Chapter Text
It was so obvious.
The way you snapped at each other after a job, the way Zanka's face grimaced when he caught a glimpse of you passing by through the doorframe, the way you sat as far away as possible from each other in the car, like even his thigh grazing against yours would make you sick…
God, the two of you were awful.
Was it possible for two people to want each other that bad?
When life on the ground got quiet, which was honestly almost never, HQ would be swarming in gossip about the two of you. It had gotten so ridiculous, that you two were the topic of conversation even when the Cleaners were inundated with paperwork and job requests.
"Who even started that rumor?" you grumbled to Eishia, who was sat with you in the empty infirmary. “Shouldn’t they be working instead of making up bullshit like that?”
You were holed up in there all afternoon— camped out, waiting for everyone to stop looking, poking, and speculating about you and that idiot. Eishia didn't mind your company. It was nice having a reason to hang out in the space without her swarm of anxious thoughts that took over when she had patients. The two of you always found peace in the infirmary when you sat alone together.
Sitting politely on the bed across from where you were laid out and huffing, Eishia just laughed with a small shrug, "I mean look at the two of you."
"Huh!? What's that supposed to mean?!" Your heels met the ground suddenly before you even realized you had jumped up in disbelief. "All we do is argue and talk down on each other and… like… give each other gross looks. Bet he's talking shit about me right now."
Eishia tilted her head, "Y/N, you're really the only one that talks down on him. Sure you get on each others nerves, but almost always when he's not rambling about how much you 'piss him off'—"
You could've sworn all the sounds buzzing across HQ— across the entire ground— had gone silent at her next words.
"—he's praising you. Commending your skills, your level-headedness, your rationality, how you never freak out during a job.."
She sweetly smiles and rubs the back of her neck, "He's right, of course— we all know all that. He still gets on us about it… saying that we all have so much to learn from you."
Huh? No, that couldn't be true. Zanka? Your— the Cleaner’s Zanka?
"Zanka said that?"
She nods her head and continues to explain how highly he speaks of you. After about a minute or two of silence as you tried to process the new information, you finally slump back onto the bed with a puzzled expression. Eishia can’t help but chuckle to herself at the way all your incoming thoughts become written on your face as you think them.
Your eyes widen suddenly and you blurt out, "Wait wait— so does this mean I'm the asshole?"
If Zanka didn’t talk shit about you and you were the one to talk shit about him, did that mean you were the mean one all this time and he was just acting out of self-defense?
Eishia giggles more at your response, watching you hide your face in your hands then in the pile of pillows next to you. A weird anxious feeling settled in your stomach for some reason. Her words really got you thinking.
Zanka Nijiku wasn't a terrible guy. He had qualities you admired too. Not like you'd ever admit that to him, but he was one of the Cleaner’s best. Suddenly, it felt impossible to recount all the reasons you hated each other so much; why you didn't get along. Sure, he was blunt. He had trouble saying sorry, please, and thank you (to you at least). He was stubborn.. And so serious all the time..
..and maybe when he was sat quietly in the car he was handsome at a certain angle, but his whole buzzkill persona distracted you from that. Despite all this, he was still… huh… what was a positive thing you could say about him?
You shook it all off. Geez, what were you thinking? What she claimed he said didn't change anything. Zanka could be harsh, but he recognized strengths in everyone. He knew when to acknowledge when someone was good. He knew when to be objective. It's not like you were special just cause he said a few nice things about you.
"Who me? Soft onna brat like you? Keep dreamin' Y/N, cuz that's ridiculous." You could picture it so vividly. His eyes rolling just before settling on you with that infuriating stare.
Shaking your head you told Eishia all this, "I've heard him praise Jabber before, so what? Doesn't mean anything."
"It's different Y/N. For someone so perceptive, it's hard to believe you really have no idea…"
The two of you argued about it some more. Usually when you and Eishia disagreed, it didn't take long for her to give in and just go along with whatever you were saying (even if she still thought she was right). This time though, she really held onto the idea that Zanka had some hidden affection for you. Hidden only to you and him that is.
"How would he not know if he… liked… me or whatever?"
"Zanka's Zanka." She shrugged. Her statement was vague, but you could still understand what she meant. You probably understood better than anyone what she meant.
"...So everyone at HQ thinks that?"
Nodding, she starts to list all the Cleaners that gossip about the issue, "Yeah. Enjin.. Riyo.. Semiu, Gris, Follo, Tomme—"
“For real? Ugh, is this why Tomme was trying to get me to talk about this the other day!?” You grumbled and shot back up on your feet, “She was probably running to tell Gris and Follo— that’s why they looked at me weird out in the kitchen this morning!”
You fuss some more about the whole situation, rolling around on the bed dramatically, but your complaining to Eisha comes to an abrupt halt when you both hear the doorknob of the room begin to turn.
Wow. Just your fucking luck, huh?
There’s a bright red gash dripping blood right off his face. The uniform he usually makes a point to keep in pristine condition is all disheveled and roughed up, but no other injuries are visible to you on his body— that cut crossing over his cheek and diagonally down to the edge of his jaw, the most obvious.
