#zuka

There wasn't much Zuka could say he missed whenever he thought about his past.

Not that he purposefully chooses to think about it, but having a missing arm wasn't exactly something he could just ignore, and the night terrors he often had didn't exactly help his wish to forget about his history.

So, if he was going to remember what his past, why not try to find the good in it? That's what a book he once read said to do, anyway.

The thing was, though, there was hardly any good. Sure, there was the occasional foggy thoughts about how Blackrock felt like a family and the moments he had with some of the people he had befriended there, but those felt so small compared to the bad.

Most of his memories revolved around the tragedy and death that had surrounded him during his time in Blackrock, and nothing about either of those things could be made out to seem good.

In the end, it was the sight of bodies—some being ones he called friends and some being the ones he called foes—hitting the ground that resided in his memory as if it were home, for that remembrance cozied itself into his mind with the intent to never leave. It was evident that those bad memories were there to stay.

But there was one good thing that beamed in his thoughts—one good memory that he could vividly remember.

That memory was you.

Just you.

During his time in Blackrock, he got hurt a lot, which only made sense due to how deadly some of the battles he fought were. His constant injuries meant that he was often taken care of by the Blackrock medics, but the only medic he really cared about was you.

The first time he met you had been embarrassing, for every time he looks back at it, he can't help but sigh at how he had acted previously.

Zuka had gotten a slash on his forearm, and if it weren't for the fabric the medics had tied onto his arm, blood probably would've been everywhere. The thing was that after the medics had put that fabric on him, he tried to leave. He argued with the medics by claiming that he would be fine, and that he needed to go back out and help his fellow soliders.

And then you walked in. You walked in with narrowed eyes and a frown while matching his volume, and you said that while he may be destructive out in the battlefield, you wouldn't allow him to be destructive in the medical area.

He had never sat down so quick, and that alone should've made him realize what big of a part you were going to play in his life.

After that, you were often the one who took care of his wounds. The other medics around you claimed he was destructive and loud, but when it was just you taking care of him, he was quiet while he watched you tend to the injuries he had gotten that day.

You both hardly exchanged words. You would ask him questions regarding his pain and concerns, and he would answer honestly. It was until one day that he asked how long you had been doing medical work that your eyes finally locked with his.

Zuka could still recall the sparks that shot through his mind—the sparks that were more powerful than any explosives he had ever used.

Slowly, you both started talking more, and simple questions and answers turned into inside jokes and laughter. Your name eventually was hardly said by him, for it was replaced by the nickname "angel" due to the amount of times you've helped him.

You were the only medic that took care of him, but not because nobody else wanted to, but because they knew you wanted to.

There were many good moments he had with you, but one stood out from the rest of them.

Another battle had just been won, and while the others were celebrating inside a building, Zuka found you outside sitting near a cliff.

The grass had been cold when he plopped himself down next to you, but the drink in his hand had been warm as he held it out to you.

You turned your head to give him a smile before taking the drink from his grasp, and you thanked him while you looked up at the night sky.

It was corny, but at that moment, all he thought about was the way the stars were reflected in your gaze. He had noted the way the night breeze nipped at his skin with its chill, and without hesitation, he gave you his jacket.

You both had sat in silence—the tips of his fingers grazing yours since your hands were close to each other.

Despite the lack of conversation between you both, if you had just looked up that day, you would've seen everything he wished to say in his eyes.

But you hadn't.

You stayed looking down at the cup in your grasp with a small smile on your lips—the same lips he had imagined kissing for months. The same lips he wanted to kiss in that moment.

He had considered it. His thoughts had raced while his heart pounded, and the only thing that had been steady about him in that moment was his gaze that rested on your lips.

Hell, he even leaned in towards you.

But what did he do as soon as you turned your head?

He looked away.

He looked away before excusing himself, stating that he needed to talk to someone as he walked away. He didn't even look back when you called out to him, saying something about him taking his jacket back.

