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Fu groggily turned in bed, black dots swimming in his vision when he sat up. A pounding headache quickly took over, and opening his eyes felt like impossible. His entire body felt unbearably heavy. Could he be sick?
No! He couldn’t be sick. If he was, then the Cleaners would surely think of him as trash and throw him out, leaving him behind like the Raiders did when they decided he wasn’t useful anymore. He didn’t want to get left behind. He liked staying here with the Cleaners.
Sure, he had to take on boring jobs like dusting, mopping, and washing the dishes. But the few moments when he was allowed to play games with the others, just chat or lounge around, outweighed all the boring stuff. He loved those moments very much. It was much more fun than with the Raiders... even if he had to wash the dishes more than the others.
So he forced himself out of bed despite his entire body screaming at him and made his way toward the bathroom.
Walking down the hallway toward the mess hall, the smell of breakfast reached his nose and he could hear the others chatting. The comfort of their voices made him feel a little better, and surely some warm food would help his aching body even more. A pancake or a fried egg would do wonders.
“Good morning, Fu,” Gris said with a small smile. The greeting made Fu feel warm inside. He managed a small smile back and headed toward the food. A few more greetings were directed his way, and just being acknowledged made him feel fuzzy and happy. Maybe today would be kind of good after all.
That good feeling disappeared quickly. Just his luck, all the warm breakfast was gone. The eggs, bacon, and pancakes had already been eaten. The cozy feeling from earlier vanished completely.
He felt tears welling up in his eyes.
No! He could not and would not cry over something as simple as breakfast. It was too early and too childish for that. He would just eat some yogurt or cereal instead. But his body suddenly felt even heavier, and lifting his arms to grab a bowl felt impossible. He stood there, staring blankly at the food, probably looking strange from anyone else’s perspective.
Fu jumped when Enjin suddenly appeared behind him. “Yo, is the food not any good?” Fu quickly turned around and nodded just as fast. “I see. I just got a bit worried. You’ve been standing there for quite a while…” He sounded concerned, which was weird for Enjin. Fu hadn’t realized he’d been standing there that long. He didn’t want Enjin worrying about him. What if he saw him as a burden and threw him out? Enjin was his boss, right? He could easily kick him out.
Fu quickly grabbed a bowl and scooped up some yogurt. He gave a small nod before sitting in an empty chair next to Gris. Across from him Follo, Zanka, and Riyo were having a heated argument over who knows what. Fu began eating slowly, scrunching his nose as the cold yogurt slid painfully down his sore throat.
“FU!” He nearly jumped out of his seat at the sudden shout. “Do you pour the milk before or after the cereal?” Riyo asked with a very, very serious expression. Fu blinked and shrugged. He didn’t even like cereal with milk, it got too soggy. The others clearly didn’t like that answer. “I guess… milk first?” he said quietly, not really wanting to argue. Follo and Zanka grinned triumphantly while Riyo muttered curses under her breath. They continued arguing while Fu kept eating.
Gris gently nudged his side.
“Are you feeling okay? You look a bit pale and tired.” The concern warmed his heart. Fu nodded. “I feel okay… maybe a little tired. Sorry.” Gris smiled. “Don’t apologize for that. Just take it easy today. You’ve got training with Zanka and Rudo, right? Explain you’re tired and don’t overdo it. We don’t want any sick babies around.”
Sick babies?
Fu’s chest tightened. He was a burden, wasn’t he? A sick burden. They would surely kick him out if they found out he was sick. He really wanted to stay here with the Cleaners.
He just had to hide it.
Yes.
Fu didn’t tell Rudo or Zanka that he was tired. If he did, they might tell Enji. Enji would get suspicious. They would notice he was sick.
So no, Fu didn’t say anything.
Training went as well as it could with a tired body, pounding headache, and scratchy throat. It was Rudo and Fu versus Zanka. No jinki allowed, just hand to hand combat. Which Fu wasn’t very good at, Hii had always been better at that…
Fu’s headache worsened with every movement. By the end of it, his body was sore and beaten up. Zanka hadn’t held back. Bruises covered his arms, legs, and back. Rudo was, on the other hand, very good at hand-to-hand combat. Zanka actually had to put in real effort to keep up with him, blocking and countering with sharp precision. Fu tried to follow their rhythm, tried to stay in sync, but everything felt half a second too slow. His arms dragged when he lifted them, his legs trembled when he shifted his weight. The world wouldn’t stay steady; it tilted slightly every time he moved too fast, dark spots creeping into the edges of his vision.
“Fu, left!” Rudo called.
He turned too late. Zanka’s strike hit his shoulder and the impact rattled down his spine. Fu stumbled back, breath catching painfully in his throat. Heat prickled under his skin, sweat clinging uncomfortably to his back despite the cool air. He straightened immediately, ignoring the way his knees threatened to buckle.
“I am,” he muttered when Zanka told him to focus, even though he wasn’t. He couldn’t focus. His head pounded with every heartbeat, he was burning, and swallowing felt like dragging sandpaper down his throat. Still, he stepped forward again.
