Chapter Text
Blood rushed in time with the violent pounding of footsteps on pavement.
Dirt stung and tears welled where it assaulted his eyes in tiny pinpricks that obscured his vision.
A scream echoed somewhere in the distance. Light arced high in the sky and the rusted scrape of metal tore like thunder through the night air. The atmosphere was thick and heavy with pollutants.
Concrete landed sharp and agonizing against his back. Or maybe he's the one who was smashed into it. A cough tore through him. His hand came away streaked with blood.
Stifling, unforgiving, agonizing.
He clutched his staff close to his chest. He couldn't let her go. She pulsed in his hands, sparking with more energy than he could control. He wasn't sure why she wasn't working, why his skills would be failing him now of all times.
It was so fucking hot, it left sweat embedded on his brow and rolling in long rivulets down his face. Waves of heat pressed down like a physical weight, preventing him from staggering back to his feet.
"Zanka!"
He knew that voice— bright like the sunlight in his eyes, deep and anchoring like a sturdy rock, a shoulder to lean on. He groaned, trying to push himself onto his knees. Thick hands wrapped around his back, pulling him upright.
"We need to get to lower ground, now. This place is coming down," his team leader commanded, ever reliable, always so grounding.
"Get outta ‘ere," he mumbled, pushing the encircling arms away. His tongue felt thick and dry in his mouth, more of an obstacle than a tool. "M’ leg's fucked. I'll slow ya down."
Blond hair shook in the corner of his vision. "I'm not leaving you."
"You've gotta," he insisted, urgently pushing the man away. "Yer more ‘mportant. I'll make it."
"We'll make it together. I'm not fucking leaving you."
An obscene crack echoed through the space. In a flash of a second, he forced himself to ignore the ache in his body and barreled into the older man, pushing them both out of the trajectory as the ceiling above them gave way. Falling concrete and debris crumbled down where they were standing just moments before.
But the floor didn't stop the falling wave of collapse, smashing straight through as the ground gave way into a yawning chasm beneath their feet.
The world dropped.
He barely registered the warmth that wrapped around him as they free-fell through the wreckage, and the voice against his ear that commanded, "Hold onto me!"
Zanka couldn't think, but he could follow an order. He clutched the other man tight. It was the only anchor he had.
He heard someone speaking, pleading, before he saw anything.
"—C'mon, stay with me!"
It was hard to observe much of anything. It was dark, light barely filtering in through the cracks above. His ears were ringing, ablaze with buzzing on the inside of his skull. The back of his head felt like it'd been cracked open.
"Please— wake up!"
He couldn't feel his body, sprawled in the midst of debris. But there was a warmth at his back, a steadying presence, and frantic movement pulling taut around his head. The scent of copper and dust filled the air.
"Zanka, please. I can't lose you too."
Lose? But he wasn't going anywhere. He was right here. He just needed a few more minutes of sleep. The weight of the world ensnared him in thick tendrils, beckoning him to listen to his exhaustion. He was so tired.
So, so fucking tired.
"No— no nono, don't you fucking dare close your eyes!"
A sharp sound echoed through the space, accompanied by a harsh sting across his cheek. He groaned, face scrunching up, trying to roll over and finding he couldn't do so. What the fuck…?
"Ugh…" he complained, the sounds barely carrying past his lips.
The world was yanked from under him, sending him into disoriented confusion when he was forced upright and a body wrapped around his own, squeezing him in a hug so tightly he could barely breathe.
"Oh thank fuck," the man breathed in a fragile voice against Zanka's shoulder, "I thought you were gone."
"‘M right here… ya piece ‘a shit…"
Laughter shook the body next to him, bubbling out of the larger man with a manic sort of energy, like it had too much to express and couldn't possibly convey the weight. He realized belatedly that he recognized these callused hands, this dirtied coat, the rim-light of blond faintly illuminated by the faint traces of red sky above.
"You're not allowed to scare me like that again, kid," Enjin muttered as he buried his nose in Zanka's blood-clumped hair. "Bleeding from your head like that, knocked out for a solid half hour, fuck. I thought you were fucking gone."
Knocked out for how long? They were fighting trash beasts just moments ago, weren't they? That was the last thing he could remember.
When he glanced around the scene, there was nothing to be seen but rubble and the remnants of the building they were once standing in. The sounds of battle were gone, replaced with a silence that was almost eerie.
"What… happened to the team? Where's everybody?" he croaked, fighting to keep his eyes open and locked on Enjin's face.
The man closed his eyes. Zanka had never seen him look like he didn't have control of a situation before, always so confident, but right now, his face creased with a somber expression. It wasn't right. An expression like that, twisted by grief and worry, didn't belong on a face like Enjin's.
"They didn't make it. It's just us, kid."
So that's what he meant by "can't lose you too."
Their whole team was gone? The other Givers? Their supporters? Each one of them with more years of experience than Zanka had under his belt? He was the least qualified person out of the entire group sent on this mission, and he was one of the only ones left standing? He was the least deserving, to have stared death in the face and cheated his way out.
"How are we gonna finish the mission?" he sputtered, struggling to sit up. Blood pulsed through him, pounding his skull in time with his heartbeat. When he reached for his hairline, he found a cloth wrapped tightly around it, soaked through and tacky against his skin.
Enjin shook his head. His hand rested firmly on Zanka's shoulders, pushing him to lay back down before he disoriented himself. "That's not happening. This mission is a failure. These trash beasts are too strong to fight with our jinkis acting up. I don't know how we're even supposed to get home. The car got crushed under the rubble and we're too far away to contact anyone."
The realization settled in slowly, creeping around him with a dreaded certainty that hit like a physical blow.
They were as good as dead.
When he looked up at the caved-in roof high above and the night sky that reached through it, all he could see was the well he'd once tried to starve himself in. But the gravity of the situation hit all wrong. Back in those days, he might as well have been a husk anyway, nursing his shattered pride so violently it became explosive self-destruction. Those days passed in a haze, slinking through his fingers hopelessly as night and day blended together and hunger gnawed on his stomach. He hadn't had a home he wanted to go back to until now.
The only difference between then and now was that he actually wanted to claw his way out this time.
"We—" Zanka's voice faltered, broke, "We are going home… right?"
Enjin didn't respond immediately. He looked around their surroundings, at the wreckage and debris that encompassed them. Somewhere in this mess were their teammates, crushed beneath layers of fallen concrete, their bodies unrecoverable. Finally, he mumbled an unconvincing, "Of course we are."
The scrape of metal made both of them snap around. The guttural, animalistic braying that followed was unmistakable, echoed in kind by other beasts nearby. It was close.
