always earns her stickers when they try something new. Dada has to go grocery-shopping after that, so he kisses them bye and she sits on Baba's lap in the warm therapy pool until he hums, taps his knee, and says “Well, we ought to get going now.” Baba makes really, really good lunches. Even with leftovers, he knows how to heat them up just right. Sometimes he tries to get her to meditate after, but it's too quiet and too hard to think while sitting still. Maya usually ends up sneaking off to find Chuck until Baba's done and they can do whatever they want until dinnertime. Sometimes whatever they want is one of Maya's big puzzles. Her favourite is a colourful map of the world that she's done so many times some of the pieces are peeling. They sort and connect the edge pieces, then figure out the middle while she tells Baba stories, one fact linking into another. Sometimes she talks so much her mouth gets dry, especially if she's just finished a new book. “-And then the Compsognathuses can stay in my room,” Maya continues as she finds the home of another blank ocean piece. “I'll teach them how to use the litter box. They're small enough that they can fit in my bed.” “You know an awful lot of big words,” Baba says, soft and smiling as he fiddles with a puzzle piece. He's really slow at puzzles, but that's okay. “Yeah.” Maya nods, glancing up to see if he's listening. “Do you like my idea?” Baba smiles wider then, eyes scrunched up and dimples showing. “Of course, dear one. I love all your ideas.” Maya nods again and happily returns to finishing the Pacific Ocean. “Okay, 'cause I'll need your help to feed the Titanosauruses.” “Oh my, how much do they eat?” She scrunches her eyebrows at him. “Well I dunno, I haven't cloned them yet.” Baba laughs low in his throat. “Ah, right, silly me.” Her dads are really smart about other stuff. Like when Dada's nom-nomming on her fingers, pretending to eat them while they wrestle and wait for dinner to finish cooking. He bites her a little for real and quickly apologizes, but she doesn't answer because her brain is stuck on the weird feeling. She runs her fingers over her own teeth before she can forget it. “How come yours feel different than mine?” “Oh, that's because they're not real, see?” Dada hooks his pinky on the corner of his lip and pulls it way down, showing a weird hard line on his gums. “They're called implants. When I got my robot parts, I had to get new teeth, too.” “Woah!” Maya leans in to look closer, surprised how really-real they look. “Will I get new teeth when I get my robot parts?” Dada stops and smiles a little, shaking his head. “You only get robot parts if you get hurt really bad. You don't want to get hurt really bad, right?” “Aw, that's dumb!” Maya drops down onto the carpet and folds her arms, totally disappointed. “What about the ones on Oji-san's face? If I only get hurt a little tiny bit, can I get those?” “On his- oh, piercings!” Dada laughs again. He saves his big laugh, the one that vibrates through his whole body, for Saturdays. “Yeah, when you're a little older, you can get piercings. They do hurt, but they're just decoration.” “How much older?” Maya asks, pushing her glasses back up. She doesn't like it when grown-ups say 'later' and mean 'never.' “Hmm.” Dada thinks, rubbing his chin and making a scritch-scritch noise. “We'll talk to Baba, maybe we can start with just your ears.” On another Saturday, Maya's on her belly watching Moomins on the tablet and the same commercial keeps coming up with a mom and a dad carrying a baby out of the hospital, looking confused. It's annoying and she's confused too, so she looks up at Dada, who's busy stuffing his face with nachos and looking at his phone. “How do babies even get here?” He goes still, laughs strangely, and carefully lifts her up onto the couch beside him. “Well, there's lots of different ways to make a family.” He rests his big hand on her head and grins wide. “Like when we wanted to have you, we ordered you off the Internet.” “Genji,” Baba sighs from where he's doing his rubber band exercises, in the voice he always uses right before Dada laughs really hard by himself, which he does. Baba's answer, accompanied by a picture book tugged off the shelf in the corner, leaves her liking Dada's explanation better. A lot better. No matter what day, they always end the same unless she's not feeling good; A warm shower, pajamas, juice or milk and half an hour of TV while her hair dries, then one of them tucks her in and reads to her or makes up a story. Baba's voice reminds her of the little bell she got at the Santa Claus parade, going 'round and 'round as it jingles, but much deeper. Dada's voice is deep too, but scratchy and soft at the edges, like a feather brushing over her ear. “Look at that, your hair grows in just like mine!” Dada says following her first post-haircut bath, working his fingers through it until the front comes up in a floofy point, making her giggle. “Hold on, just a second here-” He slips her glasses back on, then his own, calling Baba in as he holds her up. “Zen, look! We match!” She wanted it short because she got tired of tight ponytails hurting her head, but that makes her so excited she has to flap. She loves doing things the same as her dads. She even grabs her pretend razor from her Play-doh kit and joins them at the table when they're shaving. The cream makes her cheeks feel nice and soft after. “You weren't being careful,” Maya points out, jabbing her finger towards the little cut on Baba's cheek. “Be nice,” Baba gently admonishes, wiping leftover cream from her chin. “I only get to practice once a year.” Weekends feel like they only come once a year. School days go on forever