There’s No Love In the Deathzone (BL)

When Zen walked back to the field of withered grass, there was a fire blazing.

He had spent a good amount of time just sitting on the floor, inside the darkness of a half-collapsed building, all strength left his body.

Zen couldn't remember how he manage to change his dirty and bloody clothes, and made his way to the blacksmith in the deep to retrieve his knives, even guiding some espers he met on his way.

He was in a daze, moved by instinct, and only fully regain his focus at the sight of roaring fire.

It was massive, like a new hill made of dancing flames. Fueled by bodies, lit by magic. It smelled horrible, and made the murky air even more suffocating.

And yet, Zen stood there, as close as he could, staring at the swaying tongue of flame that painted his vision red. The twins were somewhere up there, within the pile of bodies, beneath the blazing fire. Reduces to nothing but a memory.

He hadn't even talked with Hayden. The boy had stayed unconscious until the end. Perhaps that was the best. The boy didn't have to endure the pain for too long.

They didn't have to.

It was for the best. The ashes would be scattered by the wind, up high. Maybe it could reach the sky. Would those gods and goddesses take care of them, he wondered.

But then, if they did care, they should send more towers and temples down, so there would be no red-zone in this world. So the world would be as peaceful as the leaflet said.

It didn't matter.

"You don't have to suffer now," he muttered, to the flame and the stagnant air.

He just wished that he could end their suffering in a more vibrant way. The safer zone, the better environment. It was so close.

What good would it be now?

His neck felt heavy. It was the weight of guilt. Of regret. Of sorrow. Swirling inside the droplet-shaped beads; perhaps they were his tears.

Zen didn't know he still could feel all of those things.

He stayed there, even as people who'd been watching, and the agency workers tasked with it left one by one, leaving only two guards on duty. He stayed and watched the flame burn into embers. And then vanished into ashes.

It was dark then. The red had turned into black. Hours had come and gone, and Zen had stood still the entire time. When he moved, his muscle protested wildly and he stumbled back, into a broad chest of Askan Bellum.

"Are you..." he probably wanted to ask if Zen was okay, but realized that it was a very foolish question. So he asked something else, instead, while helping Zen steady himself. "Are you going somewhere?"

He noticed the bag on Zen's feet. The guide took his bag and slung it on his shoulder. "There's nothing left to do here," Zen replied in a nonchalant tone. "Thanks," he added, and like usual, just walked away.

"Where are you going?" this time, Askan following him, and Zen threw the esper a sideways glance.

"Why, are you going to come with me?" he asked sarcastically. Honestly, why did a 3-star esper that could be considered an elite bother with someone like Zen?

Askan, however, replied to the taunt with a rather serious remark. "Why don't you come with me?"

At that, Zen stopped, and turned to the side. "What?"

"I mean, come to my guild," the esper added hastily. "It's called Celestia, have you heard of it?"

It was a rhetorical question, since those who worked in dungeon business must have heard of one of the top three guilds of the Eastern Federation. Askan just said it as a pitching sale without sounding too smug about it.

What he didn't know was that Zen had never concerned himself with the dungeon business. He knew nothing of famous guilds or espers outside of the red-zone. He didn't even know proper history and guiding theory.

"No," the guide's answer was curt.

Askan blinked, and then smiled sheepishly. "...oh," he laughed awkwardly, feeling too conceited just because people had been recognizing him these days.

But of course, it wasn't the esper's fault. After all, everyone did know him and his guild. Zen was just an unfortunate exception.

But the man didn't stay awkward for long. "Well, how about it? Our headquarter is in the green-zone, and we have branches in the yellows. It's a much better place than here," Askan continued his persuasion.

Zen stared at the esper, tilting his head slightly. They had only met today, and yet this man already offered him a job in a secure location. Was this man just the gentleman kind, or was it a pity?

Zen didn't like being pitied.

But even if it wasn't...

Zen suddenly chuckled. It was bitter, and sounded harsher than he intended to, so much so that Askan was taken aback.

How ironic. Should this offer come this morning, or even before lunch, before the dungeon break happen, Zen would have accepted it without a second thought—even if he had to grind himself studying theory and whatnot to gain a proper license. And yet, if the break didn't happen, Askan wouldn't even set foot inside the red-zone, or took notice of Zen.

It was truly funny.

But now, Zen had no motivation to climb above. He had no motivation for anything, really. He didn't care about gaining a proper license anymore. He did not need for it anymore.

"Thank you for the offer..." he did, he really did, "...but I don't think I would," it was just too late. Half a day too late.

Askan sighed inwardly. Honestly, he already knew Zen wouldn't accept it. The eyes—that unforgettable shade of blue—were hard and unbending, a gaze that already decided his course. But he still tried it, because he would regret it otherwise.

He really did want to bring Zen out of this zone. Someone like Zen was too good to be kept on this god-forsaken land. And there was something in his gaze, on his disposition, that made Askan drawn to him—to the sorrow and harshness of his shell, and yet there was a soothing gentleness that contain in his guiding.

If Askan was a more selfish esper, he'd bring Zen no matter what.

Unfortunately, Askan had no selfish bone in his body. He was always the considerate kind, which perhaps allowed him to view Zen without prejudice, even after he knew that the guide used to work for Umbra.

So he just exhaled softly, and nodded. "Alright. Good luck to you then, I wish you the best. Though if you changed your mind, you can always find me in Celestia."

Zen didn't think he would ever step into the green-zone in his life, but even someone like him could recognize genuine kindness, so he nodded, just to be polite. Askan smiled, no longer awkwardly, and reached out his hand for a handshake.