Too close.
Enjin cursed, grabbing their jinkis and pressing them insistently into Zanka's hands. "Time's up, we gotta go. Hold these so I can carry you."
"I can walk," Zanka tried to say.
All Enjin had to do was gesture down at his leg, twisted awkwardly at the knee. Definitely dislocated. He couldn't even feel it. "Not the time to argue, Zanka. I've got you."
Zanka begrudgingly nodded, clutching Assistaff and Umbreaker close to his chest while Enjin hooked his arms beneath the smaller boy's shoulders and knees. Every step jostled them and made his head pound, but they didn't have time to be slow, so Zanka gripped their instruments tighter and leaned against Enjin's sturdy chest while they ran.
It was a long range mission, trying to reach an abandoned settlement that had been claimed by pollution nearly a decade ago. They only brought a small group of veterans. It was supposed to be a fast, high-mobility operation. Cross the wasteland, find the info and resources they needed, get out.
They didn't expect what they found.
The settlement was absolutely overflowing with anima. From the moment they got close, their jinkis started reacting oddly, difficult to control and outputting more energy than usual. Trash beasts weren't often drawn to abandoned settlements with no humans to attract them there, but the entire city was infested with the things, considerably more erratic and dangerous than usual, like the anima was driving them into a frenzy.
The city was massive, sprawling across a huge swath of land. Most settlements these days were much smaller, as they lacked the resources to build and reinforce barriers around such a large area. But this place was old— older than the Sphere and abandoned when pollution got worse. There were no protective walls because there was nothing to protect against back when it was built.
Abandoned might be too kind of a word. Majority of the citizens were killed by the air quality and trash storms, at least according to surviving records. Those who stayed behind moved to the catacombs underground, which the two of them had fallen into after the building collapsed. Everything was dilapidated and crumbling, structures ruined by the moisture that sped up the process of decay all around them.
Enjin's heavy boots fell on paved brick and compacted dirt as they ran past broken sodium lamps through the dark corridors. Animalistic howls rang out around them, echoing off the dingy stone and muddled by decades of slick puddles, some of the beasts blocking their path and forcing them to backtrack, some following on their heels. They were being hunted, and a confrontation would only draw a bigger crowd until they were entirely overwhelmed. There wasn't enough space down here to use Enjin's jinki effectively even if it wasn't malfunctioning, and Zanka couldn't maneuver until they at least reset and splinted his knee.
When the sounds of beasts giving chase behind them eventually grew distant, Enjin slowed, staggering to rest against the nearest wall. He was breathing heavily, face etched with exhaustion.
Zanka was doing nothing but slowing him down.
"You should find shelter," he whispered, leaning on the wall when Enjin lowered him onto the damp ground. "Yer chance of survival ‘s better than mine."
"Not a chance," Enjin replied, equally quiet around his breathless panting.
Zanka shook his head, offering Umbreaker out. "Don't be like that. You don't have to die with me."
His peace offering of Umbreaker was accepted, the man taking his jinki back and clutching it close to himself for comfort. "Neither of us are dying."
"Be realistic," Zanka argued, "We've got no transportation and no communication. ‘M concussed and my leg's fucked. You'll make it further without me."
"Stop."
He looked over at his team leader, confused by the sharpness of the command. But Enjin's face was obscured by the way he pinched his nose bridge, brows furrowed. He was oddly hunched on himself in a way that Enjin just… never was. He always radiated confidence like a shining second sun in a world where they barely got sunlight to begin with. Even with the weight on his shoulders, he didn't usually stand like one more needle on the haystack would make him topple over.
"Huh?"
"Just stop. Get the idea that I'd ever leave you behind out of your head," Enjin snapped with an unexpected bite, "We've already lost enough friends today with no bodies to bury. I'm not burying your empty casket too."
Zanka froze at the bleak words, sighing as he slid down the wall until it was marginally more comfortable. "Well then, what're we gonna do?"
Enjin was silent. Contemplative, or maybe just resigning himself. "We find shelter. Splint your leg."
"And then what?"
"I'm… still working on that part." The man exhaled heavily and turned to Zanka, forcing the best weak smile he had to offer. "One step at a time, okay? Let me worry about that."
"But—"
"No buts. I'm the captain of this mission. I'll see it through," Enjin affirmed, but the tight grip he had on Umbreaker suggested that he wasn't really feeling the confidence he was trying to display. He seemed reluctant to give his jinki up, but he placed it back in Zanka's arms with Assistaff, straightening himself up and stretching his limbs out. "Alright, time to get moving again. We've passed a few shelters, I'm sure we can find one with all four walls intact. Ready?"
Zanka nodded, allowing himself to be picked back up from the grimy floor. There wasn't much point in worrying about that when they were already dirtied from the fight, but it still felt pretty gross. Sitting in cold, muddy puddles full of decades-old filth wasn't desirable, even in clothes that were already thoroughly ruined. He clutched their instruments close to his heart, leaning his pounding head against Enjin's chest in a way he hoped wasn't intrusive. "I trust ya," he mumbled against the man's shirt.
"Good," came the strained reply. "I'll be someone you can count on."
The echoes of trash beasts followed at their backs as they made their way through the underbelly of the once-grand city. They had to stay quiet to not draw attention, communicating only when they needed to. For the most part though, it was a silent journey.
That was probably for the best. Zanka's head felt like it could probably kill him, the way pain drove a sharp wedge directly into the back of his skull. It was hard enough not to get sick from the jostling movement that came with being carried through such an uneven, cavernous place. He had never been on a boat before, but this was probably worse than whatever that felt like. He wouldn't complain though, not when Enjin was doing his best just to keep them alive.
"I think we found one," Enjin whispered, breathless, but filled with relief.
Zanka shifted a bit to look. The little building wasn't much. The barely larger than a shack, but built solidly from stone and concrete, which meant the walls hadn't crumbled away from years of abandonment like many of the other former homes around here. The door was still connected to the hinges, and that made it solidly the best option they had.
"Thank fuck," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to seal off some of the pounding in his head.
Enjin pushed the door open and entered slowly, scanning the room for any signs of danger. Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust that suggested nothing had been through in years, but the arrangement they found was nothing of the sort. There were coats hanging by the door, overtaken by mold. Unwashed dishes had become a source of infestation where they sat in the sink like someone had just finished cooking before leaving to never return. Enjin stumbled on something, and when they looked to the floor, they were met with a tiny set of carved wooden children's toys.