except for recess, gym, and sometimes science. The teacher spends as much time yelling at the bad kids as she does telling them anything, and the noise never stops. “Just ignore them,” the EA tells her after she takes a pen from a classmate and throws it in the garbage because they wouldn't stop clicking it over and over and over. Home is the only place she's allowed to ask for quiet when she needs it. Weekdays aren't all bad. On Tuesdays and Thursdays she watches the clock all day until teeball time. Her favourite part is when it's her turn up to bat. She hits the ball really hard and starts running before it even lands. She's a really, really fast runner and the other kids have a hard time catching her. When the leaves start to fall, they play their last game for the season. Maya wants her team to win, so she swings the bat as hard as she can, hitting the stand instead and putting a crack in the plastic. She stares at it in scared silence until Coach comes up and hands her a new one. At the picnic tables afterwards, Coach tries to give her a certificate, but Maya stays staring down at her hot dog even when her dads try to coax her to stand up. “You are not in trouble, it was only an accident,” Coach assures after taking her aside and kneeling down. Maya notices her matching pink shoelaces. She wants ones like them even though she's still not good at tying them yet. “Next year you come back and play softball, yes? If you get little bit taller, you won't need tee anymore.” “What are you doing, my dear?” Baba asks her later while he's doing the dishes and she's carefully shoving the milk carton up onto the low counter. “Gotta get taller,” she replies, swiping her Totoro cup from the drying rack. If Dada can't come pick her up after school, he always tells her who's going to. Sometimes it's Aunt Angela, who always mentions the fresh air even if it's a cold and crummy day. Sometimes they go back to Angela's work and she takes her to a room with a name Maya can't say. It's dim and quiet and everything is soft to the touch. There's bubbly light tubes and screens and so much to do Maya never wants to leave. Aunt Angela is almost always typing something on her phone, but Maya does succeed in tugging her over to the waterbed and getting her to lay down, the glowy cables dangling over their faces. “Don't blink.” “I'll try my best,” Angela chuckles. Maya isn't sure if she listens, but the swish-swish of the bed under them and the lights that slowly lose focus and turn into a million multi-coloured circles makes Maya feel like she's floating through space. But maybe she does listen, because she sounds almost surprised when she hums softly a few minutes later. “Very cool.” Sometimes she stays at her aunts' house on Fridays if Dada and Baba want to go somewhere and make kissyfaces by themselves. Auntie Fareeha gets home early on Fridays and bounces with her on the trampoline until the pizza gets there or she hurts her knee, whichever comes first. “I know this show is made up,” Maya whispers to her inside the pillow-fort, her laptop illuminating the blankets and cushions in a spooky glow. “But I think aliens are for real.” “You're so right,” Fareeha whispers back, cheek full of the mint chocolate ice cream they're sharing. “After this, we should look for some in the telescope.” Fareeha's mom always video-calls during or after dinner, and very kindly tells Maya she's sorry to hear they didn't find a single alien. Sometimes one of Baba's siblings comes to get her. They all dress the same, except for Mister Reinhardt, and their house is quiet and full of good hiding places. But sometimes they're too excited to see her, asking her questions and offering her food and books and hugging her close. That's when she scurries away on bare feet to the little room by the library where Taḥbā and Jyoti almost always are. Taḥbā barely reacts when she crawls into his big lap, reaching down to ruffle her hair as he continues reading. “Too many aunties?” Maya raises her hand to rapidly sign, “Yes.” “What a tragedy.” Auncle Jyoti laughs, but unpins their pink shawl and tucks it around Maya's shoulders all the same. “Don't worry, you're safe here.” Maya signs her thanks and curls up against Taḥbā for a rest. Sometimes you can learn things when grown-ups think you're sleeping, but not always things that make sense, like when Jyoti asks him. “Do you ever regret not having one of your own?” Maya feels his belly lift with his sigh. “Goodness no, I've never had the time. Besides, Zenyatta's all I needed.” He sighs again, quieter this time. “Still-” “I know, my friend.” Maya hears rather than sees Jyoti gently rubbing Taḥbā's arm. “I know.” Besides Dada, the one who picks her up the most is Oji-san, taking her by the hand and leading her to his store a short walk away from her school. Sometimes they stay downstairs and Maya helps by stacking jars of bright paint in rainbow patterns, but usually they go up to the office filled with papers and calculators and big tables covered in blue-line designs she's not allowed to touch. Oji-san will lift her into the one of the cool spinny chairs so she can do her homework. Once she's done, he gives her a tiny comic book with English in the speech bubbles and hirigana down the sides, then lets her practice writing with one of their fancy pens that draws in shiny black ink. “Keep trying,” he says softly, seriously when she gets stuck. “When you're older, you'll be glad you learned this now.” Auntie Satya is usually there, always dressed in flowing, jewel-coloured outfits that make Maya gasp. “You're even prettier than Oji-san!” They both find that pretty funny, even though Maya was just being honest. Oji-san shakes