Chapter Text
Dear….anyone,
This is the first time I’m tryna write a letter directed at whoever finds it first with the hopes I’m no longer around and deliver an explanation.
It would be embarrassing and a shame if I was still standing somewhere as you, whoever it is, reads this. Would beat the purpose of leaving a suicidal letter, I guess.
First of all, this was a decision made a long time ago. I don’t want anyone stopping me for I have come to terms that this is my only escape from the failure of a life I was bestowed upon.
Enjin tried to give me a reason to move on and find worth on myself, but I failed to bring him justice. I am nothing but a disappointment to those who put faith in me and a dead weight who can’t do for himself and barely survives by sheer luck.
Despite my desperate attempts of improvement and to bring honor to those who were my family, the realization that all my efforts were in vain was delayed by my dumb hope that I would be forgiven after deserting my role and proving they were wrong.
The Nijiku’s are a prideful family, after all, forgiveness doesn’t come in hand with their beliefs nor what they are taught. I suppose that’s one of the reasons I ended up rejecting the fact that I was a fake, because someone coming from the Nijiku’s couldn’t be a fraud, right?
What comes after that isn’t something that I wish to reminiscent, but the aftermath is what mattered the most to me.
The Cleaners will always be my home. In this life, and if possible, in the next I have. To cross paths with the bunch of you made me realize that there is more than those who are blood related, and that bonds forged with experience and comradery tend to last a lifetime. I wish to say my memory will not be tainted by my mistakes and actions, but I can’t control the view you had of me.
I’m sorry to whoever is reading, the rambling helps ground my mind and focus on my intentions on this letter better. I believed I would start to feel some regret alongside these lines, but it has just solidified that this is for the best.
Perhaps there’s nothing else to write and I’m prolonging my fate.
I fear not death, for it always walks hand by hand with what we do, but I fear the repercussions it might entail.
Will anyone be affected by the death of one more cleaner? Or are they going to mourn me once, and keep going with their lives? I hope I’m not there, corporeal or incorporeal, to find out.
Remember for who I was, not what I did. Because I didn’t do much.
At least my shitty personality will have a way to be ingrained on people’s minds for a while before I become but a speckle of dust in their memories.
Take care, whoever finds this, and I’m sor—
The sound of static fills his room as Zanka stops on the cursive word sorry on his letter.
The blonde mindlessly taps once, twice on his wristband, as Riyo’s voice echoes softly within his empty room.
“Hey Zanka,” she greets, “we’re waiting for you! Won’t you come down already?”
His pen stills above the paper as the words are processed. For a long moment, all he can hear is the faint static from his wristband, and the echo of Riyo’s voice still hanging in the air as she awaits an answer.
The easy tone and the warmth in her voice catches him off guard.
Zanka’s throat tightens but his expression doesn’t change as he tries to formulate an answer. He sets the pen down with care, like any sudden movement might shatter something fragile inside him. And for a second, he thinks about tearing the letter apart in shame and fear that Riyo might figure him out just by the tone in his voice.
But the ink is already dry. And as Zanka stares at the words, all he feels is exhaustion.
He forces a breath in, steady enough to sound normal when he answers her: Be down there soon. Riyo keeps quiet for a tense moment, but soon she giggles and her voice fades into nothing once she cuts communication.
The silence that follows is heavy as he weighs how to proceed from here.
How does he plan to do this?
When is the right time to leave the letter?
Where should he leave it?
The decision hasn’t been made on a whim. It was an idea that was planted on his head since the moment he left the Hell guards to follow in Enjin's footsteps to become a Cleaner. From then on, a mere thought that came by from time to time became a concurring one, until one day it became the answer to his plight.
He signs the bottom of the paper with his name and hesitates between leaving one more heartfelt message or leaving it be. It’s corny if he thinks about it, and with a grimace, he decides that maybe it is for the better if the letter stays as it is.
Zanka folds the paper carefully, mindful of keeping the corners straight and with no imperfections as he puts it away on an envelope with no destinatary. If he’s going to deliver his death on a silver plate, he wants it to be perfect to a certain degree if this is going to be the last they hear of him.
Lovely Assistaff falls onto his hand with ease as he saves the letter on a cabinet above his desk, right next to a few books he’s purchased with the pass of time, and closes it.
Later, he thinks, I’ll think about where to leave it later.
The walk to the first floor is slow and calm, taking his time to take in his surroundings and appreciate each crevice and corner this place has given him from the beginning. From the window that he used to watch through in the afternoons, to the tiny hole on the wall next to the staircase that he made when he accidentally fell down and Lovely Assistaff hit the concrete.