A handshake...it wasn't something people do in the red-zone. Zen had only ever held someone's hand for guiding. But he took the hand, holding the warmth of human flesh without any flow of miasma exchange.

That warmth soon enveloped him, as the hulking frame of the esper put his arm around Zen's shoulder, and gave him something like a bear hug—a steel hug. But it wasn't cold.

Today, it was warm.

And it gave Zen a little strength to breathe easier, even if only for the duration of that unexpected hug. "Take care of yourself," the kind, gentle voice of the older man flowed softly to his ear.

The kindness that drowned Zen in guilt.

Because he didn't deserve it, that kindness. Or that warmth. Even though he wanted it. Even more so because he wanted it. But what right did he have for such luxury, when the ashes of his brothers were still swirling in the stagnant air?

So he stepped back with hardened eyes, and Askan looked at him apologetically.

"Ah, I'm sorry..." again, he laughed awkwardly. "Well, be careful on your way," he said, with slightly reddened ears, and walked towards the emergency camp.

Zen looked at the awkward back, and muttered before the man went out of the hearing range. "...thank you,"

Askan almost stumbled on his track when he snapped and turned, as if he couldn't believe what he heard. But when he saw the blue eyes, that had darkened by the night but were softer than before, the esper smiled brightly and waved his hand.

It was the least Zen could say, when the man had helped him extract his brothers from the rubble. Or for the genuine concern of a rare kindness in this part of the world. He wondered though, if that kindness could persist should the man spend his life in the red zone.

Probably not. He chuckled bitterly, and headed in the opposite direction, walking along the tall wall of the residential area—or what was left of it—to the deeper part of the red-zone, walking along the trail of destruction to the source of the outbreak.

"You're not trying to go without saying proper goodbyes, right?"

Zen stopped as Alma emerged from the shadow of the wall, frowning in betrayal, which made Zen smile slightly. "Do we need one?"

Red-zone dwellers didn't have goodbyes. They just assumed they wouldn't be seeing each other next time, because anything could happen the next moment. They could be dead, they could be missing. There was no point in saying goodbyes every time.

Which was why Alma laughed, in her thunderous way as usual, although there was less power in it this time. "We do, you brat!" she stared at Zen wordlessly for a few seconds. Those eyes were telling her that they might never meet again for real. "At least let me look at your face for the last time. Give me a proper parting gift, would you?"

Zen was surprised that he still had in him to chuckle. Well, he could always find a laugh in Alma's version of 'taking care' of him. She had always been like a big sister—a very loud, rude, and brash older sister who gave him candies from time to time. She would let Zen clean himself in her place before going home, and would refer espers in need of guiding to him so Zen could have a bit of extra money.

Right, he could at least do that, since they were still around the residential area anyway. So he took his mask off—it had been a while. He wore it out of necessity, but it also had become a habit. He felt weird without it, especially during guiding.

Just when the mask came off completely, he was attacked by a grappling grip of the burly berserker, and got his black hair ruffled. Just like when he was still a brat, when he still tried to navigate his way on the deep part of the red-zone. Until he became too sly and cold and distrusting.

"Haa...look at you, growing up prettier every time!" Alma laughed, more freely than earlier, as of relishing the time she met Zen for the first time. A boy too pretty for a red-zone, and yet fierce all the same. The boy that retched in the presence of death, yet sparkled in front of candies.

And then the boy had to harden himself from the harshness of the red-zone, and he became more reclusive, more unexpressive, more covered, all to protect himself and his brothers.

And that pretty boy had turned into a handsome man, even with a cold face and deep eyes, like a silent winter. Like a snow fairy in those children's tales. It had been years, probably almost a decade, since Zen last showed his face to the public.

"Zach would regret not coming with me. He still sulked you know, since you go around with that Steel Blood instead of him," Alma grinned. "I'll probably hear him whining about missing you starting next week."

"Will he miss me? Or my body?" Zen tried to fix his messed-up hair again.

"What's the difference?" Alma shrugged.

"Well..." Zen shrugged too, and turned his head to the direction of the camp. There were familiar people walking toward them, and Zen sighed. Why did he bump into these people so much today?

"What is it?" Alma was the one who looked more annoyed, however, staring dagger at that one young esper and the vice leader.

"Now, now, Miss Alma, Diaz just wants to say something to Mister Guide here," the vice leader, Lamun, held his hands up in a peaceful gesture, which made Alma scoff. But she didn't admonish them further.

The young esper, however, stood still with lips parted and no sound. He stared unblinking at Zen, who only watched them with indifference.

"Hey, what is it?" Alma asked impatiently. Why should his farewell moment with Zen be disturbed by these people?

"Diaz?"

The young esper finally blinked, and started to talk with a stammer. "Oh...um, so..." there was a slight blush that slowly crept on his usually arrogant face.

"Yes?" Zen tilted his head, arms crossing in impatience.

"Ah, just...thank you...about earlier," Diaz lowered his face while muttering, although his eyes kept stealing a glance at Zen bashfully.

"Sure," Zen replied nonchalantly and put on his mask again, to the dismay of the young esper.

"And...and...I'm sorry..."

"Alright," Zen shrugged, fastened the filtering mask, and then turned his face to Alma again. "I'll get going now."

"Be careful, though since it's you, I don't think I have to worry much," Alma patted the guide's shoulder one last time. And then, as if she just suddenly remember, she asked, "Hey, I still don't know where you're planning to go,"

At that, Zen replied with an answer that almost gave them all a heart attack, and made Alma want to take back what she said earlier.

"To the Borderland,"