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How was he supposed to go about this?
Goka stood in front of his younger brother’s bedroom door. Staring at the door intensely, eyebrows furrowed, lips shut tight into a thin line, and giving the small plate he held a tight death grip, whilst a plastic bag dangled in his other hand.
He openly glares at the staff members who had made the unfortunate decision to pass him when walking through the halls. They were definitely going to start weird rumors of Goka having a ‘soft spot.’
Whatever that means.
A frustrated scoff escapes his lips.
Kids were trouble.
Especially his younger brother—sister?—sibling?—family member.
The youngest of the Nijiku clan was a handful.
…
“Goka, could you hand these over to Zanka?” Kyouka commands, gesturing over to a small plastic bag filled with bandages.
She doesn’t look up from the papers occupying her time.
“Yes. I was about to head over to his room anyway.” He picks it up. “Before I go, have you gotten the time to look over the report his teacher sent to us?”
The pen in her grip stops moving. “About that…” Her index finger points to the opposite side of the chabudai. “There’s something I need to tell you regarding this. Please, settle down.”
He keeps his head low and takes a seat.
Kyouka grabs a hold of the papers she’s been shifting through, sliding them on the wooden table in Goka’s direction.
He raises an eyebrow, flipping the papers over to read.
…
His eyes widen in astonishment.
“...A letter demanding the abolition of the rules regarding hair length?” Goka turns to her with a look of disbelief written all over his face.
Kyouka nods.
Despite being the eldest of their clan and being the one who had to raise both Goka and Zanka due to their parents being swamped with work over at the Hellguard building, Kyouka was never as strict as their parents.
For some reason, she made small exceptions to certain rules and etiquette for them.
A vivid memory of a younger version of himself knocking at her door late at night when he was weak and scared of the dark comes to mind. He shrugs his head and tries to focus on the current matter instead of getting distracted by pointless nostalgic flashbacks.
The firstborn of a new lineage is expected to follow in the footsteps of their parents, leading the ones born after them with a strict demeanor, sometimes even replacing the role of their parents in their life because duties as a Hellguard member were of the utmost importance.
If they fail to raise the younger clan members up to the Hellguard standard, shame will be bestowed upon them.
“We mustn’t coddle Zanka any further, Nee-san. He’s old enough to understand rules and the consequences that follow when they’re broken.” He sets the paper down on the table. “He’ll never grow to be a useful member at this rate.”
“I see where you’re coming from, but this request wasn’t made for Zanka specifically.”
“Care to elaborate?” He tilts his head.
“The rules set in place at the Academy only account for the boys and girls attending. There’s not much benefit gained from that; no one gains anything from this rule. Especially since once they graduate to further their career, this rule is nonexistent for Hellguard members.”
“While I do agree to some degree, at the end of the day, it’s just a small rule that was made up to remind students that they should take care of their appearance. Basic self-care—”
“You missed my first point.” Her sharp tone cuts through, causing the muscles in his body to tense up.
“Pardon?”
“As I’ve stated earlier, the rules in the academy are made only for male or female students.” She leans onto the table, locking her eyes with Goka’s.
He gulps. “I’m aware, though I’m not sure that I understand what you’re trying to imply.”
“I’ve been doing some thinking…the letter we got from Zanka’s teacher reminded me of something.” She starts, subconsciously tapping her nails rhythmically. “Goka, would you say that…to be a proper Hellguard member, you must first fully embrace yourself?”
“I never thought about that, but if I had to answer, I guess so. If you understand your weaknesses, you can find ways to work around them or—”
“No, Goka, you’re off the mark again.” Kyouka sighs.
“Let’s try again.” She says in a familiar tone, it was the one she’d use when she was still learning how to lead him, when he wasn’t understanding her teachings during training sessions, but not because he was stupid; it was due to it being either a hard concept to grasp firsthand or she was struggling to put the words together into a coherent explanation.
He wonders what made her revert to this. Tip-toing around a subject and waiting for him to connect the dots instead of bluntly stating it to his face. It was unlike her.
“Hmm…okay, let’s say that…that…” She runs a hand through her hair. “...”
“Is everything all right?” His shoulders fall as he looks at her in concern.
“I’m doing fine, it’s just that I’m not well-versed in this topic.” She admits through gritted teeth. “I have to tread carefully around it. Please give me a moment.”
A subject Kyouka wasn’t well-versed in? Okay, this is starting to feel more serious.
Kyouka reaches under the table, patting the ground, trying to search for something. A book emerges once her hands are back up. She hides what the cover says behind her large draping sleeves, flipping through the pages with lightly squinted eyes.
“I think we can agree that it is important that someone understands themselves to unlock their full potential.” Kyouka starts with.
“That’s right.” Goka replies.
