Return to Zaun
Chapter 11: Return to Zaun
The elevator ride to Zaun felt endless, each jolt and creak pulling at Vi’s nerves. The familiar hum of the machinery vibrated beneath her feet, and the faint whiff of metal and grease lingered in the air. Jinx stood beside her, unusually quiet, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her patchwork jacket. The silence between them was heavy—not uncomfortable, but full of unspoken words and memories they hadn’t yet dared to confront.
When the elevator doors groaned open, Vi stepped out into a city she hardly recognized. Her breath hitched as her boots hit the ground. This wasn’t the Zaun she remembered. The oppressive smog that had once choked the air was gone, replaced by a fresh, almost sweet breeze carrying faint hints of flowers and greenery. The cracked, grimy streets she had known were now clean and bustling with life.
Buildings, once crumbling and stained with neglect, had been rebuilt and remodeled. Brightly painted facades gleamed in the sunlight that filtered down through the gaps in the towering metal scaffolding above. The market streets were alive with energy, filled with vendors calling out their wares, children darting through the alleys, and workers laughing as they made their way home.
It was… beautiful.
Vi took a step forward, her eyes wide as she tried to take it all in. The laughter of children, the calls of merchants, the warmth in the air—it was everything she had dreamed of for Zaun, but seeing it in reality was overwhelming.
Jinx walked a few steps ahead, her movements light and purposeful, almost as if she was leading Vi through a maze of memories and new beginnings. Every now and then, she glanced back, her sharp pink eyes softening when they met Vi’s expression—caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. The tension that usually clung to Jinx seemed lighter today, replaced by a mix of excitement and nervousness that made her steps almost bounce. “C’mon, Vi,” she called, her voice ringing out with an eagerness she rarely let show. “There’s more to see.”
Vi hesitated for a moment, her boots rooted to the ground as her gaze swept over the streets around her. People didn’t just glance at her in passing—they acknowledged her. A group of factory workers heading home after their shift paused, nodding in respect as they walked by. A shopkeeper stood in her doorway, giving Vi a small wave before returning to her customers. Their expressions weren’t clouded with fear, like those she encountered in Piltover, nor were they tinged with pity. There was warmth in their gazes, gratitude that shone through their subtle smiles.
Her chest tightened as the realization sank in: they saw her as a hero. It wasn’t what she expected. It wasn’t what she thought she deserved. The weight of their admiration pressed against her, bittersweet and unfamiliar.
Jinx had stopped a few steps ahead, one hand resting on her hip as she tilted her head in exaggerated impatience. “You coming or what?” she teased, her grin widening, though her voice carried an edge of warmth that Vi couldn’t miss. It was a tone she hadn’t heard from Jinx in a long time—playful, unburdened by shadows.
“Yeah,” Vi muttered, dragging herself out of her thoughts. She rolled her shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the stares and caught up to her sister. “I’m coming.”
As they walked, Jinx pointed out landmarks, her words tumbling out in a chaotic but heartfelt rhythm. “See that market square?” she asked, gesturing to the lively space filled with colorful stalls and bustling vendors. “It used to be a mess—trash everywhere, pipes leaking all the time. Now look at it. Clean, bright, and packed with people. That’s Zaun, Vi. Our Zaun.”
Vi nodded, her eyes taking in the restored park Jinx led her to next, where children played beneath lush, green trees. The sight tugged at something deep inside her—a fragile hope she hadn’t dared to hold onto. A few steps further, Jinx gestured toward a series of sleek, reinforced bridges connecting the various levels of the city. Workers passed by, their uniforms spotless, their faces alight with contentment as they chatted about their days or their plans for the evening. It was a far cry from the dangerous, oppressive conditions Vi remembered.
“It’s… different,” Vi said finally, her voice low and reverent, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile beauty of it all.
Jinx glanced at her, a flicker of pride softening her features. “Yeah, well, you kinda started it, didn’t you?” she said, her tone teasing but carrying an unmistakable weight. “Ekko picked up where you left off. He rallied the people, struck deals with Piltover, and got everyone to rebuild. Turns out he’s pretty good at all that ‘leader’ stuff.”
Vi let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as memories of the scrappy, resourceful boy Ekko had been flickered through her mind. “He always was a smooth talker.”
Jinx smirked, kicking at a stray pebble as they continued walking. “Yeah, but don’t tell him I said that. He’s already got a big enough head.” She paused for a moment before glancing sideways at Vi, her grin faltering slightly. “He kept your name alive, y’know. Told everyone what you stood for, what you were trying to do. That’s why they look at you the way they do.”
Vi’s steps slowed, her gaze dropping to the concrete beneath her feet. The idea that Ekko had carried her vision forward, that he had kept fighting for Zaun even when she couldn’t, made her chest ache with gratitude and something deeper—something harder to name.
