Chapter Text
ACT 1 : NEW OPPORTUNITIES
SIX MONTHS PRIOR TO THE DROPPING OF THE SPHERITE, THREE DAYS POST THE SELF-EXILE OF ZANKA NIJIKU.
Zanka could hear the silence of the man sitting atop the well, diffusing into him as he broke down at the bottom. He had splinters from holding that stupid stick for so long- and yet he refused to let go. He couldn't let go. It was his choice, and he couldn't let it go to waste.
"I shouldn't be alive…" He hissed, eyes wide and frantic as he stared down at his physical rock bottom, heels digging into the mudded ground.
It took a few seconds, like the man up there was calculating, before a slow, hollowing voice echoed down. "Are you stupid?" It asked, slicing into Zanka's psyche and opting him out of himself. He couldn't bear to tear his eyes from where his feet sank into the ground, but still, all his attention was on Zodyl now.
"There are so many different things you could do..." The voice picked out, leaning over to stare directly into Zanka's head. "And yet... you choose to waste away, at the bottom of a well?"
The voice seemed disgusted by Zanka, and it was proven that his stomach could somehow drop deeper, even with his self-resentment and hunger. "You were at the top... an A-Class fighter... but the moment someone comes along and knocks some humility into you, you crumble?"
"That's pathetic." The voice spat out it's revulsion, and Zanka feeling like he was going to get an aneurysm from how hard the man was staring at him. "So, much, potential. But you waste it all away, because you weren't gifted. Because you aren't talented."
"That makes me think you weren't good to begin with."
Zanka cringed slightly, despite him agreeing to the words. To have them thrown so... callously at him, it was like a kick to the stomach. He bit his lip, taking in a deep breath as he tried to calm himself down. But the voice just kept going.
"You could've done so well, gone so far, if only you had the chance to, right? Well you did. And you failed." The voice mocked, leaning forward once again so that his back was completely to the well. "You're nothing. A nobody. You're worthless."
Zanka gritted his teeth, pulled at his clothes, dug his feet deeper into the dirt at those words. They were true! They, were, true. So then, why did he have such an instinct to fight against them? To climb up the well and give that man what was coming?
"You're throwing yourself away because you were never worth anything in the first place. Throwing away all of that effort, all of those hopes your family had for you. Wasting your choices, because they're yours to waste anyways. It doesn't matter that you'll never amount to anything."
The tone got sharper at the end of the sentence, successfully stinging Zanka. There was a deep contempt underneath the words, now all directed at Zanka.
"Don't you hear how stupid that is? You really think that innate talent trumps all? Even though those with it grow to squander, while those without it will work their damned asses off to catch up? To surpass? Are you really going to write off all those peoples efforts?"
"You could beat those geniuses, but you don't let yourself. You've dug your own damn grave while you're still alive. Lay in it if you wish, but just know you could've had so much more."
Zanka huffed and heaved as he dug his fingers into the mortar of the well, ribs aching as he pressed himself against the wall so that his clothes may cling with him. He was going to get out of this hole, one broken nail at a time.
His throat scratched with bile as he made it to the top, shoulders and back aching. He heaved himself over the edge, bruising his ribs even more, sending one last jolt down his spine.
Tears pricked his eyes as he slung himself over, sitting on the edge as he hunched, trying not to throw-up. He started to chuckle to himself, reveling in his own stupidity. The man had been right, of course. It just took some hands at his throat to finally prove it to him.
Zanka looked up and saw him still there, staring right back. He was somehow expecting him to still be there, despite the fact it took a decade of minutes for him to pull himself up by his bootstraps.
Zodyl looked at Zanka for a few moments longer, before turning and walking without a word. Maybe he was expecting him to follow, so he did. It wasn't like he could go back to the academy now, anyways.
Zanka was embarrassed now, walking behind the man. He'd just broken down in front of him, for practically no reason at all. He was so used to masking his emotions from everyone, that actually letting them out drenched him in shame. It didn't help the man had the same examining quality like the professors at school, like he was going to give him a grade at the end of this walk. He didn't want to get a bad grade, so he stayed silent. But he couldn't help but examine him back.
He was tall, and cold. Zanka couldn't help but swallow slightly, his brain immediately making comparisons between him and his sister. Was he going to test him like his sister? He could handle it, this time. This was a god-sent second chance, and he was going to prove himself this time. He was going to make sure he didn't mess this up again.
He'd be an asset to this man, he decided. Ace the exams, learn from him. There was a slight tug at the back of his mind, saying that he didn't actually know how strong this man was. But there was an aura there, something that made him shiver. There was an inherent strength, and Zanka was going to inherit it this time. The man had said it himself, someone ordinary like Zanka could one day beat a genius, and he was going to prove him correct.
"Are you going to speak?" Zodyl asked a ways into their walk, having exited the town now. His tone was bored, which made Zanka's stomach drop.
"…I don't know what to say." Zanka finally settled on, though his heart was beating fast since he felt the silence had dragged on too long. First (second?) interaction, and he was already screwing it up.
"Think about it, then." Zodyl said in return, not once tearing his eyes away from infront of him, not sparing Zanka a single glance. He wasn't sure whether to be grateful or not.
"Okay, then, where are we going?" He finally settled on, deciding it the most useful question. That oughta make the man impressed.
"Our home base." The man replied, and Zanka internally grinned. Our. That meant he'd accepted him as part of… whatever he had. But that meant he was good enough to be part of it in the first place. The grin faded when he remembered he hadn't actually proved himself yet, though.
"You're going to be training there." Zodyl said, intercepting Zanka's next question. And it was just like he'd read his mind. "I need to see your capabilities myself, not just hear about them."
Zanka nodded along, and it did make sense. There was always an entrance exam for these things, a benchmark.
He was going to ace it.
"Got it… sir." Zanka said, tongue slipping on the last word as he realized he didn't know the mans name. It was a bit too late to ask now, and it was good to be formal anyways. Zanka retreated back into his silence, having spent all of his self-perceived questions. He took in a breath and sighed, marching on forward in pace with the man, staring at the symbol on his back the whole time.
It took a mile more before the man himself spoke up, deciding now that it was his turn for questions. "Why are you holding onto that stick?" He asked, taking a glance back at Zanka finally. "You made it sound like you despised it."
Zanka struggled with the answer himself, if he thought about it deeply. But he didn't. The choice was instinctual to him. "I can't waste it, now. It's my burden to bear." He'd told himself those exact words many times before, when he dedicated himself to being the best. He'd been it for so long, he couldn't give up the position because of pressure.
Zodyl just stared for a second more, before nodding. Zanka's eyes widened at the action, face turning into a small smile before he corrected himself to be proper once more. He'd earned a bit of approval, and it felt amazing.
"Take care of it." Zodyl said, turning his gaze away again. "It may be the key to take down those geniuses you hate."
Zanka blinked, gripping the stick a bit tighter on instinct. What? How could something so insignificant help him take down a genius? He opened his mouth to ask, but stumbled forward a bit before he could get any words out. His question shifted to why had they stopped? instead of what did the man mean, but he got his new question answered quick enough.
Looking up and away from Zodyl, Zanka's pupils shrank slightly as he finally realized where the had been traveling all this time. They were at the edge of a polluted zone.