He regrets that night. One, because of how he cowardly backed down from something he had wanted to do for so long, and two, because he didn't realize that would be the last time he saw you.

A low sigh escaped from Zuka, along with the smoke he had been holding in. The cigarette in his hand was no longer the length it was before, for most of it was now a pile of ash on top of the counter he was leaning on.

How long had he been zoned out for? The only answer he had was long enough to the point where he only had about two puffs left of his cigarette.

The Inphernal grumbled before lifting the cigarette back up to his lips, and he took a deep breath. Smoke filled his lungs once more, and he stubbed out the cigarette in a nearby ash tray while he exhaled.

Taking a step back, the back of Zuka's legs pressed against the chair behind him, and he sat down with a quiet grunt.

He leaned his head back before lifting his hand to tug down his hat so it covered his eyes, hoping that maybe a short nap would distract his mind for a bit. Business was slow today, and since it was almost time for him to close, he wasn't really worried about thieves.

Plus, the bell attached to the door was fairly loud, so he'd likely wake up if anyone came in.

But when the bell rang as soon as he got comfortable in his chair, he was silently hoping that maybe it was just his imagination.

"Hello? Is this shop closed?"

Sadly, not his imagination.

With a low exhale, Zuka leaned forward in his chair as he fixed his hat so it was placed back on his head, and he stood up before walking towards the counter.

While the counter had a chain-link fence running from its surface to the ceiling—apart from the porthole in it so he can hand customers stuff—Zuka was still able to see through it.

And as soon as he looked up to greet whoever had walked through the door, he found that every word he had planned to say had died in his throat.

Leaving him to stare at you in silence.

You seemed to have the same shocked reaction, for your lips were slightly parted while your eyes flickered all over him. He watched as you stared at his broken horn for a moment, and your attention shifted to where his arm once was before your eyes finally met his once more.

But while you had been examining him, his gaze didn't leave your face at all. He didn't need to inspect you to know that it was you.

"Zuka?"

You hadn't changed one bit—well, you had, but the way you said his name was still the same. There was still that slight excitement that always managed to sneak its way into your tone, and if this had taken place years ago, he probably would've smiled.

But he didn't. His lips remained pursed until he shakily let out the breath he had been holding,

"...Angel?"

"You're still calling me that after all these years?"

There was a hint of teasing in your voice while you smiled at him, but upon noticing how he didn't reciprocate it—let alone answer—the corners of your lips faltered into a sad smile.

"How have you been, Zuka?"

While all of his thoughts had been scattered ever since he recognized you, almost all of them silenced at that moment except for one.

And that one thought had only one word.

You.

He turned on his heel before walking towards the exit so he could leave from behind the counter, and when he turned the corner, he paused for a moment.

And in that moment, he took it all in. He took in the sight of you standing in his shop, and he silently wondered if he was dreaming. Maybe he had fallen asleep earlier and instead of distracting his mind like he wanted, his brain decided to torment him.

But it seemed too real. Every breath he took was one that he was incredibly aware of, and the way his heart was pounding against his ribs was all too real.

"...Fine." Zuka eventually managed to say, though his voice was gruff. He cleared his throat before continuing to speak. "How have you been?"

"I've been okay."

At your response, he hummed to acknowledge your words, and the shop fell into silence. The only thing he could hear was the faint chatter of those walking past the shop, but as soon as they were gone, Zuka was left once again with a quietness he would be grateful for if it weren't for the fact that you were present.

He didn't know what to say. Even though he had spent years wondering what he would say to you if he were to ever see you again, it appears that all the things he wanted to say refused to meet his tongue. He was left to merely stare at you while your eyes shifted around his shop, and your chest rose as you took in a deep breath before speaking.

"Can I...hug you?"

Without hesitation, Zuka gave you a slight nod—one so subtle that you would've missed it if you hadn't been looking at him.