“I didn’t do it alone,” Vi said quietly, almost to herself. Her mechanical fingers flexed unconsciously, the faint glow of the embedded gemstone catching the light as they walked. “I just wanted to give people something better.”
“And you did,” Jinx replied firmly, her voice cutting through the hum of the city. “Look around, Vi. You did this. You gave us hope.”
Vi didn’t respond right away, but her lips twitched into a faint, almost wistful smile.
They walked in companionable silence for a while, the vibrant city unfolding around them like a tapestry of hope and resilience. But then Jinx came to a sudden stop, her boots scuffing against the cobblestones as she froze in place. Vi followed her gaze, and her breath caught in her throat.
Before them stood the charred, blackened remains of what had once been the Last Drop. The air around it seemed heavier, the hum of the city dimming as if the ruin itself demanded reverence. The structure was barely standing, its walls scorched and skeletal, a stark reminder of what had been lost. In a city rebuilt with care and determination, this hollow shell of a building stood untouched, defiant against the tide of progress.
Vi felt her chest tighten as she stared at the ruin. “What happened here?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t they rebuild it?”
Jinx’s response came in two parts. Her voice was unusually steady as she started with the simpler answer, her hands fidgeting at her sides. “I told them not to touch it during reconstruction,” she said, her tone clipped, as though that alone explained everything.
Vi tore her gaze from the building to look at her sister, confusion mingling with concern. “Why not?”
Jinx didn’t answer right away. She stood there, unmoving, her pink eyes locked on the crumbling structure as if it might reveal some hidden truth. Her usual manic energy was gone, replaced by a stillness that made Vi’s stomach twist. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than Vi had heard in years, and each word seemed to carry the weight of a confession.
“There was a fight,” Jinx said slowly, as if forcing the memory to the surface. “Noxian soldiers… they came for me. They stormed in, trying to kill me. I fought them off, but…” Her voice faltered, and she glanced down at her hands, her fingers twitching slightly. “I passed out in the alley while the building burned.”
Vi’s fists clenched at her sides, her scars glowing faintly beneath the sleeves of her jacket. She didn’t interrupt, even as her chest tightened at the thought of Jinx, alone and bleeding, fighting to survive.
“It was the night you were taken,” Jinx continued, her voice trembling now. Her bangs fell into her face as she stared at the ground, her words heavy with guilt. “I couldn’t stop it, Vi. I couldn’t stop them from taking you.”
Vi felt the world tilt beneath her, the weight of Jinx’s words slamming into her like a physical blow. Memories of that night surged forward—Ambessa’s soldiers, the fight, the desperation, the searing pain as her arm was torn from her, and the cold, unrelenting reality of being ripped away from everything she loved. She swallowed hard, her throat tightening as she looked at her sister, who had carried the burden of that night for so long.
“Powder,” Vi said firmly, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. She stepped closer, placing a hand on Jinx’s shoulder. “That wasn’t your fault. None of it was.”
Jinx shook her head violently, her fists clenching at her sides. “I was supposed to protect you,” she muttered, her voice thick with emotion. “You always protected me, Vi. Always. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t save you.”
Vi’s grip on her shoulder tightened, the faint whir of her mechanical arm breaking the silence between them. Her scars glowed brighter, the eerie light casting soft shadows on the ground. “Hey,” she said, her voice low but unyielding. “Look at me.”
Slowly, Jinx lifted her head, her pink eyes meeting Vi’s gaze. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and her lips quivered as she tried to hold back the flood threatening to break free.
“You didn’t fail me,” Vi said, her voice softer now but no less resolute. “You fought for me, Powder. You did everything you could. I don’t blame you. I never did.”
The tears spilled over, and Jinx let out a choked laugh, wiping furiously at her face with the heel of her hand. “You’re such a sap,” she muttered, her voice cracking as a trembling smile broke through the tears.
Vi chuckled softly, her mechanical arm humming faintly as she pulled Jinx into a tight embrace. For a moment, Jinx stiffened, her body tense and uncertain. But then she melted into the hug, her arms wrapping tightly around Vi’s waist as if afraid to let go.
The sound of approaching footsteps broke the fragile stillness between them. Jinx pulled back slightly, her pink eyes narrowing in suspicion as she turned toward the source. Vi’s gaze followed, her mechanical hand lowering from her sister’s shoulder as a familiar figure emerged from the shadows of the narrow street.
Ekko.
He stood there, his posture relaxed but his eyes locked onto Vi. The passage of time had left its mark on him—his build was leaner, stronger, and his braided hair had grown longer, adorned with small trinkets and beads. His goggles sat perched on his forehead, and the faint hum of his tech-laden gear pulsed quietly in the background. Yet, despite the changes, his smirk remained the same—a mix of confidence and warmth that seemed to hold the weight of their shared history.
