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Damnit! Not another loss!
Zanka raged internally as the new paralytic Jabber stabbed into him began taking effect. He strengthened his grip on Lovely Assistaff, leaning onto her in an attempt to stay upright even for just a little bit longer.
One more hit. At least get one more hit on that bastard!
He felt his strength leaving him and he dropped to one knee, glaring daggers at the man smiling gleefully before him, a single claw of Mankira continuing to stab into his shoulder.
“Don’t tell me you’re finished already, Zan-Zan?” Jabber tilted his head in a show of curiosity, but the gleam in his eyes revealed the typical satisfaction he felt every time his new poisons worked on his favourite cleaner.
“I keep telling ya to stop underestimatin’ me!” Zanka ground out, miraculously finding the strength to shove Jabber away and kick him into the wall, making sure to hit him right where Lovely slashed at.
“Here we go!” Jabber wheezed, clutching onto his side and grinning ear to ear. “Keep going-”
Chzz, chzz… Chzz, chzz.
“Aww man!” Jabber groaned. And not in the fun way he wanted to do whenever he’s around Zanka. On cue, a wormhole appeared at the mouth of the random alleyway they’d found themselves this time.
“Next time you better go all out!” Jabber grinned, before jumping through the wormhole and leaving Zanka and his almost fully paralysed self behind.
The second the light vanished, all the fight left Zanka and he slumped onto the nearest wall, making sure to lean against the cleanest section he could find at the moment.
What does he mean I better go all out? Zanka thought angrily. He was the one holdin’ back this entire fuckin’ time!
Their fight may have been cut short, but in their previous bouts, Jabber had always managed to cause some kind of destruction in their surroundings within the first few attacks. But today? Zanka was the one who caused the most damage when he swung Lovely Assistaff into Jabber’s face and hit the wall when the man dodged. Not to mention, the injuries on Zanka were like nothing. The last (and only) stab Jabber landed on him today was the worst he’d be walking away with.
If he was capable of moving at the moment, Zanka would be shaking with fury, punching walls, cursing out Jabber’s family lineage and crashing out the exact way he’d been taught not to almost all his life.
What is wrong with Jabber? He thought viciously. This is the first real spar we’ve had in months and this is how he decides to go about it? Bullshit! I want a fuckin’ rematch. His vibe was so off that he threw me off and it’s so stupid that I was so affected by him in the first place!
Zanka managed to groan in frustration, hitting his head on the brick wall as he attempted to use the muggy sky above as a distraction from his thoughts.
He wasn’t trying to make excuses. He would never try to excuse his own weakness, but this time Jabber’s weird vibes definitely rubbed off on him and messed with his head. To an outsider, their fight must’ve looked insane and full of bloodlust, but Zanka knew better. There were too many holes in Jabber’s defense, and his attacks hardly had any zeal, as if he was intentionally trying to keep the damage to Zanka at a minimum. Sure, he could’ve taken advantage of those weaknesses, but they were so stark and unprecedented that he didn’t know how to react other than remain on the defense for the majority of their bout.
It pissed him off to no end.
Especially since Zanka could one hundred percent pinpoint the only thing that’s changed between them since the last time they’d fought.
The fucking magazines. Or, to be more specific, Jabber’s obsession with Zanka’s magazines.
He grit his teeth in frustration. The thought of Jabber going soft because of a few stupid photos made his blood boil.
It’s not fair! Why now after I’ve spent all this time improving to take him down? Why won’t he fight!?
Zanka sighed, the sound coming straight out of the deep, tired and aggravated part of his soul.
They won’t even talk about it, which is arguably the most irritating part of the entire situation. Zanka had tried the first time he’d come across Jabber after he’d disappeared from that alleyway weeks ago, but he ran away with a stupid grin and without bothering to do anything else. The next time, Zanka tried attacking first, waiting for Jabber to strike back before attempting his interrogation again, but Jabber just ceased his attacks and walked off with an air of annoyance around him.
This time, Zanka said nothing, just fought back when Jabber attacked him in the middle of the street, then got thrown off by the complete wrongness of it.
And so to reiterate, they haven’t talked about it. Though Zanka won’t deny how desperately he wishes to talk about it. But if it takes saying nothing just so that Jabber won’t disappear on him, then so be it. He can play the waiting game if he must. If roles were reversed, best believe Zanka would never recover if he was caught stealing entire magazine stands just to get a monopoly over Jabber’s face.
