JIN

⇢Synopsis: After hours of running yourself ragged, you pushed past your limits—yet Zanka's arms held you steady, care and concern in every motion, his worry for you impossible to hide.

In this HQ—the cleaners HQ, all they gotta do is to keep on working. Their days were split between handling missions, writing reports and filing paperwork, treating patients, and whatever life they had left.

You were sure, even determined to finish them in just a day. Besides, helping out the cleaners once they arrived from their grueling missions was something you usually did: bringing them tea, or whatever they felt like drinking, sometimes massaging their really stiff shoulders as well.

Turns out, that takes more effort than it sounds.

Zanka always seems to notice everything—you hurrying from place to place, helping everyone, multitasking like it's nothing.

Why are you doing this?

And why aren't you exhausted?

Maybe you were...yet you never said a word about it.

Along with your other tasks, you lug reports and paperwork toward Semiu—the receptionist—or even Corvus, the boss. Your chest carries a precarious stack of forms as a few sheets quietly escape your grip.

Multitasking was either your talent…or a trainwreck. You'd often get waaay too exhausted from scuttling around like a caffeine-fueled squirrel, patching up cleaners if they ever get injured, handing out trays of drinks, snacks, or anything they need to restore their batteries.

Regardless of everything, at least someone's working hard here.

Let's say…you finally plopped onto the lounge—not even seated when someone immediately called for you. Great. You barely set your ass down before they yelled. Perfect timing.

You thought it was finally over—until semiu requested you to clean the HQ.

As in, mop the entire floor? The hallways? Every room? Every dormitory?

You need her to say sike right now.

She cannot be serious.

…Even saying no won't keep it from happening, and now you're dragging the mop across the floor sluggishly, wondering why anyone would ever ask you to do this.

The HQ felt stupidly endless—corridors, dorms, rooms. The mop traced the same tired path through hallway after hallway.

Man, you were really wiped out.

Crickets chirped somewhere outside as you mopped the floor in front of the mess hall doors, movements languid.

You've got zero clue what time it is.

Your body slightly swayed, bracing a free hand against the wall to catch your balance.

You weren't sure how much longer you could keep going. At this point, you couldn't even lift the mop properly anymore, the handle trembling faintly in your hand.

A shadow suddenly fell over you, you looked back over your shoulder listlessly, brain barely functioning.

“Zanka…?” You murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Finally turning around to face him directly.

Zanka, in his casual clothes, looked completely different to you. Bangs falling lazily over his forehead, a little messy, not that he cared.

His eyes narrowed as he took in your enervated state.

“Ya been moppin’ for about 4 hours.”

“…Yeah. Has it been that long?”

“Obviously. And damn, not even a complaint, huh?”

You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, tugging at it absentmindedly, exhaling through your nose like a silent complaint.

“Semiu asked me to. I also…didn't want to tire out the custodians, so I just...went ahead and did it.”

“Goodness,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes briefly. “Take a break, will ya? Ya look like a mess. It's literally their job—that’s what they get paid for. What's with the martyr routine?”

“Hey…they could use a break too. Honestly, these hallways are never-ending...I just wanted to help.” You swayed slightly, eyelids drooping.

“Yer swayin’.”

His hand flexed faintly, bracing just in case.

“Uh-huh...stance...yeah...that's it," you mumbled, waving one hand vaguely, the mop nearly slipping from the other.

“Hey now...”

But then—you tipped forward, exhaustion immediately dragging you down.

Zanka was hasty enough to jump into action. His arms were already around you, one at your waist, the other bracing your upper back, holding you close. Your head thudding softly against his chest, cheek brushing warm fabric.

One arm adjusted, guiding the mop out of your hand gently, then propping it against the wall without loosening his hold on you.

“Hey, hey...easy. Told ya to rest hours ago, but nah—ya just had tah keep goin'. Now look at ya.”

You leaned up to his shoulder, letting out a tired hum. Your eyes wouldn't even open, not with how drained you felt.

“I'm so tired, Zanka…”

He hummed quietly in response, gently brushing your bangs back. His frown deepened, eyebrows knitting together as worry washed over him.

At last, you let yourself admit it.

After darting around relentlessly all day, bouncing from chores to reports to everyone else's problems, you were running on fumes. A single break didn't seem like too much to ask.

You had run yourself ragged all day. For what, exactly?

You couldn't even remember what you've already finished.

All that effort...yet no one saw.

But zanka, he had caught the signs of your weary state from the start, running everyone’s errands—even the simplest one. Most people would've just shrugged, and said, “do it yourself.”

He wasn't relieved yet, still holding you close as you stayed limp against him.

“Ya don't gotta do it all at once,” he muttered. “Or is it that yer just tryna look out for everyone, huh?”

Your head dipped in a faint nod.

Figures.

He sighed, almost inaudibly.

