Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

That day was—as far as the Cleaners were concerned—fairly peaceful, even considering that the Hell Guards wouldn't be long in arriving perhaps it was because, being such a strong pack when they were together, they felt much more at ease.

Zanka had gotten up quite early, as usual. He was sitting comfortably in his uniform, his beloved *Lovely Staff* leaning against the arm of the sofa where he was sprawled out in a rather inelegant manner, completely covered by all the pups of the pack, Rudo was the one jealously claiming a large part of his chest. Dear Santa was sitting in what little space was left on the sofa, but had his small legs tangled up with the older Omega. Guita, on the other hand, was completely on top of most of the rest of Zanka's body, crushing Rudo in the process despite looking like a somewhat uncomfortable position, all three were incredibly cozy piled on top of the Omega, who calmly hummed while releasing a bit of his pheromones to keep the youngsters asleep.

After all, Zanka took it very seriously that those kids saw him as a safe figure; it made his Omega instincts feel completely at peace.

Zanka’s blue eyes immediately snapped toward the door of the base’s communal room at the sound of footsteps, a soft, welcoming purr escaping his chest at the sight of his father figure. Smiling warmly, Enjin approached without hesitation, gently brushing a hand through his youngest pup's hair while releasing a subtle wave of his own pheromones to keep the sleeping children even more relaxed.

"As always, you’re the kids' favorite pillow, Zan-Zan. But are you actually comfortable down there?" Enjin’s tone was a mix of playful teasing and deep affection as he leaned lazily against the back of the sofa, his golden eyes scanning the three children piled on top of his eldest son.

"Mhm, I’m fine. Just a bit sleepy... being surrounded by warmth is definitely relaxing," Zanka replied, offering a soft smile to the Alpha he viewed as a father. He tried—and failed—to wriggle out from underneath the cluster of kids, giving up after a few seconds. He knew full well there was a high chance the Hell Guards (specifically his brothers) would end up seeing him pinned beneath three sleeping pups.

"Oh, yeah! The boss said he’d be down here shortly," Enjin added. "He also mentioned who was selected from the Hell Guards. Your two older brothers are coming, Zan-Zan, along with about twenty new soldiers."

Zanka hummed at the new information, his eyes staring blankly into space for a few seconds. He had assumed his siblings would be selected, but having that idea officially confirmed made him feel deeply uncomfortable.
He hadn't seen his sister and brother since Mymo's accident, where he had once again become the laughingstock of the Nijiku clan.

Even though Eisha had told him it was his eldest brother who had left him at the infirmary to be treated, he couldn't help but think that Goka had only done it to prevent a regular civilian from finding him in such a deplorable state.

Enjin’s smile faded slightly as he noticed the sadness in his eldest son's blue eyes. But before he could even say a word, Rudo began to wake up, letting out a lazy groan. Zanka immediately brushed his fingers through the Sphere-ite's white hair, while Enjin gently placed his larger hand against the little Alpha's back, helping him slide out from underneath Guita, who let out a soft giggle in her sleep as she was slightly shifted around.

"It’s about time you woke up, Rudo. Help me move Guita and Dear to their rooms so they can sleep more comfortably," Zanka said, flashing a playful, teasing smile at the brat he viewed as a younger brother. With practiced ease, he scooped both Guita and Dear into his arms and stood up from the sofa a second later.

Rudo let out a small growl in response, greeting the man he saw as a second father with a lazy headbutt to the hip. He then began trailing behind his older brother like a little duckling, complaining the entire way when Zanka flat-out refused to hand over either of the sleeping children.

Enjin could only let out a low, comforting rumble at the sight of his children being so close; it made him feel like an incredibly proud father. His instincts, too, felt a bit smug seeing that his two boys were finally getting along so well. Silently, though, Enjin hoped that the arrival of the Hell Guards wouldn't be too destructive toward the warmth his pack possessed.

After all, the Cleaners were one massive pack divided into branches; the Akuta crew was their own family and a tight-knit little pack, and Enjin knew it was exactly the same for all the other teams—making the entire organization one enormous family.

A few seconds later, the blonde Alpha stepped out of the common room, softly humming a tune as he set off to finally fulfill the mission the boss had given him: to inform all the other teams that they needed to give the Hell Guards a proper welcome when they arrived.

Chapter Text

The hours ticked by quickly. By now, most of the Cleaners had gathered throughout the base, leaving the team captains in the communal room. Enjin was in the middle of a card game with Gris, Bro Santa, and Semiu, who had joined her comrades and friends simply because she had nothing better to do.

On the other side of the room, Rudo and the rest of the Child team were hanging out in the same space. But unlike the adults, the pups were completely absorbed in drawing and eating sweets—with Rudo, specifically, fighting over the candy as if he were a dragon guarding his most precious treasure.

The comforting scent created by everyone's pheromones mingling in the room was a silent sign of unity, typical of a close-knit pack. It was a rich blend of Bro's citrusy notes, Enjin's tobacco scent, Gris's coffee aroma, and that soft, milky undertone so characteristic of pups under fifteen.

On the other hand, Riyo was up on the base’s roof, sitting right on the ledge alongside Eisha, with Amo and Fu by their side. They were all silently waiting for Corvus to arrive at the base with the Hell Guard brigade. Enjin had tasked Riyo with this "mission" so Semiu could relax downstairs with the others, and naturally, the Beta hadn't hesitated to drag her lovely Alpha girlfriend along. Amo and Fu had joined them shortly after, having just returned from a stroll through a nearby city to celebrate their day off.

Lazily, the red-haired Beta leaned heavier against the shoulder of her charming, timid girlfriend, letting out a chuckle as she watched the blonde blush at her shameless closeness. The minutes ticked by slowly, and exactly when two o'clock rolled around, they finally caught the sound of several cars approaching.

"About time! They took long enough, but they're right on schedule with the time the boss gave us. Amo, Fu, do you mind letting the others know?"

Before Riyo could even finish her sentence, Amo was already sprinting off, dragging the small, timid Alpha along by the hand right through the terrace door. Eisha let out a soft, melodic laugh at both the boys' antics and the adorable pout forming on her girlfriend's face.

"Well... Come on, darling. Let's put on our best smiles so the Hell Guards don't hate us any more than they already do."

Before Eisha could even try to head downstairs like a civilized person, Riyo scooped her up in her arms and jumped straight off the roof toward the ground, absolutely adoring the way the blonde gripped her clothes in sudden fright.

Fortunately, they both landed well before the cars emerged from the tunnel, preventing any faint-hearted guards from spotting them. She set her girlfriend back on her feet just as Enjin, Gris, Semiu, and Bro stepped out of the base with quick, decisive movements. Riyo tugged Eisha's hand to position themselves right next to Enjin, allowing her girlfriend to step back and re-enter the base.

When Corvus climbed out of the jeep, he paused to offer his pack a somewhat exhausted smile, which served as both a greeting and a silent plea for help. He then waited patiently for all the Hell Guards to exit their vehicles. Once everyone was out, the Alpha leader of the Cleaners approached his pack without hesitation, ready to introduce them.

"Commander Nijiku of the first squad, Sub-Commander of the first squad, along with your apprentices and soldiers, I present to you with honor my workers, comrades, and the pack that forms our Organization."

Corvus ignored how some of the young soldiers made slight grimaces at the mention of all the Cleaners being a single pack. It didn't surprise him, as packs weren't exactly common practice, but he still felt a silent prick of offense at the disdain shown toward his family.
Even so, keeping his composure, he maintained his smile while giving his people a nod so they could introduce themselves.

"Well, you heard our leader! I'll introduce myself, though I assume some of you already know who I am."

As he said those last words, Enjin shot a thoroughly mocking look toward the Nijiku siblings, who were glaring back at him with an immense, burning hatred.

"My name is Enjin. I'm the leader of the Akuta crew and sub-pack, and as you might guess, I am also a Giver. The big guy next to me is Gris Rubion, one of the wonderful pillars of the Cleaners. The one in the bandana is Bro Santa, leader of the child sub-pack and captain of the team that carries that name, and the white-haired girl is Semiu Grier, our wonderful receptionist."

Having finished introducing the "pillars" of the pack (or at least most of them), Enjin didn't hesitate to step beside Riyo, throwing one of his massive arms over the younger girl's shoulders with a wide, beaming grin.

"And this little one is Riyo Reaper, a member of my crew and my sub-pack."

The blonde Alpha's grin stretched into a thoroughly mocking smirk as he watched Zanka's older siblings shift their gazes over to Riyo. He instantly identified the look in their eyes: jealousy, envy, resentment, and hatred. To Enjin, it was incredibly entertaining to see those two imposing Alphas get so visibly worked up! On top of that, it gave his own instincts a dark sense of pride, knowing that in some small way, he was getting a bit of payback on Zanka's behalf for everything the boy had endured back in his old home.

Seeing that the introductions were over and the soldiers remained silent, Semiu took two steps forward. She flashed a perfectly crafted, professional smile, ready to be the one to invite everyone inside.

"Now that our introductions are complete, how about we head inside the base? That way, we can begin the tour and introduce you to the rest of our team."

Corvus and the Hell Guard commanders took the first step forward, ready to get things started, and the rest of the young guards and their peers quickly followed suit. Semiu naturally stepped back, letting Gris and Enjin hold the doors open for everyone. She didn't miss the faint sound of a pair of hurried footsteps scurrying away from the entrance; it was obvious they had sent one of the kids to give the heads-up that they were coming in. The thought inevitably made her shoulders relax. Everyone in this pack was an idiot in their own special way, but they were *their* idiots.

Chapter Text

Rudo felt somewhat strange. His instincts were incredibly tense, locked in a state of constant alert. He knew the Hell Guards were very important people here in Terra, but after Zanka's detailed explanation, he couldn’t help but be reminded of how the Apostles were back in the Sphere, which only heightened his tension. And though Zanka hadn't explicitly told him, Rudo had quickly figured out that his older brother's biological family was part of that organization—a suspicion later confirmed when he asked Follo and Tomme.

Naturally, this made him completely furious. Enjin had told Rudo the truth in soft whispers while they both sat in the infirmary, watching over a critically injured Zanka after Mymo’s attack. It was a night where Rudo’s childhood curiosity had gotten the upper hand, and he had asked why no one from the Nijiku clan had come to check on the Omega.

Rudo could say with absolute honesty that he despised them. At first, he might not have gotten along with Zanka, but that was no longer the case. He had grown deeply fond of the blue-eyed youth, slowly coming to view him as one of his safe havens and as true family—a feeling that had only intensified after the agonizing experience of losing him.

So, he didn't understand the Nijiku clan's way of thinking. But if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was this: he wouldn't let them separate Zanka from his real family.

The young pup’s beautiful, ruby-colored eyes scanned the training yard, watching as Zanka used a training staff to sweep a poor Follo off his feet once again. The impact made the rest of the pack wince and groan in sympathy, but Rudo could clearly see that everyone was smiling, thoroughly enjoying watching Zanka put Follo through his paces.

Seeing the man he looked up to as an older brother having fun and wearing a massive grin while helping Follo back up made Rudo's shoulders relax just a fraction. Maybe—just maybe—the Hell Guards' arrival wouldn't go so badly after all. Maybe Rudo was actually ready for this!

That hope lasted until Guita came bursting into the yard, completely out of breath but wearing a huge, excited smile. With that single sight, Rudo knew his attempts to relax and psych himself up had been utterly shattered.

At least Guita wasn't as noisy as usual when she came in, but many noticed her arrival anyway. After all, they had decided to send the little one on that very mission to warn them when the Hell Guards arrived. Rudo could see how some of the members tensed up, while others preferred to just sit down on the ground.

But at the very least, he felt relieved that Zanka hadn't noticed Guita’s arrival, as he was once again completely focused on training Follo. Rudo felt rather than saw Guita sit down right next to him, and he could easily detect that underneath the youngster's soft, milky scent, there was a clear note of amusement and excitement for an "adventure."

Rudo silently wished he could be anywhere near as relaxed as Guita was.

"Rudo, Rudo! The guards are here! I counted twenty-two of them, and there was this really beautiful woman with red hair—she looked amazing!"

Rudo hummed at the girl's excitement, taking mental note of the information she had gathered. It turned out that sending Guita had been a spectacular idea, since she didn't take long to bring back such useful details. But before he could even say a word, a sudden tap on his hair and on Guita’s head startled them both.

The pups quickly spun around to see who had surprised them, relaxing instantly when they realized it was only Tomme. She was offering them an apologetic smile, though Rudo could see a massive grin reflecting in the Alpha's eyes.

"Did I scare you? Forgive me, pups, but I overheard some interesting information and I’d like to join your little chat."

Guita was the first to speak up, quickly recounting all the details she had gathered to Tomme, which earned her an affectionate pat on the head as a reward.

"Mhm, sounds like Zanka's older siblings are coming." Noticing the stunned and curious looks on the kids' faces, the brown-haired girl let out a soft laugh as she leaned further over the bench, bringing her head close to the little ones' ears. "That striking, red-haired woman? That's his older sister, the commander of the Hell Guard’s Red Horns Squad One."

"And I can assure you that if she's here, her brother will be too—he's the second-in-command of the Hell Guard’s Red Horns Squad One."

Calmly, Tomme walked around the bench where the kids were sitting and, once she was in front of it, sat down comfortably on the floor. Without hesitation, Guita plucked off her assistant cap to playfully ruffle the older girl's hair. Rudo, on the other hand, made a sour face upon hearing that Zanka’s real siblings had been chosen; a horrible, bitter taste of jealousy rose in his throat, an emotion that was inevitable for a kid in his position.

Noticing this, Tomme didn't hesitate to reach up and run her fingers through Rudo's ash-white hair, silently soothing him. After all, Rudo's pup scent had quickly turned sour with distress.

"Aww, don't worry, Rudo. No one is going to take your big brother away from you~"

At the touch, Rudo simply let out a small whine, but he relaxed slightly at Tomme's words. He thought to himself that the older girl was right; Zanka wouldn't abandon him for his two biological older siblings, right? Rudo was a good kid, right?

Tomme made a sad face when she noticed that Rudo's scent still hadn't sweetened up, his bitterness lingering, though it was a bit fainter now. Fortunately for her, Zanka began walking over to them, likely having caught the shift in Rudo's pheromones. Tomme offered the Omega a welcoming, supportive smile before calmly standing up, picking up Guita in her arms, who let out a squeal of excitement.

"Rudo? What’s wrong, brat?" When the Omega sat down next to his adoptive younger brother, he didn't hesitate to release a bit of his scent to soothe the pup's noticeable bad mood, smiling subtly as he felt the little one relax the moment the aroma of incense and wood wrapped around him.

"... I don't like that the Hell Guards are here. They make me feel strange," was the white-haired boy's timid and honest reply as he leaned his head against Zanka’s shoulder, drawing a soft hum from him. 

"What exactly do they make you feel? Are you afraid they'll take you back with them just because you're a Sphere-ite?"

"No. I'm afraid they'll hurt us, or... that they'll take you away from me. I'm your brother, right? I don't want to lose someone from my family again."

Zanka felt his heart break at the pup's words. He calmly pulled Rudo even closer against his side, tucking their bodies together as he turned his head to scent his adoptive little brother. He felt a wave of relief as he noticed the sour, milky smell finally sweetening up under his affection.

"They aren't going to take me away from you, Rudo. And the Hell Guards aren't going to take you away or tear the pack apart, either... After all, that's not what they came here for. They only came to see how we work, so maybe we can form better work alliances in the future."

Faced with the boy's silence, the Omega could only let out a sigh, turning his gaze toward two more supporters who were now gearing up to fight. Calmly, he decided to change the subject, catching Rudo's attention by asking him which of the two burly men he thought would win. Zanka’s blue eyes watched as Rudo gradually relaxed, now completely focused on the pack's training.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

While Semiu answered questions and explained the functions and operations of the Cleaners, Enjin turned to look at his pup. Riyo was pretending to be bored, but her green eyes were constantly darting over toward the Nijiku siblings. Letting out a hum, he threw one of his arms over his daughter, making her let out a soft squeak.

"Easy there, Riyo~ if you keep staring at them like that, you're going to burn holes in the back of their necks with that intense gaze of yours." His pup made a face but noticeably relaxed, making Enjin smile before he turned his attention back to Semiu and her tour.

His golden eyes noticed how some of the young soldiers' gazes constantly traveled all over the base—analytical, critical eyes, but also filled with curiosity. He silently gave a nod to Semiu, who, being as sharp as always, understood him instantly.

"Since we are nearly done with the tour, with only the training yard left, do you have any questions about everything we've seen so far?"

With a nod of approval from the commander, a somewhat timid girl with blue hair—whom Enjin recognized as the one who hadn't stopped analyzing Riyo—was the first to ask.

​"Excuse me, I'm interested in knowing exactly how you are divided. I know from what has been said on this tour, and as far as the public knows, that this organization is split into two branches: the Cleaners, who are Givers, and the supporters... But I would like to know how many individuals are in each team."

The blue-haired girl’s question hung in the air, instantly shifting the atmosphere among the visiting soldiers. Enjin kept his expression neutral, but his golden eyes narrowed slightly, tracking the way the young soldier carefully danced around their terminology. She was sharp, he’d give her that, but the deliberate omission of the word "sub-pack" spoke volumes about how the Terra’s military viewed their family dynamic.

Beside him, Riyo stiffened just a fraction under his arm, clearly noting how this girl had been drilling holes into her with that analytical gaze for the past twenty minutes.
Semiu kept her professional smile perfectly intact, though a subtle glint of amusement sparked in her eyes. Before she could offer the official, textbook response, Enjin chuckled, the low rumble of his voice easily drawing the attention of every young soldier who had suddenly tuned in with rapt interest.

"Straight to the numbers, huh? I like the curiosity," Enjin said, casually adjusting his weight as he looked over the group. "But to understand the numbers, you gotta understand how we breathe. It's true that on paper, we’re split into Givers and supporters. But we don't just count heads; we count compatibility. Each crew functions as its own tight unit."

He gestured faintly back toward the corridors they had just walked through.

"The size of each sub-pack varies depending on the nature of their work. For instance, my crew, the Akuta team, stays relatively small and compact because our field operations require high mobility and absolute trust. Other divisions, like the logistics or engineering branches, carry larger numbers because they support the entire infrastructure. But whether a team has five people or fifty, the dynamic remains the same: we operate as families within a greater family."

Enjin’s gaze flicked meaningfully toward the Nijiku siblings, his smirk returning with a sharp, deliberate edge.
"We don't just dump people into squads based on a rank or a quota. We go where our instincts and our bonds pull us. That's why our numbers look different from a standard military division—because a pack doesn't force pieces together that don't fit."

The blue-haired girl bit the inside of her cheek, processing Enjin's sharp words while maintaining her rigid, military posture. Her eyes briefly darted toward her commanders, checking their reactions, but both Nijiku siblings remained stone-faced, their gazes practically radiating a chilling aura of disapproval.

Semiu, ever the flawless hostess, smoothly stepped forward to bridge the sudden tension, her voice dripping with professional grace.
"To give you the precise, technical figures for your notes, Commander," Semiu spoke up, her perfectly crafted smile never faltering. "Aside from our administrative and foundational pillars, our active field divisions—or *sub-packs*, as we officially designate them—maintain a highly streamlined roster. On average, each crew consists of five to eight active Givers, paired symmetrically with two to three dedicated supporters."

She paused, smoothing the front of her uniform with a slow, deliberate movement that commanded the room's attention.

"Of course, Captain Bro Santa’s Child team is the natural exception to this rule due to the unique nature of nurturing and protecting our growing youth. But if your query stems from a curiosity about our operational efficiency with such compact numbers compared to the vast legions of the Hell Guard's... I can assure you that the absolute synchronization of our biological and emotional bonds more than compensates for any deficit in headcount. We have no need for massive battalions when our members can read a battlefield and adjust their strategy purely by catching a shift in their packmates' pheromones."

A subtle, collective ripple of discomfort passed through the younger Hell Guard soldiers. For military minds trained to rely strictly on ranks, cold logic, and mechanical protocol, the idea of relying so heavily on "primitive" pack instincts was jarring.

Enjin let out a low, deeply amused rumble, his large hand giving Riyo’s shoulder a firm, reassuring squeeze. He didn't miss the way Zanka’s older brother clenched his jaw so tightly a muscle twitched in his cheek. To these high-society Alphas, hearing their estranged younger brother's lifestyle praised for its primal connection was nothing short of an insult to their pristine military standards and of course their own honors as a family.

"Alright, enough lecturing for the day," Enjin interrupted cheerfully, flashing a sharp, toothy grin as he gestured toward the massive metal double doors at the end of the corridor. "Theory is fine and dandy, but I know you military folks prefer to see things in action. The training yard is right through here."

With a fluid, heavy push from both Enjin and Gris, the reinforced doors swung wide open.

The crisp, open air of the Terra afternoon rushed into the corridor, but it was instantly accompanied by a dense, overwhelming wave of combined pheromones that made several of the visiting guards reflexively stiffen. The heavy, grounding scents of sweat, hard work, and intensive training filled the air, laced distinctly with Zanka’s familiar, sharp aroma of wood and incense, alongside the sweet, milky trail of the younger pups lounging by the benches.
As the Hell Guards filed into the yard, the entire scene seemed to freeze for a microsecond.

Rudo, who had been comfortably leaning his head against Zanka’s shoulder, snapped his head up instantly. His striking, ruby-colored eyes narrowed, locking onto the incoming group with fierce, defensive precision. Driven by pure, protective instinct, his gaze zeroed in on the imposing red-haired woman and the stern-faced man walking right beside her.

Zanka, for his part, went completely rigid beneath Rudo's weight, his shoulders squaring imperceptibly. He didn't look away, nor did he try to hide. Instead, his piercing blue eyes—usually so calm, steady, and sharp from hours of discipline—met the cold, calculating stares of his biological siblings head-on.

The silence that blanketed the training yard became suffocatingly thick, like a wire coiled so tight it was screaming to snap but breaking the suffocating tension without a single shred of hesitation, Enjin stepped forward, his booming voice cutting through the heavy air like a blade.

​"Alright, everyone, listen up!" Enjin announced cheerfully, clapping his large hands together as if he hadn't noticed the tense glares being exchanged. He walked right into the center of the yard, completely shifting the focus to himself. "Since we’re finally here, let me introduce you to the finest crew on this side of Terra. No need for the stiff military formalities—we do things a bit differently here."

​He gestured broadly toward the group standing near the benches first, a proud smirk on his face.

"Those over there—the lovely brown-haired lady is named Tomme Mima, who belongs to our supporters' sub-pack and team. The little pup in the massive Kaiju pajamas is Guita, one of our young Givers from the Child team and pack, currently under the leadership of someone you already know, Bro Santa." Bro Santa raised his hand right from behind Gris with a soft smile.

"And the boy next to her is named Follo Tunito, one of our newest Givers and a member of the same sub-pack as Tomme. Oh, that's right! Gris, the big guy here, is their leader." Gris simply gave a firm nod as the young soldiers turned their heads to look at him.

"And of course, we also have several of our other supporters and cleaners right here—whether they are Givers or not, we are all one strong pack and we work wonderfully together."

Despite the heavy atmosphere, Enjin didn't hesitate to introduce absolutely everyone present in the yard. They all offered their greetings in their own distinct ways. Just three minutes later, Enjin walked back over to his two pups, wrapping his powerful arms over their shoulders, which drew a couple of shy laughs from them—especially from Zanka.

"And these two boys right here! They are my pups and the final members of my Akuta crew: Zanka Nijiku and the very well-known Rudo Surebrec... I am absolutely certain you all know both of them very well."

Kyoka Nijiku’s eyes narrowed slightly at Enjin's actions and words, silently fumes as she felt that good-for-nothing Alpha trying to humiliate both her and the Nijiku clan. It certainly didn't go unnoticed how this Enjin guy rubbed his head against her little brother's hair, marking him with his scent just like any good father would do.

But before she could even utter a single word, Corvus stepped ahead of her, offering a smooth smile as he positioned himself in front of his pack to look the Hell Guards directly in the face.

"With that, we conclude both the tour and the introductions since it's getting rather late. How about I show you where you'll be stationed so you can get as comfortable as possible?"

Chapter Text

The clattering of metal trays and the loud, boisterous laughter of the Cleaners filled the base's spacious dining hall, though a palpable, invisible divide split the room entirely in two. On one side sat the visiting Hell Guards, their postures rigidly upright as they ate with the cold, mechanical precision of an active combat unit. On the other side, the Akuta crew claimed their usual territory, forming a tight, impenetrable circle of warmth and unyielding solidarity.

At the other side of the room sat Enjin, his large frame radiating an easy, dominant authority that anchored the entire group. Directly to his side sat Zanka, finding a safe haven within the tight seating arrangement. Flanking Zanka’s other side was Riyo, her sharp eyes occasionally scanning the room while maintaining a comforting, protective proximity to him. Sitting directly across from Zanka was Rudo, who was chewing his food in a heavy, defensive silence, his ruby eyes narrowing every time his gaze flicked toward the far corner of the hall where the Nijiku siblings were stationed like a little wolf protecting his family of the hunters.

On Enjin’s remaining free side sat Gris, his partner and the gentle leader of the supporters, looking like an unyielding wall of muscle and silent reassurance and warmth, completing their close-knit circle, Eisha sat right next to Riyo’s free side, her gentle presence acting as a grounding weight that kept the volatile energy of the table perfectly balanced.

The silent pressure radiating from the Hell Guards' table was suffocating, and Zanka could practically feel the icy, disapproving glares of Kyoka and Goka burning holes into his back. To the high-society Alphas of the Nijiku, seeing a member of their prestigious bloodline completely integrated into a pack of "lower-world strays" was an absolute insult to their pristine military standards.

Sensing the lingering tension in Zanka’s shoulders, Enjin let out a low, amused chuckle, deliberately tossing an extra portion of food onto the boy's tray with a booming voice that purposefully echoed across the room. Across the table, Rudo caught Zanka's eye, offering a blunt, supportive nod while his scent flared with a fierce, protective warmth, a sentiment quietly mirrored by the soft smile Eisha sent his way.

Surrounded entirely by his chosen family and enveloped in the dense, protective pheromones of his true manada, Zanka let out a quiet breath, finally relaxing his posture as he completely ignored the sterile stares of his biological past.

The silence from the Hell Guards' table grew sharper, a contrast to the lively clatter of the Cleaners' side of the room. Kyoka Nijiku didn't touch her food. Her fingers remained tightly wrapped around her utensil, her knuckles turning white as she watched the display of casual affection and pack solidarity across the room to her, every smile Zanka shared with his squad mates, every protective tilt of Enjin's head, was a direct rejection of the Nijiku name. ​

Her little brother sat beside her, Goka's face an unreadable mask of military discipline, but the subtle, tight set of his jaw betrayed his disgust. An Alpha from a noble house was supposed to command, to stand above, to lead through absolute authority—not huddle in a rowdy cafeteria, sharing space with supporters and relying on the raw, unrefined instincts of a street-born pack. ​

"Look at him," Goka murmured, his voice a low, dangerous hiss meant only for his sister's ears. "He sits there like a stray that's finally found a scrap of warmth. He’s completely forgotten who he is." ​

The stoic women didn't look at her remaining little brother, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. "He chose this path, Goka. Let him indulge in his delusions of family. The Nijiku Clan has no use for a soldier who allows his instincts to be tamed by a Lower World pack leader." ​

At the main table, Enjin's keen ears caught the shift in the air, his golden eyes sliding toward the siblings with a mocking glint. He didn't say a word, but he deliberately leaned closer to Zanka, his scent flaring just enough to remind everyone in the room exactly who Zanka belonged to now. Enjin was definitely enjoying this unique situation for the moment, without a doubt.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

The lively clatter of the dining hall gradually faded into a quiet hum as the night crept in. One by one, the Cleaners stacked their trays and headed off to the barracks, leaving behind a sleepy, peaceful stillness.

The Hell Guards had retreated to their sterile quarters long ago, taking their chilling, suffocating atmosphere with them and allowing the base to finally breathe.

Enjin and Gris left after a low, murmured exchange, and Riyo headed out alongside Eisha, leaving the main table nearly empty. Zanka remained seated under the dim, warm lights of the cafeteria, completely motionless.

His cloth rested limply against the blue wood of his Lovely Staff, but he wasn't wiping it anymore. He was entirely lost in his own head, his mind trapped in a suffocating loop of his brother's icy glare and the heavy, unyielding weight of the Nijiku name. He was so completely detached from the present moment that he didn't even notice the table emptying, nor did he realize when Rudo quietly slipped away to the barracks to change out of his dirt-streaked uniform.

The sudden, heavy groan of the bench right next to him instantly shattered his trance, jarring him back to reality. Zanka blinked, turning his head in surprise to find Rudo already sitting there. The boy was clad in his oversized, slightly battered pajamas, his hands shoved aggressively deep into his pockets. His face was twisted into his trademark, bratty scowl, and his ruby eyes were fiercely locked onto a random knot in the wooden table, refusing to make direct contact.

His youthful milky pheromones were a chaotic, messy knot—brimming with his usual defensive rudeness, yet laced with a faint, timid trace of vulnerability he was trying desperately to suppress after seeing those guard invade their space.

"You're dragging your feet. It's annoying," Rudo grumbled, his tone sharp and demanding, like a spoiled kid throwing a tantrum just to mask his anxiety. He forcefully nudged Zanka’s knee with his own, settling closer than usual.

A soft, amused chuckle escaped Zanka’s throat, the lingering chill of his thoughts dissolving as his soothing aroma of wood and incense flared gently to envelope the tense boy. "The night is young, Rudo. Why aren't you asleep yet?"

Rudo’s shoulders bunched up tightly, a stubborn, burning flush creeping up his neck. He bit the inside of his cheek, his fierce pride warring visibly with the deeply buried, protective need for security that the Nijiku siblings had disrupted earlier that day. He absolutely loathed looking weak, but the thought of sleeping alone with the shadows of the cruel world lurking under the same roof made his chest tighten painfully.

"Whatever. I'm just saying..." Rudo muttered, burying his face into the high collar of his shirt to hide his red cheeks, his voice dropping to a barely audible, grumpy whisper. "...The barracks are stupidly loud tonight. And your mattress is less trash than mine."

