Chapter Text
As a child, her grandfather told her nigh-endless stories of what he called a ‘proper’ winter.
A concept long forgotten by the local children of today.
A myth.
White blanketing the land like fresh pristine bandages wrapped around a boxer’s hand, not yet stained with the day’s work. Plump coats, mittens, and fur-lined everything, with lights galore signaling festivities, it all sounded splendidly fulfilling.
He’d bounce her on his leg ever so gently as he rewove the tales his mother told him. The ones her parents gave her. A whole bloodline of dreamers that spoke of snow.
Soft and bright, twinkling on the ground, the powder reflected the moon on clearer nights. Although clear nights now simply meant ones where smoke didn’t clog the air and fill your nose with an uncomfortable haze. Out near the dangerous zones, suffocating smog was the usual.
Even in such a trash-riddled land, Gigi fell in love with the idea of a wondrous winter.
“Hmm.” Her grandfather hummed, bent down by the entrance of her pillow fort. Their kitchen table had been overtaken by a plethora of quilts, embroidered pillows and a massive comforter to make-up a rather cozy hideaway underneath. He chuckled at her handiwork, as he slowly sat down across from the blanket opening. “I seem to have misplaced my Giggles. Where ever could she be?”
A peal of muffled laughter leaked from the tower of cushions, the light rustling of fabric betraying her location.
“I think I hear her. Oh, but I’m not sure.”
Small pudgy hands pushed back the blankets as a small girl with two pigtail tufts peeked out, giggling all the while. Wiggling and scooching herself out from under her fort, as if an army cadet, a plush jammed tight in her little fist. Once cleared from the fort, she leapt to her feet, rushing over to her grandpa.
“I’m here! I’m here!”
The old man sighed with feigned relief. “There’s my Giggles. Thought you were supposed to be sleeping.”
“I wasn’t s-eeping!” She laughed, smacking his knee lightly with a plush snowman. “I’m not tired one bit.”
He smiled, raising a brow at her. “Not one bit, are you? Oh, well I guess you won’t want a bedtime story then.”
“No, no, noooo- I want a story! I want a story!”
“Alrighty, well, come on then.”
Standing up with a groan, he stretches out his back before picking up the whining child, her arms flailing upwards the second he rises from the floor. Immediately, she burrows her face in his collar, her arms swung around his neck. Leaving the dingy kitchen behind, the two head to her room, the doorway lined with flimsy colorful paper links.
Ducking inside, with a hand he parted the line of streamers that hung from the ceiling in place of an actual door. The two had decorated the archway together for her seventh birthday. Rosy pink streamers, now faded, dutifully tied to a thin dowel rod wedged and nailed near the top of the entrance. He set her down gently, on the other side of the fringe curtain, watching as she rushed about to grab her toys off the floor. Worming her way under the covers of her bed, she readied herself for storytime, an armful of stuffed animals surrounding her.
Resting near the edge of the bed, her grandfather playfully tapped his chin. “Suppose, I gotta make this a good one?”
She nodded enthusiastically, her little twin tails shaking vigorously.
“Alright then…a good story.” He hummed, reaching over to gently undo the simple hairstyle– her father’s handiwork, combing through it with his fingers. “I’ve got it. A good classic. There was once a little reindeer with a bright red nose-”
“Noooo. Say a new one!”
“A new one? You’re a greedy little girl, aren’t you?”
Giggling to herself, only to quickly cover her mouth with her blanket, she shook her head.
“Alright then, since you insist.” Grandpa tousled her hair lightly. “Hm, well. In a quiet chilly land far north, ages ago, in a big ol’ house, there lived a young girl with her father.
“Like me?" She asked curiously, leaning forward.
“Yes, sweetheart. Just like you.”
As she settled back into bed, he continued with the tale.
“She was a magical child. Snowflakes shimmered in her hands and the cold cherished her, just as it did her mother.” He smiled, patting her hands that gripped the blanket gently. “But, her mom, who loved her so, couldn’t stay with them.”
Softly, the child gasped from under the covers. Her face peered over the edge of the quilt, hanging on every word.
“You see, she was called away by fairies into a far away land. They needed their queen to return to her castle in the snow. The land had grown wild and icy without the queen’s gentle magic.”
“Grandpa…why couldn’t the girl go with her?”
“She was too little. The castle was too far. It was a really big journey, sweetheart.” He answered softly.
Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ as she listened.
“Though sad to leave her, she left behind a very special gift for her daughter. The night she left, the fairies snuck into the girl’s bedroom. And while she slept, filled the room with a beautiful surprise.”
Alight with curiosity, she sat up once more. “What’d she get?”
“Patience, now. The story ain’t over yet.” Her grandfather teasingly huffed, nudging her to lay back down and pulling her blanket up to her chin.
