#g od im just so happy lhgjjHGFHJg

[thetiniestcicada]

Early Morning Soup

Hi hi everyone, i am absolutely delighted to announce @jaggedarchetypes wrote a piece based on this comic and its?? so good??? and once again im absolutely at a loss for words & im so very touched oh my god?? please read it under the cut he captured the feeling so well!!!!

For one who felt so exhausted, actual rest sure seemed to allude Hanzo Shimada. Midnight had him tossing and turning, one AM had him pacing, two AM had him outside jogging and walking, and three AM had him resigned to the fate of another sleepless night. But at least, if not a relaxed mind, his exercise had worked up a sizable appetite.

By three fifteen, Hanzo was showered, and by three thirty he was glaring tiredly into a pot. He’d sampled his soup perhaps a dozen times, but the flavor stubbornly refused to be like the one of his childhood. So, Hanzo sent out a text. Then one more, just for good measure.

It was painfully likely Genji would be awake at this hour, considering that sleep wasn’t a thing that mostly-synthetic beings needed as much. And sure enough, immediately after the second, slightly rougher text, he received a response. He opened the app, and re-read his own messages first.

3:36 Hey how much dashi goes in miso again

3:38 Genji I know you are awake

Genji: 3:39 lol wat r u doing up @ 3am

Hanzo rolled his eyes, and began responding in kind, a sarcastic “What are yo” began by the time he got another, more cryptic message.

Genji: 3:39 Don’t move

Hanzo’s thumbs froze, and after a pause, one raised to rub at a bleary eye. What about miso necessitated standing still?  But before the gears in his brain could turn too much further, a tapping, quick sound came from the nearby window. Open, of course, as Gibraltar rarely got too cold, even in the middle of the night. Hanzo recognized, from experience, the sound of someone approaching the window, and as he began to turn, the sight of his brother appeared. Glowing vaguely greenish, even through his thin grey shirt. Why did Genji even bother with clothes? In any case, Hanzo flinched away with a hoarse sound. He did not scream, he did not scream, he totally screamed at the sudden robot ninja in the window. Genji’s greeting of “What’s up bro”, of course, reverberated over the sound of Hanzo regaining his breath and asking, “Genji, what the shit?!”

Genji leaned onto the windowsill, taking on the role of counsellor. “So.” He drew out the vowel, and Hanzo could easily sense the postponing of a stark observation in that lightly buzzing voice. “You’re making miso. At 3 AM.” Hanzo dodged the judgemental tone.

He was too tired, and too proud, to acknowledge the strangeness of his actions. “Please, get out of the window.” As Genji near-silently hauled himself in, Hanzo wondered if he might sit in silence. Wondered if Genji would actually be respectable of the night, and be respectful of Hanzo’s wish to not discuss this.

His hopes were emboldened as Genji hopped up onto the counter, leaning the edge of his face mask on his palm. Hanzo looked away, turning his attention back to the vegetables he’d been chopping a few minutes prior. He could practically feel Genji’s eyes on him, could practically see the bored expression of his younger brother.

“So.” Again with the interruptions. Hanzo pretended Genji hadn’t said anything, instead choosing to sweep the vegetable bits into a little pile. He dropped them into the pot, careful to avoid excess splattering of water.

“Can’t sleep?” If Genji weren’t behind Hanzo, he would have seen the hollow sadness that weighed down the elder Shimada’s expression. Hanzo withdrew his hand, took a deep breath, and sighed it out. How he felt about life was remarkably similar to how he felt about the soup, so he did his best to convey his true feelings through the soup’s.

Slowly, he started. “I can… never get it right, you know…” He paused for a length of time, but he was sure Genji could understand that his pauses came from needing time for his words, not being finished. Genji knew that Hanzo would reveal more in a longer time than if he was rushed. That would only result in clenched jaws and frustrated silence.

Hanzo continued, after a moment. “It’s just….” Another pause, but this one was shorter. “Not the same.” Life, when depressed, when really in the thick of it, wasn’t the same as it was for other people. It wasn’t the same as even his good days. “I’ve tried so many recipes…” Online therapeutic techniques, meditation, even yoga and ‘drawing his feelings’. “And yet, there’s always something off.” That weight on his shoulders, that hollowness in his heart. He would have likely withdrawn into his thoughts, were it not for the sound of Genji’s voice.

“Have you tried atsu age?” Hanzo turned, offered an appreciative look, and let conversation flow more easily. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough to keep his mind occupied, before it could draw in tight and cold around itself. Genji’s chatter was helpful, and his storytelling of various antics were a welcome distraction as Hanzo continued to fine tune the lightly bubbling soup.

“-and then she handed me the chandelier.” A soft snort of laughter from Hanzo followed, and Genji was pleased that he’d earned this much out of him. But something caught his auditory-sensing-processors. Fake ears. Whatever. “Oh, fuck.” He pushed himself off the counter, scrambling for the window from which he’d entered. Before Hanzo could so much as process what was going on, Genji leapt from the window.

“… Genji?” He asked the empty window, but all that responded was a light breeze. And… the clink of spurs? For the second time that night, someone came up behind him. Another unexpected guest, with a voice as deep and rough as the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Someone who was also up at an ungodly hour, and who didn’t expect another person to be there.

“Oh, Hanzo, you’re up too?” Jesse spoke with a little bit of surprise, but nothing to the degree of heart-pounding anxiousness as what Hanzo was feeling. ‘Ah, right. Stay calm.’ Hanzo warned himself. Jesse approached him, peering into the pot. He didn’t seem to recognize it, judging by the fact that his exhausted expression didn’t shift much, besides to mild curiosity. “What’s that you’re making?” He asked gently, voice lowered so as to not spook the wild Shimada in his natural environment. After a beat, Hanzo got up the voice to respond.

“Miso soup…” He could feel that weariness, the one his brother had attempted to lift, press down on his back once more. Hanzo pushed his shoulders back, tried to bear it with pride. “I… make it when I feel… Troubled.” He explained, slowly. Jesse didn’t rush him. In fact, after a moment of quiet understanding, Jesse made a similar confession of ‘troubles’.

“Think I could use some right about now.” He admitted, a crooked frown indicating that he related. His tired eyes were downcast, and he, too, bore the dark circles of sleeplessness on his chestnut, freckled skin. Stepping a bit closer, Jesse reached for the ladle. “Do you mind?” He asked, a bit belatedly as it was already within his grasp.

Hanzo turned, welcoming Jesse into his space, “Ah - no.” He permitted the act, but as Jesse raised the deep spoon to his lips, Hanzo’s thoughts grew louder. A flood of them, all at once. ‘Wait!’ they begged, ‘No!’. Hanzo didn’t say anything, his eyes just fell unfocused to the counter in front of him. ‘No! It’s not good enough! It’s not- wait! It’s not the same!’ The thoughts turned onto Hanzo, cruel, ‘No! He’s going to hate it! No, no! He’s going to hate you! No! No! He’s-’. The words began to form on Hanzo’s lips, and they parted, “Wait-” but it never was voiced. He could only pause, heart pounding, as Jesse spoke again. Everything in Hanzo’s mind came to a screeching halt.

“Oh Hanzo,” That low voice was so close, and so warm. Jesse leaned onto him gently, resting his head atop Hanzo’s. “This here just about soothes my soul.”

Hanzo was motionless, for a second, the words sinking in like the warmth onto his frozen form. But when he understood, he relaxed, and the warmth spread to his cheeks and to his smile. “Oh,” he said quietly, reciprocating the little lean. Jesse put his arm around his shoulder, and he fairly melted.

“I’m glad.”