“I've worked hard. Ya worked hard. We all worked our asses off. A quiet moment just feels like treasure.” he combed his fingers through your hair. “That’s life. Sometimes ya get peace. Sometimes ya don't. Ya just keep on movin'—even when the tank's empty.”

He wasn't wrong. Even you had your own limits. You couldn't keep giving and giving forever. Push too long, and life pushes back.

Slowly, your eyes peeled open, meeting his gaze.

“Zanka…” his name rolled out, tired and meek, making his heart skip a beat.

“Hm? Ya okay?”

“You guys…every single day. Just…doing everything. Missions, tasks…and stuff…I don't know how you do it,” your words drifted out, soft and dragged, almost fading before they reached him. “You guys deserve some breaks.”

Zanka didn't interrupt. Didn't sigh, didn't move. No matter how exhausted you were, no matter what you spilled out, he held you close, steady as ever.

His arm tightened around your waist marginally. “Quit worryin’ about everyone else,” he muttered. “Take care of yerself for once.”

“You're…worried about me…?”

“Yeah…didn't take much to notice that.”

“Oh…” you murmured, letting your eyelashes fall as your gaze drifted downwards.

Then—your legs buckled.

You were falling before your brain even caught up.

Zanka immediately lowered himself to your sudden weight, both arms around your waist in a heartbeat—while your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers brushing lightly against his back, letting him support your weight.

“Ah…” you murmured, a faint crease forming between your brows as you leaned onto him, eyes drifting closed.

“Hey, ya alright??? Can ya stand at all?” His brows furrowed, concern clear in his voice as he kept a firm hold on your waist.

You meekly shook your head, resting your cheek in the crook of his neck.

“Legs…ache so much…” you breathed shakily, collapsing fully against him.

His fingers brushed against your side, adjusting his hold as his eyes flickered to your knees.

“Mind if I carry ya?”

Your eyes cracked open slightly at the unexpected question, catching his gaze. Flustered—yet too tired to think much of it—you gave a small, faint nod.

Zanka lowered himself slightly, one arm slipping beneath your knees, and another settled behind your back, lifting you carefully against his chest with quiet care.

Your fingers curled weakly into his shirt while your other hand lay limp against yourself, your weight slowly melting into his hold.

“Comfortable?”

“Mhmm…comfy.”

You bit your lips slightly, unsure.

“I hope I'm not too heavy...”

“Too heavy? Don't think like that. Yer fine.”

If Enjin sees them like this...Zanka's snatching you up, already running—no questions asked.

He stepped forward, gaze fixed ahead, moving carefully while keeping you secure in his arms.

“Semiu better start givin’ ya some real breaks,” he muttered. “Work's work, but this is just fuckin’ insane.”

He adjusted his grip, settling you more securely in his hold.

“Keep this up and you'll need a whole month just to recover. And quit sayin' yes to every damn favor they throw at ya. Hear?”

You gave a tiny nod, eyes drifting downwards, lashes brushing against his shirt as your cheek settled softly.

He quickly glanced down at you, noting how tired you looked…and how quietly beautiful you were, even in this exhaustion, before returning his gaze ahead.

“Quit lookin' so down. I'm just lookin' out for ya, that's all.”

“It's not that. I just feel, y'know…cared for.”

“huh, that so?”

“Yeah. I...like that you worry about me. Feels nice when someone fusses over you, watches out for you, and stuff…”

“Right. Feels good sometimes.”

“You're so caring, Zanka.”

You offered a small, weary smile, lifting your head slightly so he could see it. The corner of your lips gently curved upward as your eyes glimmered softly, quietly thanking him.

He looked down at you, eyes widening a fraction as he took in the small, tired gesture, the kind of endearing look that made him catch his breath.

Holy shit, he thought.

A blush suddenly crept across his face. He swallowed, tilting his head back just enough to mask it, exhaling slowly to regain his composure before looking ahead.

And you definitely noticed it.

He cleared his throat, trying not to melt.

Keep it cool, man. Keep it cool.

There was something about you that zanka can't quite fathom. In fact, he could even name a bunch of it if there was a question about that, honestly.

You're just being yourself, someone who helps no matter what under any circumstances, someone who has the natural need to take care of others within your hospitality, and more that had Zanka's thoughts looped relentlessly, each one second-guessing the last. He was sure that you do this sort of act towards everyone, because you're sweet, yeah. You're even willing to welcome new recruits with the warmest smile ever, immediately lowering their guard in a falcon's blink. Zanka just can't comprehend how a person so pure, like you, could exist in such a gritty world?

Zanka will never be able to find the answer unless he asks you. What was really the case here? Why are you so kind? Why are you so worried about him? And you know, he had not forgotten about certain moments that had happened between you and him.

– Whenever Zanka got injured in battlefields, there was always a shout for him to simply “get back up on his feet.” and how he'd rather stay silent when he takes the worst hit of all. Of course they care about him, by basically yelling for the medics, they arrive, they patch him up, done.