It was sobering to think about what had happened to the former occupants, a weight too heavy to discuss, so they didn't acknowledge it. All that mattered was that this place was no longer in use and not the den of a trash beast, which it didn't seem to be.
Enjin found a reasonably clear spot on the dusty couch to set Zanka down, then deadbolted the door and slid the wooden barrier into place across he frame. It probably wouldn't hold the predators outside forever, but any amount of false security was better than nothing at all.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like shit."
"Ha," Enjin looked up at him, forcing a small laugh, "You look as exhausted as I feel."
Zanka looked down at his lap, at his twisted leg and shaking hands. "Sorry I made ya carry me."
Enjin didn't reply right away, walking over to the fireplace and examining it. He reached into it, picking through the wood that waited at the bottom, untouched by fire even after all these years of being prepared for it. He must've found what he was looking for, because he grabbed a few sticks and brought them over to the couch. "You didn't make me do anything," he replied softly, "I'm the selfish one who couldn't watch you go."
The man opened up his bag, fishing out a roll of emergency bandages. He gestured for Zanka to pull his leg up between them on the couch. It took an immense amount of unexpected effort.
"Ow," he winced, "F-fuck, that hurts like a bitch."
"You're doing good," Enjin was quick to reassure him, gently taking hold of Zanka's leg and adjusting the way he was positioned. He held the sticks next to the boy's knee, picking between them until he found two of a close enough length. When he was satisfied he picked two of the best length, he slid his jacket off and held the sleeve out to Zanka. "This is going to hurt a lot. You need to be as quiet as you can. Bite this."
Zanka glanced at the dirty sleeve, then back to Enjin. He was right, this wasn't the time to be picky. He just had to tell himself that the hole in his gut was disgust about having that jacket in his mouth, not the fact he was going to have to stay impossibly quiet while having a dislocated bone set back in place. Half of their career was defined around fighting beasts that were attracted by sound, but he'd never had to be patched up for an injury this severe without the support of a team's protection. They were defenseless out here.
He just needed to grow up and be a Nijiku. Pain was nothing. This was nothing.
He nodded, taking the sleeve and stuffing it in his mouth before he could think twice. It was gross, but that wasn't his priority to think about right now. He gave Enjin the go-ahead before he could get cold feet— better to get it over with as quickly as possible.
Enjin seemed to understand the goal, because he felt gently around the injury until he found a good place to set his hands down. "Three…" he counted, taking a deep breath.
"Two…"
Zanka squeezed his eyes shut, clamping his teeth down on the canvas fabric of the jacket.
"One."
The pain was white-hot, arcing through his leg like a burst of sheer electricity. It wasn't the intensity alone that brought tears to his eyes, it was the sudden punch of it when the adrenaline had long-since left his body and the straining effort it took to keep his volume down as much as possible. A cry built up in his throat against his will, his head falling back against the dirty cushions when his control was snapped like a loose thread. His jaw ached from how hard he was biting down on the jacket sleeve.
Enjin's voice carried over the agony, soothing shushes sliding from his lips while he worked quickly to wrap the throbbing leg into a splint. "You're doing so good," he encouraged, "Shh, you're okay, I've got you. You're doing amazing, see? It's almost over."
Tears streamed uncontrollably down the sides of Zanka's face, but he nodded, staring helplessly up at the waterlogged ceiling like it could save him from any of this pain. Enjin secured the wrapping, his thick hands finding where Zanka's were fisting the cushions and taking a hold of his palms.
"Squeeze my hand," he instructed, voice uncharacteristically soft. "It's over, it's all done. You did such a good job, Zan."
Zanka couldn't help squeezing back once Enjin took his hand, encouragement aside. It hurt too much not to squeeze as hard as he could, even unintentionally. He had to spit the jacket out to inhale deep enough, or he would never be able to keep up with his racing heart. Years of meditating helped him with compartmentalizing and hiding his pain, but nothing actually made it easier to endure, even if his siblings seemed to think sheer exposure would dull it down.
"That," he shakily exhaled, "Fuckin’ sucked."
Enjin chuckled a bit, unconvincingly playing off his own nerves. "Let's agree to never do that again."
"Never again might still be too soon."
He reached almost without thinking for Assistaff where she had fallen next to Umbreaker on the floor, pulling her against himself and fiddling with the wrapping that had come loose. Tears still stung the corners of his eyes and pain blurred the edges of his vision, but if anything in the world could calm him down, it was holding her in his arms. He leaned his forehead against the coolness of her reinforced wooden body, focusing on controlling his shaky breathing.
"I'll let you rest for a minute," Enjin patted his shoulder and stood up. "Do you care if I go through your pack?"
"Go for it."
He relaxed back against the dusty cushions, pooling all of his focus towards regulating his breathing. His head was absolutely pounding, joints weak and bones on fire now that he finally had the opportunity to rest after the near-death experience he still hadn't really processed.
He really had almost died. That was… surprisingly weird to think about, considering his job and history. Zanka had spent his entire life fighting. He'd been through a lot of tough fights he didn't think he'd make it out of. He'd tried to kill himself a couple times. But he'd never gotten that close to death. If Enjin hadn't forced him to wake up, he wouldn't be here anymore. He reached up towards that bloodstained cloth around his head, which had solidified into a crusty, caked-on layer of dried blood.
It wasn't that often he found himself actively hoping he wouldn't die. But right now? The alternative was visceral and terrifying.
"I've got good news and bad news," Enjin spoke up after several minutes of going through their bags.
Zanka groaned, "Good news first."
"We have a lot more rations than I realized. Should be enough for two weeks, maybe three if we stretch it."
"Assumin’ we survive that long."
"Right," Enjin agreed with a sigh. "Your splint took a lot of the bandages. I've got half of a roll left and you still had most of a roll."
He winced, chewing on his lip, "Sorry."
"Not your fault. We have them to use them. The real problem," the man inhaled, "Is oxygen. The air down here is better than above ground, but it's still not clean, and we have a lot of polluted zone between us and the nearest living people. After refilling here, it's impossible to know when we'll have another chance to do it, and the extra tanks got crushed beneath the rubble."
"So we have two options," Zanka reasoned, forcing the dots to connect through the incessant pounding in his head. "Camp out here n’ wait for rescue, or make a bum-rush to the closest outpost. A waitin’ game or a race against the clock."
Enjin put their packs aside, running his hand across his face and through his hair, which had mostly fallen over his face. "Yeah, pretty much. That's all I could come up with too."
"Well, fuck."
