Work Text:
Zanka winces as he leans against the wall. He didn’t realize he had injured himself until he felt the blood soaking through his uniform, and now it hurts like hell.
He’s back at the car. He had just finished a job with Tamsy and Delmon. The two of them usually go out without Supporters, and Zanka was curious how they managed that, so he asked to go with them for the first time. They said they would go and resolve the situation with the clients, and for Zanka to wait here, since he’d pretty much exhausted himself completely in that last fight.
Embarrassing. These aren’t two people that he wants to look weak in front of, but he can’t help his exhaustion. This is the fourth long-haul job he’s taken this week.
Zanka hisses as he tries to sit down with his back against the wall, sliding carefully. It’s painful. It’s right on top of his hip bone on his right side.
It’s a few inches long, and he doesn’t really have a good idea of how deep it is, but it doesn’t feel like it’s too deep. It’s bleeding a lot. He has to prioritize getting the bleeding to stop, and maybe afterward he can suture it closed.
He presses against it for a while, using the thick fabric of his top to put pressure on it. Focusing his breathing is a good idea, too. He uses a few meditation techniques, tricks he learned from his sister that she’s always claimed can slow down or stop bleeding. If it’s really true, he doesn’t have any idea, but he’s stuck valuing her advice anyway, even after all this time. After everything she’s done.
And now ya’ve ruined it by ruinin’ your focus.
He groans. That’s the first damn rule of meditation.
He lifts the edge of his top and scoots down the waistband of his pants just enough to reveal the wound. It’s a pretty clean slice. Zanka can only imagine it was from the earlier Trash Beasts, the shrapnel they were blowing off of themselves. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice it before, but adrenaline is a funny thing. It’s not bleeding so much, so he decides that now is a good time to suture it, if he can.
Another skill he knows from his sister.
They all have miniature first aid kits in their bags. He shuffles around for it for a moment before he’s able to find it. It’s pretty standard stuff. Gloves, bandaids, bandages, disinfectant, and some of them even have suture packs, usually only reserved for the older Cleaners who are familiar with doing stuff like that. Zanka received this one by accident, but ended up holding onto it, since it’s something he knows how to do.
And now it’s come in handy, at least.
He hasn’t had to use one of these in forever. Now that it’s not bleeding so much, he can use the little bottle of betadine to clean it the best he can, use the cause to dab it on. It stains the area around the wound, and makes things look a lot worse than they are, but the disinfectant is very necessary.
He’s not very liberal with it. They’re often told that disinfectant is very expensive. It makes sense, because it’s high in demand and low in supply on the Ground.
He briefly considers using gloves for a moment, and decides he will, because it’s an extra step he can take to prevent infection. He pulls them on, opens the suture pack, and does what he can to tie it shut.
It’s hard to do without an additional tool to hold a needle, but thankfully, these are a bit longer to account for that fact. They’re meant to be used on the field in emergency situations. Even though this isn’t an emergency, he doesn’t want to be bleeding out in the back seat of the company’s car, with two of his Superiors that he very much looks up to.
It’s quick enough. The needle is thick, it’s painful to use it to pierce the skin, and it quickly loses its sharpness with each puncture, making it more painful each time. The last one he practically has to bore through his skin. He had to grit his teeth for it. Four ties total. A staple might have made a lot more sense for an emergency pack like this, but the sutures are more flexible, which is more necessary in their line of work. Zanka’s hand is sore afterward.
He closes what’s left of the suture and the needle and stuffs it into his bag. Okay. That’s taken care of.
It’s uncomfortable, on the drive back. He tries really hard to not let it show.
Zanka presses his head against the window for the cool feeling. He’s in the backseat, by himself. Neither Tamsy nor Delmon seemed to notice the blood on Zanka’s clothes in the dark garage where the car was parked, which works out in Zanka’s favor. He took care of it, so it doesn’t need to be addressed.
Tamsy’s playing his usual metal music, something Zanka absolutely does not like but won’t say anything against. He’s not the one driving. It’s definitely going to give him a headache for the three hour drive back to headquarters, though. Between that, and Delmon’s usual outside-voice way of speaking.