Each step he takes makes something heavy settle on his chest until it gets difficult to take a breath without feeling the sting on the corner of his eyes. It’s weird having the urge to cry when nothing has happened to incite such a reaction. And with no way to explain it to the team, Zanka has to bite his tongue in order to ground himself before a tear or two spill and Enjin starts bothering his ass for answers.
When he feels like the world won’t collapse from under his feet, Zanka approaches the elevator where his comrades await for his arrival.
Both Riyo and Rudo perk up at his presence as Follo waves at him. Gris nods his head in acknowledgment and Tomme smiles gently. Enjin is nowhere in sight when they reach the lower levels and begin mounting the jeep, Zanka doesn’t dare ask either, but feels deflated and a bit disappointed that he isn’t there.
“He got sent to guard Remlin and the mayor to another town,” Riyo’s voice cuts through the silence. Zanka turns to her with a questioning raised brow, “Enjin I mean.”
“I didn’t ask,” he replies.
The sentence comes off as rude, and is noticeable with the way Rudo side-eyes him but doesn’t say anything.
Gris looks uncomfortable, Tomme doesn’t even look in their direction, and Follo winces when they cross sights.
Zanka tries to backtrack when the guilt starts creeping up slowly, the apology at the tip of his tongue but she beats him to it.
“Just thought I’d tell you,” Is all she says, unbothered. But Zanka thinks she is annoyed.
The ride to the polluted zone is a quiet one unlike other times.
His shoulders bump into Rudo’s and Riyo’s as the jeep bumps on the road, and Zanka can’t help but shrink on his seat as he tries to avoid any kind of contact with them after his unprompted bad attitude.
The detachment he feels at the moment is not unknown, but is unwelcomed. Zanka tries to be in the moment, but his mind is already drifting away as the jeep bumps and rolls in the deserted lands between the headquarters and the next town.
Lovely Assistaff rests between his legs as his grip on her tightness, trying to ground himself and not fall down the rabbit hole of his own madness.
Today, is all his mind supplies in panic, I’ll do it today.
Enjin is never one to pry into his comrades' business when they seem to be too privy with what is going on in their lives.
It’s the mutual respect they all have for each other to regard the space they seem to crave in the moment that stops them from asking too many questions—that and usually when one seems to have too much on their mind, they tend to rely on someone else.
Enjin usually resorts to talking with Semiu because she is the closest to what he can call a friend and knows she’s fair when giving an opinion or when he only needs someone to listen to his rambles without any judgment. Sometimes he wishes he can be that person for Semiu, but he can’t expect the sentiment to be shared if her thoughts work differently than his.
Although he isn’t the person Semiu relies on when days are tough, he is Riyo’s and sometimes Rudo’s when the kid searches for ways to improve his relationships.
Like a proud parent—Fuck Gris for ingraining that role on him, he hates that he likes the idea of being seeing as a father rather than just a leader,—Enjin does his best to guide them as good as his abilities allow him.
They find comfort within him to say what troubles them, they seek him out because he is their person, and he couldn’t ask for more.
Which brings him to his current plea.
Zanka is one of his few comrades that has been working with him for as long as he can remember alongside Riyo. Even when things started rocky at the beginning, Zanka has found a place where to belong within this small group of cleaners.
Riyo and Zanka’s friendship was not expected since both come from different backgrounds, but it was more than welcomed when they got along just fine to start teaming up together for missions or even just scouting, knowing they had each other’s back.
Enjin thinks that might have been a reason as to why he stopped worrying so much about Zanka and how he was doing, believing that when troubled, he relied on Riyo more than anyone. Some part of him is slightly disappointed he couldn’t be of help to one of his many kids, but he thinks that with Zanka’s little infatuation with him that must have been enough to render him shy as to not seek help within him.
Still, it doesn’t stop Enjin from being worried when he notices the team returning from a mission and all of them being in one piece except for Zanka who’s limping slightly, with a noticeable scowl on his face, and supporting his weight on his Jinki as he makes his way towards the infirmary.
Before he can even ask about it, Riyo approaches him with an easy smile and a clap in the back, “Man, you got here before us!”
“I only had to drive around for a while,” he replies, shrugging, “But damn me, that rascal Remlin is more than trouble inside a car. Couldn’t keep her strapped to the seat, all jittery and shit because this was her first commission outside of the cleaner’s usual requests.”
Rudo approaches them quietly, “Is Remlin okay?”
“More than okay, she’s asking when you're going down to visit ‘em.”