The stale, dusty air of the little shelter didn't do much to soothe the nerves. Neither option was exactly ideal. Their oxygen tanks were optimized for long missions, but they'd be running on fumes after a week without refilling. It'd taken several days to make the drive and now they were going to have to backtrack their steps on foot? There was a hot spring somewhere on the journey with clear enough air to do it, but getting there would be another challenge entirely. He had no idea how many days of walking that would be.
Alternatively, they could wait. It'd be one thing if they could radio for help, but the distance was too far to get a clear signal, and it'd cut completely when the anima levels started rising a couple days into the trip— before they knew what they were heading into. It'd take at least a week before anyone even started to question their absence, another to recognize they might need to send a rescue team, and then most of the week to make the drive. Would Enjin and Zanka even be able to intercept the rescue team before they walked straight into the wolves den? They might not survive an encounter with the trash beasts around here, and falling to the same fate as their teammates wouldn't help anybody. And that's only if they weren't labeled as killed in action.
The more he thought about it, the worse it got. There had to be another option.
Zanka always thought his death would come by surprise at the claws of a trash beast, preferably too quick to feel it. The thought of slowly starving or choking to death on limited resources just made his skin crawl. Nobody would even know what happened to their team, just that none of them ever made it home.
He glanced over at Enjin. The man wasn't looking at him, just staring distantly at the wall beside them and running his hand over his face in a clear display of anxiety. It was pretty rare to see Enjin genuinely at a loss. He was so tense, shoulders drawn in tight and still covered in sweat from running here.
"Hey," Zanka spoke up, voice softening, "Both of us need rest. We can decide what to do after that. You've been up for what, thirty hours now?"
Enjin shrugged loosely. "Something like that. Sleep doesn't sound like a bad idea."
"If we start refilling the tanks now, they should be ready when we wake up," Zanka reasoned, reaching for his gear to fiddle with the dials.
The man nodded, standing up and stretching out until his back popped. "Alright. I'll take the floor. Your leg needs to stay elevated, keep the couch."
Zanka shifted with a frown. "There should be enough room for both of us, if you don't mind bein’ that close." He gestured at the rest of the available space. It wasn't ideal, there really wasn't a ton of space and it was pretty dirty, but it had to be better than ruining Enjin's back on the floor, and Zanka couldn't find it in him to mind. He'd like to be close to Enjin, now more than he usually did. The starvation he always had for just a little bit of physical contact felt like a gaping maw in his chest, begging him to reach out for the tiniest bid of comfort from the man whose companionship mattered more to him than anyone's.
"Just keep the couch, Zanka," Enjin was oddly quick to reject the offer. Their oxygen tanks hissed as they began to fill themselves, just loud enough to force Enjin from a whisper into a low speaking tone to be heard over it. "We need your leg in the best condition it can be for tomorrow. Stretch out, take all the room you need."
Zanka wilted a bit, but didn't argue back. Enjin just wanted him to heal, and he was probably right. Even if the rejection made a lump in Zanka's throat, which was already dry from the tears that had cooled on his face.
He swapped his tank for Assistaff on the floor, hugging her to his chest. He hadn't slept without her in years and he wasn't about to start now, when he needed all of the comfort he could get.
"…G’night, Enjin."
Cloth rustled as Enjin pulled his jacket off and settled down with it, floorboards creaking under his weight. "Goodnight."
Silence permeated by pained breathing lulled them both into the cold embrace of tense sleep.
Day 2
Oxygen Tank: 100%
Rations Remaining: 39
Zanka would be lucky if he could say that he slept dreamlessly. Restlessness dug its claws in him at the worst times, dragged him through visceral dreams flooded with death and destruction. The faces of their fallen teammates, surrounding him, asking him why, why did he get to live and they didn't?
He could hear and feel Enjin awake and moving around before he was able to open his eyes, but it was distant, like treading through water. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke was almost enough to fool him that they were safe in headquarters, but the sharp throbbing in his leg brought him right back to reality.
He groaned, forcing himself to sit upright.
"How's your knee?" came the gruff voice across the room. Enjin had pulled a dining chair over to the cracked window, nursing one of his cigs and blowing the smoke out into the darkness.
"Better," he replied, a half-truth. Better still didn't mean good. Zanka's voice was still deep and scratchy from sleep, and he rubbed at the crust embedded on his eyes. "How long've you been up?"
The man never once looked over at him, sighing another exhale of nicotine through the webbed cracks of their shelter. "Not long. Half an hour or so. Don't check the bedroom, by the way. Found the old occupants."
What a grim reminder. Zanka shuddered at the thought— they could end up the same way. "Sounds like a pleasant way to start the morning."
"Ha." Enjin glanced over at him, gesturing with a nod of his head and a flick of his eyes down at the couch beside him, where a little tin packet and water skin waited. "Eat something before we debrief. This probably isn't the best decision to make on an empty stomach," he added, offering Zanka a dry attempt at a smile before turning back to the window.
Zanka took a few sips of the water before cracking open the ration. It was the same they always carried on long missions, dry little protein cakes designed to pack down as small as possible and be rehydrated after opening. Definitely not fancy, and it paled even in comparison to their usual meals that at least had some variety to them, but those just took up too much space to carry enough for a weeks-long deployment so far from civilization.
He held out the flat cake in his palm and gently poured a small stream of water on it until it softened, careful not to spill any more than necessary. It was mostly flavorless, crunching awkwardly between his teeth when he bit into it, but food was food and he was too hungry to care. Complaining about it wouldn't change a thing. He forced the little biscuit down as quick as he could without making himself sick.
"I'm gonna be honest," he spoke up, reaching for Assistaff where he had propped her up and laying her across his lap, "I don't like the idea of wasting away here."
Enjin nodded in agreement, putting out the last embers of his cigarette against the windowsill and carelessly tossing the butt outside. "You already know I'm not a fan of being cooped up too long."
Zanka swallowed the hesitation building in his gut. "Do you think there's any chance we actually make it back to civilization if we run for it?"
"It's not impossible. If anyone could do it, it'd be us. We're trained for survival in harsh conditions," the man observed. He stood up, reaching into his jacket pocket and producing a battered map. "Here. The drivable path would be easier to walk, but it'd definitely take too long. If we can get to the hot springs before we run out of oxygen, we can refill there. If we can make it that far, the closest outpost is only a few more days away."
Zanka took the map, glancing over the the sparse detail they had about the area. There really was no way to know what waited out there. One mistake would cost them everything.
But then he looked up at Enjin. His mentor. His savior, years ago.
His heart twisted, knotting in his chest. He wanted to make it home. He wanted Enjin to make it home. If he trusted anybody in the world to make it through this together, it was definitely the man that pulled him from the brink once before.
