Chapter Text
With 3R, he’d never had a problem using his hands continuously, but bandaging your arms with hurting fingers wasn’t the best method. They often came loose and that wasn’t efficient during jobs, especially with peering eyes from basically everyone. He was smart enough to patter back to his room after each mission, right before the questions swarmed in.
He recalled Riyo’s significant check up and had became more cautious about leaving his window locked. Unfortunately for him, HQ’s walls aren’t exactly soundproof in the dorms. Anyone stationed near his room would be able to hear his agonized noises every time he washed his gloves with scarred arms. No matter how hard he tried to stay silent something always slipped out. He couldn’t blame Riyo now - he must’ve been loud.
So he stopped cleaning them at night. That meant he wouldn’t clean them during day, which meant never anymore. Which wasn’t good.
Who knew how filthy it had gotten under those wrappers?
Rudo’s arms hurt.
For four hours straight he’d been staring at the ceiling blankly, feeling nothing but the flares in his arms. They scratched themselves against the bed sheets, burning fingers itching to claw at each other and numb the pain away. It got worse and worse every second, and frustration decided to race against time.
He slipped into his shoes, the soles of his boots whispering against the leather as he stepped out of his room. He padded down the hallway toward the infirmary to find Eishia, yet hesitation took over. The thing was: he’d never done that here - the whole asking for help complication. Especially when it regarded his arms.
Back then, Regto could always tell when he was in pain. No words were ever needed, which perplexed Rudo. How could someone be so good at reading others?
”Maybe I’m secretly a wizard that rides a flying bike,” Regto would grin mischievously, but his hands were delicate as they peeled off old bandages.
”You don’t have grey hair though,” Rudo said.
”One day, and you’ll see. I just gotta grow out this beard as well.”
It was just him now. Besides that, no Cleaner (except him) should be awake at this hour. Even the hardest workers rest.
The kid let out a disappointed exhale and turned on his heels before completely freezing up in the hallway.
Eishia was so ready to sleep. She was in her comfiest clothes, walking down the hallway with a cup of water in her hand before she looked up from the marble floors. A shadowy figure with blood red eyes stared her down a few feet away like a haunted statue. Eishia dropped her cup, the plastic clattering against the surface, water pooling from its mouth.
It took her two eye rubs before she registered the figure to be Rudo.
“Rudo…? What are you doing out here?” She stammered, approaching the younger boy slowly. She looked around unsuccessfully for a clock. “It’s really late.”
“Uh…” he fumbled for words. He’d frozen at the sight of her as well. “Are…you going to bed?”
Eishia blinked. “Well… yes,” she replied. “But…do you… need something?”
“Yeah, uh,” Rudo started to trail away, voice so small it would’ve been mistaken as a squeak. “…I was wondering…if you were available or something.” His face turned tomato. “N-not that you have to do anything now, I just… I just need more bandages.”
Eishia immediately glanced down to his hands that trembled against his waist.
”Are they-“ she started, her voice louder than she wanted it to be.
Rudo felt a chill up his spine.
”I’ve always…changed them myself,” he said. “So don’t…worry about it. Really. I’m fine with doing it alone.”
Eishia conceived his current state.
He was in pain. And she wasn’t going to let him hurt.
“I can help you,” she suddenly spoke up. “You don’t look…those don’t look good. They’re going to need more than gauze.”
Rudo shifted his gaze from the floor to the young nurse that stood before him.
“Come on,” she turned and unlocked the infirmary door, holding it open for him.
The boy stiffly entered.
Dim light spilled across metal tables and bottles lined neatly in rows. Eishia set her cup aside and moved gently toward the supply cabinet.
“You can sit over there,” she pointed. Rudo listened and found a spot on a bed near the door, eyes darting everywhere but her. There were only two separate LEDs on during midnight, tinted in dim beige so his sleep deprived eyes wouldn’t suffer.
It reminded him of Regto’s workspace, the old bulb hanging above their heads like the sun.
Eishia turned back and saw the way his hands stalled halfway as she pulled the tray close. His ears jolted at the sound of skidding tires against stone floors.
“…It’s okay,” she said, setting it close. “You can show me.”
He didn’t answer right away. His throat worked as if to say something, but the words got caught somewhere between habit.
"...They're..." he hesitated. "I-"
They're ugly, dirty, and disgusting.
"It's fine," Eishia interrupted his thought process. "If they hurt, you can let me help you."
He knew what Eishia was capable of. She was like a guardian angel of sorts, saving people from all kinds of injuries. When he thought Gris was dead, Eishia was the one that saved his life. Slowly he pulled his gloves and wrappings loose. The bandages came off stiff and revealed darkened skin, raw and irritated, fingertips pitch black. It didn't even appear as a normal human limb, just had a silhouette of one.
He saw her expression harden, a twisted, helpless feeling conjuring inside of him. “It’s not that bad,” he muttered quickly, as if it would help his situation.
“These aren't…burns,” He didn’t expect her voice to become so stern for someone so soft spoken. "When was the last time you changed these?"
He craned his head away from her face. “I don’t know…maybe a week. Two. Three.”