Zanka’s piercing blue eyes softened, a wave of immense warmth settling over him. He knew his adoptive little brother inside and out; Rudo didn't know how to ask for comfort with soft words. His way of looking for a safe haven was a rough shove, a click of the tongue, and a bratty complaint.

"Is that so?" Zanka murmured gently, a genuine smile gracing his features. He reached over, placing a firm, reassuring hand on the back of Rudo’s messy white hair, applying just enough pressure to anchor the boy to his side. "Then I guess I'll have to let you use it. Let's go."

Rudo let out a loud, dramatic tch, rolling his eyes as if he were being profoundly inconvenienced, but he didn't pull away from Zanka’s hand for a single second. Instead, he stubbornly pressed his shoulder against his older brother's arm as they both stood up, sticking to him like glue as they walked out of the dim hall.

The heavy metal doors of the dining hall clicked shut behind them, cutting off the vast, empty shadows of the cafeteria and leaving the lingering chill of the Sphere far behind.

As they walked down the dim, concrete corridors of the Cleaner barracks, the silence between them wasn't the suffocating, tense kind from earlier in the afternoon. Instead, it was a familiar, grounding quiet. Rudo kept his hands shoved aggressively into his pajama pockets, his shoulders still hunched over in a display of bratty defiance, but his pace perfectly matched Zanka’s steady, even strides.

When they finally reached Zanka's quarters, the door slid open with a soft, mechanical hiss. The room was simple, practical, and unpretentious—the exact opposite of the pristine, sterile luxury Zanka had grown up with in the high-society households of the Sphere.

Before heading to the bed, Zanka carefully set his Lovely Staff against the wall right beside the nightstand, ensuring it was within arm's reach. Feeling the heavy grime of a long day of training and the suffocating weight of the afternoon's tension still clinging to his skin, he grabbed a clean towel.

"I'm going to clean up first," Zanka said softly, nodding toward the small attached bathroom. "Don't fall asleep on the floor."

Rudo let out a sharp, annoyed tch, clicking his tongue loudly. "Whatever. Hurry up, you're wasting time," he grumbled, though he immediately marched over to the mattress, kicked off his worn-out slippers with a loud thud, and sat on the edge of the bed, crossing his arms impatiently.

Zanka disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door. He washed his face with cold water, letting the icy shock fully break the lingering trance of the clan Nijiku’s disapproval. He quickly washed away the sweat and dust from the training yard, changing into his own comfortable sleepwear. By the time he stepped back into the bedroom, wiping his damp hair with the towel, the heavy, dark thoughts that had plagued him in the dining hall had completely evaporated.

He tossed the towel aside and walked over to the bed. Rudo was still sitting there, staring intensely at his own knees, his youthful pheromones still carrying a faint, restless trace of the day's anxiety.

Without a word, Zanka reached down. Instead of just guiding him by the hair this time, his large, calloused fingers gently but firmly wrapped around Rudo’s hand.

Rudo flinched slightly at the sudden contact, his ruby eyes snapping up in surprise. He instinctively tried to pull back for a split second, his fierce, independent pride flaring up, but Zanka’s grip remained steady, warm, and unyielding. It was a silent, powerful reassurance—an unbreakable physical bond between adoptive brothers that no high-society Alpha could ever touch. Sensing the absolute safety in that hold, Rudo’s hand relaxed, his fingers subtly tightening back around Zanka's hand with a fierce, possessive grip.

Holding his hand, Zanka flicked the wall switch with his other, plunging the room into a soft, amber darkness illuminated only by the faint moonlight filtering through the high window.

Together, they climbed onto the mattress. As they slid under the covers, Zanka finally let go of Rudo's hand, and almost instantly, the white-haired boy stubbornly rolled over, pressing his back firmly against Zanka's side. It was a rough, uncoordinated movement, but the intent was unmistakable.

Wrapped in the safety of their shared space, Zanka let out a long, slow exhale. His grounding pheromones of wood and incense flared naturally, wrapping around the pup like a protective shield. In response, the sharp, sour edge of defensive jealousy in Rudo's scent finally began to soften, smoothing out into a calm, peaceful rhythm.

"Hey, Zanka," Rudo muttered into the darkness after a long silence, his tone unusually quiet, the bratty armor dropping just a fraction.

"Yeah?" Zanka replied softly, staring up at the ceiling.

"Those people from earlier... the ones who look like you," Rudo paused, his fingers tightening against the blanket, his fierce, protective nature leaking through. "They're stupid. Don't look at them anymore. You're part of this crew."

Zanka’s eyes widened slightly in the dark, touched by the raw, unrefined loyalty of the kid. A genuine, warm smile broke across his face, and he reached out, placing his hand firmly on the top of Rudo’s messy white hair, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

"I try," Zanka promised, his voice steady, carrying the absolute certainty of an older brother who had made his choice long ago. "I'm right here, Rudo. Go to sleep."

Rudo let out a small, satisfied grunt, his body finally relaxing completely as he drifted off, completely anchored by the heavy, protective presence of the brother he had chosen to defend.

Right at three in the morning, a soft, repetitive tapping against the glass of the window caused Zanka to slowly open his blue eyes, instantly alert. The distinctive rhythm of the sound was all too easy for the Omega to recognize, sending a cold wave of irritation straight through him. Letting out a soft, nearly silent sigh of sheer exhaustion, he began to carefully shift his weight. He managed to masterfully slip away from the pup’s fierce, protective grip, replacing his own warmth with a rolled-up corner of the blanket so Rudo wouldn't realize he was gone.

Stepping across the cold floor with the practiced, silent grace of a fighter, he approached the window. He pulled back the heavy curtains with a deeply tired, tight grimace, only to be met with exactly what he feared.

Staring back at him monotonically through the glass was Jabber Wonger, crouching on the ledge outside. The twisted Alpha was smiling widely at him, his expression carrying the terrifying, unhinged edge of a predator who had finally tracked down its favorite prey.

"Zan-Zan~ it's about time you let me see your beautiful face!" Jabber purred, his muffled voice dripping with a sickeningly sweet devotion that made the air in the room feel instantly heavy. "What took you so long to see me? I know it excites me when you hurt me, but I'd much rather you just skip the waiting and hit me right now~"

"Come out, let's play Mr. Bad Attitude," Jabber’s voice dropped into a deeper, highly possessive tone, thick with fervent emotions that Zanka couldn't quite identify. But inside those sharp, fuchsia eyes, the raw intensity of a dark obsession or an overwhelming, twisted love was blindingly clear. Zanka wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at in the Alpha's striking eyes, and frankly, he didn't care to figure it out.

"No. Go home, Jabber," Zanka replied coldly, a flat rejection as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. At no point did his piercing blue eyes break away from the Alpha's frantic fuchsia gaze.

"I don't want to! I want to be with you, Zanka~... wait, you're not alone, are you?"

Jabber's eyes darted instantly past Zanka's shoulder, narrowing analytically as they locked onto the Omega's bed. His gaze scanned the mattress with a sudden, predatory edge, desperate to figure out exactly who was sleeping inside the space he so fiercely claimed as his own.

"That shouldn't be important. What I see as more urgent is for you to get the hell out of here... I knew you were crazy, but I didn't expect you to be insane enough to come straight to your enemy's base," the Omega's voice grew strictly serious as he took a deliberate step forward, planting himself right in the Alpha's line of sight and completely blocking him from catching another glimpse of the bed.

"...Is that really important? The fact that we're on opposing sides isn't going to make the love I feel for you vanish, Zanka. If anything, it makes it so much more exciting!" Jabber laughed stridently, leaning his weight even closer against the window glass.

A slow, burning blush crept up Zanka's cheeks, coloring his ears and traveling down his neck at the sheer audacity of the Alpha's words. Yet, his brow furrowed even deeper as a heavy grimace of disgust crossed his face, fiercely refusing to admit to himself that such a ridiculous confession had actually sparked a fleeting warmth inside his chest.

"You are unbearable," Zanka muttered, his voice cold despite the heat on his skin.

"It’s part of my charm... the charm that’s going to make you my Omega and my husband, Zan-Zan!~ After all, we’re made for each other. We complement each other beautifully, and—"

Zanka watched the Alpha ramble on, but with every word that spilled from Jabber's mouth, the blue-haired boy inevitably felt himself growing more and more self-conscious. No one had ever spoken to him with such unique, unfiltered intensity. To be fair, no Alpha in particular had ever really shown a genuine interest in him, let alone found him attractive... except for Jabber.

But Zanka’s train of thought was cut short, and he raised an eyebrow when the Alpha suddenly fell dead silent. Jabber’s fuchsia eyes widened slightly as his gaze locked onto something directly behind Zanka. The Omega silently prayed to whatever gods were listening that Rudo hadn't woken up. But really, since when did he ever have any good luck?

Turning around quickly, Zanka was met with the sight of the pup’s ruby eyes stretched completely wide in sheer, unadulterated shock. Rudo’s entire focus was pinned on the Alpha perched outside the glass. Breaking the stunned quiet, Jabber suddenly began to laugh like an absolute lunatic—well, which he technically was.

"Well, if it isn't my friend Rudo! Hey there, little boy~ Keeping my Omega company like a good little brother? Wait... that would make us brothers-in-law! How hilarious!"

Rudo didn't say a single word in response. Instead, the white-haired boy practically shot out of the bed and bolted right out of the room, leaving the two older men in a stunned, heavy silence. Neither of them had expected the hot-tempered pup to just run away like that.

"...What a boring reaction!" Jabber whined, pouting against the glass.

"Shut up, Jabber!" Zanka snapped, his voice tight with sudden panic as his protective instincts flared violently, his mind racing to figure out what his erratic little brother was about to do.

"Ah~! Yes! Keep treating me so aggressively, my beloved Omega! Come on, come on, make me shut up!" Jabber’s unhinged, blatantly lustful smile stretched even wider as his fuchsia eyes gleamed with pure ecstasy. Zanka inevitably flushed a deep scarlet all over again, completely thrown off by the Alpha's shameless moan and feverish excitement.

"Y-you! You filthy, shameless psycho!" Thoroughly enraged and reduced to a blushing mess of sheer embarrassment, Zanka grabbed his Jinki. His hands gripped the smooth blue wood of his **Lovely Staff** with deadly intent before he forcefully threw the window open. Jabber let out an ecstatic yelp, fully convinced that Zanka was finally going to 'play' with him.

That was, until the bedroom door was aggressively kicked open.

The violent bang made both of them jump in their tracks. Jabber, who had already managed to sneak half of his body through the window frame, and Zanka, who stood with his Jinki active and ready to bash the Alpha's skull in, both spun around in absolute shock.

Standing in the doorway was Enjin. His golden eyes were glowing with a terrifying intensity, his Jinki, Umbreaker, already active and gripped firmly in his hand. The father-figure of the Cleaners looked completely furious, a dangerous aura radiating off his frame.

Right behind him stood Rudo...

The look on Enjin's face was exactly like a fed-up owner who had just caught his two chaotic cats in the middle of a midnight brawl.

"Get the hell away from my kid's room, you unhinged Raider bastard!" Enjin roared.

Zanka was absolutely certain that the older Alpha's shout echoed through every single concrete corridor of the entire Cleaner barracks. The sheer volume was deafening, but it was immediately answered by Jabber’s shrill, manic laughter as the intruder quickly scrambled backward and tumbled out of the window frame.

Enjin didn't waste a single heartbeat. The blonde Alpha stormed across the room, shoving his way past Zanka to reach the window ledge, his golden eyes blazing down into the dark courtyard below.

Down on the floor, Jabber was already on his feet. He looked up, waving his arms effusively in a theatrical goodbye while his deadly Jinki, Mankira, gleamed with a dangerous, active light in his hands.

"Bye-bye, Mary Poppins! Next time, try not to interrupt my fun~... Wait, does this mean I should be calling you father-in-law?" Jabber yelled back, his twisted grin practically visible even in the dim moonlight.

Seeing Enjin's grip tighten on Umbreaker as the older man genuinely threatened to dive straight out of the window after him, Jabber let out another burst of unhinged, delighted laughter. Without waiting for the furious boss to actually make good on the threat, the Raider turned on his heel and bolted into the shadows of the surrounding thoroughly amused by the absolute chaos he had left behind.

Enjin slammed the window shut so hard the glass rattled in its frame, locking it with a sharp, furious twist of his wrist. He let out a long, heavy breath, his glowing golden eyes slowly dimming back to their natural shade as he deactivated Umbreaker. The suffocating, protective Alpha pressure he had radiated just seconds ago began to settle, though his shoulders remained tense with lingering anger.

He turned around slowly, crossing his arms over his chest as his sharp gaze fell right on Zanka.

Zanka stood frozen in the middle of the room, still holding his lovely staff in a white-knuckled grip. The deep crimson blush from Jabber's shameless teasing hadn't fully faded from his face, but now it was mixed with the sheer, agonizing embarrassment of having Enjin—the closest thing he had to a father—witness the entire scandalous spectacle. His wood and incense pheromones were a chaotic, spikes-and-edges mess of mortification and defensive pride.

"A father-in-law?" Enjin repeated, raising a single blonde eyebrow, his voice dropping into a flat, incredibly dry tone. "Care to explain why a high-ranking, completely psychotic Raider is lurking outside your window at three in the morning asking for my blessing, Zanka?"

"It's not what it looks like!" Zanka blurted out, his voice cracking slightly before he quickly cleared his throat, desperately trying to regain his usual stoic, prideful composure. He deactivated his Jinki, leaning the blue staff against the wall with shaking hands. "He's insane. I didn't invite him here, he just... he tracks me down! I was about to break his jaw before you kicked the door down!"

From behind Zanka's frame, Rudo slowly peeked into the room. The pup's ruby eyes were darting back and forth between Zanka's bright red face and the locked window. The initial shock that had caused him to bolt for help had finally worn off, replaced by his usual bratty, suspicious scowl. He crossed his arms, huffing loudly.

"I told you he was acting weird," Rudo muttered, glaring at Zanka with a mix of betrayal and annoyance. "You were acting all mopey in the cafeteria, and then some creepy, loud-mouthed trash-human shows up at your window calling you 'his Omega.' You have terrible taste, Zanka."

"I don't have taste because I don't like him!" Zanka snapped defensively, his face burning hotter as he glared at the kid. "And you! Why did you go fetch Enjin instead of helping me fight him?!"

"Because you were blushing like a total idiot!" Rudo shot back, pointing an accusing finger at him. "I thought he broke your brain with some weird boundary-holder ability! How was I supposed to know you just get shy when people yell stupid things at you?!"

"I was not shy, I was disgusted!"

"Alright, that's enough, both of you," Enjin interrupted, raising a hand to cut off the bickering siblings before they could wake up the entire eastern wing of the barracks. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, letting out a deeply exhausted, fatherly sigh. "Zanka, go wash your face. You look like a tomato. Rudo, go grab your pillow from the floor, you two are coming to my room"

Enjin walked over to the center of the room, checking the window lock one last time just to be safe. "Tomorrow I'll take care of changing your room, Zanka. I won't leave you in a room where that lunatic knows where you sleep...If that lunatic managed to slip through the blind spots just to play Romeo, our security is a joke." He paused, looking back at Zanka with a softer, albeit still slightly amused expression. "But seriously... Mary Poppins?"

Zanka buried his face in his hands, letting out a pathetic, muffled groan. "Please just let me die."

Chapter Text

"We're moving. Now," Enjin ordered after some minutes, gesturing with his head toward the open corridor. He didn't wait for them to argue, turning on his heel and walking out into the dimly lit hallway, his heavy boots making a dull, rhythmic sound against the concrete.

Rudo didn't waste any time. He snatched his pillow off the floor, shoving it aggressively under his arm, and shot Zanka a look that clearly said 'this is all your fault and of that dumb alpha.' Zanka, meanwhile, was doing his absolute best to manifest a hole in the floor to swallow him whole. He grabbed his Lovely Staff, holding it securely by his side, and followed them out, his face still burning a mortifying shade of red even after some water. 

The walk to Enjin’s quarters was painfully quiet. Zanka kept his eyes glued to the floor, his wood and incense pheromones still tightly coiled in sheer embarrassment, while Rudo occasionally mumbled something incoherent under his breath, dragging his feet in his slippers.

When Enjin unlocked his door and pushed it open, the familiar scent of the older Alpha—warm, grounding, and fiercely protective—immediately washed over them, acting like an instant balm to the tense, chaotic energy of the two younger Cleaners. Enjin’s room was larger, filled with stacks of old documents, a few spare machine parts on a workbench, and his massive, heavy-framed bed against the back wall.

Zanka walked toward the closet to pull out a temporary mattress pad, but Enjin caught him by the shoulder, his grip firm and unyielding.

"Leave it, Zanka," Enjin said softly, his voice dropping into that deep, serious fatherly tone that left absolutely no room for debate. He gestured toward his own large bed. "Both of you, get up there."

Zanka blinked, his pride instantly flaring up through his lingering exhaustion. "Enjin, I can sleep on the floor, I'm a grown—"

"I said, get up there," Enjin interrupted, his golden eyes flashing with a stern, protective warmth. "The thick, heavy tension from tonight is still hanging over both of you. Rudo is practically shaking from adrenaline, and your pheromones are a total mess, Zanka. Nobody is sleeping alone on the floor tonight. We're staying together."

Rudo didn't even try to argue. The lingering anxiety from the security breach had finally drained his energy, leaving him small and tired. He scrambled onto the large bed first, dragging his pillow with him and burying himself squarely in the middle of the mattress.

Zanka hesitated for a fraction of a second longer before letting out a defeated sigh. He carefully leaned his blue staff against the nightstand right within arm's reach and climbed onto the left side of the bed.

Enjin walked over, flicking off the main light switch and plunging the room into darkness before climbing in on the right.

The moment Enjin settled in, his powerful, comforting pheromone wrapped around them completely, acting like an impenetrable shield against the outside world. Rudo immediately curled into a tight ball, instinctively shifting closer until his messy white hair was pressed right against Enjin’s side. Zanka lay on his back, his shoulders finally dropping as the pure, undeniable safety of being flanked by his dad and his little brother washed over him. He reached over, resting a protective, grounding hand on Rudo’s shoulder, anchoring the pup between them.

​"Oh, and Zanka?"

​Zanka braced himself, closing his eyes tightly. "Yes, Dad?"

​"If he actually tries to serenade you through the ventilation shafts, I'm letting Rudo throw a smoke bomb with 3R down there."

​"Go to sleep please" Zanka groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes as the room finally plunged into absolute darkness.

​Knowing both his kids were safe in his space, Enjin finally let out a slow breath, his heavy presence settling over the room like a protective shield. 

Ensconced in the absolute security of their small family, the lingering panic of the night finally dissolved. Wrapped in the shared warmth and the fierce, united protection of Enjin's presence, the three of them finally drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

The harsh morning sun cut sharply through the high, reinforced windows of the main dining hall, casting long, dusty beams across the rows of metal tables. The regular chatter of the early-shift Cleaners created a low, echoing hum against the concrete walls, the cold and somewhat unsettling presence of the Hell Guard at the very table where they had sat the night before made the atmosphere take on a slightly more serious tone; Kyoka and Goka were nowhere to be seen... It should have been a completely normal morning, save for the distinct, heavy aura of exhaustion clinging to the three specific people walking through the doors.

Enjin led the way, a massive mug of black coffee practically glued to his hand, his expression a perfect mix of standard morning grumpiness and lingering protective annoyance. Right at his hip was Rudo, dragging his feets with an aggressive scowl, his messy white hair sticking out in every direction from his sleep but his cleaner's uniform was spotless.

And bringing up the rear was Zanka. He was walking with his usual perfectly straight, prideful posture, his Lovely Staff resting securely against his back, but the dark circles under his blue eyes and the subtle, defensive form and incense pheromones spoke volumes.

As they made their way toward their usual table, a few Cleaners nodded in greeting, completely aware to the 3:00 AM madness, but Zanka was grateful that no one had mentioned the situation to him yet, but feeling the Hell Guard's eyes on his back made him uncomfortable; after all, most of them were old classmates.

"Move it, brat," Zanka muttered under his breath, giving Rudo a very slight, tense nudge forward as the kid slowed down to glare at a piece of toasted bread on someone else's tray.

"Stop pushing me, Zanka! I'm moving!" Rudo snapped back, his voice cracking slightly with morning irritation. He dropped heavily into his usual seat at the table, crossing his arms and throwing a sharp glare at the blue-haired Omega. "My back hurts from... well, just from waking up early. If your weird suitor shows up tonight, you're the one dealing with him."

"He is not my suitor, Rudo, and I will throw you out the window myself if you don't shut your mouth," Zanka hissed, his ears instantly flaring a noticeable pink as he sat down across from him, leaning his blue staff carefully against the edge of the metal table.

Enjin sat at the head of the table, letting out a loud, dramatic sigh before taking a long sip of his coffee. He set the mug down with a heavy clink and looked at Zanka, a slow, utterly merciless smirk spreading across his face.

"Oh, come on, Zanka. Don't be so harsh on the kid," Enjin teased, his golden eyes gleaming with pure, unadulterated fatherly mischief. "Rudo did the right thing. If a guy is brave enough to infiltrate our stronghold just to pitch a marriage proposal through a window, the least we can do is talk about the catering."

Zanka buried his face in his hands, his shoulders slumping as the pink on his ears rapidly spread across his cheeks. "Dad, please. I am begging you. It's seven in the morning."

"I'm just saying," Enjin chuckled, leaning back in his chair, thoroughly enjoying the torment. "If Jabber thinks he's getting my blessing, he’s going to have to do a lot better than throwing rocks at glass. I expect at least a formal offering. Maybe some high-grade cugarettes or something that's truly valuable enough to let him go out with you."

"He show his jinki in the air to wave goodbye, Dad," Rudo supplied helpfully, leaning forward with a wicked, bratty grin, entirely forgetting his morning grumpiness now that Zanka was suffering. "Does that count?"

"That counts as a weapon threat, Rudo," Zanka snapped, dropping his hands from his face to glare at the kid, his eyes flashing with a mix of fierce embarrassment and prideful defiance. "The only thing Jabber is getting from this base is a broken skull. I already told you, he is completely deranged. He doesn't know what he's saying."

"He seemed pretty sure about the 'made for each other' part," Rudo mocked, leaning his chin on his hand. "And the 'Zan-Zan' part. Gross. Plus, he's just a masochist alpha and he's already acting like he owns the place ¿what kind of husband is that? ."

Before Zanka could actually lean across the table to throttle his adoptive little brother, the heavy scent of hot food finally arrived as another Cleaner dropped off a tray of basic rations and eggs in front of them. The smell of breakfast momentarily distracted Rudo, who immediately snatched a piece of toast, though his ruby eyes kept darting back to Zanka with a lingering, amused smirk.

Enjin took another slow, loud sip of his black coffee, watching the two bicker with a relaxed but watchful gaze. The golden light in his eyes was steady now, the heavy, suffocating anger from the night before entirely hidden behind his usual calm, lazy demeanor.

"Just eat your breakfast, Rudo," Zanka murmured, forcing his chaotic pheromones to settle down as he picked up his own fork. He stared down at his plate, trying desperately to ignore the lingering heat on his ears, especially with Enjin sitting right there acting like a smug parent. "I don't want to hear another word about that lunatic."

"Yeah, yeah," Rudo mumbled around a mouthful of toast, rolling his eyes. "To keep 'Zan-Zan' out. I get it."

"Rudo, I swear to God—"

"Alright, wrap it up, you two," Enjin interrupted, setting his empty mug down with a definitive thud. The humor faded from his face, replaced by his grounded, serious tone as he looked at his kids. "Finish up your food. I'm heading over to inform Semiu and Corvus about what happened last night. We need to get this sorted out immediately."

Rudo groaned playfully but stuffed the rest of his eggs into his mouth, eager to excuse himself before the conversation turned any more serious. "I'll go to the common room, call me when we're about to leave for our mission. " the pup mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and sliding off his seat. He shot Zanka one last mischievous grin before disappearing into the morning crowd of Cleaners, leaving the two men alone at the head of the table.

Zanka let out a quiet sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair as his wood and incense pheromones finally began to smooth out. He figured the teasing was over now that Rudo was gone.

He was wrong.

Enjin didn't stand up right away. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning forward slightly onto the metal table. The sharp, teasing glint in his golden eyes softened, transforming into that heavy, unmistakable look of a father preparing himself to give the talk.

"So~" Enjin started, his voice dropping into a low, deceptively calm register. "Now that the brat isn't listening."

Zanka’s shoulders instantly locked up. His blue eyes darted to Enjin, a fresh wave of panic rising in his chest. "Dad, please. You said you had to go talk to Semiu and Corvus."

"They can wait five minutes," Enjin said smoothly, entirely unbothered. He tapped his thick fingers against his coffee mug. "Look, Zanka. You're a grown Omega. You can handle yourself in a fight, and I don't micromanage your life. But as your dad, we need to establish some ground rules about the kind of alphas you let around you...Since your brothers or clan definitely don't have the right to do it, I'll do a spectacular job!"

"I am not letting him around me!" Zanka hissed, his ears flaring bright crimson again. He gripped the edge of his seat, desperately keeping his voice down so the nearby Hell Guards wouldn't overhear. "He is a stalker! A trespasser! There is no 'letting' involved! 

"I know, I know," Enjin chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "But the fact remains that he's looking for you. And if a guy is going to risk his neck sneaking into a Cleaner stronghold, he's persistent. Which means you need to raise your standards, kid. If some regular Raider alpha wants to court a member of my family, he doesn't do it by passing round at three in the morning like a feral dog."

Zanka buried his face in a single hand, shaking his head. "... I just want to do my job."

"Hey, if you want to crack his skull next time, I'll even support you at the time" Enjin said, his expression turning entirely serious, a protective fatherly weight behind his words. "But jokes aside... you're precious to this crew, Zanka. To me. You don't tolerate anyone disrespecting your boundaries or throwing around their alpha presence like they own you. If someone wants to properly earn a place by your side, they have to show actual respect. They come through the front door, they look me in the eye, and they prove they can keep you safe. Not play ridiculous games outside your window."

Zanka slowly dropped his hand, looking up at Enjin. The fierce, defensive pride in his chest softened, replaced by a quiet, deeply rooted gratitude. Even though the conversation was mortifying, hearing the absolute protective certainty in his dad's voice made the last lingering remnants of the night's anxiety vanish completely.

"I know," Zanka murmured, his voice tracking back to its usual stoic, quiet tone. "I wouldn't ever settle for less. And I really am going to break his jaw if he shows up again."

"That's my boy," Enjin grinned, finally sliding his chair back and standing up to his full, imposing height. He picked up his empty mug, the heavy, grounding warmth of his presence settling over Zanka one last time. "Keep your eyes peeled today, and don't let the Hell Guards get under your skin. I'm going to find Semiu and Corvus. We'll handle this."

"And after I get back, we're heading straight out on the mission... Oh, right! Remember that four of the Hell Guards are coming with us," Enjin added, tossing a casual wink toward the table where the armored squad sat. "So I'll probably just grab them on my way out. If you could let the rest of the crew know so everyone's ready to move when I get back, that’d be spectacular, Zan-Zan."

Zanka simply nodded, a wave of relief washing over him as his prideful posture finally relaxed. Having a concrete task to focus on was the perfect lifeline, giving him a valid excuse to completely bury the humiliating memory of the window incident and push the intensely awkward fatherly lecture far out of his mind.

Seeing that his adopted pup finally understood the weight of his words and had calmed down, Enjin let out a soft, pleased rumble. He reached out with a heavy hand, fondly ruffling the Omega's ash-blonde hair. With a smooth, deliberate swipe of his wrist against the strands, he left a comforting trace of his grounding Alpha scent behind—a clear, protective marking of a father looking out for his son. With a final reassuring nod, Enjin turned on his heel and strode out of the dining hall, his mind already shifting toward the meeting.

The moment the doors closed behind the older Alpha, Zanka let out a long, shaky breath, letting his shoulders slump as he tried to process the absolute rollercoaster of emotions he had been riding since three in the morning. He wrapped his fingers around his cup, finally feeling the tight coil in his chest begin to unwind. He was safe. The teasing was over. He could finally just breathe.

Or so he thought.

Before he could even take a sip, a sudden, heavy pair of hands clapped down directly onto his shoulders.

Zanka practically jumped out of his skin, his wood and incense pheromones spiking in a sharp, startled wave as he whirled around defensively. His blue eyes widened only to lock onto Riyo, who was leaning over his chair with a massive, dangerously bright grin plastered across her face. The sheer, unadulterated amusement gleaming in her eyes sent a cold shiver down Zanka's spine, making one thing abundantly clear:

He was absolutely, positively not safe, and the nightmare was far from over.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

Barely ten minutes later, Zanka was standing in the middle of the main reception area, wishing more than ever that the floor would just open up and swallow him whole. To his left, Riyo was laughing so boisterously that a few passing Cleaners couldn't help but look over. She had just forced the full, unedited story of the 3:00 AM incident out of him, and she was thoroughly enjoying every single mortifying detail. Even Semiu, sitting gracefully behind her receptionist desk, was letting out a series of soft, amused chuckles, her shoulders shaking as she listened.

Zanka, on the other hand, had his burning face buried completely in his palms. His pride was in absolute tatters as he was forced to endure the agonizing embarrassment all over again, not to mention the physical weight of the red-haired Beta, who had entirely slouched against his side for physical support because she was laughing too hard to stand up straight.

"Oh, man... I swear, I absolutely adore this family! You guys always manage to completely crack me up~" Riyo wheezed, wiping a tear from the corner of her green eyes as she gave his shoulder a playful shove. "But hey, relax, Zan-Zan. I actually have some incredibly good news for you. First thing this morning, I went and tracked down Follo to ask him what exactly he had heard from last night—specifically, Enjin's furious dad-mode screaming."

Zanka slowly parted his fingers, his blue eyes shifting toward the girl he practically viewed as a sister. His tone was a mix of sheer exhaustion and sudden, deep suspicion. "¿What? Why on earth would you ask Follo something like that?"