his head afterwards. “I'm not sure whether I should feel devastated, or flattered that I'm in your league.” “Flattered, obviously,” Satya answers in her prim and proper voice, smiling and opening the drawer where the boxes of chocolates are kept. She always gives Maya one, but that day she gets two all for herself. Auntie Satya will let Maya sit on her lap and watch what she's doing on the computer. Always silent except for the one-two-three-two-one tap of her long nails when she's thinking. Maya turns her glitter stick over and over in her hands, watching the colours swirl. Oji-san works beside them, spinning the black beads on his bracelet, and sometimes they all take a break to watch videos on his computer. “Working hard, I see,” Amélie the scary ballerina says when she stops by with a big envelope and a tray of coffees. “As a matter of fact, we are,” Satya answers back with a smirk, making Maya giggle into her hand. If Baba doesn't stop by to take her to the bus, Oji-san gets her backpack and puts her in Uncle Jesse's car when the sun gets low. Her dads will already be at their house and they'll all eat dinner together. Uncle Jesse gets her to taste-test everything, making her tongue buzz with the flavours, and plays the best music while he cooks. Maya wraps her hands around his fingers and stands on his toes so they can dance across the tile until the timer goes off. “What do you think, mija?” Jesse hoists her onto his hip, lifting the lid off the chili with his robot hand while the others are playing with the dogs out back. “Does it smell ready yet?” Maya takes the biggest sniff she can. “Hmm, needs more spice.” “Yeah, just a little bit more.” He sets her down with an 'oof' and rubs his back. “Us old guys get heartburn easy, y'know.” Maya has the best puddles in their backyard memorized, splashing from one to the other in her yellow boots while the grown-ups talk, Lady avoiding her but Den following her around and licking her face when he can. Oji-san says it's because he thinks she's a puppy, but Maya thinks it's just gross. Every week, her dads encourage her to make friends, but she's tried and none of them like her. They're loud, they don't like spinning, and they don't know anything about baseball. She doesn't understand why she isn't allowed to read a book at lunch if no one wants to talk to her anyway, or why some yard teachers walk up and tell her to 'go play' when she's minding her business sitting on the grass strip beside the fence. Some days she doesn't understand anything. The first day it's cool enough to wear her jacket at recess, she's sitting in the big sandbox after being shooed away from the fence again. A pair of pink light-up sneakers step into view and the girl wearing them drops down beside her. “Wanna make a castle?” It takes Maya a long time to answer when her words aren't ready- if the other kids knew how to sign, she would, but none of them do. After waiting for a bit, the girl plants her hands behind her back and starts furiously digging her heels into the sand. “You have to get to the wet sand, see? Otherwise it won't stick.” By the time the line-up bell rings, they've made a sand pyramid and Maya's learned the girl's name is Isabelle. She's in the other Grade 1 class down the hall and has long, boing-boing curly hair that she wears up in two buns. She has a mommy who's a dentist and a baba who packs rice for her lunches like her Dada does. Maya starts bringing her toothbrush to school just so they have an excuse to talk in the washroom before lunch is over. Isabelle is way more fun to play with than the twins. Auntie Brigitte and Aunt Hana are really good at video games and Uncle Lúcio will play any pretend game with her, but every time the adults want to sit around and talk she has to defend her toys from Luiz's sticky fingers and Yuna's snotty nose. They can walk, but they can't really talk and they still wanna put stupid stuff in their mouths. “Are you guys having fun?” Lúcio asks with a big smile, snapping photos of the twins banging Legos together. “No,” Maya snaps back, irritably trying to build a tower with the ones that don't have drool on them. She gets a pretty stern talking-to from Baba for that, but she was only telling the truth. If they don't know how to do anything yet, why not leave them at home? “You were a baby once, and people were kind and patient with you,” Baba continues in a that's-enough-backchat tone. “You're a big girl now, you have to return the favour.” Big girl. That's what her teacher keeps telling her to be, too. On good days, she does her work and learns a whole bunch and plays with Isabelle at recess. On bad days, it feels like she can't do anything right. She can't say the right things or give the answers her teacher wants when she wants them. She gets told to pay attention when she's already paying attention. Her squishy stim toys that Baba got her especially for school get taken away for no reason. One day after the other kids leave, the teacher tells her to play at the activity tables while she talks to Genji-dad in the hallway. When more than a few minutes go by, Maya stops stacking the wooden math shapes, pulls off her indoor shoes, and tip-toes in sock feet over to the door. She can see through the glass between the taped-up drawings that Dada's smiling, but it's not his normal smile. Something's weird and she can't figure it out until he talks. “Well, maybe she would 'participate more' if you stopped singling her out.” Oh, he must be really mad. She's only ever seen him be that rude when someone bumps into them on the bus and doesn't say sorry. “That's not-” Her teacher makes that aggravated grumbling noise she makes several times a day. “Answering