White Winter (A Gency Christmas)

The Reflection on the Blade

Winter is always a time filled with mixed emotions. On one hand, it is a cold and bitter time in most part of the country. People bundle up and struggle to find warmth from different parts, some more ravaged from the Omnic Crisis than others. While the omnics themselves are not made of flesh, the cold still affected their body temperature and mental state, only going further to show their similarity to their human companions. In other parts of the world, the temperature does not change from its natural state of warmth. One of such place was where Mercy was located, assisting a medical team there. After all, there are certain places in the world where one thing never changes even during the harshest of winters. War.

Even so, winter is often a time of great happiness and joy for many. Snow painted landscapes a pure white color, creating a beautiful scene for kids and adults alike. In addition, the grand tradition of Christmas stays strong during these times. Couples and families all enjoy their time together, comforted by the warmth of each other and the joy of sharing memories and presents. It was a time to reunite with old acquaintances and enjoy time off with loved ones.

While Genji had never been one to be big on Christmas celebrations and its family-oriented activities outside of his formalities as part of the Shimada clan, this was perhaps the first year he found himself longing to do something special. Between his old days of being an arrogant playboy and his more recent days of self-hatred, loathing, and isolation, he had never thought of Christmas as anything more than simply an excuse for people to get together in the cold of winter, as if it would let them ignore the coldness of it all in a symbolic defiance to the cold society around them. But with Zenyatta's teaching, he found that even he can see the beauty in nature and life. Sure he still faced the cruelty and coldness of death on his mission. However, he also came to realize that there was more beauty to the world than the simple ugly acts that are so often showcased on the news and during his missions.

It began slowly at first, with colors returning to his world. There was nothing wrong with his eyes of course; they were miraculously unharmed in spite of all the damage that his face and the rest of his body had taken. However, to him it was as if the world was in black and white. Sure he was able to differentiate between enemies and allies at ease. Sure he was still able to understand his surroundings and its colors. But in his mind, it was just all boring data. There was no meaning behind any of them, other than that the light meant he can go. As such, his mind saw no colors, only a dull life that is translated.

It was only through Zenyatta's teachings that he began to open his heart. He did not recall when he first began to see the colors again, but the color was red. The red of the roses. The red of the sunset. Even the red hue of blood did not disgust him; instead it showed him the value of his own life, the one both before and after the incident. After all, that was the blood that ran through his veins and never changed even when he did.

But most prominently of all, he recalled the redness of Angela's lips. He could not exactly pinpoint why. He had hated her, for everything that she did to him and for the curse that she had placed on him. He had pushed her away aggressively, barely looking her in the eye even when she had cared for his wounds so tenderly. He was reckless with his body, in spite of her hard work to rebuild it. He ignored her chastising and blamed her rather than himself for countless of things, whether he said them to her or not. But yet, her lips were the clearest image he could recall with the shade of red.

He recalled it being a gentle one, applied with care and moderation as to give her a gentle and sweet look. Yet from those lips came the sweetest of words that carried a strangely enticing voice that held both gentleness and confidence. They were words that he had ignored so easily and yet she continued to give them to him. In hopes that one day, he would grow to understand them and learn to care for himself as well. Though Zenyatta played an indescribably large role in pushing him to understand, he finally did. Even if it took what seemed to be forever, he finally understand the soft caring words that came for the beautiful soft lips of an angle that he had pushed away in blind hatred.

Strangely enough, the purest color was the last for him to truly recognize. As Genji looked out at the field of white snow in the yard, with his teacher meditating peacefully amidst it all, he recalled that despite having seen the world in practically black and white, he never truly had an appreciation for the color white. While he understood as with before that it stood for being pure and clean, he never saw a true meaning behind it. That would be something that he would one day grow to understand he suppose.

He looked on with amusement at the fact that the orbs floating around his beloved teacher were now snowballs. He sincerely hoped that they were not his normal orbs covered with snow, he had seen them in action after all. Genji smiled gently as he looked down at the piece of brown parchment that he had in his lap. It was empty for the moment, with the ink on his sparrow feather having not yet touched its rough surface. He lifted the feather once more, his mind finally calm and his thoughts composed. He began writing, his hands finally used to the act after hours of practice on countless patches of paper and snow. When he began to write, the words that came out were in a smooth and beautiful cursive type, as he once wrote in his old life. Under the protection of the small overhang from the cold wet snow, Genji sat and write a letter that he knew he should have written long ago. A letter filled with the emotions that he regained along with his heart, all for a woman that he longed to spend his Christmas with. An angel who had saved his life, the one that deserved his most sincere gratitude and apology for everything, even if she was in a far away land where he could not see her at that moment.

He paused for a moment in his writing, right before he signed his name at the very bottom. He blinked twice to himself and gaze out at the field of white, a field of snow that the many inhabitants of the world loved so dearly. He sat still, his quill in his hand as he simply stared. After what seemed like an eternity, Genji smiled to himself before refocusing on the parchment. His teacher opened one eye, looking at his student for a moment before returning to his meditation once more, filled with a newfound feeling of happiness for Genji and a deep sense of pride for the student.

After all, he had finally understood the meaning behind the color white. For the first time, the world came together. Not in simple black and white, but with every shade in between. And with it, Genji finally signed his name at the bottom of the letter. A letter to the white-clad angel.