Urgh, just the thought of it is making Zanka unbelievably embarrassed. He shook his head aggressively, rebuking any and all thoughts of Jabber modelling.
The day he starts modelling is the day I kill myself. He thought decisively.
It was just frustrating, not being able to get any closure over the matter. Because what does it mean? What does it mean if Jabber still won’t stop stealing his magazines? What does it mean when Jabber refused to do so much as touch his face when they’re fighting? What does it mean when Jabber looks like a child getting caught with his hand in a cookie jar whenever Zanka brings up the magazines? What does it all mean?
He growled deep in his throat, anger and adrenaline rising once more. He clenched his fists, and tested his ability to move. Using Lovely Assistaff as a handhold, Zanka forced himself back onto his feet and began trekking back to HQ. There was no point dwelling on the matter any longer, he’ll just have to figure out some other way to get information out of the bastard.
* * *
After Zanka had finally made it back to Cleaner HQ, showered and got himself fixed up by Eishia, he flopped onto his bed face first, ignoring the pain of the metal frame underneath the slightly too thin mattress. He let out a loud groan before flipping over so he could stare at the ceiling with a deadpanned expression.
ARGHHHHH. He smushed his pillow into his face, yelling silently as he rolled back and forth on his bed in an attempt to expel his feelings through physical exhaustion.
When he’d finally had enough of the sound of his bed frame creaking and the rustle of movement from between his sheets and sleepwear, he resumed staring at the ceiling.
Perhaps, it was time to finally face the music. And by that, he means to acknowledge and accept (to himself at the very least) why this conundrum with Jabber is bothering him.
. . .
Actually nevermind, Zanka’s not quite ready for that yet.
He stood up, fixing up his pillow and his sheets and decided he might as well go get dinner to distract himself a little while longer. He walked out of his room and quickly maneuvered through the halls, letting out a sigh of relief as the sound of the dining room steadily began flooding his ears. Upon opening the door the noise hit him at full force, and he bit down the smile that was rising on his face from the familiarity.
“Ah!” Riyo yelled from across the room. “There you are Zanka! Thought you might’ve gone to bed early again.”
Zanka shook his head. “Nah, I was going ‘ta but thought I might get somethin’ ‘ta eat first.”
He grabbed a plate and piled on food, grabbing a glass of juice to bring back to the table Riyo was sitting at.
“You out training again?” Enjin asked through a mouthful of food as Zanka sat down. He nodded in response and shovelled a generous helping of curry into his mouth to avoid answering further.
The conversations around him flowed naturally, and he let himself be swept up by all of his friends’ antics, finally managing to distract himself once more from the dilemma he’s found himself in.
“But it’s kinda weird right? The way Zanka’s training always leaves him in a more exhausted state than I’m in when he trains me?” Upon hearing his name, Zanka’s focus zeroed in on Rudo who was sitting across him with a frown and furrowed brow.
“Well training affects people differently.” Riyo shrugged. “It’s not like his solo training is the same as your one on ones.”
“Yeah but what kind of training always leaves you walking weird, red faced, out of breath and with marks on your neck?”
Zanka choked on the bread he’d just taken a bite out of and fought for his life to breathe like a normal person again. He pounded his chest with a fist, turning away from the table to avoid hacking out his dinner all over everyone’s food. Tears gathered in his eyes by the time someone urgently placed a glass of water in his hands and helped him chug it to wash down the bread. He gasped urgently, a few lingering coughs forcing its way out of his lungs and he was handed another glass of water.
Only after finally regaining the ability to breathe did he whip his head around towards Rudo and yell, “WHAT!?”
The younger boy threw his hands up in defense. “I didn’t say anything wrong! That’s what usually happens whenever you return! I mean not recently but before!”
Zanka’s face turned into a bright scarlet colour, unable to do more than sputter in pure panic and exasperation. How am I meant to explain this!
“Zanka,” Enjin cut in, smiling in a way that was completely unsettling. “Do you have something you’d like to tell me?”
Next to him sat Riyo, hand over her mouth, cheeks puffed up, red faced and trembling. The second Zanka accidentally made eye contact a snort of laughter escaped her lips and she turned towards the wall to compose herself. Follo, who was next to her, seemed to be dying of second hand embarrassment, which was so completely rude. It was even worse than outright laughing in his face like Riyo was doing!