“Busy?” He raises an eyebrow when he sees you also present in the room, stepping calmly through the doorway despite the apparent beatings riddled over his face.
Eishia’s seen plenty of blood and half-dead patients before, but his nonchalant attitude still kinda freaks her out a bit. She yelps, standing up, “Zanka?”
“Mhm.” He lets out an affirming noise, shutting the door behind him. “Mind if I interrupt yer party to get patched up?”
His sarcasm is aimed completely at you and not at all the other girl. As soon as he began inching closer to where the bed you were sitting on was, you stood to make your way to the exit and leave Eishia to do her work. You usually gave her privacy when she had people to tend to, but this time you’re particularly keen on getting out of there as quickly as you could.
She smiles at you as you signal your departure with your hand. On your way to the door, passing by Zanka, the injuries that decorate his sharp features become more easy to see. His head is straight on his body looking ahead of you, but his eyes lean to the side with a nasty glare as you slip past each other.
He had a habit of doing that, eyes always following you with subtle repulsion behind them. You hope Eishia’s watching his expression from over where she was so she can realize just how stupid her theory seems now.
You take note of the smaller cuts that are visible to you once Zanka’s up closer. There’s one above his eyebrow— shallow and nothing serious— but another more painful looking wound underneath his eye right on the top of his cheekbone. A slice on his bottom lip leaks a bit more fresh blood over the drier streaks underneath. His mouth is closed, but you can see the way the tip of his tongue is sliding around the skin inside and slipping over his teeth.
Not a single word is spoken between you. You might’ve felt more pressing concern over the beatings on his face if you didn’t have so much faith in Eishia’s ability to put him right back to normal. Still, something different than worry tugs at you inside every time you see Zanka wearing harsh lesions like that. You know he’ll be fine— that he’s perfectly safe under this roof and in Eishia’s care— but for some reason a wave of negative emotion overwhelms you every time he gets hurt.
The feeling isn't pity (although many times before you’ve tried to convince yourself that it was), and eventually you just decided to give up on trying to find a word to explain it. “Maybe it’s a phobia of blood” you thought, ignoring the way the emotion only hit you when you saw Zanka covered in the thick redness and not anyone else.
The amount of tension that builds just from you two being in the same room for less than a full minute is absolutely ridiculous. The sounds of Eishia rustling through a few drawers are isolated and echoing throughout the otherwise silent space. For non-fatal situations like this one, her grandma urged her to brush up on her basic skills without the use of her jinki. She gathers everything she’s looking for, holding them in her arms as she makes her way over to Zanka. You try not to see any more of the scene, shutting the door behind you.
Follo is outside the infirmary somewhere when you step into the hallway, smirking like a dumbass when he remembers seeing Zanka head in there just a few seconds ago.
“Don’t even,” you plead with an eye roll, stabbing your finger in his ribs as you walk by, earning yourself a high-pitched yelp.
Follo knows better than to utter a single word that alludes to all the rumors to your face, but he would definitely mention this to his fellow supporters later on. Not that there was much to say. You didn’t know why he was looking at you like that when all that happened was you leaving a room your alleged “crush” just walked into.
You’re grateful Follo can’t hear your thoughts.
Mostly because he’d cry to Gris at all the mean names you just called him in your head, but especially because there was a new realization that’s suddenly buzzing around your brain that he definitely would’ve given you more stupid grins and eyebrow raises for.
Obviously, you abandoned the infirmary so Eishia could work. Obviously, you also left because it was Zanka of all people that required medical attention. But silently, off to the side in your mind and stinging loudly in your chest, a new feeling arose within you when you glanced back at the pair right before you departed; a feeling you could easily put a name to and the real reason you seemed to be rushing out of there in such a hurry.
Zanka had sat on top of the bed, tilting his head back and pulling his collar down to reveal a hidden scrape underneath his uniform. Eishia started preparing her materials to fix him up, assessing the damage he sustained more closely.
Why the hell did you feel envious of your friend when she held his chin to give herself room to treat his injury?
She was literally only touching his face to position it properly— nothing else, no other reason, no other thoughts behind it. Unlike that unfamiliar sensation Zanka repeatedly gave you, you know the bitter taste of jealousy very well. You also know it’s completely irrational. Eishia is your absolute best friend, and even while you’re unconvinced, she’s dead set on the fact that you and the boy are destined for more than what you are now.
There was no reason on the planet for you to be jealous.
Eishia was an angel, and Zanka was a pest you shouldn’t be getting territorial over. You fidget with your hands nervously, repressing your inner turmoil as best you could. You spent your entire day wasting time in that room just to wait for the murmurs to die down— but one singular day wasn’t enough to make them go away.
You pick up an extra job a good few hours out from HQ for some time alone— away from everyone— and practically sprint out of the gates of the building, leaving your confounding flutters of jealousy at the door as well as your thoughts of Zanka.
You’ll deal with it another day, you think; just needing something else to override the image of his battered appearance and that subtle smirk on his face from when you snuck past him earlier.