His whole body is already sore from yesterday, and he's sure with everything he put his body through today that tomorrow will be worse. There's a few things he can do to help mitigate that. He has some pain medicine leftover from an older injury. That'll probably be good for this wound, too. He has anti-inflammatories, too. A hot bath would be perfect, if he’s careful about the wound, he thinks. They're only given a certain amount of uses for hot water a month, in the form of physical tickets that they can insert into the dingy machines at the showers and baths. Zanka was used to having hot water all the time when he lived in Kamuatari, so it was hard to get used to, but he tries to save his tickets for hot baths, and he usually only gets enough for one a month.
The bath might be the way to go. He doesn’t like taking medicine. Another subconscious habit he picked up from his sister’s mentorship, probably. She always said it was a sign of weakness to rely on medicine. That meditation and prioritizing your body and wellness were good enough tools to fix most things without medicine.
Enjin is very, very against that idea, though.
He groans to himself. Should he tell Enjin about this?
No, right? He sutured it up. It’s not actively bleeding, at least, not very much. He disinfected it, and used gloves to suture it closed, so infection is unlikely.
It should be fine. He can handle this.
Once they arrive, Zanka has to drag himself out of the car. He was half in-and-out of sleep the whole ride back - his exhaustion taking over him and wishing for sleep, only to be rudely forced awake by a scream chorus or insane instrumental. He would have rather listened to Enjin’s favorite Too Lily album for the millionth time.
“Very well done today, Zanka,” Tamsy tells him, smiling with his eyes as well, and bowing his head. Tamsy never makes him shake hands, and seems to mirror Zanka’s habit of bowing his head in place of that, which he appreciates. “I’d like to have you join us in the future.”
“We can’t take members of Enjin’s team!” Delmon reminds Tamsy.
“Shut up! I’m not trying to take him!” Tamsy shouts back before returning to look at Zanka, smiling once again. “I only mean to say you’re welcome to join us on more jobs in the future. Your relationship with your vital instrument is something I very much like to see.”
Zanka’s sort of overcome by a weird feeling when he says that, and he realizes he’s just dizzy. He needs to lie down.
“Great work today, Zanka, please rest well!” Delmon tells him before he and Tamsy part ways with him, apparently headed for the record room.
Zanka thinks he’ll just shower and go right to bed. It’s only seven in the evening, but he has no reservations against going to bed early when he’s this wiped. If that gash looks problematic in the morning, he’ll go to Eishia, but he’s fairly certain he took care of it the best he could have. He’s not sure if Eishia would have even done anything differently. So he heads in the direction of the lobby, towards the dormitory rooms.
Enjin is in the lobby, and his eyes light up once he sees Zanka.
He’s standing against Semiu’s desk, not wearing his uniform, a hair band pushing his hair out of his face. He must have had the day off today, and seems to be bothering Semiu to pass the time. Zanka tries his best to straighten himself up when Enjin sees him, but his grip on his staff tightens, in case he needs to lean on her a little harder.
“Tamsy told me about the job. Three minutes is crazy for something that big,” Enjin tells him, referring to a Trash Beast that Zanka was pretty much able to take down by himself, the same one that tore into his side. He didn’t realize it was only three minutes. That is pretty fast.
“When’d ya’ hear from Tamsy? We just got here,” Zanka asks curiously as he walks over.
“He called me after the job ended. Was pretty impressed with you,” Enjin says with a smile, “you’re getting better every time, even without your usual team there.”
Zanka has a tendency to bite his lip at comments like these. Sometimes he wonders if it’s just a matter of how his training was drilled into him. It’s just muscle memory. It’s not real talent, or real improvement, is it? It’s all he really does. Train. Memorize the movements. Use those movements in the battlefield. Even suturing his wound closed was muscle memory from his sister’s teachings.
His head hurts. He needs to lay down.
“What's up?” Enjin says, lightly elbowing him, and Zanka realizes he didn’t give him any verbal response. How rude.
“Tired,” Zanka mumbles simply. It's a good enough excuse, he really is. He's been on four back-to-back jobs this week. He likes working, but he values his sleep too, and it’s exhausting when he can’t quite get enough of it.
