Lowk...how would Zanka deal with a depressed reader? Maybe hcs or just a small story of Zanka with a reader that spends most of their time in their room and doesn't get up and out as much as the other cleaners. Little stuff like washing their hair for them, checking up on them, bringing them food or water or snacks, cuddling them in silence and playing with their hair at night. I'm thinking of a reader that's very quiet/shy, kinda shuts themselves in from others when they get depressed.🥹🩷
Flowkirkenuienly inspired by the song my girlfriend-TV girl
Eat what you can
Pairing: zanka nijiku x reader
Genre: fluff
Summary: headcanons and a small snippet of zanka taking care of reader when they’re going through depressive states.
Wc: idk, not long tho
A/n: im too lazy to check the wc lowk, srry not srry. I listen to tv girl but never heard that song before, yikes.
Enjoy!
Zanka would be quietly, steadfastly supportive. He’s not the loud, overly affectionate type who forces you out of your shell with big gestures, but he’s incredibly attentive and consistent in his own measured way—especially with someone shy and quiet who tends to withdraw completely when depression hits. He understands pressure and the weight of expectations (given his own background with the Nijiku family), so he’d never push you to “just get over it” or perform for the team.
Headcanons
• Checking in without overwhelming you: Zanka is observant as hell. He’d notice right away if you’re skipping meals, not leaving your room much, or if your usual quiet demeanor has gone even more inward. He wouldn’t knock loudly or demand entry—he’d send a soft message or just quietly appear at your door with something small (water, a snack you like, or even just a report that gives him an excuse to linger). “You haven’t been out much. Need anything?” delivered in that calm, low voice.
• Bringing necessities: Food and water are non-negotiable for him. He’d bring balanced, easy-to-eat stuff—maybe things he knows you tolerate even when appetite is gone. Nothing flashy, just reliable. If you’re really deep in it, he might sit on the edge of your bed or the floor nearby, eating with you in comfortable silence so you don’t feel watched or pressured to talk.
• Hair washing and gentle care: This feels very in-character for Zanka’s precise, caring side. If you let him, he’d help with practical self-care that feels impossible when depressed. He’d run a warm bath or bring a basin, handling your hair with surprising gentleness—fingers careful not to tug, massaging your scalp slowly while the room stays quiet except for the water. “Relax. I’ve got it.” He’d dry it thoroughly afterward too, almost methodically, like it’s another task he refuses to half-do when it comes to you.
• Nighttime cuddling and hair play: Evenings are when he’d be most present. After missions or training, he’d slip into your room (if you share space or he has access), kick off his boots, and just pull you against his chest without a word. One arm around you, the other slowly carding through your hair—long, soothing strokes that help ground you. No forced conversation. He might murmur occasional low reassurances like “You’re not alone in this” or “Take the time you need,” but mostly it’s silent comfort. His presence is steady and warm, a quiet anchor.
• Respecting your shyness/isolation: He gets that you shut down around others when low, so he’d run interference with the rest of Team Akuta if needed—subtly steering people away or covering for you without making it obvious. He’d never shame you for not being as active as the others. To him, you’re still valuable and worthy even when you’re quiet and withdrawn.
• Long-term approach: Zanka might gently encourage tiny steps when you seem ready (a short walk together, fresh air), but only if you signal it’s okay. He’d research or recall what helps with low moods in his own analytical way, applying it patiently.
Short scene
The room was dim, the usual bustle of the Cleaner quarters far away. You hadn’t left much in days, curled under the blanket with that heavy fog pressing in, the kind that made even simple words feel too loud.
A soft knock—barely there—then the door eased open. Zanka stepped in, carrying a tray with water, some rice balls, and sliced fruit. His two-toned hair was still neatly styled despite the long day, navy eyes scanning you quietly.
“You’re still in here,” he said, not accusatory, just stating fact. He set the tray down and sat on the edge of the bed. “Eat a little if you can.”
You managed a few bites in silence while he waited, patient as ever. When you finished, he didn’t leave. Instead, he shifted closer. “Come here.”
You hesitated, but let him pull you into his lap, your back against his chest. His arms wrapped around you securely, one hand finding its way to your hair. Slow, rhythmic strokes—fingers gentle through the strands, untangling knots with care. The silence stretched, comfortable and safe. No questions about why you were like this, no pressure to rejoin the others.
Minutes bled into longer. His breathing was even, grounding. Occasionally his thumb brushed your temple, or he’d lean down to press a light kiss to the top of your head.
“Whatever’s weighing on you… you don’t have to carry it alone tonight,” he murmured eventually, voice low. His hand never stopped its soothing path through your hair. “I’m right here.”
In the quiet dark of your room, with Zanka’s steady warmth behind you and his fingers still playing gently with your hair, the weight felt just a fraction lighter. He’d stay as long as you needed—no rush, no expectations. Just him, solid and unwavering.