But it wasn't Riyo who answered his question. From behind the desk, Semiu leaned forward, a knowing, gentle smile on her face. "Follo's room happens to be the closest one to the guest wing where the Hell Guards are currently staying. And well... you know, your older siblings."

The moment the words left Semiu's mouth, the blue-haired Omega went entirely still. He stood there blinking in silence for a few seconds, his mind frantically racing until the full gravity of the situation finally clicked into place. If Kyoka and Goka—or any of the formidable elite warriors under their command—had even a single inkling that a wild, chaotic Raider was sneaking through secure fences just to throw rocks at his window...They absolutely could not find out that Jabber was a Raider or he was screwed

"Exactly! So, you are incredibly lucky, my friend!" Riyo cheered, snapping her fingers as a triumphant grin spread across her face. "Follo said he only heard Enjin violently cursing out your late-night Romeo for being a creepy bastard, but he completely missed the word 'Raider' over the wind. And since the guest wing is right next door, it means the Hell Guards only heard exactly what Follo did!"

Zanka felt his shoulders subtly drop, a quiet wave of relief washing over his tense frame. At the very least, the worst and most dangerous part of the secret was still safely hidden away in the dark. But the relief was instantly crushed by a fresh, agonizing weight of mortification. The reality of the situation settled heavily in his stomach: every single member of the Hell Guard—people who used to sit in the exact same classrooms as him—along with his own older siblings, now knew about this absolute embarrassment.

He didn't even want to imagine what Kyoka and Goka's reactions would be if they dug any deeper.

Before he could spiral any further, the heavy double doors at the end of the corridor swung open with a loud, echoing echo. Enjin strode through the threshold, his imposing Alpha presence cutting through the room. Right at his hip was Rudo, his white hair practically bristling and his shoulders completely stiff, looking exactly like an agitated cat forced to walk alongside a threat. Just a few steps behind them followed Gris, Tomme, and Follo, and bringing up the rear were the four specific members of the Hell Guard.

It didn't take Zanka more than a single glance to recognize them. His blue eyes narrowed slightly as his memories instantly unlocked the identities of his four former classmates.

Leading their small group was a brown-haired Alpha with a horribly styled haircut. Zanka remembered him vividly as an absolute bootlicker, a toxic and envious individual who couldn't stand anyone else's success. Right beside him was his shadow, a dark blue-haired Beta who Zanka remembered as someone who constantly made up pathetic, convoluted excuses just to cover up his own weaknesses and lack of skill.

Directly next to them stood a female Beta with short, blue-black hair. Zanka’s memory of her was distinct and distasteful—she was a blatant copycat. His most recent memory of her was how, after watching Hyo demonstrate her incredible capabilities, she had immediately run off to copy Hyo's exact haircut in a desperate bid to look just as competent. Finally, bringing up the rear of the squad was a female Alpha, her long black hair pulled back into a high, tight ponytail. Zanka remembered her as the definition of a fake friend; she was the type of person who only grew close to others to subtly pry into their personal lives, sniffing out their secret tricks and weaknesses to use against them later.

Zanka silently closed his blue eyes for a brief moment, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He slowly turned his head to look at Riyo, only to find the red-haired Beta already staring directly back at him.

No words were spoken, but in that single, heavy exchange of glances, both of them instantly came to the exact same realization. This mission was going to be incredibly problematic.

Enjin’s golden eyes immediately flared with a warm, unmistakable affection the second he saw the two of them standing together. Without a moment's hesitation, he strode over and clamped his massive arms over both of their shoulders, hauling them into a heavy, suffocating hug. Riyo let out a dramatic, high-pitched screech, complaining loudly about her hair being ruined as their father figure affectionately nuzzled his head against theirs, intentionally wrapping them both in a thick, comforting cloud of his fatherly pheromones, rich with the grounding scent of cigarettes and rain.

The moment the group arrived at the desk, Rudo didn't hesitate for a single second. He swiftly marched over and planted himself right at Zanka's side, standing exceptionally close—much closer than he usually did. The pup’s ruby eyes darted sharply toward the newcomers; it was glaringly obvious that he was intentionally putting his small body in the way, acting as a stubborn, bristling barrier to keep his older brother from having to get anywhere near those four Hell Guards.

"Alright, since everyone is finally here, step closer so I can give you the details of your mission for today," Semiu’s calm voice cut through the family antics. She smoothed out a large, detailed tactical map across the surface of her reception desk, waiting patiently for the group to gather around before she began to speak with her usual serene professionalism.

As the crowd shifted closer to the desk, Zanka’s sharp blue eyes flicked over the group. It didn't take him long to notice that the blue-black haired Beta girl was already at it again—without a shred of shame, she was subtly adjusting her posture, completely copying the exact, casual way Riyo was leaning against the structure. Zanka internally rolled his eyes, the blatant lack of originality practically giving him secondhand embarrassment.

"Since there is a fairly large number of you heading out today, we’ve prepared two Jeeps for the trip so you can all travel much more comfortably. Does that sound good to you?" Semiu asked as she finalized the route markers, her eyes shifting over the paperwork to look directly at Enjin and Gris. Both of the senior Cleaners gave a firm, unconditional nod of approval.

"Perfect, you are all free to head out and—" Semiu’s voice was completely cut off by the sudden, energetic arrival of Guita, who slid right up next to the reception desk, her face practically glowing with a proud, triumphant grin.

"The Chief and Bro gave me permission to go!" the fourteen-year-old cheered, her eyes shining with absolute excitement as she looked up at the white-haired Beta.

Semiu blinked in silence for a second, letting out a soft, permissive sigh as she realized there was no arguing with a direct green light from the top. The moment she nodded, the young pup bolted over to the rest of the team, launching herself straight into Riyo’s arms with a burst of excited, breathless giggles. Riyo caught her easily, matching her energy with a bright laugh of her own.

"Well, looks like we’ve got ourselves an extra teammate," Enjin chuckled, the amusement evident in his deep voice as he offered Guita a warm, fatherly smile.

But beneath his relaxed demeanor, the older Alpha silently breathed a sigh of relief, genuinely grateful that the young girl was joining their ranks for the day. Guita's unique abilities were incredibly efficient; with her on board, they had a much higher chance of tearing through their objectives and wrapping up this mission twice as fast—which meant getting his kids back behind safe, reinforced walls before the wasteland sun even began to set.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

The unlucky souls forced to ride in the exact same vehicle as Enjin were Zanka, who sat rigidly in the front passenger seat; Riyo, who was leaning heavily against the left window; and Rudo, packed right into the middle with his arms tightly crossed over his chest, scowling like a trapped animal. Sitting directly next to the white-haired pup was the brown-haired Alpha boy, while the remaining three Hell Guards piled into the very back seats.

Meanwhile, over in the second vehicle, Gris was taking care of Tomme, Follo, and Guita. Anyone who had ever experienced Enjin’s chaotic, terrifying style behind the wheel silently knew that Gris’s passengers were the truly blessed group today.

"Alright, since we're finally hitting the road, how about you four introduce yourselves?" Enjin spoke up, his deep voice easily cutting through the rumble of the engine as he calmly started up the Jeep. He shifted into gear and began navigating his way out of the stronghold's underground parking lot. "Your commanders gave me your names, but I still don’t know who is who."

The brown-haired Alpha sitting next to Rudo immediately puffed out his chest, adjusting his collar with a smug, sycophantic grin that made Zanka’s jaw clench. "I'll go first, Captain Enjin! I am Barris" he boasted, his voice dripping with an insincere, overly eager respect that screams a desperate desire to crawl up the hierarchy. "It's an absolute honor to serve under a veteran of your caliber today. I’ve always used to think that the Hell Guard could learn a thing or two from your raw strength."

From the back seat, the dark blue-haired Beta let out a fragile, nervous cough, nervously shifting his posture as if trying to shrink away from Enjin's looming rearview-mirror gaze. "I'm... Vane" he mumbled, his eyes shifting defensively. "Just so you know, my reaction times might be a millisecond off today because the barracks' ventilation system was giving me a terrible migraine all night. Otherwise, I’m usually top of my squad."

Right next to him, the copycat Beta girl with the short, blue-black hair sat up straight, crossing her arms and tilting her chin at the exact same sharp angle Riyo was using in the middle row. "Mina," she announced shortly, her eyes darting to the back of Riyo’s head to ensure she was mimicking the posture perfectly. "Ready to deploy and execute orders precisely as demonstrated."

Finally, the female Alpha with the high black ponytail leaned slightly forward, offering a perfectly sweet, synthetic smile that didn't reach her calculating eyes. "And I'm Kira," she purred smoothly, her gaze drifting over the backs of the Cleaners' heads, mentally cataloging the way Zanka gripped his Lovely Staff and how Rudo’s shoulders were tensed. "I’m looking forward to seeing how your specific crew operates in the field. We can all learn so much from each other's... unique little habits, can't we?"

Zanka stared fixedly out the front windshield, a vein practically throbbing in his temple as he gripped his blue staff a little tighter. He didn't even need to turn around to feel the absolute disaster brewing in the backseat. Between Barris's shameless brown-nosed flattery, Vane's pathetic excuses, Mina's unoriginal copying, and Kira's venomous, prying curiosity, this jeep was a ticking time bomb.

Beside him, Rudo let out a heavy, aggressive huff, his ruby eyes shooting a lethal glare at Barris for crowding his personal space. Oh yeah, this mission was going to be an absolute nightmare.

Enjin didn’t let the blatant brown-nosed flattery or the awkward tension derail his driving—though his foot hit the gas pedal with a terrifying amount of enthusiasm. The Jeep roared as it shot out of the underground tunnel and slammed over the threshold of the stronghold's massive outer gates, heading straight into the barren, unforgiving wasteland.

Zanka braced his hand against the dashboard as the vehicle bounced violently over a massive mound of compacted trash. Beside him, Enjin was just steering with one hand, taking a relaxed sip of his black coffee from a covered travel mug as if he were on a peaceful morning stroll rather than tearing through a literal desert of garbage.

"¡Enjin, put that mug down! ¿Are you really drinking coffe while behind of the wheel? " the voice of Zanka was low giving his father a tired look who just smiled at him

"Barris, Vane, Mina, Kira. Got it," Enjin said, his voice entirely unbothered by the bumpy ride as he checked his mirrors. "Well, consider this a practical lesson outside of your usual elite barracks. Out here in the wasteland, titles don't keep you alive. You watch each other's backs, you stay sharp, and you don't slow down the crew. Understood?"

"Understood perfectly, Captain!" Barris practically shouted, leaning forward so aggressively his head was right between Rudo and the driver's seat. "Your philosophy is exactly what the lower sectors lack. I'll make sure my squad follows your lead to a T!"

"Get your face out of my space," Rudo snarled, his voice dropping into a dangerous, feral growl. His ruby eyes flared as he aggressively jammed his elbow into Barris’s ribs, forcing the brown-haired Alpha to yelp and slam back into his seat. "You smell like cheap boot-polish and it's making me sick...¿And why the hell are you calling Enjin Captain?! That's stupid! "

"Hey! Watch it, kid!" Barris snapped, his face twisting into an ugly, envious scowl as he glared at the white-haired pup. "You're just a brat who got picked up from the gutter, don't think you can address a member of the Hell Guard like—"

"Barris," Zanka’s voice cut through the air like an icy blade. He didn't turn his head, keeping his sharp blue eyes fixed on the barren horizon ahead, but the subtle, dangerous spike of his wood and incense pheromones made the entire middle row freeze. His fingers tightened around his Lovely Staff. "If you finish that sentence, I will personally throw you out of this moving vehicle and let Gris run you over with the second Jeep."

Barris choked on his next words, his jaw clenching in fury. He hated Zanka—he had always hated Zanka back in their academy days. Zanka had always been the golden child, the effortlessly capable prodigy from a powerful bloodline, while Barris had to scratch and claw his way up by flattering the superiors. Seeing Zanka sitting comfortably in the co-pilot seat, oozing that same natural authority, made a toxic wave of jealousy burn hot in his chest.

In the back seat, Vane let out a loud, pathetic sigh, rubbing his temples. "Ugh, can you guys keep it down? The vibrations from this old Jeep are literally rattling my skull. My spatial awareness is going to be completely compromised if this keeps up..."

Right next to him, Mina was staring intently at the back of Riyo’s head. Seeing how Riyo had casually crossed her legs and leaned her chin on her hand despite the chaotic bouncing of the vehicle, Mina quickly shifted, crossing her right leg over her left and resting her chin on her hand in the exact same manner. She even tried to mimic Riyo’s bored, unbothered expression, though it just made her look like she was chewing on something sour.

Riyo caught the movement in the reflection of the side mirror. A slow, incredibly mischievous smirk spread across her face. Wanting to test her theory, Riyo suddenly reached up, violently tousled her own red hair until it stood up in messy spikes, and then began aggressively picking at her fingernails.

Sure enough, two seconds later in the backseat, Mina began frantically ruffling her own blue-black hair, trying to match the chaotic style while casually staring out her own window. Riyo had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

"So, Zanka," Kira’s smooth, synthetic voice purred from the far corner of the back seat. She leaned forward, her calculating eyes locked onto the back of the Omega's neck. "Speaking of boundary breaches and keeping people safe... word travels incredibly fast in the barracks. We couldn't help but hear some rather fascinating noises coming from the eastern wing around three in the morning. Something about a loud-mouthed suitor making a scene outside your window?"

Zanka’s entire body went rigid. The faint pink tint from earlier instantly flared back onto the tips of his ears.

Kira’s smirk widened as she noticed the reaction, her mind already spinning with ways to use this hidden vulnerability. "A shame your older siblings weren't there to greet him. The second commander Goka would have probably torn him apart. It makes me wonder... what kind of alpha has the audacity to sneak past you're defenses just for you?"

Before Zanka could choke out a prideful, defensive response, Enjin’s heavy, commanding presence suddenly saturated the interior of the Jeep like a lead weight. The relaxed, lazy demeanor of the adult Alpha vanished in an instant, his golden eyes narrowing as he glared at Kira through the rearview mirror.

"The security breach is a tactical matter being handled directly by me, Semiu, and Corvus," Enjin stated, his deep voice carrying a terrifying, protective fatherly edge that left absolutely no room for gossip. "Unless you four want to explain to your commanders why you were prioritizing locker-room rumors over mission focus, I suggest you keep your mouths shut and scan the horizon for anomalies. We’re entering active territory."

Kira’s fake smile faltered, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of her neck under Enjin’s crushing Alpha glare. She quickly leaned back into her seat, looking away. "Of course, Captain. Just a harmless curiosity."

Rudo let out a loud, satisfied huff, thoroughly enjoying the way their dad had just shut the fake Alpha down. He shot Kira a smug, bratty look before turning his attention back to the wasteland outside.

Zanka let out a slow, quiet breath, his heart hammering against his ribs as his pheromones slowly settled back down under the comforting, protective shield of Enjin's scent. He looked down at his Lovely Staff, his jaw tightening. This ride was miserable, but the moment they hit the ground, he was going to make sure these four regrets of the Hell Guard realized exactly why he was the one leading the front lines.

Before any of the four Hell Guards could even think about uttering another word of gossip, Enjin’s foot slammed completely flat against the gas pedal.

The Jeep’s engine let out a deafening, metallic roar as it violently surged forward. They had just hit the true outer rim of the wasteland—a chaotic, unpaved terrain where massive mountains of compressed scrap metal, deep structural fissures, and sudden drops formed a literal obstacle course. And Enjin had absolutely no intention of slowing down for any of it.

"Hold onto your seats, kids!" Enjin shouted over the screeching engine, a wild, thoroughly amused grin spreading across his face as his golden eyes gleamed with reckless excitement. "Gris is lagging behind! Let's show 'em what this engine can really do!"

With a sharp, violent twist of the steering wheel, Enjin sent the heavy vehicle flying up the side of a steep mound of compacted junk. The Jeep launched entirely into the air, its tires losing complete contact with the ground for a terrifying, breathless second.

"AIIIINGH—?!" Barris’s smug, sycophantic composure instantly shattered into a high-pitched, completely undignified shriek. His hands flew out in pure panic, his fingers desperately clawing at the back of Enjin's seat as his stomach dropped into his boots.

The vehicle slammed back down onto the rocky ground with a bone-rattling *CRUNCH*, the suspension groaning under the impact. The violent jolt sent everyone in the back flying upward.

"MY HEAD! F-FOR DEAR SPHERE, THE AXLE IS GOING TO BREAK—!" Vane screamed, his hands flying to his head as he violently collided with the reinforced ceiling of the vehicle. His face turned a sickly, translucent shade of green, any excuse about his previous migraine completely forgotten as he clung to the door handle for dear life.

Enjin didn't even blink. He threw the Jeep into a drifting slide around a massive, rusted crane structure, the tires kicking up a massive, blinding storm of gray dust and debris. The sudden centrifugal force violently threw the passengers to the left.

Mina, who had been trying so hard to maintain her copied, crossed-legged posture, was violently launched sideways. She let out a panicked, breathless "WYAAAAH!" as she slammed hard against the window panel, her face pressing comically against the glass before she scrambled frantically to grip the overhead safety handle with both hands, her blue-black hair flying wildly in every direction.

Even Kira’s calculating, synthetic facade completely evaporated. As the Jeep tilted precariously on two wheels over a deep ditch, she let out a sharp, genuine gasp of horror, her fingers locking onto the headrest in front of her with a white-knuckled, death grip. "Are you insane?! Slow down! We’re going to flip over—!" she yelled, her eyes wide with unadulterated terror as she stared at the sheer drop just inches away from her window.

In the front row, the contrast was absolute perfection.

Zanka didn't utter a single sound. He simply kept his hands firmly braced against the dashboard, his blue eyes fixed entirely ahead as his body naturally swayed with the violent rhythm of the vehicle. He had ridden with Enjin enough times to know that panic only made the whiplash worse. Beside him, Rudo didn't look scared at all—in fact, the white-haired pup had a wicked, bratty grin plastered across his face. Rudo turned around in his seat, openly laughing and pointing an accusing, mocking finger right at Barris’s terrified, pale face.

"What's the matter, elite?!" Rudo taunted over the roaring wind, his ruby eyes gleaming with pure malice. "I thought you said you wanted to follow the Captain's raw strength! This is how a real Cleaner drives!"

"Shut up! Just shut up, you little demon—OH MY GOD, WATCH THAT ROCK!" Barris screamed again, burying his face in his arms as Enjin intentionally clipped the edge of a trash boulder, sending the right side of the Jeep airborne once more.

Riyo was practically suffocating from laughter, her hands gripping her stomach as she watched the four proud, elite soldiers completely unravel into a bundle of screaming, terrified nerves in the backseat.

"Don't worry back there!" Enjin bellowed cheerfully, throwing the steering wheel hard to the right and sending them into another terrifyingly fast descent down a steep trash dune. "The brakes only squeal like that when they're working! Just focus on the horizon!"

"WE ARE GOING TO DIE OUT HERE!" Vane wailed from the back, clutching a spare piece of cloth over his mouth as his stomach violently revolted, while the four former classmates silently prayed to whatever gods were listening that they would survive long enough to actually reach the mission site.

Chapter Text

With one final, earth-shattering jolt, the Jeep slid to a halt at their destination, the tires screeching against the hard, contaminated earth of the wasteland. The engine let out a shuddering hiss as Enjin finally turned the key, leaving a massive, swirling cloud of thick gray dust to slowly settle around the vehicle.

Almost instantly, the front and middle doors flew open.

Enjin stepped out first, looking completely refreshed, as if he had just finished a pleasant morning drive. Before his boots even hit the toxic soil, he had already smoothly pulled his heavy, structured gas mask over his face, securing the straps with a practiced, seamless twist of his wrist. Right behind him, Zanka and Riyo stepped out onto the rocky ground, their movements synchronized and effortless. Both of them already had their masks securely fastened, their breathing rhythmic and steady behind the filters.

Zanka immediately reached back, pulling his Lovely Staff smoothly from his back and planting it firmly against the ground, his sharp blue eyes already scanning the horizon. Rudo practically hopped out right after them, snapping his own mask into place over his messy white hair with an aggressive, practiced click before crossing his arms, looking completely unfazed by the toxic, heavy air around them.

The four Cleaners stood in a unified, effortless line outside the vehicle, completely ready for deployment, their protective gear perfectly sealed.

Inside the Jeep, however, was an entirely different story.

The heavy silence of the stopped vehicle was filled with the sound of desperate, ragged wheezing and pathetic groans. The four members of the Hell Guard were a complete, undignified mess, their elite composure entirely shattered.

Barris was slumped heavily against the back of Enjin’s seat, his face a pale, sickly shade of green as he desperately clutched his stomach, his hands trembling so violently he could barely thread the straps of his gas mask over his ears. Next to him, Vane was practically folded in half, his head resting between his knees as he let out dry, pathetic heaves, completely incapacitated by the whiplash. He had managed to get his mask onto his face, but it was entirely crooked, the bottom seal flapping uselessly against his jaw and letting the toxic wasteland air slip right in, causing him to choke and cough miserably.

In the very back, Mina was frantically trying to untangle her blue-black hair from the straps of her mask, her fingers fumbling blindly in her panicked rush to put it on correctly, while Kira sat leaning against the window panel, her ponytail completely undone and messy, breathing heavily through an unsealed filter as she tried to force her trembling hands to cooperate.

Outside, Rudo turned around, looking through the open doors of the Jeep at the pathetic display. Even behind his mask, the mocking, bratty tilt of his head spoke volumes as he pointedly stared at Barris’s crooked gear. Riyo let out a muffled, amused snort through her respirator, resting her hands on her hips as she enjoyed the absolute karma unfolding in the backseat.

Enjin took a long breath through his mask, his golden eyes gleaming with silent amusement as he crossed his massive arms over his chest. He didn't even look back at the struggling soldiers, his attention turning toward the dusty trail behind them.

"Get your gear sorted out back there, elites," Enjin’s deep voice echoed through his mask's vocalizer, carrying a firm, unbothered weight. "Gris and the others are just pulling up."

Right on cue, the low, steady hum of the second Jeep echoed through the haze, approaching at a completely normal, safe, and civilized speed. Zanka adjusted his grip on his blue staff, his stoic posture radiating an unyielding, protective strength as they waited for the blessed group to finally arrive and join them on the solid ground.

The second Jeep pulled up smoothly alongside them, braking with a gentle, civilized deceleration that didn’t kick up even half the dirt Enjin had. Gris turned off the ignition, and almost immediately, the doors popped open. Tomme, Follo, and Guita stepped out into the desolate wasteland, their gas masks already securely fastened over their faces with the effortless precision of seasoned Cleaners.

Gris stepped down from the driver's side, his eyes scanning the perimeter before locking onto Enjin's group. "Area looks clear so far," Gris’s voice muffled slightly through his respirator, though his gaze quickly drifted past Enjin to look inside the first Jeep. He blinked at the tragic sight. "Are... they alright?"

Inside the vehicle, Barris was currently letting out a muffled, strangled wheeze as he finally managed to buckle his mask, though the strap was caught awkwardly over his ear, pulling it down at an uncomfortable angle. Vane was still feebly tapping at his crooked respirator, trying to adjust the valve with trembling, uncoordinated fingers, while Mina and Kira were just beginning to stumble out of the back doors, looking like they had survived a high-speed crash rather than a standard deployment drive.

"They're just taking a moment to appreciate the scenery, Gris," Enjin chuckled deep in his chest, the vocalizer of his mask humming with pure, unadulterated fatherly amusement.

Rudo let out a sharp, mocking snort through his filter, his ruby eyes fixed on Barris as the brown-haired Alpha finally stumbled out of the Jeep, leaning heavily against the rusted chassis for support. "Hey, elite," Rudo taunted, his voice muffled but dripping with bratty satisfaction. "Your mask is on sideways. Want me to fetch you or are you going to throw up first?"

​"Shut up, you little rat," Barris hissed back, his voice crackling weakly through his respirator as he tried to stand up straight and regain some semblance of his prideful, sycophantic posture. He quickly adjusted his strap, glaring at Zanka, who was still standing completely still and stoic, ignoring him entirely. "We are elite soldiers of the Hell Guard. A bumpy ride means nothing to us."

​"Clearly," Riyo chimed in, her green eyes crinkling with absolute joy as she watched Mina try to inconspicuously copy her hand-on-hip stance, despite the fact that Mina's knees were still visibly shaking from the adrenaline.

​Guita bounced over from Gris's Jeep, her gas mask fitting perfectly over her face, her fourteen-year-old energy completely unfazed by the toxic atmosphere. She landed right next to Riyo and Rudo, her bright eyes shifting from the miserable Hell Guards back to Zanka. "Wow, they look really pale! Did Enjin take the Trash-Dune shortcut again?"

​"He did," Zanka answered smoothly, his deep, calm voice carrying clearly through his mask. He shifted his grip on his Lovely Staff, planting the base firmly into the cracked, contaminated soil. He deliberately stepped closer to Rudo and Guita, his wood and incense pheromones filtering out in a controlled, steady wave—subtly asserting a protective, grounding boundary around the pup's "but we have a perimeter to secure. Let's not waste any more time."

"Zanka's right," Enjin then said, his lazy demeanor instantly vanishing as his imposing, commanding presence took over. His golden eyes locked onto the four recovered soldiers, his heavy aura settling over the entire squad like a physical weight. "Barris, Vane, Mina, Kira—fall in behind Tomme. You four are staying right with her to observe, analyze, and document every single detail for the final report to your commanders. You only have the arms of the Hell Guards to fight, which means you don't have Jinkis to kill trash beasts, so your only job is to stay back and keep your eyes on the data."

Barris blinked behind his visor, his smug, bootlicking expression faltering as he realized he was being relegated to the clipboard squad. "Wait, Captain Enjin? With all due respect, we are elite members of the Hell Guard! Even without Jinkis, our hand-to-hand combat and tactical training are—"

"Utterly useless against a trash beast, Barris," Rudo interrupted with a sharp, muffled snort through his filter, crossing his arms tightly as he leaned back against Zanka's side. "If you try to punch one of those things with your bare hands, you're just delivering yourself as a pre-wrapped snack. Unlike Gris, you don't have the raw, monstrous strength to handle them without a weapon. Stay back with the notebooks where it's safe, elite."

"Why you little—!"

"Enough," Enjin cut him off, a sharp, golden glint in his eyes that instantly silenced the brown-haired Alpha. "Tomme doesn't usually join the direct combat; her job isually is strictly monitoring and taking notes on the operational data. Since you four can't engage the anomalies anyway, you are her security detail and her scribes. Make sure your reports are flawless. Gris and Follo, you two take up the rear guard position as usual. Hold the perimeter line and make sure none of the trash beasts manage to break away or scatter too far from the Givers."

Gris gave a firm, professional nod, adjusting the heavy straps on his gloves. As the only one among them capable of physically overpowering trash beasts with his bare hands due to his colossal strength, his role was vital. He wouldn't be killing them—instead, he would merely trap the beasts, wrestling them down and violently tossing them directly toward the Givers so the frontline team could finish them off with their Jinkis. Follo stepped up beside him, both of them already preparing their positions to lock down the back borders.

Meanwhile, Kira shifted on her feet, her calculating eyes narrowing behind her tinted visor. She looked over at Tomme, who was already pulling out her data book, and realized this put her in a deeply frustrating position. Not only was she completely weaponless against the threats of the wasteland without a Jinki, but standing back with the paperwork meant she wouldn't even be able to closely analyze how the Cleaners channeled their energy into their gear. Mina, completely oblivious to Kira's internal irritation, simply looked over at Tomme and immediately tried to mirror the exact, professional way she was holding her stylus.

"You heard him," Tomme said calmly, her voice echoing clearly through her communicator as she gestured for the weaponless soldiers to line up behind her. "Stay close, keep your eyes open, and let the Givers do the heavy lifting."

Zanka shifted his grip on his Lovely Staff, a quiet wave of satisfaction washing over him. With those four helpless headaches safely confined to the backup squad under Tomme's watchful eye, and Gris and Follo securing the outer perimeter, the front lines were perfectly clear. He deliberately stepped closer to Rudo and Guita, his wood and incense pheromones filtering out in a controlled, steady wave—subtly asserting a protective, grounding boundary.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

The transition from the dusty landing zone into the jagged labyrinth of the ruins was seamless for the experienced Cleaners. The air grew progressively heavier, thick with the stagnant stench of ancient garbage and localized toxic pockets.

As they reached the lip of a massive, bowl-shaped crater filled with shifting mounds of compressed debris, Enjin suddenly called a halt, raising his massive, gloved hand.

"Alright, we're splitting up to cover more ground and flush these things out," Enjin ordered, his voice echoing with a deep, modulated resonance through his gas mask. He turned his golden eyes toward his eldest son. "Zanka, take Riyo and Guita. Move along the high eastern ridge and clear out the nesting grounds up there. Rudo and I will take the lower basin."

Zanka nodded firmly, his blue eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp focus. "Understood. Keep the brat close, Dad," he murmured, his wood and incense pheromones flaring slightly in a final, protective farewell to his younger brother before he turned on his heel. "Riyo, Guita. come with me, we gotta work"

"Yay! High ground!" Guita cheered softly through her respirator, bouncing on her heels before falling perfectly into stride behind Zanka. Riyo offered a playful salute to Enjin and Rudo, shifting her stance as she prepared to deploy her own gear.

From their designated safety zone on a reinforced concrete platform overlooking the entire crater, the weaponless Hell Guards finally had a front-row seat to the upcoming spectacle. Tomme stood right at the edge, her fingers rapidly writing in her report notebook as she monitored the spike in anomalous energy, completely ignoring the four elites behind her.

Barris, still looking slightly green around the gills from Enjin’s driving, crossed his arms and sneered. "They're really splitting up in active territory? Overconfidence is a flaw, even for veteran Cleaners."

"Just watch, bootlicker," Rudo’s voice cracked through the chaos with anger and dripping with pure arrogance as he and Enjin began their descent into the basin.

Before Barris could snap back, the ground beneath the crater violently shuddered. From the shifting mountains of trash, several massive, grotesque shapes began to violently burst forth. They were towering trash beasts, their bodies a horrific amalgamation of rusted steel beams, pressurized containers, and toxic sludge held together by a malicious, supernatural force. Two of the largest beasts immediately roared, lumbering straight toward the lower basin, while a pack of faster, multi-legged anomalies began scrambling up the steep eastern ridge right toward Zanka’s trio.