“I'll make sure no one pulls you into anything tomorrow. You need a day off,” Enjin says, laying a hand on his shoulder, his tone not as light as before. Zanka feels a knot in his stomach, all of a sudden. That’s not what he wanted to convey at all. Sure, he wants a day off, but he values being useful more.
He takes a breath, “I don’t need-”
“Yeah, you do. Can’t have you passing out on jobs, Zanka,” Enjin says. Zanka mumbles something about it not being a big deal, but evidently not loud enough for Enjin to hear.
Maybe he should just take the opportunity.
He’s awfully sore, the next morning. He’s really thankful he doesn’t have a job today, actually. He happens to get the next two days off too, actually, which happened to be perfect timing. Enough time to try and heal up his injury.
Zanka checks his injury in the mirror, and it's not looking great. It's inflamed, he can tell that for sure. It's bad enough that the suture he put in is a lot tighter than it initially was, pressing deep marks into his skin when they were loose before. Maybe not good.
He briefly considers that it might be infected, but he dismisses it. It's just inflamed, because he's been moving around too much. It’s a bad spot, right over his hip, a prime area of lots of movement even when he’s technically gotten two rest days.
Eishia has been gone since Wednesday morning. She was needed for some work at the North branch - they don’t have a healer of any kind, and apparently, one of their high-value Givers suffered some major injuries on a job - life threatening stuff. And here Zanka is, thinking he might need to be seen for what’s technically just a scratch.
It’s Friday now, and he’s forcing himself to get ready for something he really doesn’t want to go to. The quarterly banquet that Headquarters hosts for all five branches of the Cleaners, led by Corvus.
Zanka wasn’t planning for it at all. He doesn’t feel very well. He would really rather just continue resting. Usually Enjin gives him grace for attending these events. He doesn’t do well with bright lights and loud noises, they trigger his migraines pretty easily and it’s not something that ever ends well for him.
He needs to at least show up, though. Enjin asks him to at least manage that. He’ll show up, and then he’ll sleep for fourteen hours. That sounds like a plan.
“You almost ready, princess?” Riyo teases from outside the door.
Zanka is still staring at his wound in the mirror.
“Coming. One sec’,” he says.
Should he take medicine?
It’s feeling pretty bad right now. He thinks he just hasn’t been resting it well enough, that must be the issue. It’s painful. Sore. He’s chalking up his unwell feeling to the fact that he took a nap earlier today, which is really unlike him, but he was so tired that he thought it might help him. He only feels worse after, though.
He decides against it. The venue for the banquet is in town, only twenty minutes away from headquarters. He’ll stay for an hour, enough so Enjin is pleased, and then see if he can get a ride back early so he can keep resting.
“Sorry,” Zanka says as he steps out into the hallway with Riyo.
“Oh, I like this,” she says, gesturing to his clothing. “Are these from Kamuatari?”
Zanka nods, looking down at his clothing, nearly forgetting when he put on. It’s sort of a traditional clothing tailored to look a little fancier for events like these, something he spent the extra money on a while back for occasions like this. He guesses he hasn’t worn it in front of Riyo, yet. The pants are wide-pleated trousers that tie around his waist, and they fall over the injured spot on his hip well enough that he’s not bothered by the fit.
“Should I change?” Zanka asks, realizing that maybe it’s not the occasion.
“No way, it looks great,” she says, taking his arm before she walks down the hall with him, “so self conscious, this guy!”
Zanka groans. He’s not going to verbally agree.
Enjin’s already in the car they’re using, looking like he’s busy fixing chipped paint on his nails, and almost doesn’t see the two of them get into the car.
“Good, the party’s all here,” Enjin says as Zanka climbs into the back seat with Riyo. He's trying to be really careful and not put any strain on his wound, but it's a huge step. “Well, ya’know. No Shikage, and Eishia’s still up north.”
“That guy she’s treating pull through?” Riyo asks curiously. Zanka nudges her to remind her to click in her seatbelt.
“Yeah, so far. Dicey, though, sounds like,” Enjin says, “I should’ve gone with her. You know she’s still working on her confidence. But she’s got Tomme, at least.”
