Chapter Text
Zanka paced around the backyard, fingers running through his hair. “I can’t believe I forgot somethin’ as important as this!”
Jabber looked mostly bored as he sat there, his head resting on his hands. “Why is it such a big deal? You just pick a weapon, no?”
He turned his head sharply. “You don’t get it. The weapon you choose? Yer stuck with it! Not only that, I am expected to pick the best weapon!”
Jabber blinked lazily as he yawned. Zanka stressing out was a funny sight, but he had been going on like this for an hour straight. “What's the point of stressin’? You only gonna see the weapons tomorrow anyway.”
A smile creeped on his face. “And then you can beat the shit outta me with whatever strong thing you chose!”
Beating him up… yes, that will be a good debut for his weapon. “Yer right, I can’t really do anythin’ until tomorrow.”
Tomorrow came far too early for his tastes.
He stood in a row with the other students, hands behind his back, his uniform immaculate, only half listening to his teachers' lecturing while trying his best not to gape at the weapons arranged neatly on the table.
He snuck a look to his side. Hyo stood there, looking as calm as always. Normally it would annoy him, but after their talk yesterday he started to hate her less. It doesn’t mean he won’t try his best to do better than her though.
“Zanka Nijiku, go forth and pick out your weapon.”
Ah, this is the moment. He stepped forward, his heart hammering with excitement. He scanned the array of weapons with his eyes. Dangerous guns…shiny swords… brutal bats…Sharp knives…
A stick?
The ordinary stick stood out like a sore thumb. It looked completely ordinary. Heck, it didn’t even look like a proper staff! It was pretty long, and at the end it split into two symmetrical prongs.
But… What is such an ordinary stick doing here? The best weapons the ground has to offer were arranged here, so if it was here, it must be stronger than it seems! Yes, it must be a test. An attempt to look who is the student who can look past appearances.
A super strong weapon hiding behind an ordinary appearance… yes. That suits him.
He reached his hand forward, closing his hand around the warm wood and bringing it to him. Yes, it felt right. A smile reached his face, this time it wasn’t fake. But as he looked around…
Shock, horror, disappointment.
“I see… that is definitely a choice. That thing wasn’t supposed to be here if i remember correctly, it probably got mixed in with the other weapons… Well, you can’t take back your choice now. Go back to your row, Zanka Nijiku.”
His heart dropped. His teacher wasn’t proud. There was no amusement in his eyes. Zanka was wrong. It was just a stick, something that was accidentally mixed in with the other weapons. What had he done? A cold feeling of dread washed over him as he stood in his row.
The rest of the ceremony went by in a blur, the only thing he remembered was Hyo’s choice of weapon. An average katana. How ironic. At least she didn’t shoot him pitying looks like the rest of them.
The moment the teacher let them go, Zanka turned around, and ran the moment he was out of sight. He didn’t stop running even when his lungs begged for breath, even when his legs screamed. When his choker began to ring he took it off and threw it as far as he could. He couldn’t bear the thought of speaking with others right now.
Where should he go? His family will wait for him at the mansion, Jabber was waiting for him at his home, Hyo will wait for him at the academy. What can he tell them? All of them had such high hopes for him, yet he blew it. ‘Sorry for being such a loser? Sorry for not living up to your expectations?’
After running for who knows how long, his eyes rested on an empty well. A cold, dark well. Yes, his family will probably throw him inside ‘that’ room the moment he comes home, so why make them bear his face? He can just do that himself. He can just stay there until he dies, this is what he deserves.
And so he went down. He tucked his knees to his chest, his stick tucked safely into his arms, and waited for death.
Unfortunately, death took his sweet, sweet time. His traitor body kept wanting food and water. When rain fell on the second day, he collected it, drinking hungrily before realising he can’t, this is his punishment. by drinking, he only prolonged his suffering.
The only thing he had in that well aside from his thoughts, was that stick. He held the wood so tightly that his knuckles turned white. In the storm of his thoughts that stick became his only life line.
“Don’t worry,It’s not yer fault I chose you. Yer pretty sturdy fer a stick. Pretty unique too with yer split.”
His finger trailed the wood. After hours of isolation with her it, he knew every single centimeter of her it.