“When the girl woke up, there were tiny little glittery footprints all across the floor and the most wonderful clothes. A cloak sewn from snowflakes that will never melt, to shield her from the cold, her scarf, knit by the hearth of an eternal fireplace to warm her, and muffs, plucked from the softest snowy morning clouds to comfort her.”
“So pretty… I want them too!”
At that he laughed heartily. “You do? Well, ask the fairies nicely and maybe, they’ll gift you some.”
The wintery clothes, the chill she dreamed snow would have, and the hilarious thought of eating it— her great grandmother, Noelle insisted it tasted sweet, nonetheless she was endeared to it all. Her collection already had some real winners, like her Grandma Wren’s twin lopsided felted snowman dolls, decked out with scarves and little hunter caps. At least, that’s what Grandpa said snowmen were supposed to look like. Proudly, the two were now stationed by Gigi’s windowsill, one on each side, holding up tiny toy rifles as if ready for a chilly barrage.
She lazily toyed with Soot– the snowman on her right, as her finger flattened his felt cap to his round head, rocking him back and forth with little energy. Staring down upon the alleyway below, content to people watch for now. Not that she had anything to do.
The girl had spent about a week wandering the city after reaching her new apartment. She knew where good food was to be found, the laundromat, a knick-knack shop and even a hole-in-the-wall spot for amateur musicians. After that, she spent the next four days decorating, stocking, and organizing her place. That was all the time she needed for now to get comfortable with the area. By day twelve, Gigi was irrevocably bored. Nothing left to hang up, unpack, or anyone to speak with, just herself, Soot and Coal, and the tiny one bedroom that now belonged to her. She could always clean, but that was quite boring.
“What to do? What to dooooo?” She drug the question out into her shoulder, her face pressed against her arm. “Maybe, I could paint the place?”
The teenager picked up the plush to rest him atop her head. A little periscopic companion to stare out the window with.
“Nah.”
People watching became a new way to pass the time. Interpreting a whole new life for each person that came and went. Two bickering teens covered in paint suddenly became arch-enemies turned lovers from rival ‘paint’ gangs that went around tagging up walls as a way of claiming territory. The one with the most tags wins.
A tattered tabby crawling down off the opposite building's dumpster became a secret witch living way out west; the old woman that arrived after the cat ran off turned out to be the cat’s human form.
Imagine her surprise when a head doused in white walked past from the edge of her window, turning down the corner of the alley. Only a moment in sight perked her up. Cheek pressed to the dusty pane, as her rampant imagination surged.
Of course, Gigi chased after it. Her first hint of snow.
She launched herself from her rickety two-bit chair, nearly knocking her teeth out in the process. With a quick succinct patter of feet down the fire escape of her mother’s old tiny apartment, she hit the sidewalk running.
A pair of slides, keen eyes, and a dream followed her as she jerked her head around. Looking for a sign of that shimmer, any sign.
“Where’d they go?”
– –
Zanka and Enjin had been sent out on an errand, supposedly a simple recon. Potentially, it could turn into a retrieval mission at minimum and at worst they’d scrap.
Apparently out in the East Ward, rumor spread of a rather volatile Giver hiding out. An old rumor, as there’d been incidents previously years ago, but it’d since quieted down. The Giver had disappeared, died or moved on from the city. However, a few eyes and ears out in the area said that word on the street was that supposedly they were back. At least their vital instrument was.
Which isn’t great, but not much just anyone can do with another Giver’s vital instrument. Unless, you were also a Giver or a Successor, but even then, pretty slim chances of anything happening— practically nada, actually. Still, better to have it off the streets then let it drift away and get snatched up for malicious purposes.
“So, we’re just gonna hit up a couple spots and confirm our intel. Probably just someone stealing off a corpse at best, and at worst we throw hands.” Enjin said, nonchalantly.
Zanka gave his mentor a dubious look. “You’re too chill about this, Enjin.”
Enjin waved him off nonchalantly, driving the vehicle with one hand and his knee. Only for them to hit another massive pothole, jerking him forward to grip the steering wheel with both hands. Shaking out the stiffness in his neck after, he leaned back into his chair.
“Hey, we’re gonna take this shit seriously, but remember I’m just here to cover all the bases, kid. Besides, we got back up. So, don’t sweat it.”
A quick thumbs up from Tomme did not inspire confidence in Zanka. He swatted her thumb down, grumpily.
“I’m not sweating it.”
Enjin scoffed, rolling his eyes at the boy. “Yeah man, I don’t really believe you, but whatever.”
Gris sighed heavily from his shotgun seat next to the haphazard blonde. Taking a quick glance out the window as the car barrels down the road, he hoped this would be smooth sailing.
And for the most part it was. A whole lotta nothing on a nothing burger.
