"You know, sweetheart, for someone who claims to love the silence, your soul makes a hell of a lot of noise whenever I'm around...kinda wanna make you scream" In a world of falling gods and rising rot, the Ground's most chaotic Cleaner finally meets the one thing he can't sweep away: a "princess" Ronin with a wooden soul.

"Amo keeps what Amo likes. Even if it forgets." Before the slums knew her name, before the Cleaners found her in the wasteland, there was a crooked tower and a lonely girl who talked to broken things. When Renz, a weary scavenger trying to return home, stumbles upon her refuge, he finds warmth where there should be silence and kindness where there should be fear. For Amo, his arrival is more than chance, it is proof that someone still sees her. For Renz, it is one night of rest before the long road back to the walls. But a single act of generosity, a silver gift, a few gentle words threads their worlds together in ways he cannot understand. As the dunes shift and the tower hums, Amo's gratitude begins to blur into something else...memory, obsession, and a fragile promise that she intends to keep. Because in a world that discards everything, Amo never lets go of what remembers her.

Floss's life is shattered when her brother is brutally killed, thrusting her into the dangerous world of the Cleaners in the wastelands. Amidst thievery, death, and the ever-present threat of madness, she finds an unexpected spark of love. But can this budding romance heal her broken mind, or will she succumb to the deathly habits that surround her? Set before the events of Rudo's arc. *Disclaimer: Fanfiction- I do not own Gachiakuta*

"She's too shy to speak. He's too loud to stay quiet. An anxious girl with a pen that rewrites reality... and the loud boy who won't leave her side" Emiko, Rudo's shy sister, falls from the Sphere with her brother into the harsh world below. Socially anxious and easily scared, Struggling with fear, battles, and new friendships, Emiko slowly finds herself drawn to Zanka. But can a girl who cries at every mission truly change her destiny-and her heart?

You were born on the rich side, where dirt is a rumor and blood never stains long enough to matter. Your hands stayed clean-not because you were careful, but because the world was. Well your side at least. Jewels weighed your wrists. Safety wrapped your throat like silk. Freedom was handed to you so often it stopped feeling special. You smiled easily. Spoke to anyone. Asked questions people laughed off instead of answering. But the Slums were different. They weren't ugly to you-just unfinished. Like a sentence cut off mid-thought. If we're all human, why is there a gate?