“She hates these banquets, so I’m sure she’s glad to not be here,” Riyo comments.
“She hates ‘em? Really?” Enjin asks as he backs the car out of the spot they’ve parked it in.
“It’s like, a people pleasing nightmare for her. And you know, she’s a rarity, and everyone wants to talk to her and give her attention.”
“Which she hates,” Enjin says.
“She does,” Riyo agrees.
Zanka presses his lips into a fine line. She doesn’t sound too different from him, and Enjin and Riyo seem to silently make that connection too, as the car leaves the garage.
“Sorry, Zan. I know you don’t like these things, but these people really wanna meet you,” Enjin tells him, peering into the rear view mirror to meet his gaze.
“Who…?” Zanka asks nervously. People don’t usually want to meet him for good reasons, unlike Eishia. When he was younger, other Cleaners constantly wanted to get a look at him. The Hellguard Kid. No matter how many times Enjin explained to them that he was a trainee, and never officially a Hellguard. They all had so many questions. His stomach turns at the thought that someone like that has facilitated meeting him through Enjin.
“There’s two team leaders from East that saw you work a few months ago. They were super impressed,” Enjin says with a wide smile. “One of them has a student with a weapon like yours. Sounded like she wanted to talk to you for some pointers.”
Zanka blinks, trying to process that information for a moment, and his heart suddenly swells at the idea that there are people in higher positions than him that want to meet him, purely based on his performance, but his mind always has to shut down any praise he receives.
“Dunno how helpful I can be,” he says. It is true, that a person's relationship with their Vital Instrument, and their personality, shape how they use it. He's sure that Enjin would use Lovely a lot differently than he does, if she belonged to him. He supposes advice is still more helpful than no advice.
“You’re a lot more helpful than you think you are, Zanka,” Enjin says. Zanka has to resist the urge to smile at the comment.
Zanka somehow makes it through the speeches. Sitting down hurts a lot worse now than it did in the car, for some reason, and he’s grateful that he can stand now, instead of being forced to sit at the tables. He finds himself pressing against that wound, and realizing it’s hurting a lot worse.
Is it because it’s actually getting worse, or does he just hate being at these events?
He grips his staff tightly to keep himself steady. He shouldn't have come. He should have said he wasn't feeling well and just stayed back. They've taken that excuse before, and at this point, it's not really an excuse.
Zanka doesn’t think he can keep this up. It’s really hurting. Every movement he makes it a white-hot sting in his side, and it almost feels like it’s spreading further out than just the site of the injury. He doesn’t feel good. His hands feel clammy. He’s dizzy. He just wants to lay down. He wants to at least go find somewhere he can sit, but he also doesn't want Riyo walking around by herself. She doesn't seem to care much, but there's plenty of people from other branches that have said unsavory things to her, and Zanka wants to make sure he's there to kick people in the balls if he needs to.
Although, doing a kick in any capacity right now would probably make him pass out.
Riyo always drinks at these things. Nobody really pays attention to anyone underage taking drinks from the bar. She can handle herself pretty well, so Zanka doesn't snitch,
Maybe he can just sneak out and see Eishia.
No, idiot. She ain’t back yet.
He groans to himself. He needs to leave regardless. The lights are going to cause a migraine for him eventually, and he really doesn’t need that on top of this pain.
He wanders up to Riyo, who’s busy sneaking a glass of whatever alcohol the servers are out offering. She grabs one for Zanka, who politely declines with a wave of his hand. Riyo pouts, and places the glass back on the tray before the server wanders away. She knows he doesn’t like drinking anyway.
“Riyo,” Zanka mumbles once he gets close enough that he’s sure no one else can hear. “‘M gonna dip.”
“Already? They haven’t even brought the food out yet,” she whispers back. “And doesn’t Enjin want you to meet those people from the Eastern Branch?”
Zanka grits his teeth. He does, dammit. He completely forgot about that, and all of a sudden, he feels horribly nauseous. He really doesn’t think he’s up for meeting people right now, presenting himself as, well…presentable. He feels like this is a recipe for disaster for letting Enjin down.