Up on the high ridge, Zanka initiated the defense. As a pure close-quarters melee combatant, he didn't need ranged projectiles; his style was aggressive, direct, and lethal. The moment his fingers wrapped securely around his Lovely Staff, his spiritual energy surged. The blue Jinki erupted into a brilliant, dazzling aura, the sheer force of his power sending a shockwave through the dusty air. He spun his staff in a flawless, glowing blur, creating a localized vortex of blue energy that shattered the front legs of the first beast into absolute dust. He moved with absolute, prideful grace, his boots barely touching the ground as he drove the butt of his staff directly into the core of the anomalies, detonating their spiritual bindings.

Beside him, Riyo moved in perfect harmony. Her Jinki—a pair of massive, gleaming scissors—snapped and sheared through the air with a deafening, metallic rhythm. She utilized her incredibly strong legs to deliver devastating, high-flying kicks, using the sheer force of her momentum to drive the heavy blades straight through the reinforced chassis of a charging trash beast, cutting it cleanly in half.

Down in the lower basin, a massive shadow suddenly loomed over the trench. Two titanic trash beasts had cornered Enjin and Rudo.

"Look down there!" Vane yelled, his fingers nervously digging into the concrete railing as his eyes widened behind his visor. "The Captain and the kid are cornered! They're going to get crushed!"

"Don't cover your eyes yet, Vane," Tomme chided smoothly, her stylus clicking against her slate as she kept her gaze fixed on the battlefield. "You're about to see the heavy hitters."

Down below, Enjin didn't even look up from his relaxed stance. With a deep, booming chuckle that vibrated through the local comms, he unlatched his Jinki—a large, imposing umbrella. With a fluid, deceptively casual flick of his wrist, he snapped the heavy umbrella open. The moment the canopy spread, his jinki's rapid movements were extremely fast, even resembling a shield due to their speed the front-line trash beast slammed its colossal, rusted fist directly into the umbrella's shield, only for the impact to completely shatter its own arm into a million splinters of scrap.

"My turn!" Rudo barked.

The white-haired pup stepped out from behind Enjin's absolute defense, his hands encased in his specialized 3R. Rudo’s ruby eyes flared behind of Enjin as he slammed his hands directly into a massive pile of discarded iron bars at his feet. His Jinki flared to life, its unique ability instantly converting the raw trash into a localized, razor-sharp replica of a heavy broadsword. With a fierce cry, Rudo swung the newly formed weapon, the compressed trash-blade cutting a deep, explosive fissure right through the second beast's leg.

Just at the perimeter, Gris proved his worth without even needing a Jinki. Utilizing his monstrous, superhuman raw strength, he charged a stray beast that tried to flee the basin. He lunged forward, his bare, gloved hands locking onto the creature’s jagged torso. With a deep grunt, Gris physically lifted the entire multi-ton trash beast over his head and violently hurled it across the crater, sending it crashing directly into the lower basin right in front of Enjin and Rudo to be finished off.

Suddenly, the earth shifted violently once more. From the base of the eastern ridge, a massive fissure split open, and a double wave of trash beasts—much larger and heavily armored than the previous ones—began scrambling at top speed toward Zanka’s position.

"Look in the area where it is Zanka, the right flank is being overrun!" Vane shouted through the chaos but obviously no one of the givers hear it from a distance his voice cracking with panic "There are too many of them! He can't contain them all in close combat!"

Kira stepped closer to the railing, her eyes fixed on the emerging horde, waiting to see the exact moment the proud Omega would finally break and ask for backup. Barris swallowed heavily, secretly wishing to see a flaw in his former classmate's flawless defense.

Zanka, however, didn't even flinch. He stopped the spin of his staff for a fraction of a second, glanced down at the fourteen-year-old girl waiting anxiously by his side, and, with a smirk of absolute confidence hidden beneath his gas mask, spoke with firm authority:

"Guita. You have a green light. Activate up to Level 3."

The pup’s eyes flashed with absolute, unbridled excitement. "YESSS!"

Finally, after holding back the entire mission, Guita unleashed the true power of her Jinki. The moment she activated Level 3, she didn't just summon an aura—she literally transformed. The soft, plush fabric of her outfit expanded and warped as she physically turned into a giant, living pajama-Kaiju. Her body became a massive, towering beast made of thick, fuzzy plush material, combining terrifying proportions with a hilariously soft, stuffed-animal texture.

As the massive, adorable nightmare reached its full size, a dense wave of heat and devastating spiritual pressure erupted from her plush seams, shaking the concrete of the observation platform.

Without wasting a single second, the giant plush-Kaiju charged head-on into the new wave of beasts. Her speed and brute strength multiplied to such a terrifying extent that, with a single, colossal punch from her massive furry fist, she completely vaporized the scrap armor of the leading beast. This left the path wide open for Zanka to immediately step in with his staff, executing a brutal close-range strike that shattered the core.

From above of the safe zone, the four Hell Guards watched the scene in a deathly, suffocating silence, completely overwhelmed. Mina completely dropped the pen she was using to try and copy Tomme's movements; her eyes behind her visor had been darting frantically from Riyo’s powerful leg strikes to Rudo’s weapon-crafting gloves, to Zanka's wonderful moves, to Enjin powerful power to lastly the cute but deadly Guita, and her copycat brain had completely short-circuited. Kira clenched her jaw, finally realizing that the "vulnerability" she was looking for in this family of Cleaners simply did not exist.

Barris stood in stunned, suffocating silence. The toxic envy that usually burned so hot in his chest was completely snuffed out by a crushing weight of reality. He wasn't a Giver. He didn't have a Jinki. He was an "elite" of the barracks, yet out here, he was nothing more than a helpless spectator forced to accept that a child who could literally transform into a giant, destructive plush monster possessed a raw power he could never hope to achieve back at the quarters.

Tomme let out a soft hum, a proud smile gracing her face beneath her mask, smoothly closing her notebook finalizing the deployment report. "Data log completed. Excellent work, vanguard."

The cleanup was efficient and brutal, as expected of the Cleaners. Once the last of the trash beasts crumbled into static-charged dust, a heavy, settling silence returned to the crater, punctuated only by the dry wind whipping through the rusted debris.

Down in the basin, Enjin exhaled a long, steady breath, the sound whistling softly through his respirator’s intake. He snapped his massive umbreaker shut with a sharp clack, the golden aura around it vanishing instantly. He didn't even break a sweat, simply using the back of his hand to swipe a layer of gray soot off his coat. Nearby, Rudo shook his white hair out, sending a small cloud of grime into the air, and casually de-manifested his jinki. The makeshift trash-sword he’d created clattered to the ground, losing its shape as the Jinki's influence faded.

On the high ridge the spectacle wasn't over. Guita, still in her towering, gargantuan Kaiju-pajama form, was vibrating with sheer, youthful energy. Her massive, plush tail swished back and forth, clearing a path through the debris with every sweep.

"Did you see that?! I sent that big one flying all the way to the ridge!" Guita’s voice was a booming, monster-sized rumble that still held the bubbly, high-pitched inflection of a young girl.

"Of course you did little one, you did a wonderful job" Riyo laughed, the sound bright and clear through the calm after the fight. She slid her scissors back onto her hip, then took a moment to brush a handful of gritty dust off her black shorts. She smoothed out the thick, plush leg-warmers that hugged her calves, unbothered by the harsh conditions or the lack of full-length gear. With a playful grin, she took a light, rhythmic leap off the ridge and landed with effortless grace onto Guita’s soft, overstuffed shoulder, sinking comfortably into the furry, plush-like material. "Best taxi in the wasteland, hands down."

Zanka, looking as composed as ever, tapped the head of his Lovely Staff to clear a stray bit of sludge before securing it to his back. With a subtle, prideful smile behind his mask, he leaped from the high ground and landed squarely on the crown of the giant plush-Kaiju’s head. He settled in between the fuzzy ears, crossing his arms and leaning back, completely at ease. "Down we go, Guita. Don't trip."

"I'm a pro! Watch this!"

The giant plush-Kaiju bounded downward, each step thumping heavily and shaking the earth, yet the ride for the two on her back was cushioned by inches of soft, stuffed-animal padding. They descended into the basin like royalty, leaving the Hell Guards staring up in a state of utter, stunned paralysis.

Gris and Follo approached from the rear, calmly wiping the toxic muck from their hands with old, weathered rags, Follow cleaning in silence his hammer. Gris looked up at the sight of the giant Kaiju taxi service and then flicked his eyes toward the four elites. "Jeeps are ready," Gris said, his tone flat and professional. "Don't trip on your way back."

The words acted like a bucket of cold water. Barris, his pride completely dismantled, turned and began the long, silent trek back to the transport. He didn't say a word—there was nothing left to say. He’d come here to document "weakness," but all he had found was the impossible.

Vane followed him, his movements stiff and robotic, his mask still slightly crooked from his earlier panic. Mina was in a complete trance, her brain stuck in a loop trying to analyze the physics of Riyo’s leg-warmer-clad mobility while simultaneously trying to understand how one could maintain 'elite' dignity while riding a giant, living pajama monster.

Kira brought up the rear, her eyes narrow and sharp. She watched as Guita reached the bottom, her Jinki flickering and dissolving until she was just a small girl in soft pajamas again. The sight was even more infuriating than the transformation—they were so comfortable, so powerful, and so completely unreachable.

Tomme wave her family when they were close, a smug, satisfied glint in her eyes. "Mission report: Overwhelming success," she announced. She walked past the silent, humbled Hell Guards, who climbed into the backseat of the Jeep like whipped dogs. They were covered in dust, shaken to their cores, and painfully aware that they had just witnessed a level of power that their barracks could only dream of. As the engine rumbled to life, the four of them sat in suffocating silence, dreading the ride back, and dreading even more the report they would have to write.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

The engine of Enjin’s Jeep roared back to life with a violent, sputtering cough, instantly filling the front cabin with the familiar, heavy vibration of the transport.

Even with the immediate threat cleared, the toxic pockets of the wasteland basin remained incredibly thick, leaving a dense, suffocating gray haze hanging heavily in the air. Because the atmosphere was still completely uninhabitable, everyone kept their gas masks and respirators firmly fastened over their faces. The thick filters completely covered their expressions, and the only sounds inside the vehicle were the rhythmic, mechanical hisses of the canisters purifying the contaminated air.

Right from the moment they piled into the transport, the seating arrangement had drastically shifted. Mina had cautiously slid straight into the middle row, taking the remaining empty seat right between Zanka and Riyo instead of joining her squad in the back. She sat stiff as a board, her notebook clutched tightly against her chest as her heavy, visor-less gas mask hissed with every nervous breath she took. Sitting directly alongside two high-tier Cleaners made her freeze up completely, her shoulders tense as she tried to give them as much space as possible.

Behind them, in the very rear row, Barris, Vane, and Kira sat shoulder-to-shoulder in absolute, suffocating silence. Barris was staring fixedly at the rusted floorboards, his knuckles white as he clutched his unwritten report, furious and humiliated that one of his own had chosen to sit with the "monsters." Vane was slumped against the door panel, completely drained, while Kira’s eyes remained wide open behind her mask, glaring at Mina’s back and trying to calculate how their formation had fallen apart so completely.

Enjin settled his massive frame into the driver's seat, his large hands gripping the steering wheel. Even with his face completely obscured by his dark, heavy mask, his lazy yet imposing demeanor was unmistakable. He flicked his golden eyes toward the rearview mirror, observing the shattered pride of the elites.

"Well," Enjin’s deep voice vibrated through the cabin, modulated and deep through his mask's vocalizer. "You elites look like you've seen a ghost. I thought the Hell Guard was built for the rough terrain."

"We... we are perfectly fine, Captain," Barris managed to choke out, his voice sounding hollow and metallic through his filter. He tried desperately to force his tone into its usual pompous register, though it cracked pathetically at the end. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the heavy, mocking gaze of Rudo from the passenger seat.

Rudo turned around completely, leaning his arms over the back of the front seat with a massive, bratty grin hidden beneath the frame of his respirator. "Oh, really? Because from here, it looks like you're about to cry, elite. What's wrong? Did the big, bad trash beasts scare the soldiers?"

"Shut up, you little brat," Barris hissed weakly, crossing his arms and looking away to avoid the kid's piercing ruby eyes.

Through the open side window, the conversation happening just outside between the rest of the crew echoed clearly into the middle row before the doors closed. Riyo was leaning against the side panel, casually stretching her legs. Her thick, leg-warmer-style socks were slightly scuffed with dust, but she didn't seem to care at all as she played around with her Jinki one last time. With a flashy, practiced spin of her wrists, she twirled the massive handles, making the enormous blades snip twice through the air with a dangerous, heavy clack-clack. Satisfied, she triggered the release; the colossal scissors smoothly retracted and shrunk back down to their compact, miniature size, and she casually slipped them into her pocket, giving her short black shorts a quick pat to clear the remaining grime.

Beside the vehicle, Guita was practically vibrating, her regular plush pajamas looking a little rumpled after her massive Level 3 transformation, but her energy was completely maxed out.

"Can I do it again next time we go out, Zanka? Please?! I mean, specifically when just you and I go on a mission together!" Guita begged, her muffled voice booming eagerly through her respirator as she tugged on the sleeve of his coat through the window frame. "The tail swipe felt so cool! I think I can make the jump even higher next time if it's just the two of us running the vanguard!"

Zanka sat stoically in his seat, his wood and incense pheromones holding a quiet, satisfied hum. He reached his gloved hand out through the window frame, gently patting the top of her hood, right between the plush ears of her outfit. "Only if you keep your guard up on the landing, kiddo. You left your left flank wide open for a second there, even at Level 3. If it's just us next time, I won't be covering your blind spots for free."

"I'll fix it! I promise! Next mission together will be perfect!" she cheered, her bright eyes flashing through her mask with absolute happiness before she scrambled into the second Jeep where Tomme, Gris and Follo were already waiting.

With the outside chat wrapped up, Zanka effortlessly leaned back into his seat, his sharp blue eyes shifting for a fraction of a second toward Mina, who sat perfectly still beside him, before flicking a cold, incredibly prideful glance toward Kira in the very back row. His posture radiated an unyielding aura of absolute dominance. He didn't need to say a word; the display on the ridge had said everything for him.

Enjin slammed his boot down on the accelerator. The Jeep violently lunged forward, tires tearing into the contaminated earth and kicking up a colossal storm of dust as they began their rapid journey away from the ruined sector.

They drove for several miles, ascending a steep, rocky pass until the dense, toxic fog of the lower basin finally began to thin out. The harsh, localized poisonous pockets faded into the standard, neutral atmosphere of the upper border. The green indicator lights on the dashboard flickered, signaling that the air outside was finally habitable.

With a synchronized hiss of pressure, the Cleaners finally unlatched their gear.

Enjin pulled his gas mask off with a smooth, unbothered motion, tossing it casually onto the dashboard. Free from the restriction, he instantly reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette, snapping a lighter to life. He took a long, deep drag, exhaling a thick plume of gray smoke that drifted out the open window into the clearing wasteland air, his golden eyes relaxed once more. Rudo pulled his respirator down around his neck, letting out a refreshed sigh and immediately sticking his tongue out at the backseat.

In the middle row, Zanka and Riyo pulled their masks off simultaneously, shaking out their hair as the fresh air hit their faces. Mina followed their lead, pulling her heavy facegear completely off and letting it hang by its strap. Her face was pale, a light layer of sweat making her bangs stick to her forehead, but her eyes were wide with a mixture of intense reverence and sheer nervousness.

Riyo immediately leaned back against the worn upholstery, turning her head past Mina toward Zanka with a bright, easygoing grin as she began to chat, effortlessly including the young Hell Guard in her space.

"Seriously though, Zanka, you completely stole my spotlight on that ridge," Riyo said, elbowing her arm playfully across the shared row. "I was right in the middle of a perfect spin-kick combo, and you just had to go and detonate that entire core right next to me. The shockwave almost ruined my landing."

Zanka leaned his head back against the seat, a faint, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his pheromones softened into a calm, steady wave, filling the middle cabin with a grounding sense of absolute security.

"If your landing is that easily ruined, Riyo, maybe you need to spend more time practicing your balance and less time showboating for the back row," Zanka murmured smoothly, his voice completely lacking the hostility he saved for Barris.

"Hey, my balance is flawless, thank you very much," Riyo laughed, turning her gaze directly to Mina with a friendly nudge. "Don't let him fool you, girl. He's just grumpy because he thinks Guita is going to outshine his precious Lovely Staff the next time they run a vanguard mission together."

Mina swallowed heavily, her fingers tightening around her notebook as she looked at Riyo's relaxed expression, then glanced at Zanka's calm, unyielding authority. "Actually... the way you two synchronized on that ridge completely broke the baseline tactical formulas we study at the barracks," Mina stammered, her voice stripped of any standard military arrogance. "Especially your leg-work, Miss Riyo. The momentum required to drive those scissors through reinforced chassis steel while wearing just shorts and leg warmers without losing your balance is... it's incredible."

"See? At least someone appreciates the finer details!" Riyo beamed, clearly delighted by the technical praise.

Zanka's blue eyes flicked toward Mina's notebook with a quiet sense of satisfaction looking out the window as the Jeep rolled onward. 

Mina’s pen quickly began scratching down frantic notes, completely absorbed in the conversation. Hearing the two Cleaners casually dissect a battlefield that had completely terrified her squad was staggering. From the very back row, she could practically feel the furious, burning glares of Barris and Kira boring into her skull, but sitting here from the start, surrounded by the calm, overwhelming presence of actual Givers, Mina finally realized what true strength looked like—and she wasn't planning on moving.

Some minutes later as Riyo finished speaking, she subtly tilted her head to a sharp, precise angle—a subconscious habit she always did whenever she was thoroughly satisfied with an explanation of her combat style.

The moment Mina saw it, her copycat brain instantly fired up. Now that the initial terror of the basin had completely worn off, the fragile facade of her nervous, respectful academy student act began to disintegrate. Her posture shifted fluidly, her neck twitching as she copied the exact, sharp tilt of Riyo’s head, her movements taking on a blatant, shameless replication of the elite Cleaner’s relaxed lean right in front of her. She wasn't asking permission anymore; she was draining data, dissecting Riyo's natural mannerisms to store them away in her mental archive.

Riyo’s bright expression instantly vanished. A sharp, icy spike of pure irritation flickered in her eyes, and her entire frame went completely rigid. She absolutely detested being copied; her rhythm and style were built from raw, grueling survival, and seeing this military brat shamelessly try to lift her quirks rubbed her entirely the wrong way. She wanted to snap, but looking at the cramped quarters of the Jeep and the heavier political game at play with the elites in the back, Riyo held her tongue. She didn't say a single word, suppressing her annoyance with a forced, heavy sigh as she rolled her eyes and turned her face sharply toward the window, completely freezing the friendly banter.

Zanka didn't move his head from the headrest, keeping his eyes lazily fixed on the barren landscape passing outside. He didn't offer a single word of praise, nor did he encourage her little habit. Instead, his sharp blue eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as he watched Mina's quick transformation out of the corner of his eye.

As a former classmate of the four Hell Guards back at the academy quarters, Zanka knew exactly who Mina was. He remembered the locker-room warnings, the cold tactical briefings, and the ruthless reputation she carried. Mina didn't copy out of admiration; she was a serial parasite. She meticulously studied the movements, psychological quirks, and fighting styles of stronger comrades only to use that exact data to stab them in the back later for her own personal advancement. Her notebook wasn't a school diary—it was a hit list of stolen traits.

But Zanka didn't say a word. He didn't expose her to Riyo, nor did he call her out to the front seat. Instead, his posture radiated a cold, suffocating aura of absolute dominance, his wood and incense pheromones tightening into a sharp, silent hum of warning. He leaned back, his mind already turning the situation over with calculating precision. Let her copy, he thought, a dark, dangerous amusement settling behind his calm expression. Let her drain them if she can. He knew exactly what Mina was doing, and he was already planning to bring every single piece of data he knew about his former academy classmates back to his pack. He would tell Enjin and the rest of the crew exactly how the four of them operated, turning Mina's predictable cycle of betrayal into an asset for the Cleaners before she could even think of turning on them.

"Honestly, you waste too much breath trying to look flashy anyway," Zanka murmured smoothly to Riyo, breaking the cold silence in the row and intentionally shutting Mina out of the space. "It’s called efficiency. Why waste energy on three mid-air flips when a single, well-placed strike from the Lovely Staff shatters the structural integrity of the core entirely?"

Riyo, grateful for the distraction from her annoyance, let out a mocking chuckle and adjusted one of her thick leg warmers over her short black shorts. "Oh, please, Zanka, my balance is flawless and you know it. Besides, you’re just grumpy because you know the next time you go out on a mission alone with Guita, she's going to completely eclipse your precious staff with her Level 3 tantrum."

"She did well today," Zanka countered, brushing off the jab with a smug smile beneath his mask, though his pheromones softened slightly at the mention of his sister. "But she still has a long way to go before she can handle the vanguard alone. Level 3 is a low burden for herself, but of course the little one wants to go further."

Zanka paused deliberately, and his gaze shifted to the rearview mirror, his sharp blue eyes locking squarely onto the three figures frozen in the back row.

"But...Guita kept her composure when the horde emerged obviously like a wonderful warrior," he added aloud, his voice growing ice-cold as it cut through the air of the Jeep like a razor. "She opened her eyes and attacked. That’s more than I can say for...well most people."

Even while keeping Mina’s treacherous nature close to his chest, Zanka's pride as an Omega meant he wouldn't miss a single opportunity to completely dismantle the egos of his former academy rivals.

A heavy, suffocating wave of tension spiked from the very back row. Barris’s breath hitched in his throat, his teeth grinding so hard the sound was almost audible over the roar of the engine. To be completely ignored by Zanka was one thing, but to have their bravery openly compared to Mina’s—the squad's known liability and future traitor—and found wanting, was an agonizing, venomous humiliation.

Kira squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers digging violently into the fabric of her trousers, remembering how Zanka used to walk the academy halls with that same insufferable, unyielding aura of absolute superiority. They had shared a classroom, but today proved they no longer shared the same universe.

In the front seat, Enjin kept his eyes firmly on the rugged road while smoking in silence, exhaling a dense cloud of gray smoke out the open window, thoroughly amused by the psychological carnage his son had just unleashed on the military personnel.

Mina’s pen quickly went back to scratching frantic notes in her book, her posture completely stiffening up again as she felt Zanka's oppressive, warning pheromones pressing down on her. The Jeep hit a massive bump, sending everyone slightly airborne for a split second, but Enjin just accelerated harder, driving forcefully forward as the iron gates of the city borders finally began to appear on the horizon.

The heavy iron gates of the city borders grew larger in the dust-streaked windshield, but the air inside the cabin remained thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Damn it, Zanka!" Barris finally snapped from the very back row, his voice cracking with a mixture of wounded pride and sheer exhaustion. He slammed his white-knuckled fist against the rusted side panel of the Jeep, completely breaking the suffocating silence. "You think you're so high and mighty just because you threw away your uniform to play in the dirt with the Cleaners? We are the Hell Guard! We follow protocols! If the tactical baseline says to hold defensive formation, we hold it!"

Zanka didn't even turn his head. He merely let out a low, deeply mocking hum, his wood and incense pheromones flaring with a cold, superior dominance that practically pinned Barris back into his seat.

Beside Barris, Vane finally stirred. He unslumped himself from the door panel, his pale face looking utterly drained as he rubbed his temples, his voice coming out in a strained, pathetic whine. "Shut up, Barris... just drop it. My head is already splitting from the fumes, and your shouting isn't helping. He’s right, okay? The kid ran circles around us while we were busy calculating the retreat parameters. Just write the damn report so we can get out of this tin can."

"Write the report?!" Barris hissed, turning his furious glare onto his squadmate. "How am I supposed to write a standard engagement report when our own vanguard analyst is sitting up there shamelessly playing copycat with the civilians?!"

Mina didn't look back at them, but her pen suddenly paused on the paper, her shoulders tensing back into a rigid, defensive line as her squad openly called out her behavior.

Riyo, still thoroughly annoyed by Mina's blatant copying but even more irritated by Barris's pompous shouting, leaned back and threw a sharp, mocking look over her shoulder toward the back row. "Hey, corporate. If your 'protocols' involve sitting in the back seat looking like you're about to lose your lunch, then yeah, you guys are doing a fantastic job. Maybe you should copy us a little more; it might actually keep you alive next time."

"We don't need tactical advice from a girl who fights in shorts, Cleaner," Barris snarled back, trying desperately to salvage a shred of his dignity.

"And yet, my shorts are completely clean, while your shiny elite trousers are covered in basin dust from how fast you hit the deck," Riyo countered with a sharp, lethal grin, effortlessly shutting him down.

Zanka's blue eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, watching Barris stew in his own pathetic fury while Vane slumped back against the door, completely defeated. Zanka’s mind was already cataloging every reaction, every weakness, and every word spoken. He knew Barris's predictable arrogance would make him reckless, and he knew Vane's cowardice would make him the first to break under pressure. Once they returned to headquarters, Zanka would lay out every single detail for his pack. The crew would know exactly how to handle these all ex-classmates, turning the Hell Guard's internal friction into the perfect shield for the Cleaners.

In the front seat, Enjin took one last, long drag of his cigarette, letting the embers burn down to the filter before flicking the butt out into the wind. He let out a deep, booming laugh that echoed through the entire frame of the vehicle, his golden eyes crinkling with dark amusement at the absolute mess in the back rows.

"Alright, save the rest of the chatter for the barracks, elites," Enjin called out, his lazy voice laced with a dangerous edge as he gripped the wheel. "We're crossing the threshold."

With a massive screech of metal, the outer border gates began to grind open. Enjin slammed his boot down on the accelerator one last time, driving the heavy Jeep through the checkpoint and back into the shadow of the city, leaving the humbled, bickering squad to endure the final, agonizingly silent minutes of their return.

"Oh dammit those beast managed to wound me on the arm!... well, they left me with a spectacular cut on my sleeve, but August is definitely going to want to kill me." Enjin's words made his four children smile mockingly, and the eldest quickly realized they were going to start teasing him about his carelessness... at least his older pups weren't fighting back there anymore, something was better than nothing.

Chapter Text

The sterile lights of the boundary gates felt like a distant memory. Inside the Cleaners' headquarters, the atmosphere had shifted into something far more grounded, thick with the heavy scent of roasted meats, strong coffee, and the lingering trace of ozone from the day’s gear. Night had fallen completely, casting deep shadows across the courtyard while the bustling cafeteria—more akin to a warm, dimly lit bar than a sterile military hall—remained alive with the clatter of heavy metal trays and loud, raucous laughter under the soft, ambient glow of the hanging lamps.

Even though they were spread across different tables, all the Cleaners were packed together in a tight, unified cluster, forming a massive, unbreakable front that completely dominated their half of the hall.

At the main table, Enjin sat relaxed, his massive frame shifting as he leaned all the way over, stretching across the space to softly whisper something into the ear of his boyfriend, Gris. Gris listened with a quiet, familiar calm, the contrast between Enjin's looming size and his own presence completely blurring in their shared space. Just behind them, Riyo was leaning back in her seat, her short black shorts and thick leg warmers finally cleared of the basin dust. She had a bright, easygoing grin on her face as her fingers idly reached backward, playfully messing with the blonde hair of her Alpha partner, who was sitting directly behind her at his own table alongside August.

A few seats down, Zanka sat completely relaxed, his wood and incense pheromones holding a soft, comfortable hum. He was deeply engaged in a quiet conversation with his tight-knit circle, sharing the table with Guita, Dear Santa, Rudo, Amo, Fu, and Follo. Guita was still practically vibrating with leftover adrenaline from the ridge, loudly gesturing with her hands while Amo smiled gently, leaning in to listen. Beside them, Rudo and Dear Santa were casually trading food from their trays, while Fu and Follo chimed in with quick, quiet jokes about the day's deployment. Zanka finished the last sip of his drink and set the metal cup down with a quiet, deliberate click. His wood and incense pheromones smoothed out into a relaxed, neutral hum as he offered a faint, relaxed smile to the rest of the group before standing up.

"I'm heading out," Zanka murmured smoothly, giving Rudo a quick, affectionate pat on the shoulder as he began to slide back from the heavy wooden bench. "Don't stay up too late training, or you'll be useless on tomorrow's training"

"I'm not gonna be useless!" Rudo huffed softly, though a heavy yawn betrayed her words as she waved a dismissive hand at him.

Picking up his empty tray, Zanka's sharp blue eyes looked strictly ahead, deliberately keeping his gaze fixed on the exit doors at the far end of the hall. He had no intention of looking toward the long metal tables on the military side of the room, completely treating the presence of his twenty former academy classmates as background noise. His posture was perfectly upright, carrying the unbothered, easygoing confidence of a Cleaner who was entirely at home in his own territory. As he stepped out into the wide aisle separating the two halves of the cafeteria, his boots made a steady, rhythmic sound against the polished concrete floor.

On the far side of the hall, completely isolated from the chaotic warmth of the Cleaners, sat the massive, heavily regulated tables of the military personnel.

The four Hell Guards from the mission—Barris, Vane, Kira, and a quiet, intensely focused Mina—were seated alongside the other sixteen elite soldiers of their detachment. All twenty of them shared the exact same background: they were all Zanka’s former classmates from the academy quarters. But tonight, the usual arrogant chatter of the barracks was completely dead. Instead, a suffocating, tense silence hung over their long metal table, driven by the two terrifying figures sitting at the absolute head of their column.

Commander Kyoka Nijiku, the absolute authority of the Hell Guard’s Red Horns Squad One—and Zanka’s formidable older sister—sat perfectly erect. Her sharp, calculating eyes slowly scanned her subordinates, her very presence radiating a lethal, suffocating pressure that made Barris stare fixedly at his untouched ration tray. Sitting right beside her was her little brother Goka. His massive, imposing build cast a long shadow over the table, his arms crossed over his chest as his stern gaze locked onto the visibly sweating Vane.