Gris, who was seated next to Zanka, placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry Zanka, this is a safe space. You can tell us-”
“There’s nothin’ ta explain!” Zanka exclaimed. “I know that sounded wrong the way Rudo said it, but I swear whatever yer thinkin’ it’s not it!”
Ignoring Rudo’s complaints about how ‘he’s not wrong though!’ Zanka desperately worked his brain to figure out some way to explain all those observations without mentioning Jabber or any kind of sparring partner at all.
“All of those things are just regular signs of exertion!” He exclaimed. And they literally are. Of course he’ll be exhausted, red faced and off kilter every time he’s training because he’s literally being pushed to the limit when Jabber’s around. It’s do or die!
“That doesn’t explain the marks on your neck,” Riyo sing songs before cackling into her palm again.
Now that part Zanka isn’t even sure how to explain. Any marks on his neck from sparring would look nothing like whatever they’re imagining. It’d be things like cuts and large bruises that definitely could not be mistaken for a hick-
Urgh, he can’t even think of the stupid word without getting embarrassed! Zanka’s going to kill Rudo.
“Yeah those marks look pretty concerning.” Said boy chimes in. “It’s no wonder you visit Eisha whenever you come back.”
Riyo wheezed and began slapping poor Follo who could do nothing but take the abuse as he still refused to uncover his face to look at Zanka.
“What do you mean by ‘concerning’, Rudo?” Enjin asked lightly. Zanka fought the urge to get on his knees and beg for Enjin’s forgiveness even though he hasn’t done anything wrong. Or at least, he hasn’t done anything of the nature that Enjin’s currently angry about.
“Well he’s bleeding half the time.” Rudo deadpans. Everyone at their table stopped to stare at Rudo, then back to Zanka, the air transforming into something a little more serious than before. “I worry that he’s overdoing it. I know training is good and all, but I don’t want you pushing yourself so hard that you’re always injuring yourself.”
Okay, maybe Zanka won’t kill the kid. Especially when this was just a poorly worded attempt at showing concern for how his ‘training’ leaves him. Rudo refused to make eye contact and frowned, but the light blush on his face exposed his genuine care. Zanka sighed and released the tension building up in his body, and a small smile crept onto his face. Sue him, the kid can be so cute sometimes.
Zanka patted Rudo on the head to get his attention. “Rudo, part of any training means you’re probably going to end up battered or bruised. It’s not like I do it on purpose, my face and neck is one of the more exposed parts of my body, it’s bound to get hit or sliced by flying debris at some point.” Not technically a lie, it’s happened before, just not as often as he’s leading Rudo to believe.
Gris let out a light chuckle and placed his hand on Zanka’s shoulder. “Not gonna lie, I was really worried we’d need to be having some kind of talk after dinner. Good to know it’s just a misunderstanding.”
Heat exploded across Zanka’s face as Riyo burst into another round of boisterous laughter. The tension around Enjin finally eased up and he flashed a stupid teasing grin towards Zanka who slapped Rudo on the head as belated revenge, ignoring his cry of outrage.
“Alright! I’m done for the day!” He yelled, slamming his hands on the table and standing up. “I’m going to bed and I never want to hear this subject ever brought up again.”
As Zanka stormed off in an attempt to keep his dignity, the echoes of maniacal laughter followed him through the halls. I’m going to kill myself.
Why does it feel like lately all he’s done is suffer through various forms of embarrassment? Ever since that first magazine shoot he’s been put through the wringer by both his friends, colleagues and his freaking enemies!
When will his suffering end?
Zanka fled towards his room, flopping onto his bed in a repeat of his earlier actions and groaned into his pillow. Once the tension in his body eased up, he grabbed Lovely Assisstaff and hugged her close to his chest, closing his eyes and using her thin frame to cover his face from the rest of the world.
Unfortunately, despite his best efforts, the feeling of his jinki in his hands only led his thoughts back to the root cause of all his turmoil.
Jabber fucking Wonger.
Zanka’s eyes snapped open into a glare. “This needs to end. I can’t keep doing this!”
Leaping out of bed, he continued ranting to Lovely. “I don’t like this, I don’t like this at all! What do I have to do to get him out of my head? It’s like our whole relationship’s turned upside down! If I can’t fight him to get stronger than him then what’s the point?”
