Chapter Text
“c’mere,” zanka snarls as they round the corner, having just arrived back to hq.
enjin and riyo have vanished off their own ways, leaving him alone here with the least predictable member of team akuta… which is like saying the most dangerous no man’s land, but whatever.
rather than even waiting for a response, zanka scruffs him like a kitten and drag-carries him into his room, by the neck of his clothes.
“wh— i—” he says, trying preemptively to defend himself from the tongue-lashing he’s surely about to receive.
zanka might show that he likes him through his actions, but he’s a damn tough talker and the abrasive love kinda stings.
“hush,” zanka says, plopping him on the end of the single bed. “and don’t step on my bed.”
“i’m sitting on it, how could i?”
“no you’re not, an’ very easily,” he snaps, pointing at a futon on the ground he’d missed while he was being manhandled. “an’ don’t you take that tone with me, ya little shit, d’you think i ever talked to kyo— enjin that way?!”
“no..?” he asks, uncertain.
“damn right!”
they might have gotten off to a weird start, thrown together by forces greater than both of them and taken a while to found their rhythm, but zanka was a good teacher. he was consistent, if at times impatient.
he wasn’t rude, really, even when he was mean. right now, he was being mean, but this was also sort of rude.
“have i… done something?” he feels the need to ask, truthfully expecting a resounding yes.
“what? o’course not,” zanka huffs instead, turning to him from where he’s started to rummage in a drawer.
leaving the metaphorical door open to whatever weird shit’s going on here seems… generally unwise. so rudo’s about to say something, but then zanka cuts back in.
“do you not even know what you’re here for?”
“no?” he says, feeling like it’s the wrong answer.
zanka gives a big, heaving sigh before sitting down on the end of the bed.
“the restaurant, rudo. i broughtcha here ‘cause of what happened at the restaurant.”
suddenly, he wasn’t confused anymore. just horrified.
“wait!” he says, throwing his gloved hands up nervously. “you mean you trapped me here to… talk with you?”
“yeah?” he answers, deadpan. “my room’s a little traditional, but it’s not a torture chamber.”
“the wood floors…”
“are a personal choice,” he finishes. “i like it better than stone. there’s not even any blood on them! well… none that isn’t mine.”
“but i don’t understand! what do you want to talk to me about?”
zanka sighs again, and looks at him seriously.
“look, we’re cleaners, yeah?”
“i mean, yeah. obviously.”
“right. so, when folks see us outside, they know who we are.”
“we are in uniform.”
“on purpose,” zanka says, nodding solemnly before continuing. “but there’re plenty people who don’t like us, man. it’s hard to… life on the ground is actually difficult, for a lot of real people. they live their whole lives down here, feelin’ hopeless. and aggrieved, an’ wronged by folks in the sphere. the cleaners are a happy bunch, against all odds, but it’s easy to be bitter down ‘ere. an’ we’re not saviors or anyone’s betters, okay rudo?”
“yeah, man, i know that, but—”
“listen…” he interrupts. “what you heard… people talk. i know i dunno how things work upstairs, but people always need to know what’s goin’ on down here, or it’s dangerous, so they talk to each other. information exchange is so important down here. an’ they’ll start to talk about you eventually.”
rudo swallows, guarded with anticipation.
“i mean it, kid. not because you’re a sphereite, because they won’t know. an’ not ‘cause ya did anything wrong, either. they talk about how riyo wears ‘er hair, and enjin’s big ol’ loud voice. team child gets flak for existing, and they talk about… my bony fuckin’ shoulders, like any of us get enough to eat down here, and my stupid hair, and my earrings, and assistaff.
“and i’d… change it all if i loved it any less. the cleaners have to love each other, rudo. and we have to love ourselves. you gotta love you.”
“yes, but that lean one… he makes for a very boyish sort of young man, no?”
the thirty-something pair of drunk women at the bar have been quiet enough for most of the night. they have that air of misery about them that the ground seems to rot in. up in the sphere, it just followed rudo himself around. down here, there are other people who wallow as intently as he does.
he looks over, and they look well-dressed… he thinks. of course, he wouldn’t know.
he looks at zanka, who, evidently, hears them. his shoulders are tense, and he’s turned — surely, diametrically — away. rudo can barely see the side of his face, the low-effort frown he maintains as he pretends to listen to riyo and enjin play-argue. he’s certain zanka knows he’s staring.
suddenly, he’s turning to give rudo a look that he can’t quite decode past its general negativity. maybe he’s a coward…
but he looks away.
“you talk about the ground like a foreigner,” he says, curious.
he knows he’s overstepping, but he’s hoping zanka might let him get away with it this time.
his mentor sighs, and breaks eye contact.
“not that it’s any of your business, but i really kind of am.”
“but how?” he asks, loosening up now that he knows he’s clear.
“bein’ hell guard is not like bein’ a cleaner, or takin’ up any other creed. it’s a legacy. real cleaners are folks like riyo an’ enjin, who can at least pretend they live in the present. proper hell guard are dedicated to honoring the past. we’re a continuation of old things. the hell guard—”
“slow down.”
“listen,” he says, hissing lowly like they’re not alone.