“Adolescent teenagers around Zanka’s age are at that stage where they’re going to start having to figure out who they are and what they envision themselves being in the future.”
“And the dress code has something to do with this?”
“I believe so. Appearances are important; the way someone carries themselves is quite telling of who they are as a person. I do think that a few of the restrictions that the Academy sets in place are reasonable, though the rules regarding hair are quite restrictive, don’t you think?”
“Well, I think the rules are fine as they are. Without that rule, Zanka would be mistaken for a girl or a creep. Hence, the letter we got.”
“What if Zanka’s okay with that?”
“...”
“...”
The two of them stare at each other in a really uncomfortable silence.
“I can’t be the only one to notice that…right?” Kyouka speaks up before they can suffocate from holding their breath.
“I didn’t want to assume that they were…like that…those types of people.”
Another round of silence follows.
Now that Kyouka mentions it…
…
“Why is your hair like that?” Goka raises an eyebrow, standing idly in front of the open door leading to Zanka’s bedroom.
“Like what?” The teen barely looks up from the book he was reading, sliding a bookmark on a page before closing it and actually facing Goka now.
“The hairpin.” He points at it.
His hair had been getting longer, Goka noticed. Instead of cutting it, it seems like the kid has decided to just keep it up in a bun similar to Kyouka’s
“...” Zanka stays silent, face turning from the usual light tan that he had into a ghostly shade of white.
“Cut your hair before Father decides to have another talk with you about it.” Goka reminds him before heading out.
…
“I think I understand what you’re trying to say,” Goka mutters, putting together the pieces.
Kyouka lets out a shaky breath of relief.
“So, Zanka’s a girl?”
“Evidence points us to that conclusion, yes.” She nods. “Though this is all just speculation on our end, it might be something else entirely, I mean, not all males with long hair identify as transgender. Zanka could simply have a preference for longer hair.”
“I see…what should we do with this information?”
“I’m going to wait a couple of weeks before sending this letter, so people won’t make assumptions about me trying to swindle Zanka out of trouble. Of course, the point of this letter is to make sure that other students who are like Zanka—not that we know for sure if Zanka’s like that—can explore with their appearance, and hopefully it will lead them to understanding themselves, then they can unlock their full potential and serve the Hellguard with all of their heart.”
Kyouka sets the book down, reaching out for the letter in front of Goka.
“As for how we’ll carry on with Zanka knowing this vital piece of information…that’s where you come into play, Goka.”
•·················•·················•
“Fuck, this shit stings.”
Zanka thinks to himself. He didn’t mean for this to happen; his emotions had taken the front seat in the control panel located inside his brain before logical thinking could, so he’s left to deal with the consequences of this all. He’s never going to get better at this rate.
The young teen stumbles into his bedroom, shutting the bathroom door behind him. Kyouka had given him a nice earful after walking in on Zanka’s small breakdown, which was just great. He stayed in there even after Kyouka had left, staring at his reflection through the cracked mirror until he heard heavy footsteps slowly approaching his bedroom door.
He grabs a random book off his bookshelf and plops onto his futon. Opening a random page and looking at the words, not really reading them. The sound of footsteps stops, and he expects the door to swing open, but that doesn’t come to his confusion.
An actual 10 to 20 minutes passed by with whom he guessed was Goka—he had the heaviest footsteps between his other family members, always walking like everything that lived and breathed pissed him off—standing in front of the door.
Did he notice that his footsteps were like those of a giant and decided to stop stomping around everywhere? He can’t be waiting outside. Why the hell would he even do that? He’s probably passed his room with lighter steps this time.
Zanka was about to slump down and bury himself in his futon after assuming that no one was here to bother him, when a sudden knock came at his door—wait. Knocking? Since when did anyone knock?
“Come in…” Zanka mutters unconfidently, shifting his sitting position and hiding his face in a book.
The door opens with a slight struggle, and in walks Goka, holding a bunch of stuff.
Oh. So he was just standing outside his room for 20 minutes.
If Zanka had to take a guess as to why he’d do that, his older brother was likely sent here by Kyouka to lecture him, hence why it took him 20 minutes to enter; he was preparing the words he wished to yell at Zanka.
He peeks up from what he’s been pretending to read. Watching Goka quietly set a plastic bag off to the side. Must be bandages from Kyouka.
His head lowers again, absentmindedly rubbing the texture of paper between his fingers to calm his trembling body. He flips the page, narrowing his eyes on the words that seemed scattered and jumbled up all over the place to distract himself from his older brother’s presence.
The room was deathly quiet.
He doesn’t know what his siblings are going to do to him for pulling that immature stunt.
A dark silhouette larger than him engulfs his smaller figure, casting a shadow over him ominously with a lean in his posture; it was as if Goka was a factory worker checking on a box that had fallen and was filled with fragile items inside. His eyes lock in on Zanka.