“Where’re they? I’ll find ‘em and leave,” Zanka decides out loud. Maybe a bad decision, but he can’t make Enjin look bad by leaving early. He’s told these people that Zanka will be here, and leaving now would be a dick move.
“Enjin and Semiu are talking to them by the tables,” Riyo says, gesturing their way.
Zanka starts in that direction, and he feels his stomach twist.
He approaches cautiously. Calmly. He never knows how to act in these situations. He wishes he had Enjin's nonchalance.
The two people Enjin are speaking to turn to face Zanka, the woman in particular, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. Zanka briefly makes eye contact with Semiu, who gives him a suspicious up-and-down that he decides to ignore. She’s too perceptive.
“Here he is!” Enjin says, taking Zanka's arm with one hand and a hand on his back with the other, physically pulling him into the conversation. It makes his vision swim.
“This is Zanka. He’s the one you guys watched take down those Beasts in Hohen, a few months ago,” Enjin says, a hand on his shoulder, “definitely one of our best Givers.”
The praise makes him almost forget about his predicament.
Does Enjin really think that?
Really, one of their best?
“It’s great to meet you, Zanka,” the woman says, reaching out to take Zanka’s hand and shake it. He really doesn’t like when people do that, but it’s a social custom outside of Kamuatari that he’s had to get used to. “You’re only seventeen, I’ve heard? That’s incredible. To have such control over your Instrument at your age.”
He doesn’t really know what to say. And he realizes he can’t, even if he wanted to, and the silence he gives his superior is enough to concern her. His vision is starting to fade out. Not good.
“Are you alright? Your hand is so warm.”
Is he going to pass out?
“I'm…sorry, I think I…”
He’s not going to pass out in front of all of these people, right?
The gasping he hears around him is enough to tell him he has no choice in the matter, anyway.
Everything is so unbearably bright when his eyes open again, but the dark figures in his field of vision reminds him he’s still at the banquet, and those figures are all people standing over him. Staring at him. He can make out some of their faces before Enjin’s deeply concerned expression enters the frame. He's speaking, but Zanka doesn't hear anything. He just hears the careful ambiance of glasses clicking and light chatter, as if nothing had happened to begin with.
This can't actually be happening to him. He's completely mortified.
All of a sudden, he hears someone's voice very clearly.
“What’s going on? Are you okay, Zanka?”
It’s Enjin’s voice. Is he on the floor, still? All of the people are gone. Is he even in the same place, or has he been moved?
The retching really hurts his abdomen. He didn't even realize he was halfway on his side, retching and gagging over the carpeted floor. It hurts so much. It's not even productive. Zanka realizes he doesn't think he's eaten at all in the past day, and he can't remember why. Has he really been feeling that badly? What on earth is wrong with him?
“Zanka? You feeling sick?” Enjin asks him. There's concern in his tone, but he's stern.
No. Well, yes, but that's not the source of his pain. He can't move. He's trying to straighten himself up, but it's so painful. It was only at his hip before, why does everything hurt right now?
“Zanka,” Enjin says.
Zanka wants to completely disappear. He collapses back onto his back. He doesn't recognize where they are. The ornate ceiling tells him they're still inside the venue, but Enjin is the only one with him.
“Just say something so I know you can hear me,” Enjin tells him sternly. He feels Enjin's hand on his cheek.
“Jus’ need a second,” Zanka mumbles. His voice feels so distant from himself.
“Need a second for what, Zanka? You got a migraine?” Enjin asks. He realizes that the stern tone of his voice is a weird panic that Zanka isn't used to hearing at all. “I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have made you come.”
No, but honestly, he wishes he did. This feels worse than a migraine, somehow.
He feels like he's going to pass out again. He can't say it out loud, but he has to.
“Think…it's infected…” Zanka whines. It hurts so much. His body is trying really hard to curl inward to offset the pain, but that hurts worse. “W's g'na…Eishia…”
“What's infected? Are you hurt?” Enjin starts. “Zanka, when did you get injured? You haven’t been on a job since Tuesday.”
Zanka's hand floats down to the spot. He tries to grip the waistband of his pants, but it slides out. Enjin carefully shifts it down enough to reveal the injury over his hip bone.
He hears Enjin hiss.