“Yer just like me, ain’t ya? A useless piece of garbage, tryin’ to mix in with the real stuff.”
He smiled. “Man, I’m such a loser! I promised to beat Jabber one day, but he is a genius, and me? I am a fake. Like you.”
A manic giggle escaped his throat.”Yes, you and me are the same! Fakes always come to light, so maybe me choosin’ you was fate. Oh shit, I’m talkin’ to a stick. What will my sister say? Oh well, I’m gonna rot here with ya anyway so it doesn’t matter.”
He leaned his head against her. “Do you think Jabber will miss me? Maybe he will, but the guy always moves on from one thing to the next, so he will forget about me in a week.”
He closed his eyes. He once wanted to die while fighting, but he doesn’t deserve such fate. No, he will die quietly here without anyone to miss him.
“ZANKA DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOUR ASS?!”
What?... Jabber?!
Above him, looking down at him with a very pissed off expression, stood Jabber. He never saw him get so angry in the past, he tended to treat everything as a joke.
“Three days! Three whole days! I thought you ditched me or something, and then I found you inside a well?! Were you here for three days?! Are you trying to die?!”
“Yes.”
“…”
When Zanka didn’t answer his calls, he started to get pissed off. He promised to fight him with his new weapon! So, he kept calling, yet Zanka never answered. In fact, he never returned to his house. In the evening he decided to go search for him.
He wasn’t really worried at that point, Zanka was a tough cookie. But when he searched for him all evening and yet not a trace of Zanka was found, a tight feeling began to form in his chest. What is going on? That feeling expended once he found his discarded choker.
At that time he started to think Zanka got kidnapped, yet none of the hell guards were looking for him, which was strange. He searched high and low for clues, he even snuck inside the classrooms of the Academy. Yet, nothing.
He finally found Zanka sitting in a random abandoned well three days after his disappearance, after sneaking a peak inside due to his gut telling him to do so. And now he is talking about wanting to die?
Zanka? His Zanka? Trying to die? What nonsense. He was always good at reading people, and he knew someone like Zanka wouldn't go down easily. So why? His gaze landed on something Zanka held like his like his life depended on it. Is it a stick?
“I am a loser. The weapon selection… I picked a stick. A damn stick. I thought- I thought it was secretly something special, but it wasn’t.” His voice broke. “I know you want me to defeat you, but with a stick? I can’t do that with a stick!”
Jabber looked at him. Zanka thought he would see disgust in his eyes… And there was. There was disgust there, and something inside him broke.
“So ditch the stick! Or find a way to beat me up with it!”
He ignored the first option, for some reason the thought of leaving her made him go cold, but the second option angered him. “Find a way?! That’s easy for you to say! Yer a genius! You have Mankira who can one shot everythin’, while I’m just an average joe with a stick!”
He shouted at him back. “I don’t care about your self-deprecating bulshit! You are an average joe? Fine. so just become an average joe who can beat a genius!”
Jabber believes in him? He thinks he can beat a genius? For the first time in three days, Zanka stood up. His legs screamed at him, his head spinned, yet he stood up and began his ascent. The climb was grueling, yet he refused to ask for help, and Jabber didn’t offer. He just looked at him quietly as Zanka came to the light.
“I don’t care about your school’s dumb rules. Just switch the stick for another weapon.”
He shook his head. “No, if I want to prove someone like me can beat someone like you, I need to do it with her. It’s time for me to stop being a coward and face my parents, I’ll see ya later.”
He walked off, leaving Jabber to wonder about their interaction.
Zanka seemed weird.
Not I’ve-been-inside-a-well-without-food-or-water-for-three-days weird, but a different kind of weird. His eyes were different, and most importantly, he held on to his stick like a crazed man and called it ‘her’.
No… that can’t be, It’s been only three days! This stuff takes months, years! But his intuition is rarely wrong for this kind of thing.
If he is right, he needs to be there to see it. Where is the Nijiku mansion again?
….
Is it too late to back off now? No. Sooner or later this would have to happen. Fortunately, the halls were empty so he had a moment to gather himself. He squeezed his stick, her wood giving him courage, as he stepped inside the hall where his parents worked.