when she's called on is a reasonable expectation. And it's not just that, now she's ignoring other students when they try to talk to her. She can't-” “You choosing not to discipline the kids who are picking on her is a failure on your part, not hers. I know how this works, the one throwing eraser shavings at her probably has a parent who's a trustee, right?” “Mister Shimada, I am trying to support your daughter and accusations like that are not helpful. If you don't want her to be successful in a regular classroom, then-” “Yeah, we're incredibly done here. Listen, the next time you call me from work-” Maya doesn't hear the rest because her dad puts his hand on the doorknob and she bolts, quiet as can be. She pretends to have been over by her cubby organizing her backpack when he comes back in, all big, normal smiles. “Come on sweetie, let's get your shoes back on and go home.” Maya's quiet while they wait, rocking in her seat until Dada puts the double-headphones into his phone and holds out her set as the bus lurches forward. She takes them reluctantly, not finding her words until they're safe at home. “Are you mad at me?” “Eh? No, why would I be mad at you?” Dada stops dusting the TV to thoughtfully tap his chin. “Did you, maybe, eat the last cookie?” Maya insists that she definitely did not, but Dada shakes his head, still grinning and drawing out his words. “I don't know, I think you might have!” By the time Baba gets back, it's escalated into tickling a confession out of her and she runs to his lap for safety. Her fear is temporarily forgotten as he bestows his daily smooch to her forehead. “My, I always come home to so much excitement.” Maya doesn't drift off in the comfortable dim of her room that night. Instead she waits for Baba to return to the living room before sliding out of her bed like a spy and shuffling across the carpet. Carefully, so very carefully, she turns the knob so it doesn't make any noise and holds the door still and open only the teeniest bit so she can hear what they're talking about. “-That woman's going to be the death of me, I swear.” Dada's voice, and he sounds mad again. “Has she never had an IEP student before, seriously? I've never met someone so goddamn resentful of a six-year-old, it's ridiculous.” “It certainly is,” Baba replies, sounding tired. “If things don't improve, maybe we should look at switching schools. But that's a gamble, and I really don't want her to lose her friend.” “Yeah, me neither.” The crack-fizz of a soda can interrupts him. “I'm half-tempted to try homeschooling but-” “That might do more harm than good.” Chuck runs by, pausing to stare at her door with her big glowy eyes and almost giving Maya away before dashing towards her food dish. “It's hard to swallow, but she does have to learn how to navigate the world as it is, not necessarily as it should be. There's only so many hurdles we can clear for her.” “I know, I know. I'm gonna take this shit to the board if it keeps up, though.” “I don't know if that's the wisest course of action. You can't keep making it harder for her.” “What's that supposed to mean?” Maya swallows hard, her throat feeling thick and dry, like spiderwebs are stuck in it. “Genji, you've read the notes. She's repeating things she's heard you say, you have to be more careful-” “So what? I should pretend nothing's wrong?” “No, I never said that-” Maya shuts her door as quickly and quietly as she can, hurrying back into her bed. She yanks the covers up and pulls her thick pillow over her head as the angry words continue beyond the door. Hot, salty tears stream down her face. She doesn't want to make her dads mad. She doesn't want to make anyone mad anymore, she wants to be good. And she tries, she tries all the time but it never works for very long. She can't help it. She wakes up tired and grumpy, but tries really hard to stay quiet. If she doesn't say anything, she can't make anyone mad. If she doesn't make anyone mad, maybe they won't send her away. Her dads seem tired and grumpy too, and Dada hurries to pack an overnight bag for her. “You're going to sleep over at Hanzo and Jesse's tonight, won't that be fun?” Maya's stomach ties itself into a knot. It must be really bad. They always tell her a day before if they're going somewhere so she can get ready. “No, Maya, just one bear please.” Dada clicks his tongue, sounding annoyed. “We have to go, come on.” She swallows, tucks Medium Bear into the bag and follows him out the door. They have a substitute teacher, which is good, but all the noisy kids are ten times as noisy, which is terrible. By the time Uncle Jesse helps her into the backseat, she's too tired to even use borrowed words. Or get excited when she finds out that Jack and Gabe have come down for a visit, until they show her the new Lego set they bought just for her. “Am I doing this right?” Jack holds out a half-built wall. Maya glances up from the hinge part she's putting together. “Nope, you gotta put the green one on top.” “So this one?” He holds up a yellow piece and Maya is confused. “No, the green one. Don't you know your colours?” Gabe snickers and Jack kicks him under the table but doesn't stop smiling. “I do, but my eyes aren't very good at seeing them.” “Oh.” Maya clips a few more pieces together. “Why?” “Ah, well, I got hurt.” “Why?” “Because grown-ups do stupid things sometimes.” Gabe snort-laughs again, quieter this time, and Jack doesn't kick him. “We're not supposed to say stupid.” “You're right, I'm sorry.” Jack hums and holds up his wall again. “Good?” “Very good!” Maya nods and points where it should go, then taps Gabe's arm. “You should buy him robot eyes for his birthday.” Gabe grins, teeth showing through