But you, you rushed out of your way to kneel beside him urgently, hovered above him as your sweet tone fussed over his injuries, anxiously asking him a million questions at once. You'd even stay by his side the entire time, tending his wounds on your own if eishia was ever occupied.

– Zanka's often alone, mostly polishing his staff while he sat anywhere that is quiet to his liking. He doesn't expect anything, or anyone to stumble upon him. But if they ever did, it was obvious that they were just gonna pretend he wasn't even there in the first place. Yet, when you saw him alone every time? You can't help but grow solicitous at the sight of him like that. Some like being alone, but hey, a company could always brighten their day, even just a little.

You went out of your way, waving adorably at zanka as he looked up at you confusingly. He would even look around if you were actually waving to someone else instead of him. You'd offer him small snacks, a bottle of water, or even just a “how are you” question. He wasn't even sure why you'd rather waste your time on an average joe, and a mediocre of a guy like him—hell he'd even overanalyze your simple actions all day, and all night.

He’s so perplexed every time at the fact that he actually feels warm whenever your presence is near.

Gosh, you're so different. Too different.

– Zanka never thought he'd hear a “have you eaten yet, zanka?” every time he's near you. You'd ask with a gentle tone, and with that genuine, caring smile of yours. The first time you asked, he stared at you in a bewildered expression, blinking twice as he glanced around before pointing at himself hesitantly.

Since when do people ask me stuff like that...?

He's still not used to it. Typical zanka.

– Zanka would let you straighten his collar, adjust it, and smoothen it, because you asked kindly. He'd lean down to your level so that you could brush his hair back, tuck it behind his ear, or stroke it soothingly.

Cupping his face gently as you praise him about his neat hair, it got him blushing furiously because why the hell would anyone go out of their way just to compliment his freaking hair?

– Zanka, who never seems to open up to people, because of course, they might never understand his complicated emotions, or his insecurities. But when you understood him? Or when you actually try your best to? He even fully prepared himself if you were gonna be expectedly contemptuous, but no, because...what the hell was this.

You cared for him so much, and rather than giving him a side-glance with judgement, you truly empathized, listened quietly, gave him comfort that he had never thought he needed, a hug that he will never forget, and your time to understand his difficulties. He had never felt so understood, yet so special before.

– Zanka, who often has a pep talk with you, mostly when you two are alone, or during nighttime. With each of your predicaments, he has an answer to every one of them.

There's always something about the quietness you bring, the words you spoke so full of comfort within your gentle demeanour. You'd drift to sleep on the countertop, or even on his shoulders during silly conversations—he doesn't mind. Really. You deserve your rest after sharing your precious time with him.

– When you made miso soup for him for the first time, he was in an awestruck, like, wow. Lips parted as he stared at the steaming bowl on your hands, and the way you were still smiling sweetly. How the hell did enjin manage to find a person like you?

He sipped the broth, savouring the warmth, deliberately.

– Some missions are sometimes long, it'd take them many hours, or even days to come back from it. When Zanka arrived from a mission that took him 2 days, slightly injured, but still walking fine, thankfully. He did not expect you to run up to him, and give him the biggest hug that got him stumbling backwards, arms around your waist on instinct.

You always missed him a lot, it was only 2 days, and yet, he'd brush off your concerns, but the only response he's gonna get is a sulking pout—sheesh, he would never forgive himself if he ever made you sad.

He loves your hugs though. Don't forget that.

– You'd even comfort zanka's small defeats, or celebrate small victories no matter what. Because yes, he worked hard, always did his utmost best…it was admirable, yet worrying. You did manage to get him to rest after so much persistence. But even so, you complimented his efforts rather than the results, and he likes that.

– Zanka's always calm, but there are times when he isn't. He never seems to show it, does he? It was easier to keep his mouth shut than say anything at all. That was what he usually told himself. And hey, it was like that until you came along. You'd leave him snacks with a sticky note that has a reassuring message, you'd supportively encourage him about missions he's gonna endure, and there's always a "please stay safe, zanka" afterwards.

He had never felt anything better.

– Zanka never thought that someone, like you, would defend him so authentically, and so sincerely. Maybe, he thought, that's just how you were with everyone. The first time you stood up for him, he was taken aback—no one had ever defended him like that before.

Defending...me? For real...?

People do talk shit about him, always the fraud this, fraud that. You'd rather tell them to mind their own business, and appreciate his hard work for all of those years of pushing himself. It really shows. Besides, he could boldly bark back at them if he wanted. And yet, as dumbfounded as he was, he lets you do exactly what you did.

– The urge to protect you, to make you feel secured and safe, just like what you had given him. Even if you faced someone hostile and disruptive, or the teasing of riyo, he'd have you hiding behind his back, peeking shyly, your head just barely over his shoulder.

He'd do that with quiet confidence, nothing in him faltering as long as you're truly safe.

Aaand he'd end up being as red as a tomato, mortified at his own instinctive actions.

why the hell did I...? The hell???