The feeling of those eyes inspecting every detail about him sends a wave of guilt and disgust through him; he subconsciously shrinks in on himself, knees pulled up to his chest, and the book rests on them with his head buried in it.
He tries not to choke on every breath he takes.
Fuzzy vision takes over.
Shit.
Don’t show your panicked state.
His teeth tug on one of the walls in his mouth.
What does Goka want from him?
He doesn’t usually stay this long without saying anything. He’d take a long yelling session over this silence. At least he knew what to expect with their lectures; it would usually be the same criticisms all over again, something he did wrong, something about one of his siblings adapting to the lesson faster than he did, something he must fix about himself, something he lacked in—which was a lot. There was a reason why they lasted so long and would drag on for the rest of the lesson.
Silence was scarier than that. What was he supposed to expect when context clues and any form of communication were stripped away?
Was Goka mad?
He must be.
Weakness was the number one enemy in their family. Everyone despised any signs of it. He should’ve outgrown this habit; it’ll mess with his movements during practice—speaking of which, practice will probably be harsher tomorrow now that his head is clearer and he can take a guess at the consequences that will be thrown at him. They’ve got to rebuild Zanka up again. He’ll have to do better tomorrow and find a way to distract himself from the itchiness that came from his wounds, otherwise—
Cling!
Zanka involuntarily jerks up at the sound.
He unfolds himself from the curled-up state he was in, taking a peek at what that was.
…?
Food?
He stares at it.
Right, Goka walked in holding a plate, if his memories didn’t fail him. An odd selection of mixed fruits sat on a porcelain plate. Blackberries, oranges, papaya, and his favourite, blueberries. Instead of feeling touched or comforted, he feels like a prisoner getting his last meal before they sentence him to the death penalty.
“Zanka, get up.” Goka orders sternly, taking a seat at the small table on his knees.
Zanka stumbles out of the futon he has been rotting away on with awkward and rushed movements, setting the unread book on the blanket before he sits opposite to Goka.
“Eat up...Helps with iron absorption. You’ll need it if you want to do better.” His older brother mumbles under his breath, sliding the plate over to him.
Zanka swallows the lump in his throat. “Thanks…but—”
“I’m not leaving until you empty the plate. That ‘I’m not hungry’ tactic won’t work on me.” He crosses his arms and looks at Zanka expectantly with a glare. “Go on.”
Zanka doesn’t dare argue back.
•·················•·················•
Goka squints his eyes at Zanka, who just shrinks away, much to his dismay.
He was entrusted by Kyouka to fulfill this mission with his best capabilities. If Kyouka herself thought that he was the perfect candidate for this, he would absolutely not let her down.
…
“Make Zanka feel comfortable?” Goka repeats her request in a questioning tone.
“Exactly. According to this book…” She flips to a page and glides it over to Goka.
He accepts it and takes a look.
“Fourth paragraph on the left.” She gives him a pointer.
“...Coming out as anything under the transgender umbrella could be exciting because you’re finally revealing your true self to your close ones, but it could also feel terrifying. The concept of one changing their gender to something that might not fit society's standards could be very confusing to most people. Reactions vary depending on each person, and one common thing that trans people fear is unacceptance.”
Kyouka raises a hand, signalling for him to stop reading. “There it is.”
“The rules at the Academy never account for trans individuals; therefore, it sets the precedent that anything outside of what is deemed normal is unacceptable. The fear that this causes might interfere with studies, so we must deal with this as soon as possible.”
…
Goka rubs his chin.
Vulnerability wasn’t something that was commonly shown in their family. Today was just filled with unfamiliar subjects; he should use this as an opportunity to sharpen his skills when dealing with future emotional suspects.
To get someone to open up, he would usually instill fear in the person he was talking to, ensuring they knew he meant business and that there would be consequences to their silence. But after diving deeper into the books Kyouka has about this topic, fear would only hold them back from reaching the goal they’re aiming for.
That goal being answers as to how Zanka sees themselves and to figure out if they’re a part of that community or not. Important information that can stunt their growth as a future Hellguard member if not taken seriously.
Goka figures that he must first start by lightening the mood.
What better way than to tell a joke? One that relates to the subject he’s going to bring up. Goka nods to himself.
Yes, this will do.
•·················•·················•
“...You’ve made our parents…transparent,” Goka says with the utmost serious tone.
Zanka freezes. Jaw pausing mid-chew.
From what he knows, his parents had always been busy people. Everyone knew that. He didn’t expect to be blamed for their parents' lack of availability in their lives. Not like he could ever fault Goka for thinking like that. He understands where this comment is coming from.