“Took you long enough,” Ekko said, his voice light but laced with an unmistakable edge of emotion. His steps were unhurried, deliberate, as though each one brought him closer to reconciling the woman before him with the memories he had carried for years. His gaze swept over Vi, noting the changes—the mechanical arm, the faintly glowing scars, the weight she now carried in her posture. Despite it all, she was still Vi. “I was starting to think you’d never come back to Zaun.”
Vi hesitated, her stormy eyes locking onto his. The sound of his voice—familiar, warm, and teasing—stirred something in her chest she hadn’t felt in years. Guilt, relief, and an ache she couldn’t name collided as she struggled to respond. It had been so long since she’d seen Ekko—since that raid on the shimmer factory, since the moment Ambessa’s soldiers had torn her life apart. She swallowed hard, her mechanical hand flexing at her side as if trying to ground herself. The faint glow of her scars pulsed with the rhythm of her quickening heartbeat.
“I didn’t think I’d… be welcome,” she admitted, her voice quieter than she intended. The vulnerability in her tone surprised even her, but the weight of everything she had endured made it impossible to pretend otherwise. “Not after everything.”
Ekko’s smirk softened into something warmer, more genuine. The edge of teasing melted away, replaced by the quiet understanding of someone who had carried his own burdens. Yet, his sharp, determined eyes never wavered. “Welcome? Vi, you’re a legend down here. Everyone’s been waiting for you to come home.” He took another step closer, his expression softening as his voice dropped. “I’ve been waiting.”
The sincerity in his words hit Vi like a punch to the gut. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came. Words failed her as she glanced toward Jinx, who now stood a few steps away, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. Vi’s chest tightened as the weight of the past settled heavily on her shoulders—years of absence, of failure, of pain that had shaped them all in different ways.
“You look good, though,” Ekko said, breaking the silence with a teasing grin. His tone was light again, though the sincerity lingered beneath it. “Different, but good.”
Vi let out a soft huff, shaking her head. “You’re still a pain in the ass,” she muttered, though the corner of her lips curved into a faint, genuine smile—something she hadn’t offered easily in years.
“And you’re still Vi,” Ekko shot back without missing a beat, his grin widening. “Guess some things don’t change.”
For a moment, a flicker of warmth settled between them—a brief return to something simpler, something almost untouched by the years of chaos. But it was Jinx who shattered the moment, her sharp voice cutting through the air like a knife.
“Okay, okay, enough of the heartwarming reunion,” she quipped, her lips quirking into a sly smirk. “You’re gonna make me puke.”
Ekko laughed, the sound rich and genuine, as he turned his attention to her. “Good to see you haven’t changed either, Jinx.”
Jinx’s smirk faltered ever so slightly, and a flicker of something softer passed through her pink eyes. But she quickly masked it with an exaggerated eye roll, crossing her arms tighter across her chest. “Whatever,” she muttered, though there was no real venom in her tone.
Vi turned back to the charred remains of the Last Drop, her gaze tracing the jagged edges of the burned-out structure. The sight of it hit harder now, surrounded by the restored vibrancy of Zaun. It stood as a painful reminder of the past, of everything that had been taken and everything she had lost. Her jaw tightened, and she shoved her hands into her pockets, her mechanical arm glowing faintly as her emotions churned beneath the surface.
She took a slow, deliberate step closer to the ruins, she could swear the smell of ash still lingered in the air. Her voice, when it came, was low but resolute. “We can’t just leave it like this.” She turned to Ekko, her expression firm. “Can we rebuild it?”
Ekko crossed his arms, his gaze steady as he watched her. He didn’t answer immediately, instead letting her words hang in the air for a moment. Then, his lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “It was yours to begin with, Vi. The choice is yours.”
Vi blinked, his words sinking in as her gaze flicked back to the building. The thought of rebuilding it felt heavy—weighted with memories, pain, and the lingering guilt she hadn’t fully shaken. But as she stood there, surrounded by the echoes of her past and the promise of what Zaun had become, a flicker of determination sparked in her chest.
She let out a sharp exhale, her jaw setting. “Over the past two years, I’ve been healing,” she said, her voice growing steadier with each word. “Time for this place to heal too.”
Jinx, stood beside her. Her pink eyes gleamed with an unusual mix of excitement and sincerity. “I’m on board,” she said, her voice carrying a rare steadiness. She glanced at Vi, her lips quirking into a faint smirk. “If you’re ready, I’m ready.”
Vi’s chest tightened, her gaze shifting between Ekko and Jinx. Their unwavering support—without hesitation, without question—made something inside her ache. For so long, she had carried the weight of her mistakes, her failures, but in this moment, she felt something different. Something lighter.
“Alright,” Vi said finally, her voice firm as she looked back at the ruins of the Last Drop. “Let’s do it.”