“Shit, Zanka,” Enjin. Zanka can't really focus on the details of his expression, but he can very much tell that it's not good, “When did this happen?”
“Tuesday,” Zanka mumbles. “‘M sorry.”
“Did Eishia suture this up?”
“I did,” Zanka mumbles, “s’rry, I ruin’d…made y'look bad…”
“Zanka, what?” Enjin says. Zanka wonders if he's not sounding totally coherent right now. He's trying really hard to fight and stay awake, but the dark spots flooding his vision are fighting him back.
“Enjin? Is Zanka okay?”
Zanka can't even tell whose voice that is, right now.
Oh, this isn’t good. It’s starting to get fuzzy. That always means he’s about to pass out for sure, and create even more problems for Enjin.
“Hey, hey, don't pass out. Zanka, I need you to -”
He doesn't hear anything after that.
“Don’t freak out. Just gotta stay still a few more minutes, got it?”
Enjin’s squeezing his hand. He recognizes his voice, and his grip. He didn’t register that he was waking up until he heard Enjin’s voice.
Zanka doesn't recognize his surroundings right away. There's bright lights pointed down at his hip, and the smell of disinfectant overwhelms him. It’s a clinic, it has to be. Zanka absolutely can’t stand the smell of these places. His eyes dart around, trying to figure out if this is one that he knows, but his vision swims every time his eyes move.
“Relax,” Enjin tells him.
Zanka really would like to, but he’s honestly terrified.
Breathe. Ten seconds out. Ten seconds in. It’s fine. You’re fine. Stop freakin’ out.
“Good idea,” Enjin says, apparently noticing his change in breathing.
“Is he actually awake this time?” Another voice whispers.
Enjin clicks his tongue. “Shh. Inside voice.”
“You’re talking louder than me,” Riyo’s voice. Of course.
“Both of ya, shut it!”
Alice. So they’re at Alice’s clinic. Zanka feels himself relax a little, knowing he’s at least somewhere familiar, with people he trusts. He’s lying down on a cot, Enjin and Riyo on either side of him, and Alice further down, a bright overhead light pointed at his hip, he tried to lift his head a little to see, but Enjin gently pushing him back down.
“Stay still, Zan,” Enjin tells him. “She’s fixing up that wound.”
“Debriding it. Kinda sick, actually,” Riyo says. She certainly sounds impressed. Zanka’s nauseous over the idea, but he tries not to think about it.. “Wonder if I could do that with Ripper…”
Enjin hums. “That breaks the no-blood rule.”
“Oh, true.”
“What’d I just say, dammit!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Enjin whispers back.
Enjin is watching Alice work on Zanka’s wound, and all Zanka can tell he’s trying to absorb the skill. He’s super focused. Enjin’s honestly really good at a lot of on-the-field medical related things. It makes him wonder if Alice has been teaching him things, or how long he’s known her for.
“Should I get him some water?” Riyo whispers.
“Nah, he’s on fluids, remember?” Enjin tells her, “‘sides, he might still be nauseous.”
Definitely, yes.
He lays still for a few more minutes, absorbing random chatter from his mentor and his teammate that is often quickly shut down by Alice. He tries to focus on his breathing. It doesn’t hurt. It’s probably been numbed, but it definitely feels weird. He can feel the pressure, the pulling, but nothing else. He tries not to think too hard about it.
“She's all done,” Riyo tells him gently after a few minutes, brushing back his hair. Alice has wandered off somewhere else. Zanka’s hand shifts down to touch the spot, but Riyo grabs his hand and places it back at his side. “No touching.”
He hears someone’s choker ring.
“What the hell happened? Where are you three?” Semiu bites through his choker. He watches Enjin flinch at the shouting. “Gris has been looking everywhere for you. You can’t just disappear without telling anyone, especially after that!”
Enjin clicks his tongue. “Whoops.”
Semiu groans. “Don’t whoops me.”
“Long story. Zanka’s getting an injury treated.”
“Is that why he passed out?”
Zanka shudders. He had a feeling that actually happened, but hearing it confirmed feels weird.
“Yep.”