Don’t be useless.
Don’t slow them down.
Don’t get left behind.
The next hit landed against his ribs. The pain burst through him, stealing what little breath he had left. He tried to inhale but it came out thin and shaky. His ears rang. The ground felt unstable beneath his feet. He forced himself to move again, to raise his arms, to be worth keeping around.
Then his vision went white.
One second he was standing, the next the sky was spinning above him. His legs simply gave out. He barely registered hitting the ground. Voices reached him, distorted and distant.
“Fu?”
Hands were on him, one at his shoulder, another at his back, but he couldn’t respond. His body felt impossibly heavy, like it no longer belonged to him. He tried to say he was fine. He tried to get up. Everything went dark before he could.
When he surfaced again, it wasn’t to comfort but to heat. A suffocating, burning heat that made his skin ache and his thoughts sluggish. His eyelids felt glued shut. He kept them that way at first, hoping maybe if he pretended long enough he wouldn’t have to face whatever came next.
“…still too warm.”
Enji’s voice. Fu’s stomach twisted painfully.
“He collapsed mid training,” Rudo said somewhere nearby. A pause followed, heavy and disapproving. “Stubborn kid,” Enjin muttered, though there was no real bite to it.
Fu forced his eyes open. The ceiling swam above him. He was in his bed, blankets tucked tightly around him. Enjin sat beside him with a damp cloth in hand. Zanka leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression tight. Rudo hovered near the door. Gris stood at the foot of the bed, watching him with sharp eyes.
They were all there.
Because he’d failed...
Fu pushed himself up too quickly and immediately swayed. A wave of nausea hit him hard enough that he had to grip the blanket to steady himself.
“Lie down,” Gris said, stepping forward and pressing a firm hand to his shoulder. The touch wasn’t rough, but it left no room for argument. “I’m fine,” Fu insisted, though his voice cracked and came out thin. Enjin’s hand moved to his forehead, fingers cool against overheated skin. Fu froze at the contact. Enjin frowned slightly. “You’ve got a fever.” The word echoed louder in Fu’s head than it should have. Fever. Sick. Useless.
“I can still work,” Fu rushed out, the panic rising faster than he could stop it. “I won’t fall behind again. I’ll do the chores. I’ll train extra. I won’t waste space.” The room fell quiet in a way that made his chest hurt. “Waste space?” Enjin repeated, his tone low. Fu stared at the blanket instead of meeting anyone’s eyes. If he looked at them, he might see it, disappointment, irritation, regret for keeping him around. “If I’m sick, I can’t fight. I can’t help. So I’ll just. I’ll fix it.”
Enjin’s hand gently steadied his back when he started coughing again, the sound rough and painful. “Fu,” Enjin said, “that’s not how this works.” Zanka clicked his tongue in clear annoyance, but not at him. “You think we keep people because they’re convenient?”
Fu didn’t answer. That had been how it worked before.
Gris crouched slightly so they were eye level, his expression serious in a way that made Fu’s chest tighten. “We are not the Raiders,” he said firmly. “You don’t get thrown out because you caught a fever.”
Fu’s fingers tightened in the blanket. “But you said no sick babies.”
For a second there was stunned silence. Then Rudo made a strangled noise that might have been a laugh, and even Zanka’s stern expression cracked. Gris huffed softly beside him.
“That was a joke,” Gris said smiling.
Fu blinked, confused and embarrassed all at once. “Oh.” The humiliation mixed with relief too quickly, and tears welled up before he could stop them. He turned his face away, ashamed. “I didn’t want to get left behind,” he admitted in a whisper so quiet it almost disappeared. The laughter drained out of the room entirely. Zanka stepped forward and, surprisingly gently, rested a hand on Fu’s head. “Idiot,” he said, but it lacked its usual harshness. “You’re already here.” Rudo shrugged from the side. “You scared us, you know.” Gris adjusted the blanket more securely around Fu’s shoulders, his movements careful and warm. “You don’t have to earn your place every single day,” he murmured.
Fu looked up at them, vision blurred from fever and tears. They didn’t look angry. They looked worried. Worried about him. “You’re not… mad?” he asked hesitantly. Enjin exhaled slowly. “I’m mad you didn’t say anything.” His voice softened just a fraction. “Next time, you tell us.”
Next time.
The words settled gently instead of cutting.
Gris replaced the cloth on his forehead, brushing damp hair away from his eyes. The coolness was a relief against the heat of his skin. Zanka squeezed his shoulder once before stepping back. Rudo moved closer to the bed instead of farther away. “We’ll handle things,” Rudo said simply. “You rest,” Enjin added. “That’s an order.” Fu’s chest felt tight again, but not in the same fearful way as before. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out from under the blanket. Gris immediately took his hand, holding it without hesitation.
Warm. Steady. Real.
They hadn’t left.
They weren’t going to.
Fu let his eyes close, exhaustion finally dragging him under properly this time. The fever still burned, his body still ached, but the fear that had gripped him since morning had eased into something softer.
He wasn’t being thrown away.
He was just sick.
And they were staying.