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The room was warm, tea simmered softly in the electric tea pot as the owner of the room waited for it to be done. The sun was setting, the soft light shining through the windows as the curtains have yet to be closed.
Zanka, the owner of the room, was sitting on his bed. His hair damp from showering and skin red from how hot he made the water, it was never really hot enough though. He had his vital instrument, Lovely Assistaff, in his lap as he wiped down her blue wood.
He never liked keeping her dirty, if he had a shower every morning and night then so did she. She needed to be clean, she liked it that way. She hummed lowly, soft but there. By the time the tea was done, Zanka had been getting new wraps to cover Lovely in.
He stood, feet hitting the cold, yellow tiled floor. His boney fingers wrapping around the handle of the kettle as he poured the hot liquid into the porcelain cup, a gift from the boss of the Cleaners. Zanka had tried to give it back multiple times already.
It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate it, but it was something new to him and anytime he used it it made him uncomfortable. Like it was a test.
If he broke it, he failed.
He’ll be kicked out of the Cleaners.
He’ll be sent back home.
He never said that outloud, it has been a while since he was given it and even longer since he’s joined the Cleaners. He knew they didn’t work the same as the Hell Guard, as his family, but the thoughts came nonetheless.
Zanka took a sip of his tea, gently but also not bothering to let it cool off fully. His tongue burned and he knew his buds had been irritated, but he enjoyed it. Not the pain necessarily but the warmth the heat filled him with.
He went back to his bed, sitting down and setting his tea cup on the bedside table. He grabbed a book, one he pulled from the library yesterday, and continued reading. The words flowed smoothly through his mind as his eyes scanned the page, never pausing or stalling once as he read about some boy; Yu Haibara. Zanka didn’t think too much into the character, he more or less haunted the narrative than anything.
His tea had gone cold by the time he pulled himself away from his book, the room itself having gotten colder as the sun had already passed below the horizon. The edges of the land highlighted by the dusty but deep orange while the rest of the sky turned a deep navy blue.
Zanka begrudgingly got up, shutting his curtains after dumping his cold tea out the window. He set the tea cup on his desk, placing it where it’s meant to be, and went to brush his teeth. Scrubbing till his spit turned red and his gums ached slightly.
The boy moved back to his bed, ankle hurting as he had long since removed the brace he usually had on it. He crawled under the thick, weighted blanket and holding his vital instrument close. His legs wrapped around her and hands holding tight.
It took a while to fall asleep, but once he did he almost wished he’d just stayed up instead.
The next morning, Zanka was exhausted. His mind plagued him all night with memories that he wished he didn’t remember, not because they were bad but because they brought pain. Leaving him feeling weemoed, not a good feeling.
It left him laying in his bed, thick and heavy covers on top of him as he looked at nothing in particular. Times like these he felt trapped in that well, the one he had jumped into with the thought of never coming back out. His ankle still ached and tingled at times, a dull pain that should be worse.
The memories were ones everyone had. Ones of childhood and of family, but his were muddled. A blur. Like someone took scissors to them and cut out faces, noise, or brief moments.
—————
He sat between his siblings, looking out at the yard in front of him. He couldn’t remember if it was the garden or training grounds.
A bigger hand held blueberries in front of his face and, despite the bitter taste he didn’t truly like, he leaned forward and ate them.
A soft pat on his head was the only praise he got.
—————
Times like these are when he wished his family was heavy on having pictures done. When he wished he had pictures of them to just look at sometimes.
The memories were mostly of his siblings. He remembered Kyouka had long hair, it was two tones like his but red instead of his ashy blonde.
—————
His sister held him, her arms strong.
Her face.
Zanka couldn’t see her face.
Zanka’s little hands tangled themselves into the long red hair, the strands curling pleasantly as he heard muffled words in a dead tone. Maybe it was a soft one?
—————
Goka had dull golden eyes, an oddity but one that Zanka loved to look at. Their faces were hard to remember, even then he’s sure they’ve changed since he’s last saw them.
—————
Goka’s eyes seemed lighter in the morning sun. He liked to sit outside in the morning and almost sun bathe, Zanka liked to sit with his brother.
The dull gold seemed to be more rich in the sun, more inviting. His red, or was it blonde?, hair casting a shadow over the blur around his long lashes.
Those eyes looked into his, muffled tones hitting his ears as a hand came to his face.
Zanka wished he could feel the warmth.
Was Goka warm?
—————
Sometimes he wished he’d never left. Sometimes he wished he could see them and not risk that look on their face; pure disappointment and disgust. He could remember Kyouka holding him gently, brushing through his hair with care, and always smelling of fresh mint tea and gunpowder. He could remember Goka lifting him up, cleaning his cuts and bruises, and smelling like the morning sun and rich soil.
He wished he was a kid again. Wished they never changed, because he knows they did. He wished he never became a Giver, a co-depended, despite loving his weapon so much.
He sighed, sitting up from his bed and removing the covers. He felt the cold instantly despite the fact it shouldn’t be cold. He let his feet guide him through the morning routine, not really present in his own mind as he did so.
Go to the bathroom. Why did he always drink tea before bed?