“And why aren’t you doing a better job of making sure your team’s healthy, Enjin?” she scolds, and Zanka bites his lip. Here he goes again, causing problems for Enjin, making him look bad when it’s entirely his own fault. Enjin did everything he was supposed to. He made sure Zanka got the days off he needed. It’s not his fault that Zanka was hiding an injury from him, because he thought he could handle it.
“Later, ‘kay?” Enjin groans with a heavy sigh.
“Fine. Please update somebody when you’re on the way back,” Semiu huffs, and hangs up.
Alice is back, adding something to his IV. Zanka’s eyes travel up to the bag, and the back down to his right arm, where the IV catheter has been inserted. He wonders how long he’s been here. Riyo made it sound like he started waking up a few times.
“He's not septic, right?” Enjin asks Alice quietly.
“No, but damn near close. Keep a better eye on your team,” Alice scolds.
Enjin huffs. “C'mon, lady, you know how teenagers are.”
Zanka’s really embarrassed. Why is everyone on Enjin’s case, and not his? He wants to explain himself, but in the end, this was no different from all of the situations he's put himself in in the past. It’s not Enjin’s fault that Zanka thinks he can handle everything himself. Kyoka drilled that into him all his life.
“Six hours on IV fluids and then I’m kicking you out,” Alice barks, “and keep the lights off, he doesn’t need a migraine on top of this.”
Alice has also treated him several times for those migraines. He’s thankful she’s paid attention.
“You comfortable? How's the pain?” Enjin asks him, his focus shifting to Zanka.
Zanka’s hand hovers over the spot, because honestly, right now he can't tell. It feels weird, it doesn't feel normal, but it doesn't exactly hurt. He doesn’t know if it’s the local anesthesia from Alice’s procedure, or whatever medications have been added to his IV for pain.
“She’s got you on antibiotics in this thing. It’s pretty much a six-hour long course,” Enjin says, gesturing to the fluid bag.
“Can you talk?” Riyo interjects, apparently realizing that Zanka hasn’t actually said anything since he woke up.
“Mhm,” Zanka mumbles, not exactly proving his point.
“Okay, did you eat? Like, at all, yesterday?” she asks him.
Zanka bites his lip, and shakes his head.
“Good call. Go get ‘im something to eat,” Enjin says. Riyo stands and heads toward the door. Zanka wants to reject the suggestion, but he knows not eating on intravenous antibiotics will definitely make him sick. And he sure as hell doesn't want a feeding tube, which he knows Enjin will advocate for if he refuses.
Which is exactly why it's not fair that he's getting any flack for what is a hundred percent Zanka's fault.
Zanka tries to shift a little, to make sure it's not painful, and he's able to without any pushback from his body. He sits up a little slow, conscious of the IV. Enjin's hands hover in case he needs help.
“Enjin! Where the hell are'ya?!” Alice's booming voice shouts from the hallway.
Enjin groans. “Actin’ like I can read her mind…”
Enjin gets up and disappears into the hallway, the other side of the small room they're in. If Zanka remembers the layout correctly, it's the pseudo-pharmacy hallway. The window in the middle makes it pretty easy to hear their conversation, combined with the fact that they're both pretty loud, generally.
Zanka's eyes dart around, realizing he doesn't have eyes on his staff. He doesn't see her anywhere, and his breath starts picking up. Where is she? The last time he remembers seeing her, he was holding onto her for dear life during his conversation with those people from East. He doesn't recall holding or seeing her afterward, when he woke up with Enjin, and she's nowhere to be seen now, either.
He didn't leave her at the banquet, right?
He's pulled out of his thoughts for a moment, tuning into the conversation between Alice and Enjin.
“Make sure he takes these for two weeks,” Alice says. “And he needs to take ‘em with food.”
He hears someone shake a pill bottle.
“I don't think they use meds like this in Kamuatari,” Enjin says, and Zanka shrinks a little bit.
“They don't. It's why those trainees drop like flies,” Alice grumbles.
Zanka's brow furrows. Technically true, right? His family has always believed there were always alternatives. He’s had infected wounds before, but rarely, because he was taught how to care for wounds without medicine. He never took any antibiotics before joining the Cleaners.
