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The worst part of Zanka’s recovery wasn’t the physical side of things. Eisha truly was a skilled healer and the best of the Cleaners by far. The real problem lay behind Zanka’s eyes, nestled between his ears.
His memory wasn’t reliable. Most things came back almost immediately, which was helpful when he woke up to find Enjin sitting nearby. (At least he didn’t try attacking him or anything). The hard part was trying to recall things on command. Most memory based questions felt like he knew the answer and it was on the tip of his tongue, but it danced just out of reach from him.
The most embarrassing moment occurred in the first minute of waking up when he looked down to see Lovely Assistaff laying next to him on the bed and he made a gross face at it. Zanka didn’t remember seeing Enjin or him saying anything but as soon as Zanka grimaced, Enjin’s loud, wheezy laugh rang through the room.
“Man, Zanka, you gotta give the thing a break,” Enjin said, wiping the corner of his eye. “Your weapon is strong, you should be proud.”
Warmth flooded Zanka’s chest but he couldn’t place why. He felt his face heat up slightly and he reached for the staff, absentmindedly running his fingers along the weaving. It looked like a plain old stick, but as he examined it, he saw points which were worn away and the wood paled. He wrapped a hand around a spot that held more pale than dark and held it tight. It felt like an extension of him, something missing falling into place. He glanced back up at Enjin who watched him with a small smile.
“Welcome back,” Enjin said softly. Zanka looked at him, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.
When he didn't reply, Enjin reached out, taking a hand in his own. Zanka's heart leapt to his throat and his eyes widened, looking where their hands were joined.
Enjin noticed and made a motion to withdraw his hand, but Zanka tightened his grip.
“Please don't,” Zanka met Enjin's eyes. “I remember you and that I admire you, but I don't remember this. I would like this.”
Enjin kept his hand where it was.