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Riyo was having absolutely the time of her life right now.
Very rarely was she ever allowed to go drinking with the other Cleaners. Not because she was younger than twenty-one. Rules like that weren’t exactly enforced on the Ground. It was because Enjin was incredibly paranoid when it came to his team.
Trafficking wasn’t uncommon, city to city. And once you were lost… it wasn’t easy to find you again.
It was hard, at her age, to conceptualize just how dangerous that was. How massive the threat could become if you blinked at the wrong time. But Enjin, despite all his flaws, protected her with teeth bared to the world, had always stood between her and everything like he was daring it to try.
But.
Every now and again, after a particularly successful string of missions, Enjin gave explicit permission for the younger members to join them at a bar. Under the strict condition they stayed within arm’s reach of at least one adult.
Tonight was one of those nights, and Riyo was loving every second of it.
She was two drinks in, eyes closed as the shitty bar music rattled her table and chair. Gris and Follo were behind her at a separate booth, Bro somewhere beyond them, Tomme god only knew where, and Enjin directly to her right. The Cleaners were packed into the space like someone had tried to fold them in half and shove them into a drawer.
There was no one in the world more watched than her in this moment.
Well.
Other than Zanka.
It was almost fucking comical how insane Enjin looked right now. Leaned back against the dirty wall of their booth, staring holes into the back of Zanka’s head hard enough to set it smoking. Riyo would have laughed-
If it wasn’t starting to look a little… pathetic.
Even from her own humble perspective, as a young woman with eyes strictly for other women, Riyo had to admit that Zanka looked very good tonight. Very unlike his usual self.
He was wearing a halter top she hadn’t even realized he owned, let alone knew how to put on. It tied at the nape of his neck, a long silk black bow trailing halfway down his back. Elegant. Classy.
If the top hadn’t also… stopped there.
Zanka was showing off a mean streak of skin just above his navel, which would have been fine, of course, if his hip bones hadn’t looked so wicked. Was that a strange thought? That someone could have wicked hip bones? Probably not, anything could be sexy if you tried hard enough to let it be. And Zanka, whether he meant to or not, was trying very, very hard.
Outside of the shirt, everything else leaned modest. Harem pants secured with a sky blue sash that hung low on his waist. Boots she’d never seen before, clearly chosen for fashion over function.
His hair was undone, and that was a strange sight in of itself. It wasn't pushed back in that stupid style she was certain meant to mimic Enjin's. Instead his ashy blonde hair hung loose over his shoulders, brushing over the bare skin of his shoulders, adjacent to the tassel earrings he hadn't dared remove with his outfit.
He looked expensive.
Like someone had taken their time assembling him.
And Riyo wasn’t the only one who had noticed.
Enjin wasn’t the only one who had noticed.
Time and time again, men and women alike drifted toward Zanka with clear intentions to do one thing and one thing only. They leaned in too close. Smiled too long. Touched his arm like they were testing the texture of fine material.
And every single time, it was very obviously pissing Enjin off.
Hilarious, in Riyo’s opinion.
Zanka deserved this attention. He was pretty in the way only men could be. Nearly in the way only women could be, too. And he never really let himself exist for that purpose alone. He seemed to think the only qualities worth complimenting were his strength or his intelligence. Both attractive, of course.
But this?
He clearly didn’t know what to do with this.
For the first half hour they’d been there, Zanka had been a flustered mess, unused to having so many eyes on him at once. Shoulders stiff. Smile tight. Hands hovering like he wasn’t sure where to put them.
But with a few drinks in him?
He was working the bar now. Finding his stride. Laughing easier. Leaning closer. Letting himself be looked at.
“You know what? I think he should get his hips pierced,” Riyo chirped, not even sure Enjin would hear her over the music and his own… crisis.
He did.
Probably because he had also been thinking about Zanka’s hips.
Gold eyes snapped down to her like a guillotine blade.
“That’s not funny,” he huffed, clicking his glass against the tabletop a little harder than necessary.
“Oh, it’s really not meant to be.”
She let her gaze drift back to Zanka, who was currently leaning over the bar, getting very cozy with a young man who could not, for the life of him, keep his eyes at an appropriate height.
“I think this is good for him. He’s so lonely. Maybe a little flirting will make him feel better.”
Translation: maybe getting laid would fix his stuck-up attitude.
Riyo took another sip of her drink, vibrating with delight.
Enjin, meanwhile, looked like he was one more little giggle away from committing a felony.
Follo turned around from where he’d been lurking behind her and leaned in between them, eyes wide with a look of such intense concern it could’ve been sculpted.
“Are you guys… talking about Zanka?”
Perfect. You really couldn’t have planned that moment better.
Riyo grinned, all teeth and glee. “Yeah. He looks great tonight, right?”
“Zanka looks great all the… I mean- like-” Follo shot Enjin a fearful glance, as if merely breathing in the wrong direction could get him struck down. “I don’t mean this in any kind of way, but… yeah. Maybe he should also have the ‘within arms reach’ rule?”
“Zanka is an adult. He can handle his own,” Enjin grumbled, the tap-tap-tap of his glass speeding up like a tiny warning drum.
Riyo snorted softly, hiding her amusement behind her hand. Enjin’s jaw was tightening. He was trying to look calm, but the tension radiating off him could have powered the city for a week.