the cool hole in his face. “As soon as those exist, I'll get right on that, promise.” Oji-san rushes in, slightly flushed, with an armful of plastic bags. “Sorry we took so long. That new fish and chips place was so crowded, there was hardly any room to line up and then they gave us someone else's order-” “Don't stress, sugar.” Uncle Jesse comes up behind him and rubs his back while the dogs bounce and bark at their feet. “Thanks for looking after her.” A lump develops in Maya's throat, but it quickly goes away with Gabe's scratchy voice. “Pft, you don't need to thank us, we're having a great time.” He shivers in the chilly breeze from the door, zipping his sweater higher before holding up the tiny fireplace and gesturing to it in amazement. “Look at this thing, it's got little plastic flames and everything.” A full belly makes her tired again, and she gets close to grouchy before Jack and Gabe go back to their hotel and Jesse tucks her into her sleeping bag on the couch. It's almost too soft, not like her bed at home and she has to wiggle a lot before being comfy enough to sleep. The rain starts, heavy and kinda relaxing as it patters outside. Her eyes are nearly shut when the living room flashes with lightning. Maya barely has time to cover her ears before the thunder roars. Another flash, more thunder that seems to shake the entire house. The kitchen light flickers and the dogs bark in the next room. Then the wind rushes in, making the windows rattle and the walls creak. She's seen TV shows where bad storms knock over people's houses. In between the relentless claps of thunder, she curls up into a ball and wails, her thoughts collapsing into helpless, distressed static. Oji-san comes out, assuring her that the storm can't hurt them but she's so freaked out she can't calm down, especially not with the wind still howling and the thunder sounding like it's going to crash through the roof. He sits and gathers her into his lap with some difficulty, wrapping the blankets tight and letting her pull her serape over her head. He rubs small circles into her back until she stops shaking, and as the thunder gradually moves further away, he slowly tells her the story of two dragon brothers and how their contest created thunderstorms. The dull thud of his heartbeat beneath her ear grows louder than the storm outside, and slowly she realizes she's safe. Oji-san won't let anything bad happen to her. Her eyes are drooping by the long story's end, her fingers tracing along the blues of his dragon tattoo. Oji-san mentions that his father told him and Genji-dad the story when they were little, which must have been a very long time ago. She yawns and manages to ask “Is your dad gonna come visit us?” Would he pull coins out from behind her ear like Jack does? She got three whole dollars that way today. Oji-san doesn't answer right away, moving his hand up to stroke her hair. “No, I'm afraid not.” He pauses again before continuing, his voice lower than usual. “There is another life after this one, he had to cross the Sanzu river to join it.” “Why'd he have to go?” An almost-laugh, almost-sigh makes his chest rise under her cheek, her bear trapped between them. “We all have to, someday.” “Even you?” A chuckle vibrates through her, his voice soft as he sweeps back her short bangs. “Not for a very long time.” Uncle Jesse drives her to school in the morning, the two of them singing all the way. During math, her teacher calls her back to her desk and firmly informs her that some of the other girls saw her running in circles around the bathroom and that she needs to save running for outside. “But I didn't do it!” Her teacher's lips stay stuck in a line. “Okay, well don't do it again, alright?” “But I didn't do it!” Maya repeats louder, her voice getting tight. She hasn't even gone to the bathroom yet today, those girls are lying. She can see some of the kids turning to stare at her and her face feels hot. “I think you need to go take a break in the hallway.” Maya tries to defend herself, make the teacher believe her but she interrupts. “If you keep talking back, it'll be one minute off your recess.” The door is on the other side of the room, so she has to walk past the entire class to get to it. She feels their stares like a sunburn. She didn't do anything wrong, it isn't fair. The girl who likes to put eraser crumbs in her hair is sharpening her pencil into the garbage at the front. As Maya passes, she giggles and drops some of the shavings down the back of her shirt. She feels herself have enough. Before she can think with words, Maya reacts, turns, and pushes the girl to the ground. “Maya!” is the only thing she hears over the girl's crying. Her teacher grabs her hand and practically drags her to the office while the EA settles the other students. The heat of her anger and embarrassment mixes with a big bubble of fear and sadness in her belly. As soon as the teacher orders her into one of the plastic chairs, she drops into it and pulls her knees up, burying her face and covering her ears. She hears the vice-principal lecturing her without really understanding, but she refuses to lift her head until she hears Baba's voice. “I know you must have been very frustrated to do that,” Baba says gently after bundling her into her warm things. “We can talk later about why, but you mustn't put your hands on someone unless they hurt you first.” Maya says nothing, eyes raw and head pounding. Baba buckles her onto his lap and they head out into the frosty air. No I-spy, no pilot-and-copilot, they just sit quiet until they get to the hospital and Baba buys some flowers. No one told her that Ditya had her operation yesterday. She feels bad for not