Barris swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to break the silence and salvage what was left of his dignity in front of his superiors. "Commander Kyoka... the report on the basin sector is nearly finalized. The anomalies encountered broke our baseline tactical formulas, but as the Hell Guard, we maintained our defensive parameters exactly as the regulations—"

"Save your pathetic excuses, Barris," Kyoka interrupted, her voice dropping like a heavy iron portcullis. She didn't even look at him, her fingers casually tapping the surface of the table with a terrifying, rhythmic precision. "You held a defensive line because you were too paralyzed to move. Do you think I am blind to the telemetry data? You allowed yourselves to be completely outpaced out there."

Vane shrank back into his seat, trying to make his frame as small as possible under Goka’s heavy stare. "The toxic pockets were... they were denser than forecasted, sir," Vane whined softly, his eyes darting nervously around the table. "The vanguard parameters were completely disrupted."

Goka let out a low, deep chuckle—a sound heavily laced with military disdain, yet carrying a faint, patronizing amusement. Looking down at the twenty young recruits lining the table, Goka knew their youth and inexperience made them fragile, which was exactly why he felt the need to criticize them with brutal, unyielding harshness. In the military hierarchy, weakness was a death sentence, and these kids were proving to be far too soft.

To Goka and Kyoka, both dominant Alfas of the main Nijiku bloodline, Zanka’s status as the only Omega automatically made him the weak link of the family—someone who had run away to play with the Cleaners because he couldn't cut it in the true, unyielding military hierarchy. In their own twisted way, they still loved their younger brother fiercely, but raised under the brutal conditions of the main clan, they didn't know how to express it correctly for a child. To them, affection was wrapped in harsh conditioning and tough love; they genuinely believed that pushing him to his breaking point and constantly demeaning his choices was the only way to make him strong enough to survive.

Worse still, this harshness was fueled by a deep, poisonous resentment. Kyoka and Goka absolutely detested the Cleaners, and they hated the entire concept of being a Giver even more than before. In their eyes, this filthy organization and their strange, spiritual reliance on Jinki had stolen their little brother away from them. Zanka was supposed to be theirs—their hidden treasure, the protected Omega of the Nijiku household. Seeing him out here in the dirt, relying on a piece of trash like a "Jinki" instead of the clan's bloodline military power, felt like a personal insult to their lineage.

"The vanguard parameters weren't disrupted, Vane. You all were just completely outclassed," Goka rumbled, leaning forward as his shadow blanketed the table, his smile sharp and dismissive. "Our little brother didn't just survive the horde; he actually did his job while you rookies were busy calculating a retreat route. You let a weak Omega who couldn't even handle the main clan hierarchy run circles around you and disgrace the Red Horns' name. How embarrassing."

Kyoka’s expression remained perfectly stone-cold, her silence confirming Goka's words. To her, Zanka's success today wasn't a display of true strength—it was a fluke, a minor achievement in the dirt that only emphasized how pathetic her own squad had been for letting someone like him outshine them. Deep down, her harsh judgment was her twisted way of monitoring him, ensuring he wasn't getting soft out here in the wasteland with the thieves who had taken him, even if her cold demeanor only drove the wedge between them deeper.

The moment Zanka’s tall frame moved into the open aisle, heading toward the tray return racks near the main exit, Goka’s stern gaze tracked his younger brother’s every step with a sharp, heavy intensity. Beside him, Kyoka’s stone-cold expression didn't change, but her fingers stopped their rhythmic tapping on the table. The silence between the two dominant Alfas grew infinitely heavier, their eyes locking onto the young Omega as he walked past. Yet, despite the harsh words they had just unleashed on their own recruits, their tracking gazes carried that same twisted, deeply buried protectiveness, silently monitoring the movements of the little brother they still viewed as their ultimate household treasure.

Mina sat quietly a few seats down, her notebook resting flat beside her tray. Now that the initial terror of the day had worn off, her submissive, respectful act completely vanished. Her eyes darted shamelessly toward Kyoka and Goka, her mind already recording their heavy, dominant postures. The moment Kyoka tilted her chin to a precise, commanding angle, Mina’s neck twitched. Blatantly and shamelessly, she replicated the exact, lethal tilt of the Commander's head, her shoulder shifting to mimic the rigid authority of her superior right under her nose.

Kyoka’s sharp eyes flicked instantly toward Mina. Unlike Riyo, who had merely been irritated earlier, a flash of cold, dangerous displeasure crossed the Commander’s face. She absolutely despised the disrespect of an inferior trying to drain her authority through imitation. But with the heavy political weight of the mission hanging over them, Kyoka held her tongue. She didn't say a word, shutting Mina down with a single, icy glare that made the copycat freeze in her tracks and look back down at her papers.

Just as Zanka reached the edge of the open aisle, his boots barely crossing the threshold toward the exit, a deep, booming voice cut through the ambient chatter of the cafeteria, instantly freezing him in his tracks.

"Hey, Zanka!" Enjin called out loudly from the head of the main table. He didn't even look up from where he was sitting, leaning back comfortably with one arm resting over the back of Gris’s chair, a lazy, knowing smirk plastered across his face. "Make sure you actually head back to your quarters tonight. Don't go trying to sneak out of the gates later just for that 3:00 AM Romeo of yours just for hit him with your Jinki"

The comment dropped like a bomb in the middle of the hall.

Zanka’s entire frame went rigid, his boots glued to the concrete floor. His wood and incense pheromones instantly spiked into a chaotic wave of absolute mortification and defensive panic, flooding the central aisle.

Instantly, a wave of collective laughter erupted across the Cleaners' tables, a few of them shaking their heads at Enjin’s lack of a filter. But just as quickly, the amusement shifted. A heavy, collective look of concern rippled through the crew. Their eyes darted from Zanka's rigid back straight over to the military side of the room, their smiles dropping as they felt the sudden, dangerous spike in the atmosphere, silently bracing themselves for the fallout of having that specific piece of information aired out in front of the main clan.

However, for those sitting right at his table who had been left out of the loop, the bomb exploded out of nowhere. Guita’s sleepy eyes snapped wide open, losing all her exhaustion in a single second.

"A 3:00 AM Romeo?!" she squeaked in a loud whisper, turning in absolute disbelief toward Dear Santa, who also blinked a few times, visibly stunned by the scandalous revelation.

But the real devastation happened across the aisle, at the military tables.

The twenty young recruits of the Hell Guard didn't start whispering or making a scene. Instead, a collective, paralyzing dread washed over them. They knew exactly how the main clan operated, and they knew how dangerously possessive the commanders were over their household treasure. The mention of an unknown person bypassing security and infiltrating space—it terrified them. Barris’s jaw locked so hard it turned white, while Vane and the others completely froze, their eyes fixed firmly on their plates. They didn't dare utter a syllable or exchange a single glance, utterly paralyzed by the sheer gravity of what had just been revealed in front of their leaders, terrified that any movement would draw the lethal attention of the upper echelon down upon them.

At the head of the column, the reaction from the Nijiku siblings was nothing short of terrifying.

Commander Kyoka’s stone-cold facade didn't just crack—it shattered into an icy, lethal glare that practically promised execution. Her gloved fingers dug so hard into the edge of the metal table that the iron began to creak under her grip. Beside her, Goka’s smug, patronizing smile vanished instantly, replaced by a dark, thunderous scowl. His massive chest heaved heavily as his dominant Alpha presence flared with a suffocating, possessive fury. The very thought of some unknown bastard sneaking through the dark and violating the sanctuary of their little brother's space—their protected, stolen treasure—made both Nijiku Alfas look ready to mobilize the entire Red Horns Squad One to hunt down and tear this faceless intruder to pieces.

Zanka’s knuckles turned bone-white around his tray. He could feel the sheer weight of his siblings' burning, murderous glares drilling a hole straight into his back, demanding an explanation he refused to give.

"You really don't know when to drop it, do you?" Zanka muttered sharply, his voice laced with a tense, defensive edge that tried desperately to mask his complete and utter humiliation.

Without waiting for a response, and without daring to turn around to face the laughing Cleaners or the terrifyingly protective expressions of his family, Zanka slammed his tray onto the return rack with a loud, echoing CLANG and bolted through the exit doors, disappearing into the dark corridor outside before anyone else could say a word.

The heavy double doors were still vibrating from Zanka’s exit, the resonance slowly dying down into a thick, suffocating silence.

At the head of the long wooden tables, the lazy, teasing smirk on Enjin’s face vanished instantly the moment the doors clicked shut. His entire frame went notably rigid, his casual posture disappearing as a sudden, heavy wave of tension rolled off his shoulders. He didn't say a word. Instead, his jaw clenched tightly as he reached into his jacket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it with a quick, aggressive flick of his lighter. Inhaling deeply, he stared dark-eyed past the hanging light bulbs toward the exit, the thick smoke swirling up toward the exposed ceiling pipes and blending into the hazy atmosphere of the room. The truth was, Enjin wasn't amused anymore. The mere thought of Zanka walking off completely alone and isolating himself right now made his stomach turn; not when a goddamn Raider like Jabber had actually managed to breach their security and infiltrate their shared space just days prior.

Behind him, the rest of the Cleaners' tables immediately leaned inward, their voices dropping into a rapid, collective whisper that hummed beneath the soft, ambient glow of the cafeteria lamps.

"Holy shit," Follo breathed, keeping his eyes glued to her plate while her knuckles turned white against the wooden tabletop. "Enjin really has a death wish. The Red Horns look like they’re about to execute everyone in this room."

"Shh, keep it down," Tomme murmured back smoothly from her seat, noticing how tightly Enjin was gripping her lighter. "Don't give them a reason to look over here. Let him cool off."

A few seats down, past the prominent column where the jukebox stood silent and unlit, Rudo and Amo leaned across their table until their foreheads almost touched. They kept their gazes fixed entirely on their trays, far away from the military side of the room.

"Enjin is stressed as hell, and honestly, he has every right to be," Rudo muttered sharply, his voice barely a breath. 

"No kidding," Amo whispered, shaking his head as she watched the smoke rise toward the dark bar counter in the back, where rows of bottles sat undisturbed under the shelves. "Amo thinks that Jabber is completely insane for pulling that stunt. But Amo also thinis he’s never getting back in. Have you seen what Enjin, Semiu, and Corvus did to the residential wing? Since the bedrooms are communal, they literally overhauled the security grid for everyone's safety in less than twenty-four hours."

Riyo chimed in, using her hand to muffle her voice as she idly shifted her chair against the tiled floor. "Follo and I checked the upper vents after we come from the mission. Semiu already rerouted the primary pressure valves and replaced every single grate leading into the shared living quarters with heavy titanium locks. A mouse couldn't squeeze into the bunkrooms now."

Guita caught the tail end of the whisper and blinked, her jaw dropping slightly as she glanced toward the large windows on the side wall. "They changed all of that for the entire living area in one day?"

"When a Raider manages to breach the communal barrack, those three don't take risks," Tomme muttered, his eyes shifting subtly across the long tables toward Riyo.

Riyo had completely stopped playing with Eisha's hair. Her easygoing grin was entirely gone, replaced by a tense, serious look as she sat perfectly still on her red-cushioned chair, exchanging a quiet, heavy glance with Gris. The joke was over. Enjin, Semiu, and Corvus had turned the entire shared living wing into an absolute fortress in a single afternoon, drawing a hard line in the sand to protect their crew before the Nijiku clan could even figure out who the intruder was.

Across the aisle, the heavy silence at the Hell Guard table remained unbroken under the cone of the hanging lamps, but the air was thick with a dangerous, predatory tension. Kyoka’s fingers had stopped tapping against the surface, her lethal eyes fixed on the empty doorway, her mind clearly working to decipher the hushed, urgent energy radiating from the Cleaners and the sudden, suffocating tension stiffening Enjin's back.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

Meanwhile, the cool night air hit Zanka’s face the moment he stepped out onto the high, open terrace of the base. He walked fast, his boots clicking sharply against the stone floor, a stark contrast to his usual easygoing stride. The heavy iron doors of the cafeteria were far behind him, but Enjin’s words—and the suffocating weight of his siblings' murderous glares—still felt like they were pressing hard against his chest.

His wood and incense pheromones were still a chaotic, tangled mess, radiating a sharp edge of pure irritation and lingering embarrassment into the dark.

"Fucking luck of mine" Zanka muttered under his breath, his knuckles turning bone-white as he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.

Instead of heading toward the communal barracks, Zanka had bypassed the residential turnoff entirely. He needed air, away from the suffocating pressure of everyone inside. Leaning heavily against the terrace railing, he looked down at the courtyard below, where the dim, warm glow of the streetlamps flickered against the grimy, graffiti-lined walls of the ground floor. The night out here was massive and unforgiving, the sky a heavy, dark overcast that swallowed the horizon, but the quiet view did nothing to soothe the restless, chaotic spike of his pheromones.

He stared out past the lights, his sharp blue eyes scanning the shadows beyond the perimeter. Even with the absolute stillness surrounding the complex, Zanka couldn't shake the heavy, knotting tension in his stomach. He didn't feel safe. In fact, he had an overwhelming, unshakable premonition that Jabber was going to find a way back in.

Yet, as he stared into the dark, a wave of intensely conflicting thoughts began to twist inside him, making his chest tighten for a completely different reason.

It was terrifying, yes, but a deeply buried, traitorous part of his Omega nature couldn't forget the sheer audacity of what Jabber had done. No one had ever pulled a stunt like that for him. Throughout his entire life, Zanka had been treated either as a prize to be strictly guarded by his clan, or as a reliable teammate who carried his own weight. But Jabber—a wild, lawless Alpha from the outside—had bypassed every single layer of security, treating this entire fortress like a playground, just to get close to him.

The memory of Jabber's heavy, unpredictable Alpha presence suddenly invading the quiet sanctuary of the communal quarters sent a hot, sudden shiver straight down Zanka’s spine. He hated himself for it, his pride flaring instantly at the thought, but he couldn't deny the thrilling, intoxicating rush of being pursued with such reckless, single-minded focus. It was chaotic, dangerous, and entirely wrong, but it had sparked a strange, unfamiliar warmth that his inner Omega was secretly clinging to, even as his logical mind screamed at him to stay alert.

Zanka knew how Jabber's mind worked; the tighter they tried to close the sector, the more tempting the challenge became. An Alpha like that wouldn't be kept out by a formidable structure; the challenge would only make the prize more enticing.

A sudden chill crawled up Zanka's spine, entirely unrelated to the night wind. He kept his eyes locked on the dim perimeter below, his body entirely rigid, caught between the protective instincts of a Cleaner and the breathless, secret anticipation of a wolf waiting for the shadows to move.

High above the courtyard, the quiet of the terrace was suddenly broken by the heavy, metallic scrape of the maintenance door swinging open behind him. Zanka didn't turn around right away, his posture freezing as he instinctively tried to rein in the volatile edge of his wood and incense pheromones. He didn't want anyone—especially not his family or an overprotective crew member—seeing him out here looking this rattled.

"Figured I’d find you out here brooding," a familiar voice called out quietly.

It was Gris. The tall Alfa walked over to the rusted iron railing, stepping up beside Zanka without the suffocating, demanding energy that everyone else had been throwing around all evening. He leaned his forearms against the cold metal, looking out over the dim, graffiti-lined walls of the ground floor and into the overcast night, his own steady presence acting as a grounding, protective barrier.

Zanka let out a sharp, defensive breath through his nose, his shoulders dropping just a fraction. "Enjin has a death wish," he muttered bitterly, his voice rough. "Screaming that shit out in the middle of the hall. He knew exactly who was sitting across the aisle."

"He's an idiot when he's stressed," Gris replied calmly, his tone entirely level, managing to soothe Zanka’s turbulent energy without forcing his dominance over him. "But he didn't do it to humiliate you, Zanka. He did it because he’s terrified. We all are. A Raider walking into our shared living quarters while we sleep... it rattled him more than he’ll ever admit over a cigarette."

Zanka kept his eyes fixed on the dark, unmonitored perimeter down below. Hearing Gris put it so bluntly only twisted the knot in his stomach tighter. His crew was terrified because an enemy Alfa had breached their fortress, yet his own treacherous inner instincts were still vibrating from the memory of how intoxicating that exact breach had felt.

"The base is a fortress now, Gris," Zanka said, his voice dropping into a low, tense rumble as he tried to convince himself as much as the other man. "Semiu locked down the vents. There's no way anyone gets back in."

Gris turned his head slightly, his sharp eyes observing the rigid, defensive line of Zanka's jaw. As an experienced man, he was highly attuned to the subtle, chaotic fluctuations in Zanka’s scent—and he could smell that there was fear there, yes, but also a breathless, lingering heat that didn't belong in a soldier bracing for an attack. He knew exactly what an external Alpha's pursuit could do to an Omega's instincts, no matter how much Zanka tried to fight it with his pride.

"Locks only work on people who follow the rules, Zanka," Gris whispered softly, his voice carrying a heavy weight into the night wind. "An Alpha like Jabber doesn't care about a titanium gate. He knows what he wants, and he already knows the way inside."

Zanka’s knuckles turned completely white against the railing. He wanted to snap back, to let his anger mask the sheer vulnerability threatening to choke him, but looking at Gris—who wasn't judging him, wasn't breathing down his neck like his siblings, and wasn't suffocating him with overprotective panic—the rigid walls around Zanka’s pride finally cracked.

He let out a long, shaky breath, the wood and incense in the air losing its sharp, defensive edge, replaced by a softer, incredibly raw vulnerability.

"It’s messed up, Gris," Zanka confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, completely dropping the unbothered facade he had worn in the cafeteria. "I should hate it. I should be completely disgusted that a lawless Raider breached our base and put everyone at risk. My mind knows that. My bloodline knows that."

He stopped, closing his eyes tightly as a hot, sudden wave of embarrassment washed over his face, but he forced himself to go on, needing to get the suffocating weight out of his chest.

"But no one has ever done something like that for me," Zanka whispered, his fingers trembling slightly against the cold iron. "My whole life, the Nijiku clan just treated me like a prize to be locked behind walls, or a weak link they had to break to make strong. And here, I’m just one of the guys carrying my own weight. But Jabber... Jabber tore through an entire fortress just to get to me. He didn't care about the rules, the danger, or the Cleaners. He just wanted me.... And, I feel stupid because I think like this after only one visit! "

Zanka opened his eyes, looking at Gris with a mix of fierce frustration and deep, conflicting sincerity. "An Alpha presence like his... it was terrifying, but it was the first time I felt completely seen. Not as a weapon, not as a family asset, but just... pursued. My inner Omega is practically clinging to that feeling, Gris. I’m terrified he’s going to break back in, but a part of me... a part of me is completely breathless waiting for it to happen. It makes me feel like a traitor to the crew."

Gris remained silent for a long moment, letting the heavy confession settle into the cool night air. He didn't look shocked or angry; instead, his steady Alfa aura pulsed with a quiet, understanding warmth, validating the intense storm raging inside the younger Omega.

"You're not a traitor, Zanka," Gris said softly, keeping his eyes on the horizon to give him space to breathe. "You're a soldier fighting your own nature, and there's no shame in feeling the weight of that. But you need to stay sharp. Because when an Alpha like that targets a prize, he won't stop until he gets it."

A sudden, sharp breeze swept across the high terrace, making the hanging streetlamps below flicker against the dark courtyard. Zanka didn't answer, but the heavy knot in his stomach felt just a little lighter. He tightened his grip on the iron railing, his eyes locking back onto the dark perimeter below, caught between the protective instincts of a Cleaner and the breathless, secret anticipation of a wolf waiting for the shadows to finally move.

Gris took a slow drag from his cigarette, the amber glow illuminating his calm features for a split second before he exhaled the smoke into the dark abyss beyond the railing.

"You know... people outside our circle look at me and Enjin, and they don't get it," Gris continued, his tone dropping into a rare, deeply personal confidence. "Two Alfas in a romantic relationship? In most clans, that’s considered a complete structural anomaly. Society tells us we’re supposed to be constantly competing for dominance, tearing each other's throats out, or finding an Omega to protect and claim. When Enjin and I first realized what was happening between us, our own instincts were a complete, chaotic warzone."

He turned his head to look directly at Zanka, his gaze steady and filled with genuine empathy.

"Every single day was a battle of pride. My Alpha nature screamed at me never to submit, never to show weakness, and his did the exact same thing. We nearly broke each other a dozen times trying to figure out how to love someone without losing our own power, constantly pushing boundaries just to see who would bend first. But then I realized... true strength isn't about fighting the nature of the person you want. It’s about accepting the raw, terrifying reality of how they make you feel... Sometimes it’s destructive. Sometimes what your nature desires is the exact thing that threatens your entire structure"

Gris shifted his weight, leaning his back against the railing and looking up at the heavy, dark overcast sky.

"Enjin is loud, he's reckless, and he suffocates me with his overprotective panic sometimes—just like he did to you in there tonight. But the moment I stopped fighting the fear of being vulnerable with another Alpha, that chaos turned into the safest place I’ve ever known. So, I get it. I get why Jabber’s single-minded focus makes your blood run hot. For the first time in your life, someone didn't look at you as an asset to guard or a weak link to fix. He looked at you and saw his match. He saw you."

Zanka listened intently, his breath hitching slightly in his throat. Hearing a senior Alfa like Gris admit to his own internal wars, to the terrifying vulnerability of defying standard dynamics for the sake of affection, made the heavy, suffocating guilt in his chest finally begin to unravel.

"The crew is going to keep reinforcing those walls, Zanka," Gris added softly, turning back to face the dark horizon. "And as a Cleaner, you have to help us hold the line. But out here in the dark? You don't have to lie to yourself. If Jabber comes back—and we both know an Alpha like that will—you just need to be ready for the storm he’s bringing with him... "

A sudden, sharp breeze swept across the high terrace, making the hanging streetlamps below flicker against the grimy walls of the courtyard. Zanka didn't answer, but his wood and incense pheromones finally smoothed out, settling into a quiet, focused resolve. He tightened his grip on the iron railing, his sharp blue eyes locking onto the pitch-black perimeter below, no longer just a soldier bracing for an invasion, but an Omega standing at the edge of the world, silently waiting for the shadows to finally move.

​"The Nijiku treated you like a prize, and you hated it," Gris said softly, the harsh edge vanishing from his tone, replaced by a quiet, undeniable truth. "Don't let a Raider make you feel like one all over again just because he used a crowbar instead of a golden cage."

​He reached out, tapping the center of Zanka’s chest firmly with two fingers.

​"Keep your head in the game. We're heading back inside before Enjin loses his mind and starts a fight in the cafeteria. You coming?"

​Zanka stared at the maintenance door, his heart still hammering against his ribs from the brief, intense demonstration of Alfa dominance. His pheromones slowly leveled out, the chaotic heat completely replaced by a cold, sharp clarity.

​"No," Zanka replied, his voice rough but completely steady as he looked back out at the dark horizon. "Go ahead. I'm going to stay out here for a few more minutes. I need the cold air to completely flush my system before I deal with the rest of the crew."

​Gris looked at him for a beat, seeing the sharp, functional focus return to the young Omega's eyes. He gave a single, satisfied nod.

​"Don't stay out too long," Gris said, turning on his heel. "The wasteland doesn't care about your reflection time."

​With a heavy metallic click, the door shut, leaving Zanka completely alone in the dark. He wrapped his hands back around the cold railing, staring into the pitch-black perimeter below. The secret, breathless anticipation wasn't entirely gone, but now, it was matched by a fierce, dangerous resolve. He wasn't a prize waiting to be taken. If Jabber came back, he would be waiting.

Chapter Text

Underneath his usual manic bravado, Jabber was feeling something that could only be described—by his own chaotic standards—as pure, unadulterated nerves. Clutching a massive, beautifully decorated pastry box tightly against his chest, he carefully protected the elegant logo of the high-end bakery where he had actually purchased it.

Because against all odds, Jabber had paid for this with real currency.

When Chtoni—the fierce Omega he viewed as the closest thing to an older sister, if not a mother—found out he was planning a gift for his beloved Omega, she had given him a brutal, ear-blistering scolding the moment he casually mentioned stealing something nice. Jabber could honorably admit that, in that moment, he had felt exactly like a scolded cat caught breaking a priceless vase.

Chtoni had made it terrifyingly clear: if Zanka ever found out his gift was stolen, the proud Cleaner would reject him without a second thought. Driven by a desperate cocktail of fear and absolute determination, Jabber had forced himself to act like a normal person—or at least, as close to normal as his wiring allowed. He had marched right into the bakery to buy an absolute mountain of the specific desserts he was certain the strongest Omega he knew would love.

Zan-Zan deserved nothing less than the absolute best.

To ensure he hit the mark, he bought ten different sour pastries, making sure some carried that perfect, sharp bittersweet edge. But he hadn't stopped at food. Tucked safely in his gear was a stunning necklace bearing a deep blue gemstone. In the right light, the stone cast a brilliant, fierce glow that instantly reminded Jabber of Zanka's eyes whenever the young Omega summoned his beautiful Jinki. Jabber had no clue what the rock actually was; at first, he thought it was a diamond, but now he was pretty sure it was lapis lazuli.

To his absolute surprise, the gift-giving endeavor had drawn even more unexpected attention. When his Bossman—the undisputed holder of the title of "Strongest Omega Jabber Knew," with Zanka currently a very close second—heard about the plan through Chtoni, he actually offered some rare, tactical advice. He told Jabber that if he wanted to survive entering that sector, he needed to bring a peace offering for Mary Poppins.

Which brought Jabber to the three premium, high-end packs of cigarettes currently tucked under his arm. Something about that tall, stoic Alpha practically screamed that the guy loved to smoke.

So, there Jabber was. Dangling precariously off the structural wall of the Cleaners' base, he waited with agonizing patience for the older Alpha he mentally categorized as his beloved's second father to finally leave. He carefully shifted the weight of his offerings, already making a mental note that next time, he would definitely need to bring an even bigger haul.

He was currently anchoring his entire weight to the brickwork with just a single hand on his Mankira, his other arm securely cradling the massive pastry box. He kept his feet tucked in tight, hyper-aware of the window just below him, completely silent as he listened to the muffled conversation above.

The moment he finally heard the heavy metallic click of the door closing and the steady footsteps of the older Alpha fading away, Jabber's head snapped up. A massive, triumphant grin split his face beneath his visorless gas mask, entirely prepared to swing over the railing and make the most dramatic, breathless entrance of his life.

Instead, his eyes locked directly onto his target.

Perched right there on the ledge, looking down at him with an utterly flat, bored, and completely unsurprised expression, was Zanka.

...For the second time that night, Jabber felt exactly like a cat caught on the kitchen counter.

"¡Zan-Zan!~"

Jabber’s enthusiastic shout hung in the cool night air, but Zanka didn't move a single millimeter. He just stayed there, leaning loosely against the iron railing, looking down at him with those sharp blue eyes and an expression of absolute, deadpan boredom—as if watching a dangerous invader dangling from his base's wall was the least interesting event of his entire day.

Ah, Jabber love this man. 

It was in that exact moment of silence that Jabber’s usual loud, bouncing chatter died in his throat. Beneath his hyperactive, chaotic exterior, a rare and sudden lull of absolute focus took hold of his mind. Jabber went entirely mute, analyzing Zanka silently, breaking him down with the sharp, innate precision of a predator observing his favorite mystery.

Despite the look of sheer annoyance on the young Omega's face, Jabber began to notice the details. He caught the absolute slightest, almost invisible twitch at the corner of Zanka's lips before the proud Cleaner quickly forced his scowl back into place. But what truly made Jabber’s inner Alpha vibrate with force was the scent. The air was no longer thick with the sharp, cutting defensive tension of wood and incense that Zanka usually released when he was in full combat alert; instead, his pheromones had softened, drifting lazily and receptively across the terrace.

Zanka could try to fake total disinterest with his face all he wanted, but his body language and his scent were telling Jabber an entirely different story: he wasn't going to yell, he wasn't calling for backup, he wasn't summoning his Jinki, and most importantly, he was letting Jabber stay.

A wild spark of pure euphoria and lunacy raced through Jabber's veins.

Before Zanka could break the silence with a biting retort, Jabber executed. With an explosive, absurdly agile movement, he flexed the arm holding onto his Mankira. Using the strength of that single hand, he launched his entire frame upward in a clean, fluid leap, completely defying gravity and the three-story drop at his back. He cleared the iron railing with the effortless grace of an acrobat and, without losing his balance for even a fraction of a second, landed flawlessly right on the concrete cornice right in front of Zanka.

He dropped straight into a casual, crouched sit, his long legs dangling carelessly over the massive drop as if he were relaxing on a regular street curb rather than an enemy military base. What was most impressive was that the enormous, beautifully decorated pastry box remained completely untouched in his other hand, balanced perfectly on his lap along with the cigarette packs.

Jabber tilted his head to the side, instantly closing the distance between them. A massive, triumphant grin split his uncovered face, his dark magenta, utterly manic eyes flashing with intensity as they locked directly onto the Omega's gaze. His sheer presence brought a heavy rush of wild copper, gunpowder, and the unexpected scent of sweets efined sugar, completely wrapping Zanka in his own personal bubble of madness.

Jabber let out a soft, low rumble—the closest thing to a purr a wild Alpha could manage—the exact moment Zanka delicately took the pastry box from his hands, along with the stunning blue necklace. A fierce wave of pride swelled in Jabber’s chest when he caught the beautiful Omega tilting his head, a genuine, albeit faint, smile breaking across his features as he inspected the sweets. Jabber’s inner Alpha practically cheered; he hadn’t missed the mark after all! His choices had been absolute perfection.

Sensing the shift in the air, Jabber smoothly lowered himself from the narrow concrete cornice. Grabbing the iron railing for leverage, he swung his legs back over, landing with a quiet, practiced thud right onto the terrace floor. He stepped up immediately, slotting himself right next to Zanka—elbow to elbow, shoulder to shoulder. Standing there in the cool night air, completely invading the Cleaner’s space without any resistance, Jabber felt like an absolute king. He had breached the fortress, bypassed the guards, and won the undivided attention of the strongest Omega he knew.

"So, what do you think? What do you think? Do they look good?" Jabber chirped, his previous quiet intensity instantly snapping back into his signature, bouncing energy as he leaned in to look at the open box with him. "I hope you love them, Zan-Zan~!"