Follo’s wide-eyed innocence only made it worse.
And Zanka, blissfully unaware, was leaning into the bar with all the grace of someone who didn’t even know he was supposed to be a threat.
Riyo took another sip, trying not to laugh and Enjin’s gold eyes snapped back to her, sharp as knives.
She swallowed. Barely.
Honestly, Riyo had thought Enjin would light up at the mention of the ‘within arms reach’ rule.
It was a perfect excuse. A reason to drag Zanka back to the table and keep him there, like a princess in a tower.
But no. Here he was, sipping his drink, growing less frustrated and more… like radically accepting. That had to be the word. She’d learned it from Zanka: total, complete acceptance of the situation… and of the pain it brought.
She knew Enjin and Zanka’s relationship was complicated. Drawn-out. Hard.
Fuck. You had to be deaf, blind, and stupid all at once to miss it.
Full of yearning, full of carefully built walls meant to keep them both safe- or, more accurately, walls built to keep Zanka at a “safe” distance. But he could never really let it go. Could never really stop loving Enjin the way he probably should.
Content, somehow, just living with this misery for the rest of his life, however long that might be, as a Cleaner. Really though you could only watch women climb your crush (was that a strong enough word for it?) like a tree so many times before that heartache became a burden that crushed the soul. And holy fuck did women climb Enjin.
Riyo didn’t understand it. Not fully.
But she loved these two more than life itself.
And she hated… oh God, how she hated seeing them like this.
Riyo sucked her teeth, voice sharp with frustration. “Damn you, Enjin. Damn you. You have any idea how long I’ve been looking forward to this night? To coming out with everyone and getting absolutely fucked up outside of my own room?”
She finished her drink in one swallow and set the glass down hard, making Follo jump - he was still leaning between them.
Enjin looked exactly like someone who had somehow missed a critical plot point despite being present the entire time, like he’d fast-forwarded through a line of dialogue he hadn't been allowed to participate in.
“You owe me. Got it? You owe me a night. Just the two of us. And you-” she jabbed a finger into his chest, poking him aggressively “-you have to wingman for me.”
Then, with the men rightly afraid of her, she stood, spun on her heel…. and very suddenly could not walk straight.
Enjin and Follo watched in wide-eyed amazement as she stumbled through the crowd, pushing past people with a kind of chaotic grace, and then… began to cry loudly.
It was incredible, like someone had flipped a switch. One moment composed, the next undone. Effortless. Immediate.
Like turning off a fucking light.
Riyo pushed through the crowd like a hurricane, tears streaking her face, hiccups and sniffles mixing with her loud, unrestrained sobs. She barreled straight toward the bar, cutting in front of the stranger Zanka had been leaning into, making them both freeze.
“Zaaaanka” She sobbed, voice cracking like in such a heartbroken way Enjin had thought he had missed another something again, smacking him lightly on the shoulder despite the tears.
The stranger took a polite step back, utterly bewildered.
Zanka’s eyes went wide, heart thumping in that steady, familiar panic he always wore when she turned on the waterworks. He could never, never, turn her away - not when she looked so small and sad, not when she leaned on him like she did, and certainly not when he’d spent years unconsciously acting as her big brother, her protector.
“Uh… hey,” he said softly, voice tight with sudden responsibility. “It’s okay, Riyo. I got you.”
He excused himself from the stranger mid-flirt, who raised an eyebrow but wisely took the cue to leave. Zanka didn’t wait another second. He crouched quickly, scooping her up into his arms. She buried her face against his shoulder, letting all her emotion pour out in one messy, chaotic wave.
“Hey, hey, I’m right here,” he murmured, rocking her gently. “You’re okay.”
Her cries didn’t stop, but he didn’t care. He could feel her shaking, her sobs wracking her tiny frame, and he already knew he’d have to deliver her safely to Enjin as if the world, or the bar, might swallow her whole.
With a swift glance toward the corner where Enjin sat, dark blue eyes flickering with worry and something else entirely, Zanka adjusted his hold and began weaving through the crowd, carrying Riyo toward him.
It was only in that moment that Enjin realized, fully and utterly, what Riyo had done. What she had meant all along.
The little fox had completely and totally ended their night out by spilling herself, messy, loud, utterly unrestrained, into Zanka’s arms like a distraught, drunken girl. Where the hell had she learned to do that?
He stayed frozen, glass half-forgotten in his hand, eyes narrowing just slightly, in total disbelief, in awe. Zanka’s arms were steady, holding her with that quiet certainty Enjin had seen time and time again.
Follo lingered beside him, wide-eyed, still clutching his own drink, clearly unsure if he should speak or just vanish. Enjin didn’t care. Let him watch. Let him witness.
“I think… it might be time to head home.” Zanka’s voice cut through the fog of Enjin’s thoughts, soft, warm, patient. He was still holding Riyo to his chest, her face buried in his shoulder, and he gave Enjin a small, knowing smile.
“Are you okay to drive us?”
Enjin’s jaw tightened, gold eyes following them as they moved, the world shrinking to the small, ridiculous, utterly human tableau of the two of them and the chaotic little fox in between.
He swallowed, finally, and let the tension in his shoulders ease just a fraction. Tonight, hadn’t gone the way he’d wanted, but now? He once more had every bit of Zankas undivided attention, and he knew full well he wasn't about to let it go a second time.