answering when the older woman thanks her for the flowers she was carrying, but she's too sad and mad and tired to even think right. Baba sounds really tired, too. “She's had a bit of a rough day.” “Rough day? We can't have that.” Ditya shifts and pats the bed beside her. Maya crawls up the plasticky mattress easily, shedding her coat, scarf and hat before shuffling on her knees, Baba urging her to be careful. “Oh, she's fine. And she's not the only one showing me a sad face today, hm?” Maya watches from her scrunched position as Ditya reaches out to brush her knuckles over Baba's cheek, his smile disappearing for a moment and his eyes dropping. “Forgive me, I can't help but worry.” “About me? I'm fine, dear. This is nothing more than a little holiday.” Ditya tugs at the wide collar of her blue gown, Maya catching a glimpse through her sleeve of white bandages taped to her chest. “They said I can go home tomorrow so long as the drains behave themselves.” “I know, I just...” Baba doesn't finish his sentence, which is weird, and he looks even more tired. They start talking in big words that Maya doesn't understand at all. She sits and traces patterns in the tiny purple flowers on Ditya's gown. Three, six, nine, six, three, I want to go home I want to go home I want to go home, six, nine, three. Finally, Baba beckons her back onto his lap. Even with her warm things on, it's cold enough to shiver. Baba makes a surprised noise as they reach the bus stop. “Look up, dear one.” Maya tips her head back, finding the clouds coloured a soft, sugar-purple, glowing from the sun shining behind them. Huge puffy snowflakes fall slowly, melting as soon as they land on the lamppost or Maya's glasses. “A bit early for snow. Pretty though, isn't it?” Maya blinks reluctantly, trying to take a picture in her mind and keep it forever. “They should have sent a poet.” “Hm, what have your aunts been letting you watch now?” “There was only two scary parts,” Maya answers quickly, feeling her belly tense again, but Baba just chuckles. Baba ends up on a long phone call with Taḥbā in the big bedroom after they get home so they don't have a talk. Maya is kind of glad. Her brain is all fuzz and fluff and she has to rock in her glider for a long time, until her music player runs all the way from a hundred down to zero, to clear it out. The gentle, weightless motion lets her pretend she has wings, see herself hitting a homerun, or most importantly, remember the story of the really good game her and Isabelle were playing at recess yesterday. Isabelle forgets their games all the time, so Maya has to remember for both of them. Baba has a work thing in the morning so Dada takes her swimming and back home to do laundry until Zen-dad gets back. Folding is super boring, so she tries to play with Chuck's feather-stick toy, but the cat is more interested in licking her paws than playing. “You're so boring,” Maya scolds, but Chuck simply blinks and walks away. She doesn't hear Dada talking until she heads back to her room to build a tent with her blankets and play camping. “What are you and Jesse up to today?” He's on the phone with Oji-san. Are they coming over today? That would be so cool, maybe they can all play video games. Dada's sitting on the bed with his back to the door when she walks in. “No, yeah- no, we're fine. Just ah, still learning how to parent and partner under stress, you know?” He laughs all soft, bouncing his leg in that way that makes her jaw clench up. “No- I don't know, honestly. She was kinda out of it at swimming today, so we might have to- oh pft, yeah, you don't have to tell me.” Maya's hands ball up tight and start to shake. What are they going to do with her? She thought she wasn't in trouble any more. She was good all morning. She tried so hard to be good and not make anyone mad and it- It isn't fair, it isn't fair, it isn't fair. The tears pour out as she chokes on a whimper, her throat feeling like it's full of hot sand. She runs back to her room, every step hurting her head. She doesn't know what to do- she's read lots of chapter books about kids running away, maybe she should run away. Maybe to an island, where she can be all alone and maybe the dinosaurs will be her friends and they won't- “Maya?” Dada swings into her room on his crutches, coming down to grab her hands as she stuffs her special box of things into her backpack. “Hey, slow down. What's the matter?” “No!” She squalls, pulling and twisting away to no avail. The heat spreads from her throat to her head and she can't stop it. She's had enough and her head hurts so bad and she's just going to get in more trouble anyways and then they won't come over- “Shh- Maya, no, it's okay. You don't need to-” Dada lets go to try and take her other hand out of her mouth but she whirls around and scrambles under her bed. Crawling to the furthest corner where he can't reach her, she curls up tight, her own sobs sharp in her ears. It isn't very comfortable, the bedsprings heavy and musty-smelling over her and the carpet itching her bare arms. It's hard to catch her breath, but after a while she does, letting the pain in her head go by sinking her teeth in short, painful bites on her hands, leaving little pink dash marks behind. She decides to stay underneath until Dada forgets about her, sneak out when he isn't paying attention, but she feels the very tip of his fingers brush against her back. When he talks, she has to strain to hear him. “Aka-chan, won't you come out? Dada can't help if Dada doesn't know what's wrong.” Something in his soft voice makes her cry more, quietly this time, adding to the sticky wet layer on her cheeks and lips. Without really wanting to, she awkwardly crawls