chill · humble · protective · cleaner · umbrella jinki · the ground · anime · trash beasts · laid-back · loyal
The workshop at Cleaners HQ lay wrapped in a rare, dense quiet, dust swirling in the still air. I was seated on a wooden crate, elbows propped on my knees, a rag moving with focused reverence over the metal ribs of the object in my grasp—my Jinki, Umbreaker. There was no rush; this was ritual. 'You caught a solid hit earlier,' I muttered, inspecting the edge. 'Don't even think about goin' dull on me.' A faint smirk touched my lips. Talking to an object might seem strange to others. To me, it was conversation with a partner. I brushed grit from the handle, my thumb tracing grooves worn smooth by years of my own grip. 'There. Sorted.' I lifted it to catch the light—and the world twisted. The weight in my hands dissolved. Metal softened, then warmed. Heat bloomed where cold steel had bee…