If he was the only one, he'd still fight to get out. Having Enjin beside him only made him more certain of that. The Cleaners wouldn't be the same without his mentor, one of their most experienced veterans. Zanka would be happy to die fighting, but he had to make sure Enjin made it home.
Riyo, Rudo, and Eishia were waiting on them to come back. He was really just grateful none of them were on this mission. He couldn't forgive himself for what happened to their squad, but if anything had happened to the other members of Team Akuta…
If anything happened to Enjin…
He forced himself to stand, using Assistaff as a crutch to hold up his shaking leg. It wasn't pleasant by any means, but he took a couple steps towards the older man anyway, biting back the pain.
"Let's go home or die fighting."
Enjin smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling above his dark circles. "Let's go out like Cleaners. It'd be an honor to die with you."
Finding a way back to the surface took awhile, but it was easier now that Zanka didn't need to be fully carried, able to lean most of his weight on Enjin's shoulder while they searched. Routing around trash beasts was easier after resting, they were more alert than before and able to move a bit faster.
They stumbled upon a large stairwell of reinforced concrete, sturdy despite years of wear and tear and too narrow for the beasts to prowl. Getting up was a painful challenge with Zanka's fucked up leg, but they finally reached the steel door above ground. They took a short rest at the top to put their full-faces on and hook up their oxygen, moving methodically as they've done this hundreds of times before. The first breath of filtered air hit Zanka's lungs like a tidal wave of pure relief.
Enjin's voice crackled through his mask, "Once we're above ground, it's trash beast territory. We stay quiet, stay low, and move quick. We can't waste more than a day or two getting out of the city limits. Take it easy on your leg and lean on me when you need to."
"Heard. Try not to leave me behind, yeah?" he joked.
A reassuring, warm hand landed in his hair behind his full-face, gently ruffling the undoubtedly messy strands of ash-brown and brushing the bloodstained cloth around his head. Zanka would usually complain about him doing this, the way his mentor liked to undo his carefully-styled hair, but there was no semblance left of his styling by now anyway, and all he could do was lean into the touch, reveling in the comfort it brought. His thudding heart settled, even if only slightly. He glanced up at his mentor, but the dark X's of the mask's eyes didn't show anything beneath.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Enjin told him earnestly. "We're in this together, Zan-Zan."
Something soft and tiny inside of Zanka's heart lurched at the words.
It took both of them to push the heavy steel door open. It creaked and scraped as their combined weight forced the rusted hinges to budge and give way to the dim sunlight beyond.
The cityscape sprawled before them. Grey asphalt and crumbling concrete reached far into the distance, until it was consumed with the dusky bronze fog that gave way to a muddied, cloudy sky. The sun only barely peeked through the haze that laid like a thick blanket over the scene, polluted waste flooding the air with toxins as far as the eye could see. Buildings in broken disrepair reached towards the sky like they were frozen in a time long past, thick spires of unfamiliar architecture that cut into the horizon. Fallen waste piled up everywhere, large pieces embedded in the sides of buildings or denting the concrete where it landed from the Sphere.
Trash beasts prowled the littered streets, mechanical whirs and the scraping of metal against metal were the only sounds to break the otherwise deafening silence.
Enjin scanned the city around them and tilted his head to their right, towards a mountain on the far edge of the city outskirts. It was their most reliable directional landmark and too big to go around— which unfortunately meant climbing it. But that was a problem for later, if they even survived escaping the festering den of beasts to begin with.
They fell into a rhythm when they started moving. It was impossible to push forward too far at any one time, forced to shuffle from safe spot to safe spot in any way that wove around the danger. Zanka relied heavily on Assistaff as a crutch, every step quietly agonizing, but Enjin had a bit of a limp in his step too, which he only noticed now that they were moving in relative daylight.
They were about to move forward again when Enjin held his hand up for them to stop.
"What—"
"Shh," the man interrupted. He hoisted Umbreaker slowly, expression unreadable through the mask, but the tension in his body language was that of a coil stretched to snapping. Zanka followed the direction of his eyes, slowly and carefully turning around.
A feline beast stared them down, hindquarters raised and tail thrashing menacingly against the dusty air. It wasn't horribly big, not usually a problem to take care of, but the sound of a fight would only cause a bigger crowd to descend on them. One loud noise was enough.
"That building," Enjin hissed quietly, gesturing with a tilt of his head. "Get inside. Slowly. I'll be right behind you."
Zanka nodded, careful not to trip on the rubbish scattered everywhere while he backed away, toward the building Enjin had pointed out. The man stared the beast down, anima enveloping Umbreaker in a golden light while he held it pointed at the feline creature. Sparks flew off the instrument, the unstable nature of the anima in the area making it behave significantly weirder than usual. Enjin's entire arm trembled from the effort of holding it steady while it tried to jerk him around.
The beast pounced.
An explosion of light flashed so bright that even the tint of his visor didn't help Zanka's visibility while he watched. The ensuing kaboom echoed like a clap of thunder, shaking the floor beneath his feet, the door handle shivering in his grip. A wave of raw heat smacked him in a searing blaze. Dust kicked up in the air from the small crater left behind in the asphalt, further obscuring the scene.
The attacking feline had been all but vaporized where it stood.
Enjin stumbled towards him as other beasts nearby looked over for the source of the loud explosion, shoving Zanka inside and slamming the iron door shut behind them. He leaned against the warm, rusted metal, breathing heavily.
"Holy fuck," Zanka muttered, staring at Umbreaker where she continued to spark in Enjin's hand. "That was… a lot."
He didn't need to see Enjin's face to understand the grimace when the man cringed. "I barely fucking tapped it. The anima in this place is no joke."
A harsh clang barreled against the door, causing Enjin to jolt upright and back away from it. "We need to move," Enjin directed, voice hardening into that of the squad leader.
"Heard."
The interior was that of an office building, with peeling yellow wallpaper and horrendous water damage streaking down the walls. They barricaded the door with the closest available wooden desk, but it wasn't heavy enough to hold the beasts outside for very long. Cubicles and meeting rooms filled most of the available space, old technology in broken disrepair all around them. Rudo would probably love to dig through it if he was here, but Zanka was immensely glad that he wasn't. This place was way too dangerous for that kid. He wouldn't want any of their team out here, even before they realized the danger. There was a reason he had volunteered to go instead of letting one of the others take his place.
No, their team was safe at headquarters, protected in the lively, graffitied halls back home. This building was similar enough to leave Zanka feeling unsettled, but vastly different in every important way that mattered. Headquarters wasn't just meeting halls and archival rooms, it was alive and breathing while this office space devoid of life entirely, a tomb to the memory of whoever roamed these halls decades ago. The only thing truly reminiscent of home here was the man beside him.