Jabber watched Zanka’s fingers hover over the selection of pastries, his own heartbeat thrumming with a frantic, happy rhythm that had absolutely nothing to do with the adrenaline of the climb. Up close, the razor-sharp, defensive edge of wood and incense had completely melted away, leaving behind a soft, mellow warmth that told Jabber he was truly safe right here.

It was a rare, vulnerable sight that made the Alpha's chest feel tight in the best possible way.

"You really went to a bakery?" Zanka asked, his voice low and quiet, completely stripped of the cold, military sharpness he usually reserved for his targets. He pulled the small velvet pouch from the box, his thumb brushing over the cool, deep blue surface of the lapis lazuli stone. "You didn't just... raid the place?"

Jabber let out a sharp, genuine laugh, his shoulder pressing firmly against Zanka’s as he beamed down at him. "I told you, Zan-Zan! I’m a man of my word tonight. I even stood in a line. A real human line! With people and everything." He grinned, his dark eyes crinkling deeply at the corners with untamed joy. "Chtoni was practically ready to take my head off, and the Bossman said that if I wanted to survive entering this sector, I had to stop acting like a total wrecking ball."

Zanka hummed softly, a faint, genuine smile finally breaking through his stubborn facade as he held the necklace up to the pale moonlight. The stone caught the dim illumination of the terrace, shimmering with a fierce, deep glow. Jabber stared at it, then back at Zanka's eyes—yeah, he definitely hadn't been wrong. It was the exact same beautiful, dangerous light.

"Your Boss gave you advice?" Zanka looked up, his expression softening into something deeply curious, almost searching as he studied Jabber’s unmasked face. "You realize how insane this is, right? Enjin is probably losing his mind inside the cafeteria right now, trying to figure out how to track you down. If anyone catches you here..."

Jabber’s grin faded just a fraction, smoothing out into something far more earnest. His gaze dropped to the pastry box for a brief second before locking back onto Zanka’s blue eyes. The wild, chaotic energy was still humming under his skin, but beneath it, a raw, aching sincerity took over.

"I know," Jabber murmured, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that felt incredibly intimate in the heavy silence of the night. "I know I’m a wanted man for your people and I know your crew is supposed to hunt me down because we are some of enemies. But out there in the wasteland... everything is just noise, Za-a-nka. It’s just gray dust, blood, and people screaming. But then there’s you."

He paused, a rare flicker of hesitation crossing his sharp features—a sudden, quiet moment of vulnerability from someone who usually lived like a wildfire.

"You are a strong Omega, and I love that about you. I know there are plenty of people out there who are just as strong! But... you simply have something that draws me in, and it's not just because you’re an Omega. Your presence is... better than any poison I’ve ever tasted. Completely addictive!"

Zanka turned his body fully toward him, the last bit of distance between them vanishing until their arms were completely pressed together, shoulder to shoulder. The air around them felt thick, completely wrapped in the heavy, warm blend of Jabber's copper and gunpowder pheromones and Zanka's receptive incense.

"You're a complete idiot, Jabber," Zanka said softly, though his tone was entirely devoid of real malice. He reached out, his hand hesitating for only a split second before he tapped Jabber’s forearm with a gentle, grounding touch. "But... thank you. For the pastries. And for actually listening to them and paying for it."

Jabber felt a massive surge of triumph swell in his chest, his inner Alpha practically howling with victory. He didn't pull away from the touch, nor did he try to ruin the quiet moment with his usual loud shouting. For once, he just let himself exist in the warmth Zanka was willingly giving him, his eyes gleaming with that trademark, beautiful madness.

"Does this mean I get to climb up here again next time, Za-a-nka~?" Jabber purred, leaning in just a fraction closer, a wicked, playful grin returning to his lips. "Maybe next time I'll bring something even bigger."

Jabber didn't even try to hide the sheer, unadulterated fascination on his face as he watched Zanka's reaction.

For a second, the young Omega just froze, his hand still resting gently on Jabber’s forearm. He blinked, processing the utterly unhinged, yet fiercely intense confession that had just come out of the Raider's mouth. Comparing a person's presence to an addictive, high-grade poison was peak Jabber, a textbook display of his beautiful madness.

Then, the corners of Zanka’s lips twitched again—and this time, he couldn't force the scowl back.

A soft, genuine chuckle escaped his throat, followed by a light, breathless laugh that Zanka quickly tried to muffle by covering his mouth with the back of his free hand. It wasn't the cynical, mocking huff he usually gave his targets, nor was it the strained, tired sigh he shared with the crew. It was a real, bright sound, completely unguarded and full of genuine amusement.

To Jabber, that sound was like a physical jolt straight to his nervous system.

His dark eyes went wide, his pupils instantly dilating as his heart did a violent flip inside his chest. He stopped breathing entirely, utterly captivated. If Zanka’s scent was an intoxicating poison, then his laugh was the absolute peak of the high. It was a beautiful, rare sound that Jabber had never heard before, and the instant it hit his ears, he knew he was completely, hopelessly hooked. He wanted to hoard it. He wanted to do whatever chaotic, stupid thing it took just to drag that exact sound out of the proud Cleaner over and over again.

His massive, triumphant grin stretched so wide his cheeks practically ached, his inner Alpha practically spinning circles of pure euphoria.

"Wow, Za-a-nka~," Jabber rasped out, his voice a bit more breathless than usual, a dizzy, lovesick spark dancing wildly in his eyes as he leaned a fraction closer. "You should definitely do that more often. Forget the sweets—that right there? That's the best thing I've heard in the entire sector. Seriously, my ears are vibrating!"

Zanka finally managed to bring his laughter under control, dropping his hand, though a beautiful, lingering warmth remained in his sharp blue eyes as he shook his head in sheer disbelief.

"You really are completely out of your mind," Zanka murmured, his voice incredibly soft as his wood and incense pheromones wrapped fully and comfortably around Jabber’s heavy copper and gunpowder scent. "Come on. Give me the cigarettes for my dad and step away from the ledge before you vibrate yourself right off the cornice."

Jabber’s grin somehow stretched even wider, the dizzying warmth of Zanka’s laughter completely fueling his already erratic battery. He didn't just step away from the ledge as ordered; he used the momentum to turn his departure into a full theatrical production.

He snatched the three packs of premium cigarettes from under his arm, giving them a flashy, rhythmic shake before sliding them into Zanka’s free hand right next to the pastry box. He made sure his fingers brushed against Zanka’s a second longer than necessary, his touch lingering with a deliberate, burning heat.

"Oh, I'm moving, I'm moving, Za-a-nka~!" Jabber chirped, his voice bouncing with an intense, dramatic cadence. He hopped backward with terrifying, zero-gravity agility, landing his boots perfectly balanced on the thin iron top-rail of the balcony. He stood straight up, towering over the terrace, completely unfazed by the lethal drop directly beneath his heels. The night wind caught his clothes, making him look like a dark, chaotic omen framed against the wasteland sky.

He pressed a hand over his heart, throwing his head back with a loud, theatrical sigh that practically echoed into the courtyard.

"But alas! The night is short, your scary dad is hungry for blood, and a good boy must know when to make his grand exit!" Jabber declared loudly, tossing a hand out into the air as if addressing a sold-out theater. Then, just as quickly, the exaggerated drama sharply narrowed into something terrifyingly focused. He leaned his torso forward over the drop, his dark, unmasked eyes locking onto Zanka with a single-minded, razor-sharp intensity that made the air between them instantly go still.

His smile didn't fade, but his voice dropped into a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated with absolute, unshakeable certainty.

"Just remember one thing before I go, Zan-Zan..." Jabber purred, his Alpha pheromones flaring up in one final, heavy wave of copper and gunpowder that aggressively claimed the space around the Omega. "I'm not just playing around, and I'm definitely not just coming here for the thrill of the chase. I am dead serious about making you my partner. My mate. My one and only."

He let out a sharp, breathless laugh, his eyes gleaming with that beautiful, unhinged confidence.

"So keep eating those sweets, keep that pretty blue rock close to your heart, and get used to the storm, Za-a-nka~! Because next time I climb up here, I'm playing for keeps!"

With a theatrical, two-finger salute pressed to his temple and a wild, lovesick wink, Jabber didn't just climb down—he let himself fall backward.

The dramatic exit was going according to plan—until the laws of reality decided to intervene with a heavy hand.

As Jabber tipped backward off the railing, perfectly poised to catch a lower pipe with his Mankira and vanish into the shadows like a legend, the world suddenly shifted from "mysterious rogue" to "absolute slapstick."

CRACK-THUD!

The heavy double windows of the Cleaners' community dining room that's was exactly ne floor down were violently shoved open, slamming against the exterior bricks. Standing there, bathed in the harsh, unflattering fluorescent glow of the base’s interior, was Enjin. The large Alpha’s face was a masterpiece of purple-veined fury, his eyes tracking the falling shadow with the lethal precision of a hawk spotting a field mouse.

Jabber, still mid-air and inverted, found himself staring directly into the blazing, murderous eyes of the man he had just been bribing with tobacco.

For a split second, time hung suspended. Then, Enjin’s roar shattered the night, loud enough to rattle the very foundations of the building.

"YOU ABSOLUTE LUNATIC!" Enjin bellowed, his voice vibrating with the sheer force of a man whose nerves had been completely shredded. "I KNEW I SMELLED COPPER AND STUPIDITY! GET YOUR SORRY ASS BACK HERE SO I CAN LOCK YOU IN A VENT!"

Jabber, instead of fleeing in terror, completely cracked. As he dangled by a single tether mid-fall, he didn't try to hide. He erupted into a fit of genuine, hysterical, wheezing laughter, his eyes crinkling until they were almost shut. He hung there, swinging like a pendulum in the abyss, clutching his stomach as he howled with joy.

"HAHAHAHA! Oh, you’re looking well my future father!" Jabber shrieked back, his voice thick with unhinged glee as he kicked his legs wildly in the air. "I see the cigarettes are a hit! Don't be like that, I'm just stopping by to check on the family! Give me a break, the wedding budget is tight!"

Enjin looked like he might actually spontaneously combust. "WEDDING?! I AM GOING TO USE YOUR SPINE AS A KEYCHAIN, YOU SMILING PIECE OF TRASH!"

"Aww, you care!" Jabber cackled, finally snapping his Mankira line to launch himself into a death-defying, high-speed wall-run away from the building. He didn't even look where he was going, too busy wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "I’ll bring a nice bottle of scotch next time, Father-in-law! Don't you worry about the locks, I’ll find a way in! And consider this just a little preview! Next time I come visit, I’ll bring a much bigger haul! An absolute mountain of gifts for the whole family! Get the wedding budget ready!"

​"THERE IS NO DAMN WEDDING! THERE WILL NEVER BE A WEDDING!" Enjin yelled at the top of his lungs, grabbing a heavy-duty wrench from the windowsill and launching it into the darkness—it whistled harmlessly through the air, nowhere near its target.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

Up on the terrace, Zanka stood frozen, clutching the mountain of premium pastries and the cigarettes, watching the ridiculous scene unfold. As Jabber’s fading, manic laughter echoed off the surrounding buildings—followed by Enjin’s muffled, incoherent string of threats—Zanka felt a slow, traitorous, and completely inevitable sigh escape him.

He didn't know whether to hide the pastries, start a war, or just go to sleep. But as he looked at the blue stone shimmering in his palm, he couldn't help but think that, for better or for worse, the quiet days were officially over.

With Jabber gone and Enjin still breathing heavily at the window downstairs, a heavy, comical silence settled over the Cleaners' terrace.

​Zanka stood alone under the pale moonlight, the cool night breeze rustling his hair. He looked down at his hands, which were completely full. In one arm, he carefully balanced the large, beautifully decorated pastry box, its sweet aroma still fighting against the lingering scent of gunpowder in the air. In his other hand, he held the three packs of premium cigarettes—Enjin's supposed "bribe"—and tightly clutched between his fingers was the small velvet pouch containing the deep blue lapis lazuli necklace.

​Down below, the heavy wooden window frame creaked as Enjin finally pulled himself back inside with the others and Zanka managed to hear the raucous laughter of the other cleaners for a few seconds, but Enjin still muttering a string of colorful curses about reckless Alphas, broken security protocols, and the absolute absurdity of a "wedding budget." The window slammed shut with a definitive thud, and the fluorescent glow disappeared, plunging the courtyard back into darkness.

​Zanka let out a long, slow sigh, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. He walked over to the stone ledge where Jabber had been crouched just moments before, looking out into the expansive, shadowy ruins. There was no sign of the chaotic Raider anymore, just the distant, faint sound of metal scraping against metal as Jabber bounced his way across the city pipes, probably still laughing his head off.

​“Your presence is... better than any poison I’ve ever tasted. Completely addictive!”

​The unhinged words echoed in Zanka's mind. It was a completely ridiculous, dangerous confession, exactly what he should expect from a wanted criminal who had just breached a military base with a single hand. And yet, as Zanka pulled the lapis lazuli necklace from the pouch, letting the smooth, ocean-blue stone catch the starlight, he felt a strange warmth bloom in his chest.

​He slipped the necklace into his pocket, readjusted his grip on the heavy pastry box

The heavy double windows downstairs didn't stay closed for long.

A split second after the glass slammed shut, the latch clicked violently open again. Enjin wasn't done. His protective instincts were flaring, and his sharp Alpha senses were still screaming that something—or someone—was entirely out of place.

With a gruff, agitated snort, Enjin leaned his massive torso right back out into the cool night air. He stopped scanning the dark alleyways where Jabber had just disappeared and slowly, deliberately, tilted his head upward toward the terrace. His gaze, sharp and heavy with suspicion, locked straight onto the concrete balcony directly above his head.

Up on the ledge, Zanka froze instantly. He didn't even have time to pocket the velvet pouch or turn toward the door before his second father's intense stare pinned him right to the spot.

Enjin squinted through the dim moonlight, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. He tracked the lingering, thick cloud of copper and gunpowder pheromones drifting off the terrace, and then his eyes dropped to Zanka's arms. There it was: a massive, pristine, undeniably expensive pastry box held carefully in one arm, and three unmistakable packs of premium cigarettes clutched in the other.

The silence that stretched between the two levels of the building was absolutely deafening.

Enjin's eyebrows slowly climbed toward his hairline. The sheer fury on his face briefly gave way to a look of profound, unadulterated disbelief. He stared at the mountain of high-end bakery sweets, then at the tobacco, and finally right into Zanka's stubborn, stoic face.

"Zanka," Enjin rumbled, his voice dropping from a roar into a dangerously low, deadpan vibration that echoed off the brick walls. "Tell me you didn't just let that maniac bribe his way onto our base with a box of frosted pastries."

Zanka didn't blink, his grip tightening just a fraction around the box as he stared back down at him, entirely unmovable. "He paid for them, Enjin."

"I DON'T CARE IF HE SECURED A LOAN FOR THEM!" Enjin's voice cracked, his head shaking in sheer exasperation as he rubbed his temples. "There is still no wedding! Throw those things in the incinerator before I come up there and eat them myself out of spite!"

Zanka didn't even flinch. He just held the pastry box a little closer to his chest, his face a perfect, unreadable mask. "You wouldn't eat them out of spite, Enjin. You'd eat them because you've been complaining about not being able to buy them because you were busy."

Zanka cleared his throat, looking down at the premium cigarettes in his right hand, and then down at Enjin. Without losing his cool, he simply extended his arm, dangling the tobacco packs over the railing.

​"Technically he didn't buy gifts just for me," Zanka replied, his voice completely calm but laced with a sharp streak of irony. "The pastries are for me. Your bribe is right here. He said they're your favorite."

​Enjin looked like he might actually spontaneously combust. His hands gripped the windowsill so hard the wood groaned, his face flushing a deep, dangerous red.

​"I DON'T CARE IF THEY ARE GOLD-PLATED!" Enjin shouted, throwing his hands up in absolute exasperation. "I don't care about the cigarettes! And there is still no damn wedding!..You know what?! Throw those things in the incinerator before I come up there and throw you in after them!"

​"You're not going to incinerate anything, Enjin," Zanka sighed, rolling his eyes as he pulled the cigarettes back

Enjin let out a sound that was half-growl, half-sigh of absolute defeat. He pointed a thick, warning finger up at the terrace, shaking it menacingly. "Get inside. Now. And if I smell even a hint of that gunpowder idiot in the hallways tomorrow morning I will have a heart attack of pure rage"

With one last disgruntled huff, Enjin grabbed the window frames and slammed them shut with a heavy, definitive thud. The latch clicked shut tightly, and the harsh fluorescent light from the interior finally died, plunging the courtyard back into the quiet darkness of the night.

Zanka sighed deeply as the downstairs window slammed shut with a heavy, definitive thump. He looked down at the massive haul of high-end bakery sweets cradled in his arms, and then at the three packs of premium cigarettes. Knowing Enjin, the older Alpha would spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in his bunk, completely eaten alive by a foul mood, the lingering scent of contraband tobacco, and a bruised sense of pride.

​Zanka stood alone for a moment longer, looking at the heavy box of sweets and the smooth lapis lazuli stone hidden in his pocket. He let out a soft, tired chuckle, shaking his head at the absolute absurdity of his life. Between a wild Raider who thought he was a poet and a protective father figure ready to weld the doors shut. 

Turning on his heel, Zanka stepped off the concrete terrace and slipped into the dim hallways of the base, keeping his footsteps perfectly silent. Instead of heading straight back to his quarters to hide his loot, he detoured toward the communal kitchen just behind of the chaos in the dinning room were all of the other cleaners still are there. 

Once inside, he carefully pried open the lid of the pastry box. The rich, sweet aroma of refined sugar and freshly baked dough instantly flooded the small space. Zanka picked out a couple of the largest, heaviest pastries—the ones with the most flawless frosting—and neatly arranged them on a small plate from the counter. Right beside the sweets, he stacked the three packs of premium cigarettes.

He knew Enjin would never willingly accept a peace offering that came directly from Jabber, but he also wasn't going to let high-quality sweets go to waste over stubborn Alpha pride. He left the plate right in the middle of the communal table with a quick, deadpan note scribbled on a scrap of paper: “For peace. Just consider them a security confiscation.”

Dealing with Jabber’s wild, theatrical antics and Enjin’s explosive shouting all within the span of ten minutes had been thoroughly exhausting. With the pastry box a little lighter and the velvet pouch containing the lapis lazuli necklace tucked safely away, Zanka finally headed back to his own room.

As he walked down the quiet corridor, his fingers absentmindedly brushed against the smooth contour of the blue stone through the fabric of his pocket. Tomorrow, the base would still be a chaotic mess, Enjin would probably smell like expensive nicotine, and Jabber would already be plotting his next dramatic break-in. But for the first time in a very long time, Zanka had to admit that the nights at the base were getting a lot less boring.

The morning sun hit the base of the cleaners with a quiet, blinding heat, turning the floating dust motes into tiny flecks of gold. Zanka walked into the room just for eat the breakfast, adjusting his collar, only to find Enjin already sitting at the heavy metal table.

The plate from the night before sat between them, entirely clean except for a few stray crumbs of sugar. Next to it, the three packs of premium cigarettes were gone, replaced by a half-empty mug of black coffee that was still steaming. Enjin looked completely exhausted, dark circles under his eyes proving he hadn't slept a wink, but the explosive fury from the balcony had vanished. Instead, he just looked incredibly grumpy, a faint, rich scent of expensive tobacco clinging to his heavy jacket.

Zanka walked over to the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee, his face an unreadable mask. "You're up early."

Enjin didn't look at him. He just picked up his coffee mug, staring deeply into the dark liquid as if it held the answers to the universe. "Someone had to make sure that absolute lunatic didn't try to climb down the chimney."

"We don't have a chimney, Enjin."

"That wouldn't stop him," Enjin grumbled, finally taking a slow sip. He set the mug down with a heavy click, his eyes shifting toward the empty plate. He cleared his throat, his broad shoulders tensing slightly. "The pastries... weren't completely terrible. The dough was actually decent."

Zanka paused, a tiny, almost invisible flicker of amusement crossing his eyes. "And the cigarettes?"

"A blatant security risk," Enjin snapped immediately, though there was no real bite to his voice. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a single, unlit premium cigarette, spinning it between his thick fingers. "I'm keeping them under lock and key. For inspection purposes."

Zanka didn't press the issue. He leaned against the counter, taking a quiet sip of his coffee. But as he looked out the window, his attention was caught by something strange reflecting in the glass.

Stuck to the outside of the pane was a small, bright yellow flower, its stem crudely taped to the glass with a messy piece of industrial adhesive. Dangling from the leaf was a tiny, folded piece of paper, completely exposed to the morning breeze.

Zanka blinked, his hand instinctively dropping to his pocket, where the smooth lapis lazuli stone rested securely against his palm. He didn't need to open the window to know exactly who had left it there in the dead of night, or that his quiet mornings were officially a thing of the past.

Zanka walked over to the kitchen window, his movements smooth and deliberate so as not to draw Enjin's immediate attention. He unlatched the glass, letting the morning breeze rush into the room, and quickly reached out to pluck the tiny, folded piece of paper from the yellow flower.

He unfolded it with one hand, his eyes scanning the chaotic, jagged handwriting that could only belong to one person.

"Good morning, my beautiful Zan-Zan! Did the big grumpy dad like his smoke? I promise to bring a much bigger haul of gifts next time. Miss me already? Don't worry, we will see each other soon— J."

A subtle, sharp shift in the room's atmosphere made Zanka's instincts flare.

"What the hell is that?" Enjin’s heavy voice rumbled from the table.

Zanka turned his head just enough to see Enjin leaning forward, his dark eyes narrowing into a sharp, suspicious glare as he locked onto the scrap of paper in Zanka's hand and in the flower. The large Alpha's jaw tightened, his protective instincts instantly spiking. "Is that from him? Is that piece of trash still lingering around here?!"

Before Enjin could even finish rising from his chair, Zanka’s hand moved in a flash. With a seamless, practiced twist of his fingers, he crumpled the note into a tight ball, brought his lighter up, and struck the wheel. A small flame caught the paper instantly, turning Jabber's frantic words into a flurry of black ash and glowing embers before they could even hit the floor.

Zanka let the last piece burn out against his fingertips, entirely unbothered, and closed the window with a firm click.

"It was just trash blowing in the wind," Zanka said, his voice a perfect, deadpan shield as he turned back to the counter, his face completely unreadable.

Enjin stared at the pile of fresh ash, his chest rising and falling with a heavy, deeply unconvinced snort. He didn't push it, but he aggressively lit his single premium cigarette, filling the kitchen with a thick cloud of expensive smoke as if to reassert his dominance over the room.

Zanka quietly slipped his hand back into his pocket hiding the flower in the process, his fingers brushing against the cool lapis lazuli stone, entirely satisfied with keeping his chaotic little secret to himself for the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

The heavy silence in the kitchen didn't last. The door swung open with a sharp, familiar click, and Rudo stepped inside, practically radiating a cloud of pure, concentrated agitation.

To Rudo, this base wasn't just a roof over his head—it was his home, and the people in it were his entire world. Which was exactly why Rudo was currently so incredibly pissed off.

This was the second time in a matter of days that his family's space had been entirely disrupted. Just two nights ago, Rudo had been the one to spot Jabber's unmistakable, chaotic shadow lingering right outside Zanka’s bedroom. 

And now, the lunatic had returned, bolder than ever. Hearing the massive commotion from his quarters last night had made Rudo’s blood boil. The fact that Zanka had encountered that Alpha alone on the terrace—again—made Rudo's chest tighten with a protective, angry anxiety.

Rudo’s eyes immediately swept the room under a tense brow. He didn't miss the faint, lingering smell of expensive tobacco smoke drifting around Enjin that wasn't coming from his pheromenes, nor did he miss the fresh pile of black ash resting on the floor beneath the window where Zanka had just destroyed the note.

"You let him get away," Rudo muttered, his voice tight and sharp with frustration as he marched straight toward the counter. He stopped right next to Zanka, his posture rigid. "I heard the shouting last night. Why didn't you wake me up? We could have cornered that lunatic before he jumped off the railing."

Enjin took a long, slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a thick cloud into the morning air. "The idiot is fast, Rudo. By the time I opened the window, he was already dangling like a broken toy and making a mockery of the whole base."

"He shouldn't have been here at all," Rudo snapped, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He turned his gaze back to Zanka, trying to read his brother’s stoic face. "What did he want anyway? He doesn't just show up to make a scene and yell nonsense at Enjin. Did he touch anything"

Rudo glared suspiciously at the fresh ash by the window, his protective instincts on absolute high alert. Then, uncrossing his arms, he took a step closer to Zanka. His rigid posture softened just a fraction, though his eyes remained intensely focused as he looked at the empty plate on the table, and then back up at his brother.

"Enjin yesterday mentioned something before he shut the window up," Rudo said, his voice dropping into a lower, deeply skeptical tone as he pressed a step nearer, leaning in slightly. "Is it true? Did that trash actually have the nerve to say he brought gifts for you and Enjin?"

He glared briefly at Enjin, who suddenly became very interested in the ceiling, aggressively exhaling another thick cloud of premium smoke.

Rudo turned back to Zanka, his jaw tight with frustration. "What is he playing at, Zanka? He's a criminal. First he's creeping around your window two nights ago, and now he's throwing a circus on the balcony acting like he belongs here. If he thinks he can just buy his way into this base, or near you, I'll kick his ass myself."

Rudo kept his eyes locked on Zanka, his jaw clenched as he waited for an answer. His chest hove with every breath, entirely wound up by the sheer audacity of Jabber’s continuous intrusions. He wanted a strategy, a plan to hunt the Raider down, or at the very least, a shared sense of outrage from his older brother.

Instead, Zanka simply turned around, entirely unfazed by the storm brewing inside Rudo. He reached onto the lower shelf of the counter and pulled out the large, intricately decorated pastry box, setting it down with a soft, deliberate click.

Box, that wasn't there if he recall the reaction from his father. 

Rudo blinked, his angry tirade instantly dying in his throat as Zanka pried the lid open. The rich, sweet scent of high-end frosting and fresh, delicate pastry cream immediately filled the gap between them, cutting straight through the heavy aroma of Enjin’s cigarette smoke.

Without a word, Zanka picked up a beautifully glazed tart—decadent, perfect, and completely out of place in their gritty, everyday life—and held it out directly toward Rudo.

"Eat this," Zanka said, his voice as calm and steady as a flatline. "You're making too much noise for a Thursday morning."

Rudo stared at the pastry dangling in front of his face, and for a second, his brain completely short-circuited. Then, a sharp, stinging wave of disbelief and hurt hit him right in the chest. He looked from the perfectly frosted sweet up to Zanka’s blank expression, his eyes widening.

He was actually offering it to him.

"Are you serious right now?" Rudo asked, his voice cracking slightly as a mix of betrayal and pure offense took over. He took a sharp step back, refusing to even touch the plate. "You're actually keeping them? Zanka, that piece of trash literally trespassed onto our base, crept around your window, and you're treating his bribery like it's a breakfast buffet!"

He felt a sudden, bitter lump in his throat. To Rudo, accepting anything from Jabber was like letting the enemy win, but seeing Zanka act so casual about it felt like a door being shut in his face. It was as if Zanka didn't care about the danger, or worse, didn't care that Rudo was only trying to protect him.

"I don't want his damn leftovers," Rudo muttered, his glare shifting from the pastry box to Enjin, who suddenly coughed into his fist and turned his back completely, trying to hide the fact that he had eaten of them himself.

Rudo turned back to Zanka, his fists clenching tightly at his sides as the drama of the situation weighed heavily on him. "If you think a frosted tart is going to make me forget that a psycho Alpha is stalking you, you're wrong. You shouldn't be taking anything from him, Zanka. None of us should."

Rudo stared at the pastry dangling in front of his face, his jaw practically locked in a mix of offense and pure, agonizing temptation.

He hated Jabber. He truly, deeply loathed everything that chaotic psycho stood for. But as the rich, heavenly scent of sweet glaze and perfectly baked dough hit his nose, Rudo’s stomach betrayed him with a cruel, silent twist. Anyone who knew Rudo knew he had a massive, undeniable weakness for sweets—a secret craving that was incredibly hard to satisfy in a place like this.

Zanka didn't lower his hand, his blue eyes remaining completely fixed on him, entirely aware of the brutal internal war raging behind Rudo's angry expression.

"Take it," Zanka repeated calmly. "Before Enjin changes his mind and try to eat the box."

Rudo's eyes darted from Zanka's deadpan face to the exquisite tart, his chest heaving. His pride was screaming at him to turn around and storm out of the kitchen, to prove a point that their family couldn't be bought by a criminal's sugary bribes. But the pastry looked so good. The frosting was practically flawless, a rare luxury he hadn't seen in months.

With a sharp, deeply frustrated huff, Rudo violently snatched the tart from Zanka's hand.

"I'm only taking it so it doesn't go to waste," Rudo muttered defensively, his voice tight as he took a huge, aggressive bite just to stop himself from talking.

The moment the flavors hit his tongue, a wave of pure bliss nearly wiped the angry scowl right off his face. It was frustratingly delicious. Rudo chewed quickly, his glare returning as he pointed the half-eaten pastry at Zanka like a weapon.

"But this changes nothing," Rudo grumbled through a mouthful of crust, trying desperately to maintain his dramatic stance while simultaneously savoring every single crumb. "He's still a creep. And the next time I see him outside your window, I'm throwing a chair at him. I don't care how many bakeries he robs for you."

Rudo was still aggressively chewing his way through the last piece of the tart, his mind locked in a fierce battle between absolute culinary satisfaction and deep moral outrage. He swallowed the final bite, dusting a stray crumb off his chin, and crossed his arms again, determined to bring the heavy, serious mood back into the kitchen.

But the tension was immediately broken from across the room.

"You know," Enjin’s deep voice rumbled, cutting through the silence.

Rudo shifted his gaze over to the large Alpha. Enjin was still standing near the counter, leaning back with a serious air that didn't match the father figure he usually was. He cast a slow, completely unsubtle glance toward the large bakery box resting between Zanka and Rudo.

"I only had one of those cream-filled ones today" Enjin muttered, clearing his throat as his thick fingers tapped against his coffee mug. He looked at Zanka, his brow furrowing into a look of heavy, commanding authority that fooled absolutely no one. "As a matter of security and quality control, I should probably inspect another one. Pass the box."