Rudo scratches the back of his neck, a little flustered, “They want me there?”
Slinging her arm around his shoulder, Riyo shakes him, “Of course they do! You’re like her first friend outside the people of Canvas town. She misses ya!”
That seems to embarrass Rudo further, the poor boy stuttering over his words like he doesn’t know how to function with Riyo this close to him.
When he sees Tomme approaching Semiu at her desk, Enjin takes his chance to slip away from the conversation and with a few steps joins the ladies talking about Tomme’s recorded reports.
“Hey, any reason as to why Zanka is all upset and injured?”
Tomme nods and goes back to a few pages in, “Um, he fought a trash beast teaming up with Rudo, but didn’t calculate the speed in which it moved and ended up getting bit on the ankle.”
Semiu raises a brow, “He got bitten?”
“It resembled some sort of four legged creature with long back legs. It was very fast.”
Enjin nods his head, “Well, at least there weren’t any more casualties.”
Tomme smiles, relief is shown through her relaxed expression, “All good! You have very talented givers in the team, after all!”
“See? You should appreciate us more, Enjin!” Riyo says from across the room, chest puffed in pride.
“Hah? Don’t I do that already?”
“Offering cigarettes as compensation is not quite the reward I’d want.”
“I thought you stopped giving them cigarettes,” Semiu glares at him, closing her magazine. “What kind of leader are you?”
Enjin groans, “If I give you sweets, will you stop bothering me?”
Rudo perks up at that, “Sweets?”
“You got one under your sleeve with that word,” Riyo laughs at that, “But I’m not swayed by that, I want a burger.”
“Is this your way to tell me I have to go buy it now?”
“Duh.”
Enjin’s hand flies to his face, pulling the skin tiredly as Riyo barks a laugh and Rudo simply vibrates excitedly in his place, wide-eyed and hopeful. When he turns to Semiu, she only dares to smirk as she returns to her magazine.
“Buy me the latest issue if you’re at it,” she says.
Tomme chimes in, “Oooh, can I ask for a few sweets too?”
“Am I the new errand boy or somethin’?” Enjin rolls his eyes, “At least say please!”
“Please,” they say in unison, monotone and sharp except for Tomme who sounds slightly more excited than the rest.
“I’mma make sure Zanka is okay and then I’ll leave,” he mutters, annoyed. “Yo’, Gris, you comin’ with me or what?”
Gris perks up, smiling and nodding his head, “I’ll go but you ain’t driving.”
“Bah, as if my driving skills were that bad.”
Walking down the hallway Zanka disappeared, Enjin doesn’t get to hear more of their chattering and bad mouthing about how he drives the jeep. Not like he really cares, no one is able to appreciate his more venturous side when passing by the deserts like he does, and he’s not expecting them to understand it now.
Once closer to the infirmary, the blonde thinks of ways to approach Zanka without bothering him further than he is.
“Do you specialize in mental health?”
Enjin’s thoughts come to a halt outside the door. His hand hovers over the knob as he waits patiently for an answer, hesitant between interrupting or just standing by listening. He can hear Eishia’s stuttering, caught off guard by the question as he is.
“U-Um, no. I can only heal physical injuries.”
There is a moment of silence as Enjin waits with batted breath.
The disappointment in Zanka’s voice is not lost on him, “I see...”
But Eishia must have noticed because she tries to backtrack on her statement, “B-But I know people who can help with that kind of thing. I can ask granny to set up—”
“It’s alright,” Zanka interrupts. “Just curious, s’all.”
“Z-Zanka, if you’re needing help—”
“No.” He cuts her. And more gently he continues, “Don’t mind, Eishia, it’s okay.”
Against his better judgment, and with the weird feeling settling on his chest, Enjin turns on his heel to go back to the others. It somehow feels like he intruded on something that wasn’t meant to be heard, and he doesn’t think Zanka will appreciate knowing he might have stepped into a vulnerable moment of his.
Shaking his head, Enjin decides to try and forget about this altogether.
Gris awaits for him at the elevator with that familiar smile on his face; warm and always present, but softer now that is just the two of them. It’s the kind of smile he only seems to reserve for him, the one that always elicits some sort of effect on his heart.
Enjin feels the flush creep up before he can stop it and tries to wave it off with a small scowl and avoid looking into his face. But then Gris’ hand presses lightly onto his back, guiding him inside the elevator and warmth seeping through the jacket like a slow burn. It doesn’t help his flustered state when Gris doesn’t let go until the elevator hums to a stop on the lower levels.