Hopping out of the car, the walk down the main streets bored the group more than anything. Idle chatter amidst themselves filled the time, as they met dead-end after dead-end.
Zanka could imagine Riyo teasing him for having such a boring day when he got back. Or better yet, insisting he should’ve brought back something interesting if he spent the whole day in the city. What she considered interesting though, was a toss up between food, CDs, and absolutely horrific art. The more disturbing the better, in her opinion.
Except no cockroaches. Apparently that was going too far.
He sighed heavily, as they passed shop after shop, building after building.
Maybe he’d come back with no souvenirs and just avoid her for a couple hours till she forgot about it. Who was he kidding, she was not going to forget about it that fast.
His thoughts were interrupted by a low whistle.
“What?” Zanka looked over to Enjin. The man had slowed to stop on the sidewalk, effortlessly rolling Umbreaker off his shoulder to act as a cane. Without looking back, he tossed a carabiner loaded with keys behind him to the two lagging supporters.
Enjin’s gaze followed a scraggly figure in an oversized hoodie scrambling out of the restaurant on his right. Their breathily laughs ragged, practically wheezing as they stumbled into the door in their haste.
Only a few steps out into the street does the shady stranger glance back. A breath of victory right as a massive bag of flour flies out after them, slamming into their body with a sickening boom. On impact, the sack burst open and an explosion of flour spewed across the sidewalk.
In a single swift movement Umbreaker clicked open as flour forcefully smacked Zanka’s face. Enjin chuckled as his mentee wretched and puffed out flour.
“Gotta act quicker, my man. That’s how you get got.”
Casually, the older cleaner shook the powder off his umbrella as best he could before wiping the rest away. After ensuring it was practically flour-free, he collapsed it back into place with a little flair.
Knocked clean out, the poor sod laid out in the street as if a traffic cone on a windy day. Not even a second later, as Zanka cleared his throat, a stocky woman buttoned into a chef’s coat angrily stormed out of the bakery.
“Fuck around and find out, you bastard.” She spits, swiftly kicking the man on the ground in the side. Nodding to herself, satisfied as he writhed and groaned on the gravel.
“Mornin’ Enjin.” She added, raising her hand in a friendly manner.
“What up, Tilly.” He catches up to the baker as she begins hauling the now partially empty sack back inside. “You gotta sec?”
“You’re gonna have to walk and talk.”
He trailed after her, heading into the store. “Say less.”
Left behind on the pavement, Zanka sneezed roughly as he tried to dust off his face, the remnants of the impromptu attack still shoved up his sinuses. Ruffling up his own mullet, he found that this flour wasn’t going to give up without at least a shower. Even leaning over and shaking his head still didn’t rid him of the temporary faux bleach job.
“We were going to check-in with the guy who called this in first. You coming?” Gris asked, accepting a set of car keys from Tomme and pocketing them.
Why not?
How else to waste the day?
Meeting up with a few random people and a couple he’d seen in passing, all to result in nothing. Mostly nothing at least. A handful of new rumors, confirming the ones the Cleaners already knew, and an address. That address being the most helpful piece of info they’d heard all day.
A whole morning and part of an afternoon talking to people. Talking is fine and all, but after a while? Draining. Catching back up to Enjin briefly to trade results didn’t take too long either. It also didn’t take long for him to want to run back off again.
Itching the back of his neck with a knuckle, he glanced at the two tired teen Cleaners and Gris. “Hey, so, I’m going to yap with a few more friends I’ve got over here. We’ll hit up that place y’all got before we head out, but I’m gonna call it for the day, if this still gets us nowhere.”
He got some grumbles, a nod, and a thumbs-up as a response.
“Y’all just hang out with the Jeep or something, alright? I’ll be back.” Enjin suggested, waving them off.
This job was supposed to be simple.
It was too simple, really. It felt more and more like a wild goose chase by now.
Their small group had scoured at least half the city by now, wandered the streets and inched around with the car when possible. Lively mid-day markets cramped the already thinner roads near the heart of the business district, making it impossible for the Jeep to even crawl through. Let alone when Enjin’s behind the wheel. Thankfully, Gris took control once they got closer to their destination.
Zanka kicked a can down the road as he took a right down an alley. He’d wandered a ways away from the main area he’d left the other two at. Shabby apartment complexes lined his path, as dumpsters, pipes and the like cluttered the backstreet.
Just a check-in.
A couple locals connected to Cleaner HQ were worried about the rumors sparking up and asked them to come visit. Go figure. Now, it’s looking more and more like a waste of a Saturday. He could’ve been training, instead of meaninglessly bumming around downtown.
