Chapter Text
Mentoring two traumatized teenagers with magic weapons was about as simple as teaching rocket science to a rat. Was it possible? Maybe; rats were highly intelligent. Was it practical?
Let's just say the jury’s out.
For all its stress induced headaches and sleepless nights and shed tears wiped away and weird confidence-boosting speeches, being a guardian proved to have some major upsides. More than enough to make it worthwhile. Watching Riyou and Zanka grow and flourish, learn to trust each other and cooperate, assist when needed and know when to step back and allow the other room to work? Enjin might have shed a few tears about it in the privacy of his own room. And once while leaning over the console of the jeep while Gris drove them home. And also once on Semiu’s bedroom floor. Which she won't stop reminding him about.
Really, Enjin knew he was kind of a shit guy. Not the type people would peg for being a good leader in the shittiest of circumstances, let alone a guardian figure. He really had no clue how he ended up in this situation. But god damn, he tried his best to be a solid support for them. And if the happy smiles and confident teens with moves so explosive it put some of the adult Cleaners to shame were any evidence, his best was fucking working. Nothing quite soothed the soul witnessing his kids shine.
(Loath he was to admit it aloud, they really were his kids at this point.)
One of the benefits he'd recently learned of, which had marginally more selfish connotations, was that teenagers were very, very, very warm. Apparently the little shits ran hotter than a mid-summer heatwave. Riyou loved to stick one of her sweltering hands to his forehead when he wasn't paying attention. Didn’t matter the situation; if he allowed himself any significant distractions he’d end up feeling the ray of a heat gun pressed to his skin. Made him impersonate a spooked horse each time, the way he rattled in place.
Zanka, despite his aloof persona, was just as warm and just as clingy as Riyou. The boy tried his best to play it off, but he always surrendered when confronted by the open invitation of an embrace.
One might ponder why having two solar flares orbiting him would be a positive when half the time it resulted in him sweating his ass off. The person who thought that way was a fool, though, because as with all things related to raising two traumatized teenagers, the pros always outweighed the cons.
The wicked chills that accompanied the year's end were settling into every corner of the Cleaner's HQ. While the place had heating, it wasn't the newest or the most sufficient system ever installed. Often, it broke down and needed repairs, which meant several days spent in an unheated room if one was unlucky. Enjin had been unlucky more times than he could count.
In came his saving grace, the most glorious benefit of mentoring he’d acquired: two teenagers with nightmares afraid to sleep in their own beds.
Riyou tended to appear first, eager to invade his room and launch herself into the air to jump onto his bed and see how many ‘dying car’ noises he would make as she bodyslammed into him. Not great for rest and relaxation–well, not for him anyway. Riyou seemed to quite enjoy it, judging by the symphony of giggles. Afterwards she’d sprawl starfish-posed across his legs, eyes closed in total relaxation. She often fell asleep in that exact position. And unfortunately for Enjin (fortunately for Riyou) he lacked the stern heart to move her.
Of course, just like a bonded pair of puppies, when one teenager appeared the second was soon to follow. Zanka always took longer to show up, later into the nights or early mornings. He’d poke his head around the cracked open door like a timid street hound. Afraid Enjin might shoo him away; he never did. He couldn’t bear to do it. On the rare occasion he did show up first, he was usually upset. Enjin thought himself kind of bottom-of-the-barrel when it came to consoling another person, but he tried his damnedest. Did whatever it took to assure Zanka he didn't have to deal with any of his troubles alone. Not anymore, not with him here. And without fail, Riyou would weasel her way in to interrupt them, but made sure to share her own words of comfort for good measure.
And then she would try to rugby tackle Enjin to the mattress.
Zanka had no problem ‘accidentally’ kneeing and elbowing Enjin a handful of times, either. He pretended to be a sweet, innocent angel, but Enjin knew Riyou's arm couldn't bend three-hundred-and-sixty degrees just to poke at him.
He complained, but continued to let them pummel him like a punching bag. It tired them out fast, and after all was said and done, being sandwiched between them was worth it. Kind of like having two enormous dogs step on him and kick him repeatedly before they settled down for a much needed nap right by his sides. Painful, but adorable enough to forgive almost instantly.
The best part, obviously, being how shockingly refreshed he woke up in the mornings. If he had to imagine what it was like to be put into a toaster, this would be it. Trapped beneath a thick blanket, his head nestled into a single, flattened pillow. On his left, Riyou, her long, bedhead hair tickling his nose. To his right, Zanka, perfectly flat on his back, limbs tucked in like a cadaver. Riyou portrayed his opposite, her arm thrown straight across Enjin’s middle, her hand near smacking Zanka in the face. Both of Enjin's own arms were trapped beneath the pair.
Every other sorry slop in this building was probably freezing their taints off right now, but not him. He had two personal, luxury space heaters. Warmest damn models on the market, and these ones weren’t at risk of shutting off due to some old faulty wires. Ones that would also shortly wake up and complain about food and drinks and ‘Enjin, I’m dying’, but still, space heaters.
He wouldn't have it any other way.