As they crossed through the wrecked building together, Enjin pulling Zanka up when he tripped over a stray stack of papers, he realized there was nobody else he would rather be stranded with. If there was a single soul on the Ground that he trusted, it was his mentor. This was one hell of a way to get alone time together, but they hadn't been on a true duo mission since Zanka first joined the Cleaners and was still under supervision. They always had teammates around, never just the two of them practicing comfortably together. They used to laugh, joke around.
He missed those days sometimes. They'd both gotten so damn busy that it took being on the brink of death just to spend time together, and it had to be like this.
The echoing cry of the heavy door collapsing in on itself under the weight of a dozen stampeding bodies was audible even rooms away. Pounding hooves barreled through the space too small for them to fit, gaining quickly on the two Cleaners. Enjin roughly grabbed Zanka by the arm, yanking him into the closest cubicle and pushing him down beneath the desk out of sight. It hurt when he hit the floor, but he didn't dare complain, huddling up with his good knee to his chest and pulling Assistaff as out of the way as he could so that Enjin could fit next to him. The man was as careful as he could be not to crush the injured leg that Zanka couldn't tuck away when he settled in just out of sight of the doorway.
They held their breaths and waited.
Most of the stampede passed them by, tearing straight through the cramped offices with the awful sound of metal horns tearing through drywall and heavy hooves pounding dents into the rotting wooden floors. Some lagged behind, slow and searching as they perused for their prey.
Their hearing was a real threat— their sense of smell was effectively nonexistent and their vision was typically not great. Enjin waited beside him, Umbreaker held at the ready while its wielder remained poised to make a last-minute defense.
The shuffling of mechanical feet and paws against the floor didn't slow for a few minutes, until the initial frenzy seemed to have calmed down when the beasts found nothing. They weren't true hunters, after all. They didn't chase everything that moved for food or out of any kind of necessity. They were just mindless machines chasing after any noise that disturbed them.
Fuck, they probably attacked humans just for the sin of causing their soulless existence.
Zanka could barely breathe, and even the quiet hiss of his oxygen tank felt way too loud. Every time the beasts got too close, poking their heads into the cramped office space before deciding that trying to fit through the doorway wasn't worth the effort, Zanka couldn't help but tense, watching the way Enjin's hand tightened on Umbreaker.
But they didn't enter.
Until one did.
It was small, had to be to fit through the door in the first place, eyes swiveling around the enclosed space while hooves clacked against the floorboards just inches from their faces.
Zanka shouldn't be scared, he had never been scared of such a small beast. They were common, he took them down in droves every day. But it wasn't about the beast itself.
This space was too small to fight in. Assistaff barely fit. The beast filled up almost half the room on it's own. One blast from Umbreaker might risk backfiring on them. The explosion and sheer heat it had released earlier would hurt them too at such a close range.
Hooves stopped right in front of the desk.
It was definitely over.
They were going to be found.
Zanka could feel it in his chest. The thudding of his heart was deafening.
The passive mechanical whirs and clicks of the beast's structurally unsound body were even louder.
A moment passed.
Two, three.
An eternity.
Breath held.
Counting the seconds.
Any moment now, it'd find them and alert the rest of the horde. Any moment now, it'd pierce their ears with a bone chilling howl and it'd be the last thing they'd ever hear. Any moment now—
The beast slowly backed away.
It never looked down before it returned to the main hallway.
Zanka slowly exhaled. Relief flooded his system, residual fear and adrenaline filling his veins with stubborn cold in their wake. When he glanced down at his hands, they were shaking.
Enjin looked over at him, his mask rendering his face unreadable.
They waited. Still. Silent.
Minutes passed. The beasts were still roaming just outside, three strides away at most.
They waited. The adrenaline was starting to pass.
It didn't seem like they were going to be found, but one loud enough noise would blow their cover immediately. They were trapped with nowhere to go.
They waited. And waited. The coast didn't clear.
Enjin relaxed his posture ever so slightly, slumping from the strain of being tensed and defensive for so long. Zanka's leg was aching, a sharp burn that raced down to his foot and up his back the longer they were forced to sit patiently, unmoving. His hand hovered over Enjin's arm, softly gripping the sleeve. He didn't really know why. Comfort, closeness, something along those lines. He just felt safer with Enjin close, delicately holding on while they were huddled together in the tiny space, barely an inch between their bodies.
Enjin ever so slightly leaned back against the touch.
The minutes ticked on. Every time the coast seemed almost clear, another beast seemed to pass them by.
They were losing time and daylight hours. Zanka's stomach was already gnawing, but he wasn't ready to dip back into their limited rations just yet.
Enjin held his hand up, gesturing for Zanka not to move, and slowly pushed himself up. His knees popped audibly, but he held back from groaning as he stood and headed towards the incredibly small window on the exterior wall. His masked head tilted as he examined the dusty sill, rust creaking when he gave the latch a tug and forced it to unlock. Zanka crawled forward, hand tight around Assistaff just in case they were seen.
The frame scraped awfully when Enjin tried to push it open. He got it wide enough to push his hand through, giving the screen a testing push before more insistently tearing through the mesh to with enough force to rip a hole through it.
He turned back to Zanka, signing in silent hand signals. Both hands pointed forward, "Go fast." A pinch pulled away from his face, "Outside." One pointer finger crossing the other, "You first." Both hands flattening down into fists, "Trust me."
Zanka nodded, forcing himself to stand in spite of the agony that shot up his leg when he did. He hobbled forward, pushing Assistaff's prongs through the gap to widen the hole in the mesh until it was closer to fitting their bodies through it. He could fit through the gap, but Enjin? He looked at the window, then back at his mentor. It'd be tight. There was barely enough clearance for the man's broader shoulders.
"You first?" he signed back.
Enjin shook his head. "No. I will help," he planted a thumbs up on his flattened palm.
"Fit?" Zanka interlocked his fingers.
"Yes."
Zanka exhaled. Arguing silently was difficult, their hand signals were fairly basic. They knew simple phrases that were mission-relevant, positioning and standard directions, not enough for a drawn-out conversation.
A sound echoed from down the hall— and they would both be exposed if it came their way.
Enjin counted down on his fingers.
"Three… two…"
The man pushed hard on the windowsill, forcing the rust to give way. It creaked and scraped as it was pried apart, deafening in the near silence. There wasn't time to overthink it, their location was firmly compromised. Zanka clambered through the open space, dropping Assistaff into the pile of garbage below them as quick as he could maneuver her through the gap. Enjin held him by the waist, lifting him enough to crawl through the opening and tumble into the mess below.