Maybe she doesn't mean drop like flies as in death, but he has seen many of his classmates drop out because they couldn't handle it, or couldn't heal from injuries.
He does wonder, though, how many of them actually did die. He feels a shiver run up his spine.
“So it makes perfect sense that he's trying to avoid them,” Enjin says. “Not used to it.”
“Well, looks like you need to beat it into him harder. Haven't you had him a year now?” Alice huffs.
Enjin pauses. “Uh…no, three years.”
“Proving my point, then! He should know by now how this shit works!” Alice tells him sternly.
“Well, yeah, but…” Enjin sighs. “It's my fault, too. I have some sort of role as his leader to make sure he knows…”
“Then get on it! You’re a grown ass man!”
“Yeah, yeah…they keep telling me that,” he groans.
Zanka feels like his breath is totally caught in his throat, when Enjin walks back in, and concern very quickly washes over his face when they make eye contact.
“Zanka? What's wrong?” Enjin asks urgently.
“My - where's -”
“Oh, crap, hold on. I think Riyo put her against the wall in the other room you were in when we got here,” Enjin says, more to himself as if trying to remember where he left it, immediately understanding what Zanka's missing.
Enjin's fast enough that he hands Zanka his Vital Instrument just about thirty seconds later, and he grips it tightly. At least he has her. That would have been a whole other ordeal if he lost her.
“Sorry, I should'a made sure that-”
“Enjin?” Zanka says, interrupting him by accident. He doesn't mind that she was left in the other room. He's caused enough trouble for them, they shouldn't have had to make sure that she was always in his line of sight.
“Yeah, what's up?” Enjin asks. He sits down on the cot, and keeps eye contact with him.
“I'm sorry,” he mumbles, keeping his eyes low and fixed on his staff, “wasn't tryin’ ta’ make ya’ look bad.”
“Make me look bad?” Enjin asks, apparently confused. “Why do you think that?”
“‘Cause…Semiu, and Alice -”
“Nah, wait, don't worry about any of that. They're just teasin’ me,” Enjin tells him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It's not so cut and dry. Obviously I have an obligation to keep an eye on you guys, but you guys have to look after yourselves, too.”
Zankas feels his chest tighten. This feels like a very good reason to be yelled at, but Enjin never raises his voice at him
“I'm sorry, I-”
“But it's not that simple either, right? ‘Cause you did everything that you thought you needed to. And Eishia wasn't there,” Enjin tells him. “Honestly, Alice was pretty impressed by those sutures.”
Zanka is surprised to hear that.
“You did everything, mostly, that you should’ve done. Alice said there were betadine stains around your wound, so you were cleaning it. Obviously you closed it yourself. I assume you didn’t go to Eishia cause she hasn’t been around, yeah?” he asks.
“She…I should’ve gone to her as soon as I got back from that job,” Zanka admits.
“Yeah, probably,” Enjin shrugs. “You know for next time.”
Zanka nods. Enjin is usually a lot more stern with him in conversations like these. Zanka has a really bad habit of ignoring the signs that his body gives him when something is wrong. But this time, it seems like he really means it, that he did most everything he could. He’s still working on the medicine thing. He has to bite back a sign when Enjin pulls a bottle of pills out of his pocket.
“We're taking these home. One tablet three times a day,” Enjin tells him, handing him the pill vial. “I’ll grab some probiotics, too. It helps with the side effects, you just sort of have to take them apart from each other. Kind of annoying, but, worth it. I think.”
Zanka stares at the bottle in his hands.
“I know you tried to fix it, but sometimes, you gotta let the professionals do their job. Y’know?” Enjin says. “We’re lucky we can get our hands on stuff like this.”
“I made a real bad first impression on those people from East,” Zanka says suddenly. It’s been bothering him. The vague memory was in the back of his mind, and now, all of a sudden, it’s consuming his thoughts.
Enjin laughs.
“That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Emarassed myself,” Zanka mumbles. Nevermind having to face the rest of the Cleaners after that, the fact that he left an impression like that on people who wanted to meet him is totally killing him.
“Who cares? You’re a better Giver than both of them combined.”
Zanka freezes.
“Oh. I lost him.”