Rudo’s jaw nearly dropped. He stared at Enjin in absolute disbelief. First, he discovers his father figure had been secretly indulging in Jabber's contraband sweets, and now the man was openly demanding seconds? The betrayal felt staggering. Rudo opened his mouth to protest, to yell at Enjin for losing his dignity over a bit of sugar, but Zanka beat him to it.

Zanka didn't move an inch. He didn't even slide the box a millimeter closer to Enjin's side of the counter. Instead, he just calmly closed the cardboard lid with a soft, definitive click, placing his palm flat on top of it.

"No," Zanka said, his voice entirely flat and unbothered.

Enjin paused, his dark eyes narrowing as his chest swelled. "What do you mean, no? I'm the one who had to deal with that lunatic screaming poetry under the balcony."

"You said the crust was stale," Zanka replied, his deadpan blue eyes locking onto Enjin without a single hint of fear. "And you already have one. Any more and you'll be too sluggish to run the morning drills."

Rudo's eyes darted back and forth between them like he was watching a high-stakes standoff. He felt a sudden, twisted sense of vindication seeing Zanka completely shut down the big man, even if the whole conversation was entirely ridiculous.

Enjin looked like he wanted to argue, his broad shoulders tensing as he let out a loud, deeply offended huff. But knowing Zanka, there was absolutely no arguing once his mind was made up. The large Alpha just aggressively snatched his coffee mug off the counter, muttered something completely incomprehensible under his breath about "ungrateful kids," and stomped toward the kitchen door.

Rudo stood there, watching the dramatic display, his stomach full of premium pastry but his mind still utterly exhausted by the chaotic reality of his family.

The heavy thud of the kitchen door closing behind Enjin left a sudden, ringing silence in the room. Rudo stood there, his arms still tightly crossed, his mind a turbulent mix of lingering sweetness from the pastry and deep, protective anxiety. He kept his eyes fixed on the closed cardboard box under Zanka’s hand, waiting for the usual deflection or the quiet dismissiveness his brother always used to protect his privacy.

Instead, Zanka let out a slow, quiet breath. He didn't pull his hand away from the box, but his posture relaxed slightly as he looked directly at Rudo.

"You need to stop winding yourself up," Zanka said, his voice dropping into a rare, open tone that caught Rudo completely off guard.

Rudo blinked, his rigid stance faltering just a fraction. He wasn't used to Zanka volunteering information, especially not about the chaotic Raider who had been circling their lives. He braced himself, a sudden spike of nervous tension hitting his chest as he waited to hear what his brother was finally going to admit.

"Jabber didn't rob a bakery for these, Rudo," Zanka continued, his blue eyes steady and completely serious. "He bought them. Legally. He went out of his way to get high-quality sweets because he knew they were a luxury here."

Rudo’s brow furrowed, a scoff rising in his throat. "Bought them? A criminal like him? You actually believe that?"

"Yes," Zanka said simply, cutting off Rudo's rising protest with a calm wave of his hand. "Just like he spent the money to bring three packs of premium cigarettes specifically for Enjin. He isn't trying to cause a scene or compromise this place, Rudo. He's trying to make an impression."

Rudo stared at him, his mind struggling to process the image of the wild, theatrical Alpha actually taking the time to carefully purchase gifts for his family. It felt completely wrong, entirely out of character for a Raider, and it only made Rudo feel more uneasy. His protective instincts flared again, a deeper worry settling into his gut.

"Why?" Rudo asked, his voice dropping into a tense, quiet whisper as he stepped a fraction closer. "Why would he care about making an impression on Enjin? Why is he doing all of this for you?"

Zanka looked at him for a long moment, the honesty in his expression completely bare. "Because he wants me as his partner. He's serious about it, Rudo. It's not a game or a passing joke to him."

The words hit Rudo like a physical blow to the chest. He froze, his breath catching in his throat as the full weight of the situation finally settled over him. It wasn't just a random stalker or a reckless criminal causing trouble for amusement. Jabber was actively pursuing Zanka, courting him with an intensity that Enjin had already picked up on, and he was doing it in earnest.

Rudo looked down at the empty space on the counter where his plate had been, a sudden, heavy wave of drama and protective dread washing over him. His older brother—the anchor of their small family—was being targeted by the most chaotic Alpha outside their walls, and worst of all, Zanka didn't seem to be pushing him away nearly as hard as Rudo wanted him to.

The reality of Zanka's words seemed to crash over Rudo all at once, shattering his anger and leaving a cold, hollow vacuum in its place.

The anger that had been keeping him upright completely drained out of him, replaced by a sudden, violent spike of panic. It wasn't the tactical panic of a fighter facing an enemy; it was a deeply buried, almost infantile terror—the raw, suffocating fear of a child about to watch his world split down the middle.

Rudo took a sharp, unsteady step back, his arms dropping to his sides. His chest heaved, but he couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs. He stared at Zanka, his older brother, the absolute anchor of his life, and suddenly Zanka felt miles away, already slipping out of the base, out of their reach.

"No..." Rudo whispered, his voice cracking as the drama of the realization completely broke through his tough exterior. He stepped forward again, almost frantically, his hands trembling as he gripped the edge of the counter just to stay grounded. "No, Zanka, you can't be serious. You can't actually be considering this."

"Rudo—"

"Don't!" Rudo cut him off, his voice rising, thick with a desperate, uncontainable fear. Tears of pure frustration and panic pricked the corners of his eyes, though he fiercely tried to blink them away. "He's going to take you away from here. That's what Alphas like him do! They take what they want and they drag them back to their own world!"

The words started spilling out of him in a frantic, unstructured rush, the heavy burden of his deepest insecurities finally ripping wide open.

"If you go with him... if you let him into your life, you're going to leave us behind," Rudo cried out, his voice trembling violently as he looked at Zanka with wide, pleading eyes. "You're going to get caught up in his chaos, in his world, and you're going to forget about this base. You're going to forget about Enjin. You're going to forget about me!"

He took a sharp, ragged breath, his knuckles turning white against the counter. The fear of abandonment was a living, breathing monster in his chest right now. To Rudo, family was everything, but it was also fragile—something that could be torn apart if one piece decided to walk away.

"You're my brother," Rudo choked out, the raw, childish terror completely bared. "But if you leave with him, if you move on and start a life out there... we won't be your family anymore. You'll replace us. You'll look back at this place and we'll just be... leftovers. Please, Zanka. Tell me you're not going to leave me behind."

Rudo felt the firm, heavy weight of Zanka’s hand on the back of his neck. That simple, slow, and deliberate contact acted as an anchor, instantly pulling him out of the painful spiral of panic he had sunk into.

"Look at me, Rudo," his brother’s voice commanded. It wasn't loud, but it possessed a calm so deep and unshakeable that the ringing of terror in Rudo’s ears finally began to dissipate.

Rudo blinked hard, fighting back the hot sting in his eyes, and forced his gaze to meet his older brother’s steady blue eyes. His own chest was still rising and falling erratically.

"Take a breath," Zanka ordered softly. Rudo let out a shaky exhale, listening with his heart in his throat. "First of all, nobody is going anywhere. I am standing right here in this kitchen, and I am not packing a bag. Jabber being loud and theatrical outside doesn't change where I sleep at night."

Rudo felt Zanka's thumb press lightly against the tense muscle of his shoulder. His older brother’s warmth was the only thing keeping him grounded in his spot, preventing his legs from collapsing under the weight of the childish anxiety he had just confessed.

"Second, get those foolish ideas out of your head right now," Zanka continued, and Rudo could hear his brother's tone softening, revealing a sincere warmth he rarely let through his usual stoic mask. "You, Enjin, and this base... you are my family. That isn't a title that just gets wiped away because someone else enters the picture. Family isn't a limited resource, Rudo. Having room for someone else doesn't mean I throw you out to make space."

Rudo swallowed hard, a tight knot forming in his throat. Hearing those direct words was finally causing the cold vacuum in his chest to fade away.

"Even if—and that is a very distant, hypothetical if—things change down the road and I decide to give him a chance, it doesn't mean I leave you behind," Zanka explained calmly, locking his eyes onto Rudo's so that there could be absolutely no doubt. "It would just mean our circle gets a little bigger, and God knows we'd have to deal with his chaotic nonsense together. But you will always be my brother. Enjin will always be the stubborn old man we have to look after. Nothing Jabber does, and nothing I decide, is ever going to change that. Understand?"

Rudo looked down at Zanka’s hand and then toward the floor, letting the weight of his brother’s maturity wrap around him. The panic was no longer suffocating him; the absolute certainty that he was still protected, and that his place by Zanka's side was safe, finally calmed the pup inside him, letting him breathe in peace.

Rudo stood perfectly still for a moment, letting the heavy silence of the kitchen settle around them. The frantic, hammering beat of his heart finally began to slow down, anchored by the solid grip of Zanka’s hand on his neck. He took another deep, ragged breath, the faint, sweet scent of the high-end pastry still lingering in the air, a strange contrast to the heavy emotional storm that had just passed.

Slowly, Rudo nodded, his jaw relaxing just a fraction. "Yeah. I get it."

Zanka gave his shoulder one last, firm squeeze before letting his hand drop, stepping back to give Rudo his space. He turned back toward the counter, his usual stoic demeanor sliding seamlessly back into place as if the raw, honest reassurance he had just given hadn't happened at all. He reached out and slid the box of pastries a little closer to Rudo's side.

"Good. Then eat another one if you're still hungry," Zanka said, his voice returning to its perfectly flat, unbothered monotone. "Just don't let Enjin catch you, or I'll have to listen to him complain about favoritism for the next days."

A small, involuntary huff of laughter escaped Rudo's nose, the last remnants of his panic completely dissolving. He looked at the closed cardboard box, then glanced over his shoulder toward the door where Enjin had stomped out just minutes ago. The mental image of their massive, terrifying father figure throwing a tantrum over a frosted cream tart was enough to make the whole situation feel almost normal again.

Rudo reached out, his fingers hovering over the lid of the box for a split second before he pulled his hand back, shaking his head. He wasn't going to let Jabber's expensive bribes win that easily, even if his stomach was giving him an enthusiastic green light.

"No, I'm good," Rudo muttered, crossing his arms over his chest again, though this time his posture was defensive out of stubbornness rather than fear. He looked at Zanka, his eyes narrowing into a sharp, protective squint. "But I'm still keeping an eye on that window. And if that psycho Alpha thinks a few fancy boxes of sugar mean he can just show up whenever he wants, he's going to find out how hard I can throw a kitchen chair."

Zanka didn't look up, but the tiny, almost invisible twitch at the corner of his mouth told Rudo everything he needed to know.

"Fair enough," Zanka replied quietly, picking up his glass of water. "Just make sure it's not one of the good chairs. Enjin fixed the legs on those last week."

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

By the time the sun climbed high into the sky, the suffocating tension from the morning had finally begun to settle into a quiet, familiar routine around the base.

Riyo leaned against the doorframe of the common room, idly tugging at the edge of her thick grey leg warmers where they met her short black shorts. To anyone passing by, she looked entirely relaxed, her mind seemingly miles away. But behind that casual facade was the sharp, calculating mind of a former assassin—a past she couldn't completely shake, no matter how peaceful their days became.

To Riyo, Zanka wasn't just a fellow member of the base; he was a brother, family. And while she had spent the morning cracking jokes and teasing everyone about the ridiculous spectacle Jabber had caused on the terrace, a cold, sharp knot of worry had been tightening in her chest the entire time.

She knew exactly what Jabber was capable of. She knew because she had been forced to face that chaotic Alpha head-on during their brutal confrontation inside the trash beast. She knew how most Alphas work in the dark of the world were they all live. 

Riyo’s eyes darkened slightly as she looked down at her hands, the phantom weight of her weapon crossing her mind as she remembered their fight against the Raiders deep within that mechanical nightmare. She still remembered the absolute panic of that day—the raw, desperate instinct that had taken over when Zanka’s life was on the line.

She hadn't hesitated to pull the trigger, but even in that split second of terror, Enjin's strict rule echoed clearly in her mind: no killing. Being banned from taking lives under Enjin's leadership meant she had to suppress her deadliest instincts. With the precision only a former assassin could manage under pressure, she had deliberately aimed away from his vitals, unleashing a ruthless volley of gunfire that completely emptied an entire magazine into Jabber's non-lethal zones right there in the chaos of the beast.

The fact that the lunatic still circling Zanka months later like a persistent shadow, made her blood run cold.

She glanced down the hallway, hearing the faint sound of Rudo and Enjin bickering in the distance. The heavy drama of the morning had passed, but Riyo couldn't bring herself to drop her guard. Riyo knew the dangers of the past had a way of creeping back. She adjusted her posture, a quiet, deadly resolve settling over her features. She had emptied a clip into Jabber once inside that trash beast to protect her brother, and if that smiling freak pushed his luck too far near their home, she wouldn't hesitate to do it again—even if she had to keep him alive while doing it.

Riyo pushed herself off the doorframe with an almost imperceptible sigh. Walking in silence, the soft fabric of her thick leg warmers brushing quietly against the floor, she made her way down the hallway until she found Zanka in one of the base's secondary rooms. He was cleaning part of his gear with the same absolute parsimony and calm that always characterized him, as if the morning's chaos had never even happened.

Riyo crossed her arms and leaned against a nearby table, watching him in silence for a couple of seconds before breaking the ice with her usual teasing tone, trying to mask the tension that was still tightening in her chest.

"Well, if it isn't the man of the hour," she said with a sideways smirk, tilting her head. "I didn't know the Raiders did home deliveries for fine pastries now. If I'd known, I would have asked Jabber for some chocolate cupcakes the last time I had him in my sights."

Zanka didn't even look up from his task, though a faint exhale showed he had heard her.

"Rudo already made enough noise for today, Riyo," he replied in his typical flat voice. "Don't you start too."

Riyo’s smirk faltered a bit, softening into something more genuine. She let her arms fall to her sides and took a step toward him, abandoning the joking tone. Her dark eyes scanned her older brother’s face, looking for any sign of discomfort or strain that he might be insisting on hiding.

"I'm serious, Zanka," she said in a low voice, letting her worry filter subtly through her words. "Rudo goes crazy because he's a kid and he gets scared, but... I was there inside that trash beast. I know how persistent and deranged that Alpha is. I don't like him walking around here like it's his own backyard."

Zanka paused the movement of his hands for a brief moment, listening intently, though he kept his gaze fixed on his gear.

"It's under control," Zanka said, his steady tone meant to reassure her. "He's not going to do anything stupid inside the base."

Riyo drifted her gaze toward the window, watching the daylight outside. Her assassin's mind was still calculating perimeters, blind spots, and trajectories, but her sisterly heart just wanted to make sure they wouldn't drop their guard.

"I hope so," Riyo murmured, shrugging casually, though her posture remained alert. "Just... be careful. I wouldn't want to have to waste another full magazine on him. Enjin would get really mad if my hand slips this time and I can't avoid his vital zones."

Zanka finally stopped what he was doing and set his cleaning cloth down on the table. He turned his head slightly, his calm blue eyes fixing onto Riyo with that patient, unshakeable look he always wore when dealing with the family's antics.

"You're not going to slip, Riyo," Zanka said, his voice dropping into a quieter, more grounded tone. "Your precision is the only reason we aren't dealing with a corpse and a very furious Enjin right now. I know you're worried. But Jabber isn't here to start a war with the base."

Riyo let out a soft, dry laugh, though there wasn't any real humor behind it. She leaned her weight back against the table, crossing her ankles. "A war? No. But chaos follows him like a leash, Zanka. Alphas like him don't just stop because you ask them to nicely. He's reckless, he's loud, and the fact that he's trying to buy his way into your good graces with premium sugar and tobacco makes my skin crawl."

She looked down at her grey leg warmers, idly adjusting the fabric around her short black shorts, but her mind was flashing back to the cramped, suffocating interior of the trash beast. She could still hear the echoing roar of gunfire, could still smell the acrid scent of smoke, and remembered the terrifying speed at which Jabber moved. Even with a magazine's worth of lead buried in his non-vital zones, the man had barely blinked. Dealing with an enemy who smiled while bleeding was a nightmare for any assassin, because people like that didn't follow the rules of survival.

"Rudo thinks he's going to steal you away," Riyo continued, her voice dropping into a rare, vulnerable whisper as she looked back up at Zanka. "He's terrified you're just going to walk out that door and forget about us. I know you told him you wouldn't... but I also know what happens when someone like Jabber decides they want something. They don't give up. They don't care about the collateral damage left behind."

Zanka walked over to her, his movements fluid and completely devoid of the tension that seemed to be gripping everyone else in the base today. He stopped a couple of feet away, looking down at her with the quiet gravity of an older brother who understood exactly what she was trying to say without her having to spell it out.

"I am not collateral damage, Riyo," Zanka stated firmly, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. "And neither are any of you. Jabber can bring all the pastries and cigarettes he wants, but he doesn't dictate what happens in this house. If he steps over the line, I'll handle him. And if I can't, I know exactly who has my back."

He offered her a very faint, almost imperceptible nod—a silent acknowledgment of the weapon she kept close and the lethal skills she possessed.

Riyo stared at him for a long moment, letting his words settle over her. Slowly, the tight, rigid line of her shoulders relaxed. She let out a long, slow breath, a familiar, slightly mischievous smirk finally creeping back onto her face as she shook her head, an entirely different thought taking root in her analytical mind.

"You know..." Riyo murmured, pushing herself off the table and tilting her head thoughtfully. "If he really is going to keep coming back here, I don't just want to watch from a distance anymore. The next time he shows up, I want to be right there. I want to see everything."

Zanka raised an eyebrow, silently waiting for her to elaborate.

"I want to analyze him up close, see how he operates when he isn't trying to tear us apart," Riyo explained, her eyes gleaming with a mix of professional curiosity and sisterly protectiveness. "I actually want to talk to him. If this guy is seriously trying to court you, I need to look him in the eye and figure out what's really going on in that twisted head of his."

She walked toward the door, stopping just at the threshold to look back over her shoulder at Zanka, her smirk widening.

"And honestly? If he's going through the trouble of buying those expensive sweets for *us* to share and high-quality tobacco specifically for Enjin, he's doing it wrong," Riyo added with a playful shrug. "He brought gifts for the old man and technically for you, but he left the rest of us out. The next time he comes around, he better bring a proper, individual gift for Rudo to calm his nerves, and he definitely owes me one too. A girl has standards, Zanka. If he wants to win over the family, he has to pay the tax to everyone."

Zanka didn't say a word, but the subtle, amused twitch of his lips was answer enough. He turned back to his gear, picking up the cleaning cloth as if the conversation was officially over, completely unbothered by her demands.

Riyo let out a soft snort and finally stepped out into the hallway, her thick grey leg warmers keeping her footsteps entirely silent against the cold floor. As she walked away from Zanka’s room, the playful smirk faded from her face, replaced once again by the cold, calculating focus that had kept her alive for so many years.

She wasn't actually interested in whatever trinket or luxury Jabber might bring to buy her silence. Her mind was already running through the logistics of the next encounter.

If Jabber came back—and based on what Zanka had said, the Alpha was stubborn enough to do it—she wouldn't hide in the background. She would be right there in the room, watching the way he shifted his weight, analyzing the micro-expressions on his face, and checking to see if his movements were favored by the old wounds she had given him inside the trash beast. An assassin never stopped reading targets, and Jabber was the most unpredictable target they had ever faced.

As she neared the common room, she heard Rudo’s voice, still pitched a bit high and defensive, arguing with Enjin about something completely trivial. Riyo leaned her head back against the corridor wall, a small, quiet sigh escaping her lips.

Rudo was still a kid, reacting with raw, territorial panic because he didn't know how to handle the threat of their small family dynamic changing. Enjin was too stubborn and set in his ways to see the deeper emotional storm brewing under his own roof. That left her.

She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her dark eyes reflecting the dim light of the hallway. She had promised Zanka she would keep things civil, and she would honor Enjin's rule about not taking a life. But if that chaotic Raider thought he could just stroll into their base, upset her brothers, and disrupt the only real home she had ever known without facing her first, he was in for a very rude awakening.

Riyo tapped her fingers rhythmically against her arm, a sharp, dangerous smile finally touching her lips. Let him come, she thought. Let's see if he can handle the family tax.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ

The suffocating silence in the corridor was a bitter pill for the twenty visiting Hell Guards to swallow. Standing inside the Cleaners' base under a fragile peace agreement, they felt completely stripped of their authority. Their faces exposed everything—shock, confusion, and a deep, long-festering resentment toward their hosts.

To any standard military unit, an unidentified freak marching right up to the perimeter would mean an immediate red-alert lockdown. But the Cleaners just treated the breach like an annoying chore. Near the common room entryway, two of the sideline Hell Guards watched the surreal scene, their voices dropped to a venomous whisper.

"They aren't even pulling security," one muttered, rubbing his tense face. "If some unknown lunatic pulled that stunt at our main barracks, heavy ordnance squads would have turned him to ash. Here? They just let the boxes sit there."

"Because it’s Zanka," the second guard spat, narrowing his eyes at the stoic, blue-eyed executioner who was calmly tuning his equipment. "Of course the universe has to revolve around him."

For the twenty guards, Zanka was a permanent bruise to their pride. They had all endured the same brutal academy training alongside him, but while they sweated and bled just to get by, Zanka belonged to a clan so naturally gifted that everything he did looked effortless. They utterly loathed him for it. And now, seeing their flawless academy rival become the target of a bizarre, aggressive courtship by an anonymous freak was driving them insane with jealousy.

"An anonymous stalker dropping off high-end pastries," the first guard whispered, shaking his head. "And the freak didn't even bring anything for the rest of the household. Just for him."

"And look at her," the other added, his eyes following Riyo as she walked right past their huddle without a care in the world. "She’s just strolling around like she owns the place, completely ignoring the fact that their security was just breached."

"Close your pathetic mouths," a sharp voice snapped, cutting the gossip short.

Barris shoved his way to the front of the huddle. The brown-haired Alpha, sporting his notoriously hideous hairstyle, glared at the sideline guards. As a textbook sycophant who couldn't stand anyone else getting attention, he immediately tried to mimic a commanding aura just to look important. "If the Cleaners are relaxed, it’s because they have it under control. Don't act like you low-ranks understand how real field operations work just because you're panicking."

Right behind him, acting like a literal shadow, Vane crossed his arms and sneered. The blue-haired Beta didn't waste a heartbeat before spinning a pathetic, defensive lie to mask his own glaring weakness and lack of skill from their actual time in the field. "Exactly. Why would we waste our energy drawing weapons on a civilian delivery guy? We could see from a mile away the idiot wasn't a real threat. It wasn't worth our time to step in, so we let the Cleaners deal with their own trash. If he had actually been dangerous, I would have dropped him before he even touched the door."

The other guards didn't even bother to hide their disgust at the transparent excuse.

Standing beside them, Mina kept her eyes glued on Riyo's movements. A shameless, blatant copycat who couldn't form an original identity to save her life, Mina sardonically shifted her posture, leaning against a structural pillar and crossing her legs in a desperate, pathetic attempt to perfectly mimic Riyo’s casual, confident stride. Trying to mask her blatant imitation with manufactured disdain, Mina fixed a spiteful glare on Zanka. "Honestly, Zanka always expects everyone to cater to him. This whole anonymous admirer thing is probably just a ridiculous stunt to distract from how much he slipped up when we were out in the field. It's so transparent."

"Oh, but don't you see? It's fascinating," Kira purred softly, closing out the group.

The Alpha had her long black hair pulled back into a high, painfully tight ponytail, and she wore the lingering, sweet smile of a professional fake friend—the kind of person who only ever got close to people to pry into their personal lives, digging up secrets and weaknesses to weaponize later. Her eyes darted greedily toward Zanka. "An anonymous suitor who leaves gifts exclusively for the head of the house and the object of his affection, completely ignoring everyone else? It's a classic psychological wedge. I think I'll go talk to Zanka... see how he's really handling the stress of being pursued by a complete unknown. He looks so desperately lonely over there."

The sideline guards shifted away from the toxic quartet, the air in the corridor turning foul with the group's petty, unadulterated envy.

Ultimately, despite the backstabbing comments and the embarrassing posturing simmering among the old academy ranks, none of the twenty Hell Guards were stupid enough to actually step across the line. Barris, Vane, Mina, and Kira could talk all the garbage they wanted to comfort their own bruised egos, but they knew they had to stay out of the way, keep their hands off, and just watch. Because whenever Zanka's mysterious suitor decides to bring his chaotic nonsense back to the Cleaners' base, they are going to handle it their own way—and the Hell Guards would have nothing to do but watch the fallout.

The suffocating silence in the corridor broke the exact moment Zanka stopped tuning his gear. Without saying a word to the surrounding huddle or acknowledging the heavy stares, the stoic, blue-eyed executioner simply turned on his heel. Riyo didn't need a formal command; she instantly fell into step right beside him, her thick leg warmers and short shorts cutting a sharp, unbothered figure against the cold concrete corridor as they left the wing behind.

All twenty visiting Hell Guards stood completely frozen, their bare faces locked onto the siblings' retreating backs. It was a silent, mesmerizing display of absolute indifference to the perimeter crisis that left the entire group of academy observers staring in awe.

Once the pair disappeared around the corner toward the exit, fourteen of the guards scattered, muttering under their breath as they retreated back to the safety of the guest quarters. They wanted no part in whatever the family was doing next.

But a small, venomous fracture of the group couldn't just let it go. Driven by a desperate need to find a flaw to exploit, Barris, Vane, Mina, and Kira instantly tracked their movement. Right behind them followed Jiro and Rei, the two gossiping Omega guards who simply couldn't curb their petty curiosity. The six of them quietly trailed the siblings through the inner thresholds of the base, eventually slipping out into the training grounds.

The moment they peered through the entrance, the landscape of the training courtyard opened up before them.

It was a wide, austere urban courtyard locked between towering, multi-story brick and concrete facilities with rows of grid-paneled windows. The ground was an expansive stretch of flat, grey paving stones, marked heavily by white-painted lines that double-functioned as a makeshift sports court and tactical sparring grid. Street lamps with dark iron frames hung rigidly from the walls, casting a grim shadow over the colorful, chaotic graffiti tags and elaborate spray-painted murals that defaced the lower concrete barriers. Wooden benches with dark metal armrests were scattered near the walls, and a lone basketball hoop stood like a silent sentinel against the industrial backdrop.

Zanka and Riyo walked directly into the center of this open stone field, completely ignoring the towering industrial pipes breathing steam far above the building rooftops. Hiding just inside the shadow of the main double-doored entryway, the six hidden Hell Guards kept their unmasked faces low, watching through the stone pillars.

Down in the center of the court, the siblings finally stopped. Zanka unslung his Jinki, the Lovely Staff, its presence instantly shifting the atmosphere on the pavement as he gripped it with practiced ease.

Opposite him, Riyo reached down to the cloth pouch she always kept fastened at her waist. With a swift, fluid motion, she drew her own Jinki—the Riiper scissors. The moment they cleared the pouch, the weapon expanded enormously, the massive, lethal blades gleaming under the dim overhead lights. She fell into a low, aggressive stance, ready to leverage her unique combat style where she fights primarily with her legs, her thick leg warmers anchoring her firmly against the stone floor.

Watching the weapons manifest, a sharp contrast divided the hidden observers. While the core four narrowed their eyes in familiar spite, the two Omegas completely lost their breath. Jiro and Rei had never seen a real Jinki deployed before, and the sheer, sudden pressure of the weapons left them paralyzed.

"What the hell is that...?" Jiro gasped, his voice cracking as he gripped the cold stone frame of the door, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and terror. "She pulled that from a tiny pouch and it just... grew. The sheer weight ratio alone should be physically impossible for a kid to manage!"

"Look at the glare on those blades," Rei whispered right next to him, his scowl momentarily faltering into pure shock as his chest heaved. "Is that... what an actual executioner's weapon feels like? The air around them completely changed the second they drew them..."

Barris scoffed loudly from the front of the huddle, his eyes burning with an intense, bitter jealousy as he stared at the glowing Jinkis. He crossed his arms so tightly his muscles strained, desperately trying to devalue the weapons to save his own pride. "Get a grip, you low-ranks. You're losing your minds over overblown, oversized toys," the Alpha hissed, his voice dripping with forced contempt. "A real soldier doesn't need to rely on magical, showy crutches to win a fight. Jinkis are just loud, unrefined tools for people who lack real, systematic academy discipline. Let them flash their family steel all they want; raw metal means nothing without military precision."

Vane immediately leaned in over Barris's shoulder, his blue-haired shadow casting over the concrete as he sneered at Riyo's stance, eagerly jumping on the chance to back up the lie. "Exactly. That stance is a disaster waiting to happen," Vane claimed with a forced, arrogant smirk. "Scythe-legs or not, fighting exclusively with your lower limbs leaves your center of gravity completely exposed to a rapid vanguard counter. If I were the one in that ring right now instead of Zanka, I’d have those giant scissors stripped from her grip before she could even balance her weight. The Cleaners rely entirely on raw Jinki output because they completely lack our technical training."

The two Omegas didn't even look at Vane, completely ignoring the transparent, pathetic excuse as they remained transfixed by the sparring ring.

Standing beside them, Mina's knuckles turned white as she gripped the edge of the structural pillar. Her eyes were glued to Riyo's movements, burning with an intense, suffocating fury. She sardonically shifted her posture, crossing her legs and tilting her chin in a desperate attempt to perfectly mimic Riyo’s casual, lethal stance—but the imitation felt hollow, and it was driving her insane. Without a Jinki of her own, she couldn't replicate the terrifying, majestic pressure Riyo was exerting over the courtyard. She ran a hand through her hair, her voice trembling with raw, unadulterated venom. "It's not fair... Look at her just playing around with a weapon like that. If I actually had a Jinki to match my skills, I could execute that exact same leg-vanguard formation flawlessly. She's nothing special; she just has the tools I'm being denied."

"Oh, but that's exactly what makes this whole session so incredibly fragile," Kira purred softly from the back of the group.