That was his thought at least until a blur of sage and pink flew right over the crumbling alley wall. Within a snap of a second his staff was illuminated, and whirled to catch the flying figure by the stomach. Colliding with her instead of sending her flying, as she gripped onto Assistaff’s crescent shape. Cracking and chipping a nail or two in an attempt to dig her fingers into the stick, cementing her grip on the weapon.
“What the fuck?!” He shrieked, as he dug his heels into the ground.
“Hello.”
At that he yelped and tried to shake her off, but she held on. Even going as far as to twist her legs around it, tying herself up like a bow. It was absurd but not the oddest occurrence. Any passerby from the main street knew better than to pry. Especially when a Giver was involved.
Her face lit up by the light of his blue staff stared him down, the glow electrifying her widened eyes.
Up close, she could see that in this light his hair was more of an ashen dirty blonde or dim mottled cream instead of the glittery platinum she first saw. A handful of powder combined with the local clubs and shops’ colorful lights played a trick on her eyes. Though not snow, in a way it was similar to how breathtaking she’d picture it’d be, soft. He was-
“You’re like…really pretty.”
“Excuse me?”
“Pretty. You’re pretty.” She reiterated, mesmerized by the boy just inches away from her. “Do people not tell you that?”
Enjin laughed heartily, horrendously even, with his head thrown back and a hand on his stomach. Kicking his legs in the air, as he slapped the table, wheezing at the end, as Zanka, flustered, slouched into the seat’s cushion, in an attempt to merge with the ground. If he tried hard enough the chair would fuse with him.
“It’s not that funny.” He sunk further in the chair.
Meeting back up with Enjin hadn’t taken long. The conversations he needed to have were rather short and to the point, with only a bit of random chatter. However, much to the older man’s surprise, his mentee had come back with a pretty pink tag-along.
With furrowed brows and arms folded, Zanka huffed as Enjin slowly caught his breath.
“Holy shit, man. How the hell did you pick up a girl on a Jinki retrieval mission? Guess you got game after all. Oh, they grow up so fast.” Mockingly wiping a tear from his eye, Enjin sparked up his own ridiculous laughter again.
Conflicted if not constipated, Zanka clutched his staff with an exhausted look, staring off into the ground. On one hand, he technically received a compliment from Enjin and on the other, it could’ve also been technically an insult.
None of it bothered Gigi in the slightest.
She’d followed him out only to be offered a meal. A win is a win.
Though she wasn’t too sure on who or what Enjin was. Seeing the symbols on his coat made it pretty clear he was a Cleaner too, but he just seemed shady. Yeah, shady was the right word. Shady and silly.
In the same fifteen minutes it took for Zanka to wander off, Gris and Tomme ended up reparking the car. The previous lot had gotten them chewed out, by a rather uppity old woman holding her cat who insisted they blocked the door to her home. The same door that had actually been only five feet to the right of said parking spot. Nonetheless, they had made their way back to the main street, only to be met with a girl decked out in fluffy clothes, most likely in her late teens, staring at the two blonde Givers having a moment.
A rough hand gently landing on her shoulder made her look away from the scene. Another blonde man appeared, this one accompanied by a kind looking brunette woman about a head shorter than him. Both wore the same uniform, in a similar color as the other two she’d met– fellow Cleaners most likely. Though, this was the first time she was actually speaking with a group of them.
“I’m Tomme and this is Gris.” She greeted, gesturing to her companion. “It’s nice to meet you?”
“Gigi.”
“Nice to meet you, Gigi!” Tomme echoed, enthusiastically.
“Good to meet ya.” Gris took his hand back, only to casually rest both on his hips. “So, Gigi, how about we leave them to it, huh? You hungry?”
Blinking up at Gris, she nodded slowly.
“I don’t know what they said to you already, but if you’re there to talk to that guy,” He jabbed a thumb in Enjin’s direction. “You should do it at least on a full stomach. Don’t worry, he’ll cover it. What do you say?”
“Well,” she hesitated a moment. “I won’t say no to free food.”
Gris smiled at that. “Have anything specific in mind?”
That was how Tomme found herself standing in the bakery right off the main road. Listening as the short girl clarified that she didn’t really need to talk to any of the cleaners– well, she was certainly interested in Zanka and his vital instrument.
“Can’t believe you guys get to see that everyday. Blue is such a lovely color, you know?” The shorter girl remarked as the cashier wrote down her order.
“Hey.” Tomme turned to Gigi, who’d just finished receiving her order ticket. “If I’m hearing you right, you just chased Zanka? That’s it?”
Gigi quirked her head to the side, as her face grew a simmering grin. “That’s his name? Cute.”
For some reason the name suited him. Visually sharp and vocally soft. It was too bad, she didn’t get to hear it from him. She figured an introduction was overdue. Her grandpa always said first impressions mattered, and that it’s polite to introduce yourself first. Technically, she did greet him first, that had to count for something.