Even though he had agreed to your hug, it didn't stop him from feeling shocked whenever you went up to him and wrapped your arms around him. He was tense for a moment before he wrapped his arm around your waist, and he pulled you closer so that you were right against him.

When you looked at him, he didn't speak at first. He just let his eyes remain on yours, and while it was probably only a few seconds that passed, it felt like hours until he finally said something.

"Where'd you go, angel?"

It should've been obvious that he was going to ask that question, but you still took in a sharp breath.

"...It's a long story." You responded, "But in short, I'm not with Blackrock anymore. I work at a nearby hospital, actually."

Zuka wanted to question why you weren't with Blackrock anymore, but with how things were becoming, he didn't necessarily blame you. The question left his mind as he nodded at your explanation, but before he could say anything else, you beat him to it.

"If it's okay that I ask, what...happened?"

He didn't need you to gesture to know what you were talking about, for just like how his question was obvious, yours was, too. It would've been surprising if you didn't ask about his arm and horn.

"It's a long story." He repeated your prior words, and there was a slight tease to them that made you smile.

"I have time."

Suddenly, the lack of distance between you became more prominent, and the grip Zuka had on you tightened.

It wasn't until he heard the bell ring before he pulled back, and when he looked over you, he noticed Rocket standing in the doorway of the shop with a raised eyebrow.

"Am I in the middle of something or...?"

Zuka shook his head while you turned around, and when you stepped back to stand beside him, you narrowed your eyes upon recognizing the Inphernal who had just entered the shop.

"Wait, you're the one I treated earlier, aren't you? The one who got injured during a Phight?"

Tension filled the room as soon as you finished speaking, and you watched as Rocket pursed his lips

"...Phight?"

"SO HOW DO YOU TWO KNOW EACH OTHER?!"

You snickered at how quick Rocket was trying to change the topic, and his attempt seemed to work, for Zuka let out a little huff before saying your name.

"Do you remember that medic I told you about? That's who this is."

While your eyes widened in surprise that Zuka had told someone about you, Rocket's eyebrows shot up as his eyes flickered from Zuka to you.

"That's the medic you—?"

"And you've already met him, apparently, but this is my son—Rocket." Zuka explained while he turned his attention toward you, cutting off Rocket from whatever he was going to say.

"Son?" You repeated, and you shifted your gaze to Rocket to examine him. He did look an awful lot like Zuka, but that may have just been because of the rocket launcher and the sunglasses on his face.

You looked back at Zuka, and then back at Rocket. Zuka had clearly taken in Rocket, but a part of you couldn't help but wonder if there had been anyone who helped Zuka when it came to taking care of Rocket.

As if he had read your mind, Zuka shortly hummed. "Yep—son. It's just been me and him."

Weirdly, a part of you was relieved to hear that, for your shoulders relaxed and you smiled at Zuka. "So you're a dad."

"Yep."

"You really are old."

You watched as a slight smile tugged at Zuka's lips, and your grin widened once he narrowed his eyes at you. "And you aren't?"

Before you could respond to his remark, you glanced over at Rocket, who was staring at you both with a smirk. You fell quiet before clearing your throat, and you looked back at Zuka.

"I should probably get going. It's late."

The partial smile you had gotten from Zuka faltered, and he furrowed his eyebrows. "Angel—"

"I'll be back tomorrow."

As you walked towards the door, Zuka followed, and Rocket moved out of the way as Zuka pressed his hand against the door so it stayed open while you walked out.

He wanted to call out to you—to tell you to stay for just a minute longer—but then you gave him one last smile before waving, and that plead refused to leave his lips.

All he did was give you a nod while he watched you walk away, and as soon as you were out of sight, he stepped back into the shop before letting the glass door close in front of him.

"Angel, huh?"

Zuka didn't say anything, for he just stared at his reflection in the door until Rocket spoke up again.

"You know, I wouldn't mind another parent..."

"If you think you can change the subject from the fact that you were out phighting again, you're wrong, kid."

"....Dammit."