They didn’t expect him, so a momentary surprise crossed their faces when they saw him, which immediately switched to anger. He kneeled down, the respectful bow granting him an excuse not to look at their faces. “Father, mother.”
His father spoke first, his voice a furious rumble. “Do you have any idea how much shame you brought on the family? Not only that, but you ran away for three days like a coward! Did you want me to waste time and resources to look for you as if you were a child?!”
Ah. so they didn’t look for him. He remained quiet. He had nothing to say, and for some reason he didn’t want to apologise anymore.
“Give me that stick. I shall break it and give you a new weapon, maybe if enough time passes people will forget about it.”
He froze. Break? Her? No. No!
“No!”
His mother’s face twisted in anger. “You refuse us?! Zanka, you have no right to throw a temper tantrum. Give me that stick so I can burn it!”
But then, his parent’s expressions switched from angry to shocked as they looked down. What are they looking at? He followed their gaze, and froze. Blue flames started to flow from his stick. Anima.
His father’s tone had changed, it grew firmer. “Zanka, give it to me. We have to fix you before it’s too late.”
He retreated. “No!” His voice broke, sounding like a mix between a shout and a sob. “I have given you everything. Everything! I tried my best to be the perfect son, the perfect Nijiku.”
Now his voice changed tone again, he started to beg. “Please! Let me- let me keep this! This is all I ask! I never asked you for anything! Not love, not affection. So please let me-”
“ENOUGH!” he flinched. His father stood up, walking towards him in order to snatch his most important thing from him.
“You ungrateful brat. We gave you a roof over your head, education, food. Yet you say you never asked for anything? We gave you everything you could ask for! Your wants aren’t important. The family is. NOW GIVE ME THE DAMN STICK!”
Rage.
White hot, blinding rage.
How could they? How could he say that? He is sick and tired of them.
‘If someone annoys you, just kill them’
The wood in his hands changed to steel, the stick grew longer as spikes grew from it. She was so, so beautiful.
He raised his hand above his head, in a perfect form like he was taught, and swung down. Hard.
His father’s skull crushed so easily beneath her.
He lunged, his mother couldn’t even scream as she met a similar fate.
The room suddenly grew silent, but he couldn’t stop. Years of anger, of sorrow, of frustration rose up as he kept swinging his jinki.
THUD
Him, begging for attention, for validation. He never got them.
THUD
The time spent in that cold, dark room as he scratched the door, begging to be let out.
THUD
Those sleepless nights as he studied, the careful makeup he applied later to hide the dark circles.
THUD
The time when he sparred with Goka, but in reality it was a one sided beatdown. After which he treated his bruises alone.
THUD
All the times when they made him feel worthless.
THUD
The way they put the family honour above him.
THUD
His cheeks were wet. Was it tears? Was it blood? Maybe both? He didn’t know. His breaths came out in wheezes. He was dizzy, the tears in his eyes and the rage blinded him. The flesh below him no longer resembled corpses, smashed organs littered the ground.
“Zanka?”
He turned around, and in the entrance a tan boy with dreads looked at him. There was no fear in his eyes, no horror. He looked at him with awe, adoration, like Zanka was covered with flowers and not blood. A smile decorated his face as he looked at him, his hands raised up. He walked toward him like Zanka was a scared animal.
When he spoke, his words were soft. A sharp contrast to his father’s last words. “Zan-Zan, follow me. We need to get out of here.”
Out of here? To where? Where should he go now? His mind was empty, like it gave up on trying to process what is going on, what he just did.
He stared quietly at the boy in front of him as he got closer. A warm hand wrapped around his, it grounded him. Jabber still looked elated as he looked at his jinki deactivating. He dragged him out of there, away from the remains of what used to be his parents.
The rest of the journey was a blur, he simply followed Jabber. He didn’t even realise when they got inside an apartment. The only thing that snapped him out of his trans, even for a little bit, was a sharp pain in his earlobe. Jabber was putting his tassels in his ears.
He smiled at him. “You must be tired Zan-Zan, go to sleep. I will handle the rest.”
The last thing he felt was a prick in his side from a claw, and then, quiet.
Jabber tilted his head back and laughed.