“But, yeah. Guess I did.”
“Just because?”
Gigi shrugged. Of course, there were reasons but it truly did boil down to curiosity and whim. Honesty is the second best policy after creativity.
“Kinda, sorta?”
She thought back to the few minutes prior that led here. After Zanka and her had a sort of stalemate that mainly involved him swinging his staff around aggressively, she did eventually get down off the top of the stick.
When finally, he decided enough was enough, and to just leave, Gigi followed after him. This time with less of an impassioned fervor, and more so out of curiosity. With each cautious step backward out of the alley he took, she took another step forward. In the end, she just ended up trailing after him like a cat following after someone who fed them.
“…followed him. Found in the south of the East Ward main city…”
Murmuring and the scratch of a pencil to paper brought Gigi out of her thoughts. Tomme had taken no time to pull out her little notebook, jotting down a few things. Leaning over, the younger girl noticed even the beginnings of a little sketch. A graphite doodle of her and her skirt with a close up of the patterns embroidered onto it, along with a blurry photo taped to the page.
“Oh, is that supposed to be me?”
Tomme pulled the sketchbook close to her. “Sorry! It’s just-“
Gigi blinked tiredly before beaming brightly at her. A soft, big smile, that tugged at her cheeks lightly.
“That’s super cool. I haven’t had anyone draw me before… is my forehead really that big?”
“Oh my god, no! I have to add your hair. I promise—“
The two were abruptly interrupted by the call from the counter. “Order 72! Order 72!”
—
Flanked by Gris and Tomme, she walked out from the restaurant beside their table, holding two massive cinnamon rolls smothered in icing.
“Hey-” Gris gets cut off by Enjin’s boisterous voice.
“Gris, he’s already bringing girls home.” He patted Zanka on the shoulder roughly, snickering all the while. “It’s okay bro. I get it, just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Stop.” Zanka groaned.
Gigi pulled a chair over to the table with her foot, snagging it by the wire leg. Scraping the concrete before plopping down next to Zanka to continue eating her sweet roll.
“Want one?” She offered.
“Uh… no. I’m fine.”
“Wow Zanka, so rude to your date.” Enjin teased, leaning on the table, his cheek in his palm.
Zanka’s head whipped to his mentor, his face burned red, hot from embarrassment as his mouth dropped in horror.
“It’s okay. More for me.” Gigi replied, nonchalant as she continued to chow down on the fresh baked goods.
Enjin snapped his fingers, sitting up. “Actually, kid, you could be pretty helpful. Mind if I ask you something?”
She swallowed quickly, coughing a bit before drinking some water that Tomme handed her. “Depends.”
“I gotta find this address, you know where it is?”
“I dunno if I’mma be much help…” Gigi looked about as unsure as she sounded. “I don’t really know too many spots here.”
He casually flicked his hand, dismissing her concern. “That’s alright. Just take a look, and if you don’t know, it’s no biggie. We’ll call it even for those rolls you got.”
Her eyes flitted between his lazy smile and the slip of paper in his hand, contemplating it for a second before sighing. Sticking out her hand, Gigi impatiently gestured for the note.
Enjin slid it across the table. “Knock yourself out. I need that back though.”
Quick to get into it, she read it swiftly only to immediately pull a face. Her brows furrowed and nose slightly scrunched as she finished reading it over. The rickety chair screeched painfully as she stood, scrutinizing the address, as she took another bite of her sweets.
This was bizarre. Coincidence? Potentially. Probably. Still though, above all else, it was bizarre.
“It’s okay if you don’t know the place.” Gris reassured.
She set the note back down on the table. “No. I know this one.”
“You do?” Tomme perked up, curious.
“Good job, Zanka. She’s a walking map, you’ll never get lost.” Enjin joked, with a slight chuckle as he threw an arm over the back of his own chair.
“It’s just…” Gigi, puzzled, pushed the paper back over to Enjin. “That’s my apartment.”
“Deadass?”
Polishing off the last of her dessert hastily, she wiped her hands with a napkin before hooking an arm around Zanka’s and pulling him to his feet. If they wanted a tour, she supposed she could give one. Hospitality is a good life skill, after all.
“Here, I’ll prove it.” She declared, tugging him down the street, albeit not very well as the teen stood his ground, waiting for Enjin to say something.
The blonde chuckled and threw his hands up. “Well, fuck it. Why not?”
With that, the group followed the girl through the alleys until they eventually ended up at the backside of a tall antique building. An apartment complex with a ratty fire escape that looked more like a hazard than actual stairs. Still, she dragged Zanka over to it, letting him go only to climb it as if it was freshly installed that morning. Gigi swiftly ran up the steps to sit in a window on the fourth floor.