A roar came from behind him. He rolled out of the way, catching Umbreaker when Enjin tossed it through. The man himself struggled to climb through, grunting when his shoulder caught on the edge. The beasts were getting closer to him and there wasn't much Zanka could do until Enjin got an arm through and reached out. He scrambled to grab a hold of it, tugging the man through the opening and face first into the pile of garbage.
A growling beast stuck its head through the gap mere moments later, hissing and snarling, headbutting the wall that wasn't budging in an attempt to break through. Zanka stumbled to back away, grabbing their jinkis as quickly as possible while Enjin righted himself.
They didn't stay to see what happened. They just turned and fled as quickly as possible, howls ringing into the air behind them. There was nothing to be gained by sticking around any longer.
The only thing that waited behind them was destruction.
They continued walking until the faint sun rays dipped too far below the horizon to light the way forward. What had once been washed in a sheen of dusty bronze was now illuminated by the swirling vortex above, heat lightning flashing in brilliant blue streaks across the sky. It wasn't a solid light source, leaving the visibility low some moments and flaring brightly moments later. The resulting strobe was almost headache-inducing, but Enjin seemed to be struggling with it worse than Zanka was.
Neither of them wanted to be caught in an inescapable situation again, so they were more careful where they walked moving forward, sticking to places that provided them more maneuverability and multiple escape routes whenever it was possible to do so.
If it weren't for the beasts and garbage everywhere, Zanka could almost find himself appreciating the landscape. The architecture was like nothing that was built anymore, so different from any city he could remember visiting for routine cleanup missions. It wasn't overwhelmingly ornate, but the subtle details in the stone slabs and pressed designs in the concrete weren't common building practices anymore, it wasn't cost effective. Buildings were often decorated after construction with graffiti to distract from the plain walls and sheets of metal everywhere. Only places with cultural significance like Kamuatari bothered with more unique structures, but they had nothing like the open plazas and sculpted fountains this place had.
It was definitely beautiful once. Those days were long over, though.
They settled into a cramped little back alleyway, too tight for most beasts to fit, with an exit on each side and a rusted fire escape ladder leading up to the rooftop just in case. Enjin guided Zanka to sit next to the rusted dumpsters that helped to further obscure them before he collapsed right beside him, body going slack in his exhaustion.
Zanka's body had faded from agony to near-numbness hours ago. His entire body just ached. He was exhausted and his stomach wanted to tear a hole straight through him.
Wordlessly, they both rummaged through their bags for a can of food. Enjin unlatched his full-face first, his hair falling loose over his weary-creased eyes when it was let down. A sheen of sweat ran down his hairline, trickling over his scar. Zanka usually tried to fix his hair when he pulled his own mask off, but he didn't bother with it now. There wasn't any point in it.
He took one more breath of the filtered oxygen before shutting off the fuse and unbuckling the straps of the lower half of the mask. The initial wallop of polluted air was always the worst, the awful stench immediately causing him to cough, eyes watering from the sting. It would've been enough to immediately knock his appetite into the gutter if not for his years of experience with forcing food down on the field, not to mention the sheer level of bone-deep exhaustion and hunger he felt. Zanka felt like he could die if he didn't eat something immediately. He wrestled the can open as quickly as he could without being too loud, rehydrating the little biscuit in a blur so he could take a bite. If it wasn't so flavorless, it might've made him sick when it hit his throat after going most of the day on the small ration from early that morning.
"Fuck," Enjin spoke up after tearing a chunk off his ration. "I've never been so happy to eat one of these fucking bricks."
Zanka chuckled, leaning his head back against the dilapidated wall while he chewed on his food. "I've never been so happy to eat."
The man shook his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Well, I'm not sure I'd go that far. I can think of a few times I've been more enthusiastic to eat something."
Something about the humored glint in his expression made Zanka's eyes narrow. "Am I… missing a joke here?" he asked, frowning.
Enjin's laugh basically confirmed his suspicions. "Don't worry about it, kid."
Zanka rolled his eyes, letting it go so he could take another bite of his food. He would usually chide Enjin for the inappropriate jokes on the occasion he actually caught them, even if he didn't understand them, but he didn't feel like wasting the energy on it.
They ate quietly for awhile, halfway through the crunchy, moistened blocks of protein when Enjin asked a new, more somber question.
"Hey, Zanka?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you have any regrets?" he questioned, gaze pointed down at the food in his hands. "I've never really known you to take time to just sit back and enjoy life. Not that self-improvement is a bad thing."
"We're… not dead yet, you know," Zanka replied carefully. He glanced over at the blond, who was uncharacteristically lost in thought.
"Humor me."
Regrets. Zanka supposed he had a few. If he died here, Assistaff would be lost in the wasteland, most likely unrecoverable. He would've liked to say goodbye to Riyo. Their typical missions didn't cut off their choker comms, he would usually be able to call her with his last breath. His family came to mind, though he really wasn't sure if he wanted to apologize to them or tell them to fuck off for good.
His biggest regret might be the man in front of him. Or, more precisely, the things that Zanka never told him and never could. He didn't regret spending the last few years since he met Enjin chasing after his affections and approval, just the fact that he couldn't admit to it even if he wanted to.
Even facing down death's door, he would decidedly take those feelings to his early grave. Stupid attachments like that weren't befitting of a soldier.
He cracked a humorless grin and muttered, "If we died right now, my biggest regret would be proving that the average joe really can't do everything a natural can." Enjin frowned, and Zanka scratched the back of his neck awkwardly under the unreadable stare that the man was giving him. "What? What's that look for?"
"You seriously believe that?" Enjin asked, deadpan in his tone. "That you still have something left to prove? All the way up to the end?"
"Whaddya mean by that?" Zanka shrank under his sharp gaze.
"I mean that you're still here," Enjin nearly snapped at him, "Even after our entire team was wiped. Even when the mission failed. You're still standing. Do you know how many people still would be?"
"You still are."
"Zanka." The man pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep inhale of frustration… which only served to make him cough from the pollution. He couldn't stop hacking until he grabbed his mask and held it to his face for a few moments, inhaling a bit of the filtered air.
"Look, it's not important," Zanka tried to argue, "Save yer breath, we only have so much of it."
Enjin shook his head, dropping his mask. "No, Zanka, listen to me. You are not average. You never have been."
Zanka quieted, swallowing his bite of food. The ration was almost gone and he still wasn't anywhere near full. "There's nothin’ wrong with being average," he murmured, "You said it yerself. If I just worked harder—"
"Is it ever going to be enough for you?"