He crouched down, gripping his hair tightly as he fought back a scream of frustration. What does he need to do to get things back to normal? Or, as normal as a relationship that’s basically built on fighting to the death can get. Zanka inhaled deeply and sighed, releasing his hair and running a hand through it to smooth it back out a little. He leaned onto the closet door, once again hugging his jinki tight as he closed his eyes in thought.
How many times have they fought since the incident in the flying trash beast? When exactly did Jabber become a regular part of his routine? Even worse, a regular part of his routine that he always found himself looking forward to. The adrenaline, the sound of his heart in his ears, the satisfying exchange of blows, that manic grin, the nicknames, the encouragement, the trinkets.
Upon recalling that little tradition of theirs, Zanka gently leaned Lovely on the wall and made space to open up his closet. He dug through the mess on the bottom left corner, pulling out a small wooden box almost reverently. Even in the comfort and privacy of his room, he checked to make sure he was completely alone before sitting back onto the floor to open it up carefully.
Zanka picked up the last trinket he received from Jabber. A pair of bright pink tassels. Suddenly, the weight on his ears became a lot more noticeable. He carefully placed them onto his palm, and gently ran a finger through them, just to make sure it was nice and smooth.
It’s been around four months since Zanka received them. And despite running into Jabber to spar a couple times afterwards, he wasn’t given anything. And he knows why. It’s because of the magazines.
Ever since they came out, his relationship with Jabber’s been off kilter. And it’s not like he isn’t aware of why. Considering the whole incident regarding his stolen mags, it’s plain as day to see that at the very least Jabber’s into his face.
After finally acknowledging the fact, heat spread across his cheeks and he buried his face into his hands, careful not to ruin the tassels. He hates the way that makes him kinda happy.
Jabber is quite literally the strangest person Zanka had ever met. It’s honestly a miracle that he actually wants to keep this weird rivalry-relationship thing they’ve got going on. Especially considering their first two meetings where Zanka was defeated and humiliated. But something changed when Jabber sought him out of his own volition and fought him with so much vigor and unadulterated joy seeping out of his entire being, and both challenged and encouraged Zanka to lock in to his untapped potential.
Zanka’s always been weak to praise, but there’s something about the way Jabber goes about it that feels completely different to the kind of faith and trust that the Cleaners have in his abilities. It’s like he’s been given a choice of catching up on the climb to the top or falling off the edge of a cliff. There’s no safety net with Jabber like there is with the Cleaners, and he’s loath to admit it but it’s exhilarating.
It’s the same feeling he’d had when he was training to be a Hell Guard. Enjin and the others always frowned when he mentioned the kind of lifestyle he had in Kamuatari District, but the reality is that that kind of system worked well for Zanka. Do or die. Be better or be worth nothing.
Of course he’s not fond of the entire system back there, otherwise there was no way he’d run away to become a Cleaner. The difference between Jabber and the Hell Guard Training Academy, is that Jabber has a genuine interest in Zanka himself.
There’s no one to be in competition with. Zanka alone is the sole object of his interest and curiosity, and he would rather die than lose that connection with Jabber.
He looked up determinedly. He can admit it now. Zanka wants Jabber to care about no one else but him. He wants to be the only person that Jabber will ever give this kind of demented and obsessive attention to. Zanka wants Jabber. To beat, to hold, to use and to pursue in strength.
The only thing is, it feels like losing if he makes the first move. And he’s done enough of that when it comes to Jabber. No, he needs to make Jabber take the initiative to communicate with him like a normal human being. But how? It’s not like Jabber’s anywhere near the standard of a ‘normal human being’, what will work on him?
Suddenly, Zanka’s eyes laid onto the results of his latest shoot.
He shot up, grabbing the magazine. He gazed at the front cover of his face, and then to the tassels still held gently in his other hand. He then grabbed the little box of trinkets and laid out its contents on his desk.
“Yeah…” He nodded thoughtfully. “This might work.”
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ELSEWHERE:
Jabber is this close to pulling his hair out.
“Pathetic! Absolutely pathetic!” He moaned. “What kind of stupid fight was that Jabber! You suck, you suck, you suck!”
Cthoni stared at him blankly. “Why don’t you just man up and confess your undying love for him already.”
“Are you crazy! I’m not in love with Zan-Zan!” Jabber yelled.
A beat of silence enveloped the room. Cthoni continued staring. Bundus sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Zodyl continued ignoring him. Momoa got up and left the area.
I’m done. The others thought simultaneously.