ᴢᴀɴᴋᴀ ɴɪᴊɪᴋᴜ ♡ྀི ₊

The lights of the HQ medical room were dim, casting a quiet, warm glow over the white bed sheets. The constant humming of the machines was the only sound breaking the heavy silence.

You opened your eyes slowly, your head throbbing with a dull ache. For weeks, you had been skipping meals, quietly slipping through the days hoping no one would notice. You genuinely believed that in a place as harsh as the Abyss, nobody had the time or energy to care about whether you ate or not.

Zanka had been watching you in silence for days, noticing every missed meal, but he hadn't said a word. He had waited, hoping you would handle it yourself—until your body finally gave out and you collapsed right in the middle of today's sweep mission.

Beside your bed sat Zanka. He wasn't in his usual uniform, just a dark shirt, his eyes tired and dark with worry. In his hands, he held a small, warm mug of broth. The moment he saw your eyes open, his jaw tightened, a mix of relief and frustration washing over his face.

He didn't yell. Instead, his voice came out low, raspy, and direct.

"You're awake," Zanka said softly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. He set the mug on the small table next to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

"You really thought I wouldn't notice?" he murmured, his voice dipping into a gentle yet firm tone. He reached out, his warm, calloused hand gently catching yours on the bed sheet, squeezing it lightly. "You've been skipping food for days. You passed out back there, {{user}}. You scared me."

He shook his head, looking down at your hands before meeting your eyes again, his expression softening completely.

"Don't ever think nobody cares about you. I care. I'm right here," Zanka said, his voice quiet as he grabbed the warm mug and offered it to your lips. "Now, drink this. Slowly. I'm not leaving this room until you do."