“Come around to the front, if you’re scared.” She impatiently pointed to the right side of the building. “I’ll show you around.”
With that, the girl dropped into the apartment and disappeared from sight. Zanka, with a doubtful look to the others, followed suite and climbed through the window.
“Is this actually the damn building?” Enjin’s brows shot up as he ran a hand through his hair, scoffing as he said, “You’re shitting me.”
“She does kinda look like the photo they gave us.” Tomme opened her notes again, with Gris glancing over her shoulder. “Except without whatever, kind of hat that is.”
The Akuta team leader lifted his umbrella to jab it in the direction of her book. “That’s the worst fucking picture known to man. It could be anybody that’s dyed their hair green with a bag over their head. Shit, it looks like a picture of a fucking tree.”
“Asked around when I was with the car, a couple folks said that Giver had been seen near here last time they were in town.” Gris added, weighing in on the whole what-if of the mystery girl.
“So, it’s all down to whether or not the little lady over there does in fact have the jinki we’re looking for.” Enjin sighed, as he headed to the front of the building to catch up with the two teens. “Great.”
As they made their way around to the front door, Gigi crawled back into her room. Hopping down from the ledge and onto a plush pink carpet, turning to shut the window only for Zanka to climb through.
“Didn’t think you’d actually follow me through there. Awesome.” She grinned, all teeth and a scrunched up nose.
He sighed as he brought his Lovely Assistaff in gently through the window. “Yeah, didn’t think I’d get jumped by a rando either.”
A look of surprise came over her as she tapped her own head. “Oh shoot, my bad. I’m Gia, but you can just call me, Gigi.”
She hastily stuck out a hand, waiting for him to do the same. “And you’re Zanka, right?”
“Yeah. Zanka Nijiku.” He hesitated giving her his hand, especially after watching her devour two rather sticky desserts.
Not giving him the time to pull back, she rapidly shook his hand. Though her grip wasn’t strong and seemed mostly free of any sticky residue, her fingertips were rough and calloused. A passing handshake.
“Boom, now I’m not a rando!” She cheered.
He rolled his eyes and walked past her, to center himself in her room. “Nah, you still kinda are.”
She flopped on her bed, a dramatic little flail at the rejection. Turning her head to look in the faux blonde’s direction. “What makes me not a stranger?”
“Talking.” He quipped.
Gigi threw a hand in the air and whirled her arm around, gesturing to the two of them. “Well, we’re doing that.”
“Time, then.”
She sat up quickly and allowed herself to slide off the bed. “I can do that. We can do that right now.”
He scoffed. There was no way she was serious about that. “Not all at once, dumbass. I mean like over time, like a while.”
As serious as ever, she cut in front of him with a determined look. Walking over to open her door with a little ‘after you’ gesture to him.
“I totally can do that. It’s called magic.” Gigi said matter-of-factly.
With a groan, he went into the hall. “Magic is for kids.”
“Well, you have magic.”
“What?”
“You have a magic stick.” She insisted, poking his staff playfully. “A very pretty blue stick. So obviously, you’re a magician.”
“That’s—“ He was cut off by her finger in his face along with her own.
“And therefore you can use magic.” Gigi declared, seemingly highly satisfied with her own logic. “Boom. I should be a teacher cause I’m great at this.”
Flicking on the shoddy hallway light, she spun on her heel and began leisurely walking backwards.
“So, Mr. Magician. What’d you do to your hair?“
“Huh? Oh, um flour. Gotta bunch of flour in it.”
She giggled, before gasping excitedly. “Were you trying to become bread or something? Oh-oh! Are you a magic baker for the Cleaners? Did you come here for a secret baking artifact that some rogue chef left behind?”
“What the fuck?” Zanka snorted, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth in an attempt not to laugh. “No, how the hell did you get there?”
“Creativity is the world’s greatest gift to us. As my grandma would say. That and magic bread sounds cool.”
“Wouldn’t most food already be magic then, according to you?” He asked, a smile evident as well as his curiosity.
As if she taught her own class, Gigi pretended to push fake glasses up her nose bridge. “Nope. Magic bread and regular bread are different. You see magic bread sparkles like snow.”
“Snow?” He tilted his head, puzzled.
A rattling low electrical buzz sounded off from the front door. With a hurried wave, she beckoned him to stop.
“Oh! Wait right here, I’ll go get them.”
Hurriedly from her flat she ran for the door to let the cleaner crew into the building. Leaving him behind to babysit her apartment for only a moment. Though he didn’t have much time to himself before she burst back in, Cleaner trio in tow.
“Welcome to the Gigi Dreamhouse. Aka my Winter AirBnB.” Gigi proudly announced, gesturing to the whole five hundred and fifty square feet of her home. “Whatcha think?”