The Alpha adjusted her high, painfully tight ponytail, her sweet, venomous smile widening as she watched Zanka raise his staff. Her eyes glinted with the anticipation of a professional predator looking for a mental crack. "Zanka acts like he’s perfectly composed, but no one handles a chaotic stalker crossing lines into their base without gaining some psychological baggage. He's pushing himself through a standard routine just to prove he's unbothered. The moment Riyo pushes him hard enough on those stones, that hidden frustration is going to bleed into his movements. I can't wait to see him lose his perfect, untouchable composure when the stress finally catches up to him... and I'll be right there to console him when he falls apart like i always supossed to do in the past. "

Jiro and Rei shifted uncomfortably away from Kira's false warmth, but their eyes remained glued to the pavement, still completely shaken by their first real glimpse of Jinki combat.

Down in the center of the court, completely oblivious to the pathetic audience spying from the margins, Zanka's cold blue eyes locked onto his sister. Riyo met his gaze, a sharp, confident smirk playing on her lips. The heavy metal of their weapons caught the overhead light, and as the first strike swung, the six envious Hell Guards could do nothing but watch from the shadows.

The heavy, resounding *clack* of the Riiper blades snapping shut was the only signal they needed. Down on the paved grid, the intense stillness shattered instantly as Zanka and Riyo lunged into motion, kicking off a swift, fluid friendly spar.

Even as an exercise between siblings, the speed was staggering. Riyo spun low, her thick leg warmers brushing the grey stones as she launched herself into a fierce, inverted sweep, using the massive weight of her oversized shears to vault her body into a succession of lethal, rhythmic leg strikes. Zanka moved with a terrifyingly calm precision, shifting his weight across the white-painted court lines just enough to intercept her. The Lovely Staff blurred in his hands, deflecting the heavy blades with a series of sharp, metallic cracks that echoed loudly off the towering brick facilities. They weren't trying to maim each other, but the sheer kinetic force behind every strike sent visible shockwaves of dust rippling across the pavement.

While the six spies stood completely frozen behind the pillars, transfixed by the dazzling exhibition, two figures materialized from the deep shadows of the main facility corridor.

Kyoka and Goka approached the double-doored entryway with absolute, ghostly silence. They didn't make a single sound, stepping into the edge of the threshold just a few paces behind the envious huddle. Neither of them wore their gear or visorless gas masks, exposing their features completely to the dim light of the training grounds.

Kyoka stood tall, her sharp eyes instantly locked onto the fluid combat dance taking place on the stone field. Her expression was entirely unreadable—stoic, analytical, and completely devoid of the petty malice that corrupted the academy promotion in front of her. Beside her, Goka leaned his massive frame casually against the interior wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Unlike the frantic, defensive postures of Barris and Vane, Goka looked at the battlefield with a quiet, heavy authority, his gaze shifting back and forth between Zanka's flawless deflections and Riyo's aggressive leg-vanguard rotations.

The six hidden guards were so thoroughly consumed by their own complex mix of awe and bitter jealousy that they didn't even notice the two newcomers anchoring themselves at the rear of the doorway.

"Look at that recovery," Jiro whispered under his breath, his hands trembling against the concrete stone as he watched Riyo seamlessly twist out of a sweeping staff strike. "She didn't even lose her footing on those uneven paving stones. It's like the Jinki is just a natural extension of her body."

"She’s over-committing to the upward arc," Vane muttered stubbornly, though his blue hair was matted with a cold sweat as the metallic clang of another collision rang out. "If Zanka actually drove the Lovely Staff downward into her anchoring leg instead of checking his power, she'd be grounded. I’m telling you, it’s all flashy showmanship."

Barris didn't even offer a response this time. His eyes were wide, burning with a raw, suffocating envy as he watched Zanka parry a blinding triple-strike from the Riiper without shifting his core even an inch. Every perfect movement from the executioner was a physical strike to Barris's desperate pride, proving right in front of his face that the gap between them hadn't closed at all.

Mina watched Riyo land a high, spinning kick against the staff, her jaw clenched so tightly her muscles ached. She continued to helplessly mimic Riyo’s balanced stance against the pillar, but without the magnificent, terrifying weight of a Jinki to tether her to the space, she just felt small, hollow, and furious.

From the very back of the small huddle, Kira kept her sweet, venomous smile fixed on Zanka's face, searching through the flying dust for any sign of a mental slip. "He’s blocking beautifully like always," she purred in a dangerous whisper witham soft blush in her face, her high ponytail swaying slightly. "But he's striking a fraction of a second faster than usual. The pressure from that anonymous admirer is making him anxious to finish the routine. Just a little more weight on his shoulders, and that perfect composure is going to crack right wide open."

Directly behind her, Kyoka’s eyes narrowed slightly as she overheard the venomous commentary, though she remained perfectly still, a silent, imposing sentinel watching the toxic promotions rot from the inside out.

Down on the court, completely unbothered by the growing audience in the shadows, Zanka shifted his grip on the Lovely Staff, spinning the weapon into a low defensive guard as Riyo rebounded off a wooden bench with a sharp, confident smirk. The dust swirled around their ankles, the heavy steel of their Jinkis catching the grim overhead light as the friendly clash drove deeper into the stone ring.

The rhythmic, metallic symphony of the spar intensified, echoing off the high brick walls as Zanka and Riyo pushed the pace. Riyo used the massive momentum of her Jinki to propel herself, executing a breathtaking aerial twist. She swung her legs in a sweeping crescent, the giant blades shearing through the air just inches from Zanka’s chest. Without breaking his flawless posture, the omega pivoted on the grey paving stones, using the staff to catch the inner pivot of the scissors. A brilliant shower of friction sparks illuminated the grim graffiti tags behind them, casting fleeting shadows over the court.

Right behind the toxic quartet, Kyoka and Goka remained enveloped in the deep gloom of the doorway, watching the spectacle with the cold, critical eyes of seasoned veterans. They didn't move an inch, completely undetected by the six envious academy guards in front of them.

"Damn it... she’s shifting her weight entirely into the blade's rotation," Jiro muttered, his wide eyes reflecting the sudden flash of sparks. He subconsciously pressed closer to the stone pillar, completely captivated. "She’s treating a high-tier Jinki like it weighs nothing at all."

"It's reckless," Vane hissed immediately, though his arrogance was rapidly crumbling into a defensive panic. He wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead, his blue hair disheveled as he desperately tried to look like a superior tactician. "She’s leaving her upper torso completely unguarded during that aerial spin. If Zanka wasn't holding back, he could easily thrust the butt of that staff directly into her ribs. It’s pathetic that the Cleaners consider this elite training."

From the dark behind him, Goka silently scoffed, a tiny, imperceptible twitch of his jaw showing his absolute disdain for Vane's clueless analysis. Goka knew exactly what Riyo was doing—she wasn't leaving an opening; she was baiting a counter-thrust just to trap the staff between her massive blades. But he kept his mouth shut, letting the idiot drown in his own delusion.

Barris gripped his own arms so tightly his knuckles turned a ghostly white. His brown hair cast a dark shadow over his eyes, which burned with a raw, humiliating jealousy. He had spent his entire academy life trying to match Zanka’s shadow, comforting himself with the lie that bloodline status was the only difference between them. But watching the effortless, mathematical precision of Zanka's parries on the uneven stone grid tore that lie to shreds. Barris felt physically sick watching it.

Beside him, Mina’s breathing became shallow and ragged. The sheer, majestic pressure vibrating off Riyo’s giant scissors was a constant, mocking reminder of what she lacked. She tried to mirror Riyo’s low, balanced recovery stance against the concrete wall, but without a Jinki to anchor her soul to the battlefield, she just felt like a hollow, pathetic copycat. The fury in her chest was suffocating.

Kira, completely oblivious to Kyoka’s chilling glare boring into the back of her head, leaned forward slightly. Her sweet, venomous smile twitched with eager anticipation. "He intercepted that strike a fraction of a millimeter wider than the last one," she whispered, her voice laced with false, toxic concern as her high ponytail swayed. "The cracks are forming. He’s trying so hard to maintain that stoic, unbothered older brother persona, but that anonymous suitor's gifts are eating him alive from the inside out. Keep pushing him, little sister... let's see how ugly it gets when the flawless executioner finally snaps."

Before the echo of her whisper could even fade, Riyo dropped low to the pavement, her thick leg warmers dragging through the dust as she used the Riiper as a heavy anchor, launching a devastating, blindingly fast upward kick aimed directly at Zanka's chin.

Zanka’s cold blue eyes didn't even blink. With a terrifyingly fluid motion, he spun his adored Jinki into a vertical shield, absorbing the massive kinetic impact with a resounding CRACK that rippled across the courtyard, sending a thick cloud of dust swirling around their ankles. Both siblings froze for a split second in the center of the court lines, their eyes locked, completely unaware—and entirely unbothered—that the shadows behind them were crawling with the foul, pathetic envy of the Hell Guards.

The devastating upward kick from Riyo’s Jinki collided with Zanka’s vertical shield with a force that defied imagination. But the horrific CRACK that rippled through the courtyard didn't come from their weapons.

Both Jinkis remained perfectly flawless, their polished steel gleaming untarnished under the grim overhead lights. The Cleaners themselves stood completely untouched, their breathing steady and their frames entirely intact. Instead, the sheer, staggering kinetic pressure blew straight downward, fracturing the heavy grey pavement beneath their feet. A spiderweb of deep, jagged fissures shot violently across the white-painted court lines, sending chunks of stone and a thick, blinding cloud of dust swirling violently around their ankles.

Through the haze, Zanka and Riyo froze for a split second, their eyes locked in the center of the ruined stone ring. Riyo’s sharp, confident smirk didn't fade for an instant, and Zanka’s cold blue eyes remained entirely unfazed.

Behind the stone pillars, the massive shockwave of the impact forced the hidden observers to recoil. Jiro and Rei both let out a muffled gasp, instinctively throwing their arms up as a spray of grit rattled against the concrete frame of the entryway.

"The... the pavement just shattered," Jiro stammered, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the doorframe for balance. "They didn't even hit each other directly! Just the wind from that block tore the stones apart!"

Rei couldn't even muster a sarcastic reply. His unmasked face was pale, his eyes wide with a profound, paralyzing shock as he stared at the freshly cracked crater in the middle of the basketball court. The sheer, overwhelming reality of an executioner's true output had completely silenced his petty doubts.

Vane, however, was practically shaking, his blue hair disheveled as he desperately tried to blink away the dust. "A-arbitrary structural damage," he hissed, though his voice cracked under a wave of defensive panic. "Any brute can break old concrete if they swing hard enough! It proves nothing about their actual technical recovery. If Zanka had pushed his vanguard advantage instead of just standing there like a statue, she’d be completely vulnerable right now!"

Barris didn't say a word. He just stared at the unbroken, pristine surface of Zanka's Jinki. His arms were crossed so tightly his fingers dug painfully into his own sleeves, his brown hair casting a dark, miserable shadow over his eyes. The fact that the ground had literally given way before Zanka’s guard would even budge was a suffocating, humiliating blow to his pride. He looked physically ill, completely crushed by the realization of just how unreachable his rival truly was.

Beside them, Mina’s eyes burned with a chaotic, helpless fury. She stared at Riyo, who was casually balancing all her weight on one leg atop the fractured stone without a single wobble. Mina sardonically shifted her own posture against the pillar, desperately trying to lock her legs into the same imposing stance—but without the stabilizing, terrifying gravity of a Jinki to anchor her soul, she just felt small, hollow, and utterly pathetic.

At the very back of the huddle, Kira quickly recovered her sweet, venomous smile, though her high ponytail trembled slightly from the residual vibration of the strike. "Oh, it's getting so delightfully heavy out there," she purred in a malicious whisper, her eyes greedily tracking the dust settling around Zanka. "He had to exert a massive amount of internal energy to keep his balance flawless after an explosive drop like that. The stress from that anonymous suitor is making him over-compensate. One more heavy exchange, and that pristine, older-brother composure is going to splinter right alongside the pavement... and I'll be right there to catch him."

Directly behind her, the deep shadows seemed to grow noticeably colder. Kyoka and Goka hadn't moved an inch, remaining completely undetected by the frantic quartet. Goka silently crossed his massive arms, a dark, knowing smirk playing on his features as he looked down at Vane and Barris with absolute, silent contempt. He knew the idiots couldn't even begin to comprehend the level of control it took to break the floor while leaving the opponent's weapon completely undamaged.

Beside him, Kyoka’s sharp eyes narrowed into a chilling, stoic glare that bored directly into the back of Kira's neck. Her expression was completely unreadable, acting as an imposing, silent sentinel watching the toxic promotions rot in their own bitter envy while the siblings down on the court prepared for the next strike.

The dust had barely settled over the fractured pavement when the two figures in the center of the courtyard moved again. There was no hesitation, no fatigue, and absolutely none of the mental strain or emotional cracks that Kira had been desperately praying to see.

Instead, the friendly spar shifted into an even more synchronized, breathtaking rhythm. The girl let out a short, sharp laugh, using the massive blades of her giant shears to execute a series of dizzying, rapid-fire strikes that blurred through the air. The executioner met every single one of them. His staff spun in a flawless, mesmerizing orbit around his body, deflecting her heavy leg-vanguard rotations with a sequence of perfectly rhythmic, crisp metallic rings. They weren't fighting with frustration; they were flowing together with the absolute, untouchable synergy of two elite fighters who knew each other's movements down to the millimeter.

Behind the stone pillars, Kira’s sweet, venomous smile widened to its absolute limit. She leaned so far forward her high ponytail practically brushed the concrete frame, her eyes gleaming with a manic, desperate expectation.

"Look at the speed... he's rushing! He's absolutely desperate to shut her down because his mind is completely spiraling!" Kira purred loudly, her voice dripping with triumphant, toxic warmth as she prepared to witness the mental breakdown she had been predicting. "The anonymous suitor has broken him! Watch his left shoulder—he's over-extending! He’s going to lose his temper and lash out any second now! He's cracking, he's finally—"

Right in the middle of her sentence, the girl on the court threw a blindingly fast, deceptive fake-sweep, immediately transitioning into a powerful vertical drop-kick.

The executioner didn't lash out. He didn't lose his temper. Instead, with absolute, serene composure, he casually spun his staff with just two fingers, catching the exact focal point of the giant scissors' heavy cross-hilt. With a single, effortless twist of his wrist, he redirected the entire massive kinetic force of her attack completely away from himself, guiding her smoothly back onto her feet right next to him.

The momentum dissolved into nothing. The two down on the stones instantly brought their weapons to a relaxed, resting position, completely intact and perfectly in sync. The executioner extended a hand, calmly helping the girl balance on the cracked stones, and she just offered him a wide, proud, confident smirk, bumping her shoulder against his in a clear sign of a perfectly successful, harmonious training session. There wasn't a single shred of friction, anger, or stress between them.

Kira’s voice died instantly in her throat.

Her venomous words hung in the dead air, exposed as an utterly delusional, embarrassing fantasy. The absolute, flawless harmony of the fighters made her psychological "analysis" look completely ridiculous.

"Huh...?" Kira stammered, her face turning a bright, burning crimson as her manufactured smile shattered into a look of sheer, humiliating disbelief. She stared at the peaceful, smiling figures on the pavement, her hands shaking at her sides. "But... but the pressure... the psychological wedge... he was supposed to snap..."

An uncomfortable, heavy silence fell over the small huddle of spies. Jiro and Rei quickly exchanged sideways glances, burying their lower faces in their hands to smother the snickers they couldn't control. Barris and Vane subtly shifted their weight away from Kira, looking thoroughly embarrassed to even be associated with someone who had just read the entire situation layout-loud so terribly wrong. Mina let out a sharp, mocking scoff, rolling her eyes in pure disdain at Kira's profound failure.

Kira stood entirely frozen, her mouth opening and closing like a fish as the raw, humiliating weight of her mistake crushed her pride in front of her peers. She felt smaller than ever, utterly exposed in her own toxic delusion.

And yet, none of the six guards had any idea that the shadows directly behind them had grown entirely cold.

Deep within the pitch-black gloom of the facility corridor, just two paces behind Kira’s trembling shoulders, Kyoka and Goka stood completely motionless. They were like two ghosts melted into the dark, their bare, unmasked faces faintly catching the distant reflection of the courtyard lights. They hadn't uttered a single sound. They hadn't breathed a word.

Goka stood with his massive arms crossed over his chest. While a dark, slow, knowing smirk played on his heavy features at the sheer absurdity of Kira's failure, his eyes remained completely cold, hardened by a deep, underlying displeasure. The constant, pathetic attempts from the academy promotion to diminish the executioner's capabilities were entirely unwelcomed; to a seasoned veteran who understood the sheer gravity of real combat, listening to low-ranks weaponize petty gossip against a superior asset was nothing short of irritating.

Beside him, Kyoka loomed like an imposing, stoic sentinel. Her sharp, analytical eyes didn't blink, boring a literal hole straight through the back of Kira’s neck. A subtle, tight clench of her jaw betrayed her severe lack of amusement. Her absolute professional contempt wasn't just directed at Kira's terrible tactical reading, but at the sheer lack of discipline the entire group displayed by standing in the dark, actively praying for a frontline defender's mind to fracture under external pressure.

The six academy promotions remained completely oblivious to the dangerous shift in temperature behind them, their backs turned to the hidden veterans as they kept their eyes glued to the pavement ahead.

Down in the center of the court, completely unaware of both the envious huddle and the silent superiors watching from the dark, the two fighters gracefully reset their stances. The heavy metal of their weapons caught the grim overhead light as they prepared for the next round, leaving the secret audience in the corridor trapped in a heavy, suffocating stillness.

Down on the shattered stone field, the brief moment of stillness dissolved as quickly as it had formed. Riyo stepped back, the massive blades of the Riiper dragging across the fractured pavement with a harsh, screeching metallic ring that made the hidden observers wince. She shifted her footing, her thick leg warmers anchoring her firmly on the uneven stone lines, and offered Zanka another sharp, challenging smirk.

Without a word, the executioner accepted the invitation.

Zanka rolled the Lovely Staff over his shoulders in a fluid, hypnotic arc, his cold blue eyes locking onto his sister as he initiated the next clash. He lunged forward, his movements so deceptively fast that his silhouette blurred against the backdrop of the towering brick facilities. The staff became a continuous, spinning wall of kinetic force, driving straight into Riyo’s perimeter.

Riyo didn't give an inch. Instead of retreating, she leveraged her unique combat style, dropping her torso low to the ground and using the immense weight of her giant scissors as a heavy counterweight. She launched herself into a succession of blinding, aerial leg strikes, her legs snapping through the air with terrifying velocity. Every time the heavy steel of the Riiper collided with the Lovely Staff, a crisp, deafening *BANG* reverberated off the grid-paneled windows high above, accompanied by a shower of violent friction sparks that momentarily illuminated the colorful graffiti on the concrete barriers.

Behind the stone pillars, the six spies could barely keep up with the sheer speed of the exchange.

Jiro and Rei stood with their mouths slightly open, their unmasked faces completely pale as the shockwaves of the combat rippled all the way to the entryway. The sheer pressure of two high-tier Jinkis being wielded with such effortless, casual mastery was completely crushing whatever little academy pride they had left.

Beside them, Barris and Vane were dead silent. Vane’s blue hair was matted with cold sweat, his previous technical excuses dying in his throat as he watched Riyo seamlessly transition from a high-altitude spin into a flawless, defensive guard without a single wobble on the broken stones. Every strike Zanka parried with mathematical precision was a direct, humiliating blow to Barris's ego. The gap between their skills wasn't just wide—it was a bottomless chasm, and the absolute lack of the "emotional cracks" they had predicted made their envy taste like ash.

Mina remained tightly pressed against the structural pillar, her knuckles white as she sardonically forced her own posture to mimic Riyo's low, aggressive center of gravity. But the imitation felt more pathetic by the second. Without a Jinki to generate that magnificent, terrifying authority, she just felt like a hollow, invisible ghost watching a realm she wasn't allowed to touch.

And Kira, still burning a deep, humiliating crimson from her previous layout-loud failure, kept her eyes frantically glued to Zanka’s face. She was desperately searching through the flying dust for even a microscopic twitch of frustration, any sign that the anonymous suitor's luxury gifts were weighing on his mind. But there was nothing. Zanka’s composure was an unbreakable, pristine fortress.

None of them dared to speak a word, thoroughly chastised by Kira's massive blunder and the heavy, uncomfortable silence of their own defeat.

Yet, the air directly behind them remained thick with an entirely different kind of danger. Just two paces back, completely melted into the pitch-black gloom of the facility corridor, Kyoka and Goka stood like two judging deities. They hadn't moved a fraction of an inch. They hadn't let out a single breath.

Goka’s massive arms remained tightly crossed over his chest, his dark, heavy features hardened into a mask of silent, profound displeasure. His cold eyes tracked the back of Barris and Vane's heads, utterly disgusted by how these academy promotions spent their energy praying for a vanguard asset's mental collapse instead of studying the master class defense unfolding right in front of them. Beside him, Kyoka’s stoic, chilling glare remained locked onto the huddle. The tight, rigid line of her jaw signaled a dangerous level of professional contempt. To her, the six guards weren't just envious; they were a systemic embarrassment to the discipline of the base.

Down in the center of the court, the intensity of the friendly spar reached its apex. Riyo executed a ferocious, spinning sweep, the massive blades of ther deadly Jinki snapping shut with a resounding metallic echo directly against the center grip of the Lovely Staff. The impact sent another violent ripple through the ground, widening the spiderweb cracks in the pavement and sending a fresh cloud of grey dust swirling around their ankles, keeping the hidden audience trapped in a state of absolute, suffocating awe.

The deafening CRACK of the massive blades snapping shut against the center grip of the staff didn't dissipate; instead, the accumulated kinetic energy reached a volatile breaking point.

With a blinding flash of friction sparks, a final, catastrophic shockwave detonated outward from the clash. The sheer force of the rebound tore through the center of the training courtyard, fracturing what remained of the grey paving stones into loose gravel. The violent repulsion blasted Zanka and Riyo backward, forcing both siblings to skid heavily across the ruined white court lines until they were separated by nearly the entire length of the open field.

When the dust partially cleared, the absolute silence of the courtyard returned, heavy and suffocating.

Neither of them had fallen, but the raw magnitude of the impact left its mark. Riyo stood in a low, wide stance, her breath finally catching as her thick leg warmers anchored her against the loose debris. In her hands, the massive, lethal blades of her Jinki were visibly vibrating, the high-tier steel humming with a low, resonant tremor from the sheer force of Zanka's block. Opposite her, Zanka remained standing tall, his cold blue eyes locked fixedly on his sister. He held his adored Jinki in a tight, unyielding grip, though the weapon's shaft shivered continuously against his palm, absorbing the residual kinetic feedback of the clash.

For several agonizing seconds, the siblings simply stared at each other across the ruined pavement in absolute, unbroken silence. The competitive fire between them hadn't died; if anything, the adrenaline of the friendly spar was pushing them toward a much more serious exchange. Their knuckles whitened around their handles, their postures shifting lower as they prepared to lunge back into the epicenter of the crater to finish the fight.

But before their boots could even leave the stone, a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the heavy air from the eastern wing of the facility.

"That is enough!"

Enjin stepped out into the dim light of the training grounds, his posture radiating a stern, undeniable command that instantly froze the courtyard. Walking directly behind him were Corvus and Semiu, their faces grim as they took in the sheer structural devastation of the tactical sparring grid.

The moment Enjin's gaze landed on the shattered paving stones, the fractured crater, and the dust settling over the defaced concrete barriers, Zanka and Riyo’s aggressive stances melted away into pure, unadulterated embarrassment. The fierce, untouchable pride they had displayed during the entire session evaporated instantly under the disappointment of their superiors. They were elite executioners, yet they had just torn up an entire section of the base's infrastructure over a standard friendly warmup.

Flushing with a silent, heavy shame, both siblings immediately deactivated their weapons to signal their submission.

With a swift, fluid motion, Riyo lowered her arms; the enormous, terrifying silhouette of the scissors shrunk instantly, folding back down into its original, harmless size before she quietly slipped it away into the cloth pouch fastened at her waist. Beside her, Zanka relaxed his grip on his weapon. The shifting atmosphere on the pavement dissolved as the high-tier Jinki retreated, leaving the staff looking like nothing more than an ordinary, unassuming wooden bastón in his hand. Both siblings kept their unmasked faces low, standing in a tense, sheepish silence as they waited for the lecture to begin.

Behind the stone pillars, the six hidden spies were so thoroughly captivated by the sudden arrival of Enjin's group that the air in the entryway changed without them realizing it.

"They... they actually stopped," Jiro whispered in a trembling breath, his eyes wide as he watched the massive Jinkis simply vanish into thin air. "The pressure just... completely died..."

Kira didn't even hear him. She was staring at the ground, her face still burning a deep, humiliating crimson from her completely ruined psychological analysis, utterly trapped in her own failure.

And that was exactly the moment the shadows behind them collapsed entirely.

"Fascinating show, wasn't it?"

Goka’s booming, heavy voice didn't just break the silence—it detonated like a flashbang directly behind the huddle.

All six Hell Guards violently jumped, several of them letting out muffled shrieks as they spun around in pure panic. Their unmasked faces turned a sickening, ghostly white as they recoiled against the stone pillars.

Standing just inches from them, completely blocking the exit back into the facility corridor, were Kyoka and Goka. The two veterans had finally stepped out of the pitch-black gloom, their imposing figures fully illuminated by the grim overhead street lamps.

Goka let out a deep, mocking laugh that echoed brutally off the brick walls, his massive arms crossed tightly over his chest as he looked down at the cowering promotions with absolute, unbridled contempt. His dark features twisted into a dangerous smirk. "You geniuses spent the last twenty minutes out here praying for an executioner's mind to fracture, and you didn't even notice two veterans logging every single word of your pathetic, bitter little gossip circle... About a Nijiku."

Beside him, Kyoka loomed like an executioner herself. She didn't laugh. Her sharp, analytical eyes didn't blink, boring a literal hole straight through Kira’s sweating forehead with a chilling glare of pure professional disgust. The tight, rigid line of her jaw signaled that the time for silent monitoring was officially over.

"Your academy training teaches you to analyze enemy weaknesses," Kyoka said, her flat, monotone voice cutting through the trembling huddle like an ice pick. "Yet all I see standing here are six low-ranks weaponizing petty envy because your own skills are too hollow to mimic what's out on that field. You are a systemic embarrassment to the discipline of this base."

Barris and Vane stood entirely paralyzed, their blue and brown hair matted with a fresh, freezing layer of cold sweat as they looked down at the floor, unable to even meet the eyes of their superiors. Mina’s hands shook at her sides, her sardonic copycat posture completely shattered as she was forced to face just how pathetic her imitation truly was.

"Well?" Goka sneered, his voice dropping into a low, threatening rumble that made Jiro and Rei squeeze closer together in terror. "The Cleaners are out there waiting. Are you going to go out there and explain your 'field dynamics' to them, or are you going to crawl back to the guest quarters like the useless audience you are?"

Without a single word, completely crushed under the humiliating weight of their absolute exposure, the six spies broke. Jiro and Rei practically bolted down the corridor, while Barris, Vane, and Mina hurried after them, leaving a trembling, utterly broken Kira to frantically scramble away into the dark, entirely ruined by the bitter, ridiculous reality of their own toxic delusion.

The chaotic clatter of the fleeing Hell Guards finally faded down the concrete corridor, leaving a heavy, ringing quiet in the entryway. Kyoka and Goka didn't move immediately. They stood shoulder to shoulder in the dim light of the iron-framed street lamps, their unmasked faces turned back toward the shattered courtyard.

Goka slowly uncrossed his massive arms, the trace of amusement on his heavy features dying completely, leaving a somber and weighed expression. He stared at the distant silhouette of his youngest brother, who was still lowering his head in front of Enjin, holding that simple wooden staff.

"Look at him," Goka muttered, his rough voice carrying a thick tone entirely devoid of any teasing. "He's become a beast, there's no denying that. But damn it all if it brings me any joy. Every time I see him master that miserable piece of wood with such precision, all I can think about is what a waste this all is."

Kyoka didn't break her gaze from the deep fissures in the pavement, but the line of her jaw tightened in a rigid, severe manner, betraying that the technical mastery she had just witnessed brought her no peace.

"His synchronization rate and control of residual energy are flawless," Kyoka declared in her usual flat, detached tone, though her words distilled an implicit rejection of the entire scene. "But the refinement of an exotic weapon does not compensate for the loss of his true potential. Zanka was trained to dominate the battlefield with the technical purity of our lineage, not to rely on the biological anomalies of a Jinki."

"Exactly," Goka grunted, slamming his fist against the stone frame of the pillar, releasing the frustration that seeing his younger brother in this position caused him. "He would have been a thousand times better off if he had never become a Giver. If he were nothing more than a waste of a Cleaner, scrubbing away the loose ends of others. He was supposed to be a Nijiku. His place was with us, leading the clan with the steel and discipline we raised him with—not crawling in this damn subterranean swamp."

To the two older siblings, every spark of genius Zanka displayed on the court was not a victory; it was a painful reminder of his betrayal and his fall. Watching him become an elite executioner only made it more intolerable that he had fled, turning his back on his own blood and abandoning the Nijiku clan to find refuge in a foreign organization.

Kyoka closed her eyes for a brief moment, turning her back completely to the light of the training courtyard to melt once again into the gloom of the corridor.

"He took the path of external resistance instead of internal discipline," Kyoka sentenced coldly. "The fact that he can destroy the ground without damaging his sister's hilt only proves he is applying our doctrine within a corrupted structure. A warrior of the Nijiku clan does not need to flee to find his strength. His current evolution is undeniable, but it remains the result of a cowardly choice."

Goka let out a snort heavy with disdain and resentment, turning around to follow his older sister's steps into the depths of the facility.

"Yeah. He's gotten strong, but he's gotten strong the wrong way," Goka concluded in a bitter whisper, disappearing into the darkness. "I'd rather see him fail a thousand times using our swords than see him win perfectly with the toy his flight gifted him."

The two veterans ventured deeper into the hallway, leaving behind the echo of the industrial steam pipes and the uncomfortable silence of a younger brother who, in the eyes of his family, was still completely lost.