They were the ones who were forced to raise him; he’d also be pissed if he had to take care of an unwanted child with wasted potential—taking the limited time they had in this life to deal with him. Sometimes he felt like he was a curse to the family, just there to serve as an obstacle to their prestigious lineage.
He wonders if his family would be better off without his existence.
“I understand.” He doesn’t dare to look up, taking an orange slice and plopping it in his mouth so that he doesn’t have to speak anymore.
Goka keeps his eyes on Zanka, waiting for more. “Is that all you have to say for yourself? Surely, you know why I’m here by now.”
A cold bead of sweat dampens the back of his clothes.
This was it…he’s run out of second chances, hasn’t he?
Are they finally going to kick him out? Was this the last straw for them?
“I…apol…apologize…”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
He swallows and tries again. “I apologize.”
Goka leans forward. “For what exactly?”
“For tainting our—the family name,” Zanka replies with a shaky tone. His eyes were glued to the plate, unable to look Goka in the eyes.
•·················•·················•
That worked a little too well.
He didn’t expect Zanka to admit their thoughts about themselves so quickly.
This technique was truly effective.
Now he has something to report back to Kyouka with barely any effort.
Tainting the family name…
What could that mean? Was this what they called ‘internalized transphobia?’ He recalls one of the books they went over, mentioning something similar to this. Disgust within themselves caused by the inability to accept their identity, and many other variables alongside that.
He acknowledges that he should’ve compiled more information about this before moving to confront Zanka about these problems. He’s certain that he’s only scratched the surface. Though it is too late to do that now.
“Who you are…what you—think yourself as, isn’t tainting the family.”
The next step is to let them know that they don’t hold old-school values like that. A part of Goka wants to laugh at them for making such ridiculous false assumptions like that about their family. The only thing that would put a stain on their family name is if Zanka fails to make a name for themselves as a Hellguard member.
Zanka lifts their head, scanning Goka’s face as if he’s a stranger they don’t recognize.
“I’m not?” They say carefully and slowly with a tilt of their head. “...You’re not mad?”
“Why should I waste precious time and energy on getting mad over minuscule things?” He huffs, offended.
Yes, he doesn’t have much understanding about this topic, but that doesn’t mean that he’s going to view it as abnormal; he knows that much at least.
“The Hellguard are made of various types of people, even those in the same predicament as you. They’ve made it despite all that, which shows that they’re resilient. So focus up on your studies if you truly don’t want to stain the family name.”
Zanka’s blue eyes shoot up wide, and they stare at Goka in disbelief.
“If you don’t believe me, look at Kyouka. She’s succeeded despite being in a somewhat similar boat as you.” Goka throws in.
Zanka should be able to catch on to what he’s hinted at. Kyouka’s got suspiciously close female friendships that he’s certain cross the line of being platonic; anyone with eyes can see it. Both Kyouka and Zanka are essentially in the same community, that queer stuff.
“...K-Kyouka?” Zanka blinks.
“Do I need to repeat myself? Yes, Kyouka. You both are similar, geez, can you really not see that? We’ve really got to work on your observation skills someday.” Goka shakes his head. “Wash your plate when you’re done. I’m heading out.”
•·················•·················•
“How’d it go?” Kyouka pulls the hairstick out of her bun, letting her hair pool down to the ground.
“Well,” Goka reports back. “I’m sure that they’ve got the message. I’ve established where our opinions stand.”
Kyouka nods. “That’s good, keep an eye on them for the meantime. We need to monitor their future improvements to see if this actually increases their productivity.”
“Understood.”
•·················•·················•
Kyouka…Kyouka was similar to him?
Was Kyouka also a problem child like he is?
Questions run through his head, unfortunately, Goka leaves before he can ask what he means by that.
“The Hellguard are made of various types of people, even those in the same predicament as you. They’ve made it despite all that, which shows that they’re resilient. So focus up on your studies if you truly don’t want to stain the family name.”
He pulls his sleeves up, staring at the mediocrely done bandages.
Could someone as pathetic as him really rise up the ranks like Kyouka did?
The girl who trained all her life to secure the position she had now, the one who raised him, taught him how to wield a weapon, shot bullets at him to prepare him for the future where he’ll be detained with all sorts of criminals…
There was no way he’d be as successful as her, though…it doesn’t hurt to try, right?
Goka didn’t yell at him like he usually would; he actually had a conversation that wasn’t just one-sided yelling with him. This was going somewhere, he could feel it. If Goka of all people gave him that small pep talk, maybe his life really did have meaning. He could cross that finish line if he tried. Surely he could.
With a determined look on his face, he sits up, fetching the plastic bag his siblings gave him.
If they believe in him, he shouldn’t disappoint them even further.
Zanka’s going to work his ass off to become of use to the Hellguard!