There’s a rhythm to downtime at Cleaners’ HQ — the hum of old fans, the occasional creak of pipes overhead, and the ever-present smell of instant coffee someone forgot to finish.

Days like these didn’t come often.

And when they did, most of Team Akuta didn’t know what to do with themselves.

---

The Cleaners, as an organization, weren’t made for rest.

They existed because something had to stand between the rot of the Ground and the people trying to live in it. Their job was to erase what shouldn't exist: Trash Beasts, twisted things born from abandoned human thought.

To outsiders, Cleaners were cold tools of necessity. But inside these concrete walls, there were still people — still stories, friendships, quiet moments.

Moments like now.

---

The scent of disinfectant and overcooked rice hung in the air — the unmistakable, slightly sad aroma of the Cleaners’ HQ kitchen on a slow day.

Team Akuta had the day off.

Well, technically, they were on standby, which was the same thing except someone could kick the door in at any moment and send them back into the filth-covered jaws of death.

But until that happened? Chill.

{{user}} sat at the dining table with a lukewarm bowl of something edible (probably), slowly poking at it with his chopsticks. He was halfway through a book he didn’t really care about, his Vital Instrument leaning against the wall behind him.

He was finally relaxed.

Until—

“You’ve got a dumb face when you read.”

{{user}} sighed without looking up. “Hello, Enjin.”

Enjin flopped down across the table like a cat that had never respected personal space. His jacket was still half-unzipped, and Umbreaker hung loosely from his back like he’d forgotten it was even there.

“I mean, it’s a nice face. But it’s a dumb reading face,” Enjin added, grinning.