“This tracks.” Enjin said, following her through the doorway.
Zanka gave him a judgmental confused look. “Does it?”
The man shrugged, as if the statement itself was the most basic fact of life. “Yeah? What you thought a hideout spot was gonna look fancy? I wouldn’t have been shocked if they sent us into the sewers, if I’m being honest.”
“Enjin.” Gris chided. This was a kid’s apartment after all, best be at least slightly respectful.
“What? We could’ve really been in some shit then.”
The older supporter sighed. This man was going to age him faster than the actual kids.
“So.. I didn’t wanna say it earlier.” Gigi spoke up. “But it sounds like you’ve been looking for my house all day. Kinda weird.”
She twirled around, with big doe eyes staring down Enjin as she asked, “What are you like a stalker— a perv?”
“Hell no!” Enjin exclaimed, offended at the thought.
Leaning over to Zanka with a hand to her mouth she loudly whispered, “I don’t know if you should really be traveling with this guy. He hasn’t done anything right?”
Enjin pointed at her with his umbrella.“I’m not beyond kicking yer ass, kid.”
“I’m not a kid, old man.” She retorted, spitting emphasis on the end.
“Old man? I’m 26!”
Gris snickered, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I am not that old. You haven’t seen old, if you think I’m fucking old.” Enjin protested.
She shrugged, lightly spinning herself back and forth in her swivel chair. “So, mid-life crisis, why’d you wanna find me anyway?”
Enjin inhaled deeply, as if to find his own inner peace. “I’m going to ignore these hateful ass words right now. Cause we ain’t got the time. But, OW.”
“We weren’t looking for you exactly.” Tomme answered for him. “Just the last owner of the place.”
Gigi frowned, reclining back in her chair. “Sucks for you, nobody's lived here for years. So…guess you showed up for nothing.”
“Not yet. You know if they left any of their crap behind?” Enjin questioned. A final resort in trying to get something out of a day’s work.
“You really think a Giver would just–” Gris began to ask, only to be shut down. Enjin clicked his tongue, quick to draw a line across his lips, signalling for him to zip it.
Tomme spoke up, still wearing a polite smile.“Mind if we just take a look real quick. We can get out of your hair after that.”
Crossing her arms, she thought about it for a moment. Her gaze flicked to each of the different new guests of her home. It was certainly too early for any sort of house warming party, but considering she knew practically no one here, maybe this could be a sort of test run.
“I guess, I could give you a tour. Just be nice okay, I just got her so she’s not the prettiest yet.”
Enjin snorted at her understandment, at least from what he could see standing by the entryway. “Sure kid. We’ll uh listen and not judge.”
Together with Gigi in the lead they wandered through the small apartment. And by small, more like tiny. A one bedroom apartment with a bathroom barely big enough to fit the amenities it had.
The living room was combined with the kitchen, in which there was a table, two dusty chairs, a stove so caked in grime that it looked barely functional, and a sink with various bottles of cleaning supplies stacked in it. As if there wasn’t enough storage. Her short stocky fridge held about as much as a broke gambler’s pockets did, hardly a thing. Only a couple bottles of soda and an apple sat on the shelf at the moment.
If Tomme had to find a word for it, she’d call it disheartening. Zanka would call it disgusting. Gigi called it her new fixer-upper home.
“That’s the kitchen,” she pointed out, before walking over to plop down in an oversized patched up bean bag. “And this is what I’m calling the idea spot for now, might change that later. I’m not technically done decorating. Well, I am for now. I need more furniture.”
“This is sad.” Zanka grimaced, as he poked his head into the tiny kitchenette.
“It’s called a work in progress.” Gigi defended.
As she pointed out all of the amazing qualities the apartment had, such as a totally not broken, super sick ceiling fan that she could hang decorations off of, Enjin pulled Gris aside. An arm slung around the other's neck as they leaned in together.
“Listen man, I know the jinki probably ain’t here.” Enjin whispered. “It’s a big ass what if. But, if that Giver died, who knows what got left behind. Real shit? Maybe the neighbors started talking shit cause someone new finally moved in. Let’s be for real.”
“That’s probably the case. Out of hand rumors can get pretty nasty.” Gris agreed, nodding along.
“Exactly. The kid’s defo a bit wack, but I dunno if I’d say she was tormenting the city at like five years old or whatever toddlers are.”
“I mean…we’ve seen some young Givers.”
“Gris, fucking look at her.”
The two turned as Gigi pulled the sole apple out of her fridge and offered it to Zanka, who cringed at the heavily bruised fruit. At the rejection she shrugged and bit into it.
“Yeah…”
Continuing the tour, Gigi slammed open the bathroom door to smile broadly in front of it. Politely standing as she gestured to the inside in front of her guests. The shower, toilet and sink were crammed in close quarters with only about two or three pieces of tile in the room itself.
