Work Text:
Personalities were like clay.
Something sculpted over time, free to morph and mold unrestrained. Unique to one’s own person, a story told through the smudges of fingerprints left.
Riyo found she never had the luxury of sculpting something like that for her own, a childhood of trained emotionlessness forcing her to chip away at a character that had yet to even be born. Forced an assassin as a child, everything personal to her was discarded and made mechanical. A job made of murders left no room for connection.
Hollowed out by the time Enjin picked her up, she had broken the one rule of her career. For the first time in Riyo's life, she felt seen, but not exposed.
Enjin told her about an organization. A place to put her skills to use. One where she wouldn’t have to hurt anyone anymore.
She didn’t know how to feel about that, when violence was a survival instinct constantly itching under her skin whenever threatened.
However she would comply.
———————————
The people at The Cleaners were eager
Eager for her to step out of her shell she had so carefully crafted over the years.
They told her it was okay to be nervous. She remembered a supporter who told her it was safe to be herself around them.
Though, Riyo couldn’t tell what her true self even was.
She also couldn’t trust anyone here either.
Everyone was constantly armed. Too friendly. Too willing to accept someone with a history like hers. It made her uneasy, seeing stares that seemed so genuine, but she couldn’t shake the thought of the ulterior motives behind them.
She felt like there was a constant threat around her. An unyielding presence that could burst into her room at any moment.
Riyo wanted it gone. She wanted to take the gun she had hidden from Enjin and kill it, just like she’d been taught to.
But she couldn’t go against Enjin's wishes, or her own. She didn’t like that violence was what her mind presented as safety. She didn’t like that her skills came from the very thing that took lives.
So she shoved the gun into the nightstand, hiding it from not just the others, but from herself as well.
———————————
The scissors felt heavy in her hands, the cool metal wrapped around her fingers. She probably trusted them more than herself.
She stared into the mirror. The face she saw felt foreign, something not her own. What she saw was cold, expressionless, and exhausted.
That wasn’t her. At least, she didn’t want to believe that was her.
How long could she stay like this? A vessel moving absentmindedly with no character, something blank.
Riyo didn’t know what her personality was. So, she did what she did best. She made one.
Enjin was one of the very few she could trust, and that seemed to be the case for many of the Cleaners. A personality like that could help her in many ways around here, maybe even boost her reputation.
———————————
It wasn’t hard to eventually fully become accustomed with the attitude change. It was like coming back to an old routine, taking the small steps needed to reach the end result. She started with mannerisms, appearing more relaxed, more inclined to interact and initiate physical contact with others.
She started speaking more often, making jokes and sarcastic remarks. She practically settled into the part like a second skin, despite it not being her own.
Her co-workers were easily pleased by this, believing she was finally comfortable enough around them. It wasn’t too far from the truth, she had, in fact, begun to warm up to the place.
Though, not enough to stop the itch that crawled up her back when someone stared at her too long, approached too quickly, or even said anything close to a lie.
She felt childish. She’d been on jobs with her life on the line, jobs where one wrong move could get you killed, and here she was letting white lies get on her nerves.
Riyo had to remind herself this wasn’t like her jobs.
This was her home.
She was supposed to feel comfortable, so why was she on edge?
———————————
“Everythin’ good, Riyo?”
She lifted her head from staring at her soup to meet the boy's eyes. Across from her, Zanka looked at her half concerned. It wasn’t uncommon for her to get deep in thought at times. Next to them at the table, Rudo and Enjin were arguing about something that probably wasn’t worth asking about.
“Yeah, just zoned out, no big deal.” she gave a half hearted smile and sipped another spoonful of the soup.
Zanka stared at her for a moment before he seemed to accept this answer as he went back to his own food. She looked over at the other two at the table, who had not ceased their argument since she had last looked over. She smiled a bit more genuinely at that.
A few years had passed from her first joining the cleaners. Though Riyo initially hadn’t trusted either Zanka or Rudo upon arrival, she was starting to feel more open to them
She still had her suspicions on Rudo
———————————
She was practically gliding through the air, using the blades of The Ripper to slash through the trash beasts around her. Her hair flew around her, making her movements seem like blurs of crimson. She caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye of red lights, probably Rudo taking out his own chunk of the herd Team Akuta had been sent to clean up.
Unyielding in her persistence, she continued to take out the beasts as they swarmed around her. She grinned to herself as she swung her scissors around her, delivering clean and precise cuts.
After the job was finished, she went to meet up with the others.
“Great work, everyone, let's start heading back.” Enjin said before deactivating Umbreaker, and turning to head to the car. She was grateful Tomme had tagged along, otherwise she’d probably have to deal with Enjin's driving and writing the reports.
She looked to Rudo, who had definitely seen better days. He was covered in some sort of sludge a trash beast had probably thrown up. Staring at the boy, Zanka's face turned almost green in disgust.
“Better get you washed up at HQ, huh Rudo?” Riyo elbowed him playfully and headed over to the car with Enjin.
Rudo gave an unimpressed look as he watched her walk off.
“You sound like Enjin when you say things like that.”
Slowly stopping herself, she turned around. He had clearly meant it as a passing side remark, an observation that wasn’t meant to mean anything.
She decided not to respond.