As they settle in, with Gris behind the wheel as promised, Enjin buckles up and rolls down the window as the engine starts.
“Is everything okay with Zanka?” Gris asks, glancing at him as they head out into the wide open of the desert.
“Healed just fine,” Enjin mutters, his voice muffled behind his sleeve.
“Does he want anything from the town?”
“Nah,” Enjin lies, shaking his head. “You know how he is.”
Gris hums in agreement but doesn’t press for more answers. The desert stretches out ahead, sand casting long shadows across the cracked ground with the low afternoon glow. The jeep bounces along, engine humming steady and in comfortable silence.
“He’s been off lately.” Gris says after a while. “Zanka, I mean.”
Enjin doesn’t look away from the road ahead, “You mean more quiet?”
“He’s always quiet, but this is different.” Gris frowns, “I think he’s angry. Or maybe... just not saying something. I don’t know, we don’t usually talk unless it is for specific things.”
Another stretch of silence. The wind picks up, blowing grit against the side of the jeep.
“I eavesdropped on a conversation I shouldn’t have,” Enjin toys with Umbreaker’s handle, a tight line pulling his lips, “I think Zanka has a problem, but I don’t know how to breach this kind of conversation with him since he never wants to talk about himself.”
Gris glances at him, then back at the road. “He’s not glass, Enjin, he won’t break with just a few questions.”
“No,” Enjin says. “But he hides the cracks very well.”
Gris smiles, “Maybe he just doesn’t want to look broken in front of you. Zanka really likes you, you know?”
Enjin exhales slowly, huffing a laugh, “I know, the kid doesn’t really know how to hide his feelings despite trying.”
“It’s kind of adorable. I sort of understand where it comes from.” Enjin decides to ignore that last statement to save his poor heart from combusting, “Once we get back you can try talking to him. Try opening up too, and see if that helps.”
Nodding his head, Enjin lets himself slump against Gris’ shoulder, finding comfort on his broad shoulder as the jeep hums slowly in the background and they approach the town. Gris fixes himself on the seat to accommodate Enjin’s head and continues driving, a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
“Everything will be okay.” he reassures.
He really hopes Zanka will be willing to hear him out, and to let him know that Enjin, as his mentor and friend, is willing to bear his problems with him.
The quietness of his room is too loud.
It presses in on him, thick and suffocating, until even the faint hum of the lights feels like a scream in his skull. Every breath scrapes through his lungs like glass, each inhale too sharp, each exhale too heavy; as if his body has decided that breathing is a chore, a burden he no longer wants to carry.
Zanka sits on the edge of his bed, hands trembling, eyes fixed on the floor. He wishes—God, he wishes—that if he just closed his eyes, the feeling would dissolve. That the noise inside his head would fade into something gentle. Something quiet.
It never does.
The ache builds until it’s unbearable, crawling up his neck, pulsing behind his eyelids, clawing at the inside of his skull. He hits his head with the heel of his palm once, twice. Anything to silence the storm roaring in there, anything to stop the thoughts from tearing him apart.
“Stop,” he whispers, but his voice cracks, helpless.
Lovely Assistaff thrums weakly beneath his hand, and his grip tightness in hopes it can help him ground himself.
Zanka bites down on his lip, hard enough to taste metal, and a broken sound slips past: thin and desperate. Tears spill down his cheeks cutting paths down his skin and hates how weak he feels.
Somewhere inside, where the noise meets the silence, a thought takes root that terrifies him more than the pain itself:
I can make it stop.
That’s right, he can make it stop. Once and for all.
With the back of his sleeve he cleans the fresh tears and snot from his face. The mess clings to the fabric and it irks him, having it dirty and tainted, but by this point he doesn’t have the energy to care.
Zanka doesn’t really leave the letter somewhere that’s impossible to find; he doesn’t have the mind nor intention to make this wild chase when he places it on top of his pillow.
Simple and thoughtless.
The lights go off with a click, the room swallowed by shadows, and he doesn’t look back when the door closes behind him.
Semiu doesn’t say anything when he walks past the entrance door, barely peeking through her glasses before going back to her magazine. Zanka ends up crossing paths with Tamsy who greets him in passing, but Zanka keeps walking forward with a lost look on his face and Lovely Assistaff resting in his grip.
He doesn’t know where he’s going, and he certainly doesn't care. Perhaps somewhere far, somewhere where the thoughts can’t reach him, somewhere where the noise will finally go quiet.
Somewhere he can finally disappear.
As the sun settles in and the wind picks up,
Enjin finds a letter resting above Zanka's pillow.
Nobody sleeps that night.