out, sitting in a heap against her bed while Dada gets a washcloth out of her nightstand to clean off her face. “I can tell you're really upset, but can you tell me why?” “Don't wanna make you mad anymore,” Maya signs quickly and messily, eyes on her knees. “But I'm not mad at you?” “But you were.” Dada asks when, then asks again and she finally answers, her eyes burning. “At school, and at Baba, super mad!” “Oh.” The noise sounds almost stuck in Dada's throat, and he's quiet for a moment. He takes her closest hand and squeezes it tight. He never asks her to look at him, none of her family do. Only the teachers, which is awful because when it's bad like this, looking into someone's eyes feels like someone sticking a hand into her guts. “Listen to me.” She looks up a little, watching his throat bob as he swallows. His voice sounds weird now, not mad, but something else. “When people are hurting you or not doing what they're supposed to, that makes me angry, that doesn't mean it's your fault. Being your dad means protecting you, and sometimes I have to get mad to do that, but you don't ever have to be afraid of me when I'm angry, okay? I'll always protect you, but I'll never hurt you, I promise.” Maya doesn't say anything. Her fingers get damp with sweat, caught between his rough, scarred ones. “And if something's bothering you, come tell us right away.” He thumbs away the tears collected at her eyelashes. “You're still too little to be dealing with this stuff all by yourself.” She sniffs, loud and gross, her words coming out thick. “So I don't have to go away?” It's not really what she wants to ask, but she can't put the words in the right order for what she really means, and she's been afraid she'll have to go to a boarding school like in the singing movie she watched with Uncle Jesse. “Of course not!” Dada sees her flinch at his loud scoff and gentles his tone, sounding sad when he holds his arms open. “Hug?” She reaches out and lets herself be lifted onto his lap, her face tucked into his neck and her limbs clinging. Dada gives really, really good hugs. His arms are just-right tight, holding her close without crushing her. He's always nice and warm, and he smells like salt and the funky-smelling body wash he lets her use. He holds her for a really long time, rocking slightly back and forth. Maybe he needed a hug, too. He finally sets her on her feet, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you so much.” He smiles, smoothing her hair back. “Do you want to be left alone for a bit?” Maya gingerly shakes her head. “No, I'm tired.” “Ah, do you need a nap?” “No, I'm tired,” she says like Baba does, leaning into the I-sound and touching her temple, trying to make him understand. “Oh, okay.” Dada pulls his leg in and hunches over a bit. “Do you want to rest or something else?” “Something else,” Maya answers, sticking her hands in her pockets and rubbing the fabric against her legs. “Do you want to play a game or something else?” “Something else.” “Do you want to watch something or-” “Baseball.” “There's no baseball on right now, sweetie.” “I know.” Maya rocks back on her heels. She doesn't get why they can't play it all year, stadiums have roofs, for chrissakes. “Bare bears instead?” “Sure!” Dada's smile shines bright at the edge of her vision before he pushes himself up. “You get ready and I'll get the kotatsu ready.” Maya knows exactly what to do, it's like a little magic ritual for whenever they watch something on the big TV. She goes to the washroom first, then hurries back to her room to put on her glasses, then her socks because she isn't allowed under the kotatsu with no socks. She grabs one of her pillows and Large Bear, because it's her turn to be snuggled today, but she kisses Medium Bear and Baby Bear so they don't feel lonely. Dada's got the TV and the kotatsu ready by the time she comes in, holding up the quilt and tucking her in tight as soon as she lays down. “Are you snuggly enough?” “Yes!” “Good,” Dada laughs and hits play on an episode they've watched before. “Tell me if you get too hot.” “Mhmm.” Maya settles in, warmth seeping into her toes and way up to her shoulders. The show plays at just the right volume, only interrupted by the crack of Dada's soda and the buzz of his phone. As the ending song fades and the opening theme starts again, Maya imagines herself inside a loaf of bread, getting toastier and toastier as it bakes inside the oven. All her furniture would be carved from the white inside bits, squished down so they're soft and comfy, though they would keep growing as the dough kept rising. She would have to run around and keep squishing everything down so her house would stay right. So transported into the daydream, she doesn't get up when Baba returns, not wanting to lose it. But then she hears her dads chuckle between smooches and say she must be sleepy, which demands she get up. “I'm not sleepy! I was thinking about bread!” “Our sincere apologies,” Baba giggles, ruffling her hair when she runs over. “Would you like to help me make dinner?” “Yes! I'm the best helper!” And she is, she washes every single vegetable all by herself, the stepstool leaving textured lines on her feet that distract her once she's done. Dada lets her splash around in the shower a little longer that night, helping her into fresh pajamas and and giving her one more big hug. Instead of a story, Baba waits for her to climb into bed, leans his elbows on the railing and talks about what she heard. She listens with big eyes, waiting for the trouble to come again. “Sometimes when people are worried, it's harder for them to be nice,” Baba goes on, marching one of the little plastic dinosaurs that she sleeps with- a