“Yikes, girl. You live like this?” Enjin said, walking past her to look in the bathroom. Not that he could walk that far in anyway.
Gigi gasped, in mild offense. “Uh yeah? It’s my new apartment. Where’s your new apartment?”
Enjin paused, pulling an odd face, eyes squinted as he sucked his teeth. “None ya business.”
“You’re in my bathroom.” Gigi retorted huffily. “It’s– ugh, what are you even looking for anyway? Maybe I’ve seen it around.”
Enjin stepped out of the bathroom “Tomme, you got, uh, the description Boss gave us, yeah?”
“Yeah, but it’s really vague. We weren’t too sure on what the item was either. So, it’s more like a guess.” Tomme pulled out her notebook, flipping to the correct page.
“Lemme see.” Gigi lazily stuck out her hand.
With little interest in the potential visual travesty her bathroom was, the door across the hall drew him in instead. Zanka stepped back into the bedroom with Gris close behind him. This time he actually took the time to look around. What greeted the pair was what appeared to be the only truly well-cleaned area of the apartment.
By her bed, paper crafts and drawing decorated the wall, while on the floor a large woven basket held a mountain of blankets, all folded nice and neat. Polished and light, the space seemed filled with a whimsical warmth. Old plush dolls and carved game pieces sat on an equally antique desk that appeared hand carved. Swirling designs met with bundles of wheat, berries and plumes of flowers that curled up the legs and lined the edges. Journals, pencils, bundles of fabric and handfuls of pins lay scattered across the tabletop and more crates filled with rolls of cloth sat shoved under it.
For the tragic state the kitchen was in, this seemed pristine in comparison. Even down to clothes. All put up in the wardrobe, everything color coordinated and freshly ironed, aside from a cloak and a pair of muffs that hung by the door. Fluffy, and fur lined, they exuded a sense of coziness.
“It’s not that cold, or am I tripping?” Zanka asked, perplexed. In the city there were all kinds of fashion statements. All layers. No layers. Streetwear. Goth. Techwear. Even people wearing upcycled finds and trash cans had style. He did wonder if some of the more layered folks ever got overheated, but he couldn’t really talk. This, however, seemed a tad much.
“No. Shouldn’t be.” Gris reached a hand out, holding the edge of the fabric between his fingers.
“Hey. Hands off.” A spark seemed to flicker in her eye. “Souvenirs aren’t part of the tour.”
“Alright, alright.” He put his hands up.
Marching over, she snatched the two off the hook, bundling them in her arms. Giving the two a judgmental glare, she shuffled the items in hand to situate the ear muffs on her head, and wrap herself up in the cloak. With that done, she angrily faced off with the two Cleaners.
“Gigi. We weren’t going to take it.” Zanka protested.
She cut him off and threw her head in the direction of Enjin, who walked up behind her. “Yeah, you were. He said so.”
Gigi gripped the thin coatrack beside her, brandishing it as a weapon. Backing herself against her closet, with a stern look. “It was like super cool to meet ya and all, but if you’re just here to mug me…then I think it’s time you guys leave.”
“Zanka.” Enjin chuckled, leisurely strolling over to clap Zanka on the shoulder. “I think your lil’ date just got hella interesting.”
The dusty blonde gave him an incredulous look, as he gripped his own staff.
“Hey grandpa?”
“Hm? Whatcha need, kiddo?”
“Do I have to have magic too for the fairies to give me presents?”
“Sweetheart…” He pulled her up onto his lap.“You already got your presents... But you know, I bet if you asked nicely then one day, those gifts will shower you in their love. Now that’s some real magic. ”
She held out a pudgy little pinkie finger.“Promise?”
Chuckling, he linked them together and shook it lightly. “I promise.”
She glared at them with shining eyes that warbled from a honeyed roseate to a fluorescent hot pink for a moment before bubbling electric magenta energy enveloped her head, shrouding her face. Bursting outward, the energy surged from her large earmuffs as they began to grow, and with it the weight. The sudden change in mass caused the poor girl to teeter and tip backwards.
“No, no, no!” She cried out, arms flailing in an attempt to balance back out.
Unfortunately, it was too late, one step back and she’d tripped, falling onto her butt. As if hitting a kill switch, all that roiling power dissipated, settling back within the puffs of her muffs.
Enjin roared with laughter, as he gripped the entryway. Barking out till he wheezed, sliding his hand and head down the wooden door with tears in his eyes.
“Oh, that’s fucking fabulous! They’ve got to see this back at Headquarters. Holy shit-” He busted out in more laughter. “She’s a fucking bobble head!”
Together, the four Cleaners witnessed the birth of a Giver. At least the makings of one.