Eishia’s gaze didn’t falter and she did not look away. She nodded in acknowledgment and snapped her gloves on, reaching for the silicon gel in the center of the metal tray. She didn’t press him further like he’d expected her to.
Rudo stayed silent while she worked. He watched her hands, delicate and careful though she kept frowning at herself every few seconds. Her expressions escalated every time she felt the slightest flinch from him. He didn't understand why she was always so nervous. Was she not aware of her own talent, or she was too humble for her own good? He was never the best interpreter.
“I’m sorry if this stings,” she would murmur every time his arm jerked.
“No,” he cut in, barely above a whisper. “…You’re doin’ fine.”
And for the rest of the treatment, he sat still for her sake.
Eishia was skilled at her job and almost everyone saw her for what she did. But in her eyes, one wrong tug would cause everything to come apart, and it would hurt whatever or whoever she was trying to treat.
Simply, Eishia does not recognize herself as such. That was why her head was always so low, hands clasped together as if she was going to accidentally knock down everything she passed. Despite her brother’s enthusiastic ways of hyping her up and his defensiveness towards her including her grandmama’s support, encouragement didn’t get her anywhere. She placed herself under others’ heels and stayed there, not expecting anything to pull her up.
“Heal me with electricity?! You trying to kill me?!”
“Electro-girl!”
“Bionic woman!”
“Monster!”
Was she that scary when she used her powers?
She carried that thought for many, many years, the whines and cries of her supposedly freakish ways of dealing with medicine still echoing in the back of her head, telling her to stop, to quit, until she joined the Cleaners. The people here were accepting of her powers just like they did with all the other Givers who joined, giving them a purpose and a reason to accept who they were. They were honest and she trusted them with her heart. Every time there was a wound, a gash, a gaping head, she had helped them. It was almost instinctively the way she would start her procedures without further explanations.
Grandmama had told her it was her kind, sentimental heart that gave her the ability to heal through an object that was considered lethal when activated. So why was she always so anxious while doing something she was best at?
If only she had a little of her brother’s confidence.
If only she was a bit better at what she was doing.
“You’re doin’ fine.”
Eishia blinked. She lifted her gaze from the boy’s arms up to his face, looking for revulsion.
(There was nothing but admiration in his eyes.)
“…Oh,” she mumbled, quickly turning her attention back to his arms. “…Sorry.”
“Why…” Rudo said, his tone flatter than paper. “No, it’s okay.”
He sounded so cryptic, she couldn’t even tell what kind of emotion he was dealing with. Ever since his arrival here, he was always so quiet. Even at his own welcome party, he sat in a corner with his head against the table.
Eishia shook the thought off, then placed stained cotton onto a waste tray and picked new ones from a plastic bag. She carefully traced it across uneven skin, oozes of red gripping onto the material. She heard Rudo hiss, clenching teeth, then what might’ve been slight jerks as an attempt to escape her working hands.
She wondered how long he had been enduring all this pain before coming to any type of medical treatment.
These scars on his arms looked about years old, yet for him, they still hurt. Even if she did try to use her jinki on them she doubted they would even reduce anything. She also knew very little about what really happened before he was exiled from the Sphere so she didn’t want to ask the wrong questions. But whatever happened to him wasn’t an accident, and he knew that too.
She bit her lip and wrapped new bandages over them once she was done.
“…There you go,” Eishia told him. She watched the kid stare at his fingers, knitted eyebrows relaxing a fraction before putting his gloves on. “The cream will probably disinfect your arms so under any circumstances, please keep the bandages on.”
“Yeah, I will,” Rudo answered. Then there was an awkward silence. Eishia saw him look at her, something like unsureness behind those red eyes.
“…You’re not gonna ask? Anything?” He questioned.
Eishia’s brows raised. Did he mean questions about his hands? “No, I… didn’t plan to.”
No wonder the boy seemed so on edge. Did he expect her to feel disgusted seeing his arms? They weren’t normal, but they weren’t something to be rude about.
“…Okay then.” Was his reply, something between suspicion and defensiveness. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. So she took a deep breath.
“Rudo.”
The boy raised his head. She sighed shakily, hands together before gazing at him.
“You can come to me whenever you need… to get your arms checked. I won’t ask you anything,” she told him. And with a short pause, “…It’s always better to speak up before things get worse.” Oh man, that just slipped out of her.
She saw his eyes dilate, a surprised expression on his face. She couldn’t tell if it was a genuine reaction towards what she said or it was mild disgust behind stiff facial muscles. She shifted where she sat, eyebrows knitted far from fixing out of nervousness until the tension broke with a whisper.
“Thanks,” Rudo mumbled. “A lot, actually, I shouldn’t even be bothering you at this hour…”
Upon hearing those words, Eishia let out a relieved sigh, a small smile appearing.
“It’s alright,” she replied. “…just try to go to sleep. It’ll help.”
“I’ll try,” the kid said. He headed for the door and before closing it, he turned back. “Good night, Eishia.”
“Good night, Rudo.”
The door clicked closed as soft footsteps retreated from the infirmary.
She hoped he’d get enough sleep, just for tonight.