Stegosaurus -across her sheets as she does the same with an Apatosaurus. “Genji-dad and I have been worried about Ditya, so we weren't very patient with each other when we were upset.” “Is she gonna be okay?” Maya bites her lip, running her nail along the plastic seam of the sauropod's belly. “It certainly seems that way, but only the Iris can know for sure.” Baba sighs a little, sounding tired again. Maya bites her lip harder and he lightly rubs her arm. “We don't like keeping things from you, but we don't want you worrying about grown-up problems yet.” “Worrying's like a rocking chair,” Maya repeats what Uncle Jesse sometimes says to Oji-san. Rocking chairs are pretty great, but it didn't sound like it when he said it. “That's right.” Baba nods, setting the Stegosaurus down. “And I know you get scared and worry quite easily, because you're very smart and you think a lot. I was like you when I was little.” Maya tries to picture Baba as a first grader and can't, frowning in frustration. He notices and runs his fingers through her hair. “But you certainly don't have to be worried about us being upset. Everyone gets upset, and it passes. It's not something to be afraid of.” “So you're not getting a divorce?” Maya stares up at Baba's face to make sure. “Definitely not!” Baba shakes his head firmly, but maintains his slender smile. “We've loved each other for a long time and we've disagreed over many things, but we've never stopped loving each other.” “Okay.” Maya wriggles under her blanket, her head feeling almost too full. “Can I go to bed now?” “Of course,” Baba laughs, turning out the soft blue lamp before tucking her blankets in, bending low to kiss her forehead. “Sweet dreams, my little chickadee.” Monday comes too quick, and her teacher is definitely still mad at her, but at least she doesn't call on her. The girl she pushed stays away, looking at her funny if she happens to walk by. Maya fibs and says she got sick when Isabelle asks where she was on Friday, but she doesn't know why, it just comes naturally. Uncle Jesse comes to pick her up, asking if she had a good day while helping buckle her into the booster seat. “I guess so.” Jesse hums, frowning a little, then comes around and hoists himself into the driver's seat with a grunt. “I got some new tunes on here, what kinda music do you wanna play today?” “Can we listen to Rudolph music?” “Isn't it a little early for that, hon?” “It snowed,” Maya replies simply. “That means we're gonna do holidays soon.” “Fair enough,” Jesse snorts, tapping around on his phone while she swings her legs. She cannot wait to take off her boots. “You made your list to Santa already, then?” “No, but I'll make my pretend one soon.” “A pretend one?” “Well, you know the secret, right?” Jesse makes a funny, understanding kind of noise, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “Santa's just pretend, but I can't ruin the surprise for the other kids, they'd be so sad.” “Right, right. That's a pretty big responsibility you've got on your shoulders.” “Yeah, I don't mind, though.” “You're one of the good ones, sweetpea.” Jesse laughs quietly and shakes his head as the Rudolph music starts to play and the car vrooms away from school. “Alright, from the top! There's always, tomorrow-” “For dreeeams to come truuue!” They get through all the good songs by the time they make it to Oji-san's store. Jesse does some hammering downstairs while she joins the others. They sit at the big desk along the wall- Auntie Satya with her rulers and blue pencil, Oji-san with his tablet, and her with the good crayons she got for her last adoption day -all colouring in the nice quiet, tapping and fidgeting and Oji-san occasionally humming and typing really fast on his keyboard. “That's me, that's you, and that's an Iguanodon,” she explains when they ask to see her drawing. “They're plant-eaters so it won't eat us. I think they'd let us dress them up as long we're nice to them. Chuck lets me put dresses on her if she's not grumpy.” “Hmm, very forward-thinking,” Auntie Satya says with a serious nod. “Indeed, I think I see a little Bosch influence.” Oji-san's smile sneaks up on his face as he looks at Satya. “What do you think, good enough to frame?” “Oh, definitely.” Auntie Satya stands and helps her down, ignoring her questions as they head downstairs. They keep saying nothing, and Maya almost gets frustrated until they stop just outside of the small gallery rooms at the back of the store. Much to her surprise, Oji-san slips her drawing into a small, black frame hung low on the wall. “Do you like it?” Oji-san asks, his hand resting on her shoulder. “We decided this wall needed a rotating exhibit.” “I can make you a title card if you would like,” Auntie Satya adds, crouching down beside her, both of them looking forward at the frame. “Just tell me what this one is called.” Maya's mouth hangs open for a little while. Her dinosaur pictures must be really good to hang up beside the grown-up paintings and sculptures they're always carrying in and out of the white-walled rooms. She throws her arms around Oji-san's metal legs, then Satya's tights-covered ones, and signs her thanks a whole bunch, not wanting to squeal and cause trouble. Afterwards, Oji-san sets her on the counter behind the cash register, counting the money with Satya while they wait for her dads. Ditya is home now, so they're picking up a special treat and going to have dinner with her after. Jesse sweeps up because he 'hates to hold up the wall,' humming as he weaves through the aisles. While she carefully puts the loonies into rolls of twenty-five for them, Maya decides that Saturdays will always be her favourite, but weekdays can be good too.