He stilled. "What?"
Enjin leveled his gaze at Zanka, his eyes creased with lines from the sharp look he was giving. When Zanka tried to avert his gaze, Enjin's hand settled on his chin, tipping it to face himself.
Something about that little action made Zanka's chest burn from something other than the toxins in his lungs.
"Is it ever going to be enough?" Enjin's voice came out in a hoarse whisper, "You work harder than anyone I have ever met. You claim you're nothing special while standing toe-to-toe with Givers who have twice your age and experience, and you do it with a stick. At what point are you gonna accept that you are good enough? When you throw your life away chasing an unreachable goal? When you miss out on every experience of being a fucking teenager?"
Ice water hit Zanka's veins, cold and prickly when it slammed into his heart and formed a pit in his stomach. "Un… reachable?" he echoed, his knee rising to hug against his chest.
"That's not what I mean. You— it's just— fuck, Zanka," the man cursed, "You want to get better and better, but never look at the progress you've made. You can't reach a goalpost that just keeps moving."
Zanka placed his hand over Enjin's wrist, pulling it away from his chin so that he could look away. "Doesn't matter if I wasn't good enough to bring our team home."
Enjin softened, pulling away and giving Zanka his space. "What happened wasn't your fault, kid. There wasn't anything any of us could do."
"Should've been me."
The admission came out quietly. Resigned. Lined with grief still unspoken and barely acknowledged. Zanka finished the last bite of his food, and it was worse than tasteless in his mouth, just as bitter as the world around them felt. With his hands now empty, he reached for Assistaff, hugging her against his chest and telling himself it was anything other than an excuse to hug himself.
Enjin's sigh came out heavy. The man shifted, but didn't reach for the younger boy. He produced the box of cigarettes from his jacket pocket instead, silent outside of the flick of his lighter. He hit it like he needed it to breathe.
"That's a good way to drive yourself insane."
A small nudge against his elbow made him look over at his mentor, who was offering the end of the cigarette out to him. Zanka squinted at the little stick. "You know I don't smoke," he muttered, clutching Lovely a little tighter.
Enjin forced a chuckle and replied, "When I asked if you had any regrets, this is more what I meant. Things you've never experienced before." He held the cigarette out a little more insistently this time. "You don't wanna try before we die? It takes the edge off."
"I can face my death with dignity," Zanka rebuked, but he accepted the offer, carefully adjusting his grip so he wouldn't drop the little thing. He glanced over at Enjin, asking without asking for help.
"Ah yes, very dignified when you threw yourself in a well." Enjin's tease came with no hint of malice. If anything, behind the humor was a hint of fondness. "Only inhale it for a couple seconds. Let it sit in your lungs before you breathe it out. And try not to choke."
Zanka nodded, hesitantly placing the yellow tip of the cigarette against his lips and taking a slow inhale. The smoke combined with the toxins in the air made for a brutal combination, one that had tears involuntarily pricking Zanka's eyes the moment it hit his tongue. He tried to do as Enjin said, pulling it into his lungs, but the sudden fullness felt too suffocating.
Enjin patted his back while he coughed it all up, smoke leaving his mouth and nose in puffy clouds that burned as they escaped him.
"That feels fuckin’ awful," he complained, giving the cigarette back.
The man chuckled, bringing it to his own lips. "You get used to it."
Zanka suppressed the urge to groan when the cigarette was returned to his hands, but he didn't fight it or argue. He brought it back to his mouth and gave it another try, more prepared what to expect this time.
It flooded his lungs with a heat that felt just as scorching as it was comfortably warm, like a thick blanket spreading out over his soul from the outside in. He had better control over it this time, releasing the cloud with a shaky exhale. He couldn't really tell if the fuzziness that followed was the nicotine or the exhaustion.
They took turns with it for awhile, passing the smoke between them until it burned out in its entirety. Fresh, oxygenated air had never felt more heavenly than when Enjin helped him clip his mask back on and flipped the oxygen tank on. Zanka felt light when his head lulled against Enjin's shoulder, his heart lurching in his chest.
It was warm.
"Yer… really comfy," Zanka mumbled. Keeping his eyes open was a struggle, fluttering weakly while he slumped against the older man.
Enjin's arm encircled his shoulders, hesitated, and gently guided him in closer. "And you've gotten snuggly."
"Mm."
"We should find somewhere safe to sleep before you doze off."
Zanka groaned, forcing himself to look up and around. The alley didn't have much aside from the dumpsters and the rooftop access ladder, but the roof wasn't the safest bet when many of the beasts were well-equipped to climb. Begrudgingly, he pointed at the dumpsters.
"Are you sure?" Enjin glanced at him, "There's barely any room in there."
The only real response Zanka had was to curl up a little more on himself, his back supported by Enjin's side. "Not the time ta be picky."
"Guess you're right."
With Enjin's help, they hobbled to the dumpsters. One was too full to have space, but the other was mostly empty. Definitely dirty, but empty. Zanka was beyond the point of caring about the cleanliness. They placed their jinkis inside first, Enjin helping Zanka into the small space.
There wasn't enough room not to end up tangled in each other. Enjin had to tuck his knees to fit, carefully positioning Zanka's injured leg over his own to prevent it from getting crushed.
When he let the lid fall, they were engulfed in darkness.
The steady hiss of their masks permeated the small space, the only sound in the little tin box that separated them from the world. It was so cramped, dirt and trash uncomfortably rubbing against his shoulder, but when Enjin's arms wrapped around him, it was impossible to care about any of that.
His heart skipped a beat. Enjin had never been this close to him, but now they were effectively cuddled up together just to fit, and the locked up creature inside of his heart couldn't think of any other place he would rather be. The polluted zone, the ruined city, the rusted dumpster, none of that mattered.
Not when he could feel Enjin's steady heartbeat against his cheek.
Zanka hadn't slept without Assistaff between his arms since he was fourteen. Cuddling a human was different. Bigger, warmer, able to hug him back. The arms that curled behind him were safer than a home.
"Hey, Enjin?"
"Yeah?"
Zanka squeezed the back of Enjin's jacket, balling it between his fist as he pulled the man in just a little bit closer. "I wanna spend more time with you. I'm…" he shuddered, "I'm not ready to die."
The man's hand landed in Zanka's hair above the strap of his mask, carding through the sweat-slicked, ashy strands. His words came out quiet through the air filter, crackling with a quality intended to be heard over the sound of battle, not this breathless, entangled proximity.
"We'll make it home. I promise."