Brush his teeth. Brushing hard, gums bleeding till all he’s spitting out is the tasteless iron.
Do his skincare routine. Did he have to, why not be ugly on the outside too?
Get dressed in his evening clothes. He liked August, so mindful of everything.
Make sure to put the brace on his ankle. Why not let it hurt?
Talk to Lovely. She’s the only one that truly listens to him.
Clean Lovely. She needed to be clean too, she doesn’t like the dirt either.
Leave the room. Did he have to?
Leave the room. What was the point?
Leave the room. Would anyone notice if he didn’t?
Leave the room. He was tired.
Leave the room. Maybe he could sleep a little longer.
Leave the room. Maybe he could see them better if he just tried to remember.
A knock. His door still locked. He stood in front of it though he didn’t remember moving to do so.
“Yo, Z,” Riyo’s voice came through, “You coming to breakfast? Heard they have some pancakes and I wanna get there before Rudo does.” Her voice was nice. Did he ever tell her that?
He moved, hand unlocking the door, “Yeah yeah, I’m comin’.” He said, voice sounding far off to himself.
He left his room.
Riyo was there, slightly shorter. Her red hair always caught Zanka’s eyes, though she styled it so oddly to him. Her green eyes were dull, holding something Zanka wouldn’t go picking through because it wasn’t his business, and her lips always curved into a smile. It always made him feel better.
“Finally, thought you slept in.” She said, she knew what was taking him so long, “come on, Enjin’s waking Rudo up and ya know his ass is gonna eat all those pancakes.” She grabbed his sleeve.
Riyo was in a basic tanktop and some shorts, socks sliding silently across the yellowed floor. The only other thing that always caught Zanka’s attention, outside of her hair, was the tattoo she had. It nearly matched her skin tone, being a slightly lighter shade to almost look like a scar. It was a bullet, vines curling around it with small flowers blooming. Zanka thought it was fitting, she always smelt of gunpowder and old clothes to him.
They made it to the main mess hall, Riyo still dragging him even though he stuck close regardless. She was talking, going on about some new show she was watching while filling a plate. Zanka was listening, but her voice kinda fell into background noise as he made his own plate.
They sat at their usual table, Riyo making sure Zanka got his usual seat, and starting eating. Zanka starts to speak a bit, getting into a conversation about which old war hammer would be better for knocking down walls.
They always spoke of weapons, it was something both had a lot of experience in. Although Riyo was skilled in gun wielding and Zanka in staff wielding, they have tried many other weapons before. Hence why Riyo was also skilled with her Vital Instrument.
“Ay, good mornin’ you two!” Enjin said, taking his spot next to Zanka. The smell of cigarettes and soil filled his noise, an odd mix but Zanka never said anything about it.
“Mornin’.” Zanka greeted back, eating the blueberries he got with his pancakes. They didn’t taste the same.
“Good morning! Me and Z were just talkin’ about war hammers.” Riyo commented, always her and Enjin being the ones to carry conversations as Zanka never really bothered. He rather sit back and listen more than talk.
Which is why he didn’t care whenever Riyo started talking to Enjin about the topic, allowing Zanka to just listen and maybe comment here and there. Rudo, who came with Enjin, has just been stuffing his face. Zanka pushed over the blueberries to his student as Enjin finally changed the topic.
“We got a job to do today, should be simple.” Enjin said, “Few Trash Beasts spotted west, just gotta go kick their ass and then we can wait for our next assignment. Which might just be scoutin’.”
“Is Gris coming too?” Rudo asked, seeming hopeful. Supports always tagged along, Gris’s support team was part of Team Akuta. Anywhere Team Akuta went, the three supporters followed.
“Yea’ should be, every giver team has supporters with them anytime we head out. Gris’s team is always with ours.” Zanka answered, taking a bite of his pancakes. The off taste of blueberries from earlier killed his appetite.
“Why is it always Gris’s team? Aren’t there other teams?” Rudo questioned, always the curious one.
“Becasue him an’ Enjin are a ‘pair’.” Riyo said, air quotes as she smiled at Enjin who only smirked in response.
“Damn right we are.” He had no shame, if Rudo knew what Riyo and Enjin meant.
He didn’t.
Zanka just sighed and rolled his eyes, pushing his pancakes to Rudo before the boy could ask for more details.
It wasn’t long before they were in the van, everyone dressed in uniform and ready to go. Zanka sat near the window, hands holding Lovely Assistaff and not having to worry about being tossed around as Gris was driving this time.
He liked his uniform, August made it out of a thick material and made sure it covered everything. Zanka never knew how the others weren’t cold but he never said anything about it after the last time he did.
He looked at the passenger seat, Enjin sitting there as the horizon passed just past his head. The sun was up, shining in through the windows and hitting Enjin's tan skin. Hitting his golden eyes.
Zanka liked his eyes.
Zanka closed his own eyes, looking away as he waited to get to the assigned area.
An easy mission.
Red hair leaned over the back of the seat, the smell of gunpowder in his noise.
An easy morning.
Golden eyes bright in the sunlight, the smell of soil still lingering around him.
An easy day.
Just one easy day.