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The sky’s pretty at this time of day. Well, as pretty as it can be down here in The Ground. The way the light breaks through the dust, shining gold on the trashy city was something that Zanka was able to find some comfort in. Throughout it all, he has to wonder how it must look from up there in The Sphere.
Suddenly, an infuriating squeaking sound pierces through the blanket of his peace. Zanka startles, balanced precariously on the edge of a rooftop. His knuckles turn white around the grip of his Lovely Assistaff, but he doesn’t fall. He’s stabler than he thought he was. Hmm.
He fidgets with the communicator on his wrist for a moment. It’s too loose, sliding over his gloves too easily. Zanka can never get it to sit quite perfectly, and it drives him up the wall. Too tight and it hurts his wrist, too loose and it ends up half up his arm. He takes a short breath, and prepares for the conversation. Tap.
“Enjin,” he greets. Who else? “Rare for me to hear from you.” Well, that’s a lie. Even if Enjin didn’t call often, he probably spoke to Zanka the most out of everyone except for maybe Riyo. Zanka wasn’t exactly the most sociable person in The Cleaners. He preferred to keep to himself, just as he did in Hell Guard. Sure, it’s a completely different environment, but his mantra stayed the same. Stay quiet, stay focused. Don’t let yourself be anything but the best.
“What’s going on?” he asks, despite everything. Enjin has always been safe, safer than anyone else he knows. He’s the one who got him out of that well, after all. He gave him a second chance in life after he threw it all away and laid it to rest at Hyo’s feet.
He misses the first few words out of Enjin’s mouth, partially due to the audio quality and partially due to the thoughts racing through his head. He doesn’t know what's up with him right now. He’s usually not this deep in his head. He’s unfocused, and it’s unacceptable. He forces himself to listen closer.
“Huh?” he breathes. Swallows, and sits up a little straighter like he’s supposed to. “What do you mean you came across a natural?” That’s what Enjin said, right?
“Just that,” Enjin confirms, voice low and natural and familiar. “Guy fell into my lap back in No Man’s Land. And wouldn’t you know it, turns out he’s got powers… The ‘we haven’t seen that before’ kind to boot.”
What in Hell? What does that mean? Enjin’s all-too casual to be throwing Zanka’s world for a loop. He hasn’t heard the word natural used like that in almost three years now.
He zones back in on Enjin’s words. “ –convince him to join up with us,” he says, with vague hints of mischief and who knows what. Zanka’s not in the right mindset to decipher it, and to be honest he’s not sure if he wants to know. “You two have a playdate after I’m done here.”
What?
“See you then!” Enjin chirps. Zanka hears a loud, high and angry shout starting before the communicator clicks off, the faint background static that was hidden under his voice stopping abruptly. The silence is jarring, but it’s not silent. The wind is still whistling around him, and he can still hear the steady, quiet sound of his breathing.
A playdate? What could he possibly mean by that? Surely he didn’t want Zanka to train whoever this was? If they’re that much of a natural and a genius, surely they don’t need him. He’s so simple, so painfully average. He didn’t think he was average, not until he met her. She knocked him down a few pegs, to where he could stay down and live. This is where he’s meant to be. No matter how hard he tries, he knows his place is here. There’s no climbing back up from here.
Zanka has started to make peace with that.
Despite that, there’s still a pain in his chest, restricting his breath and sending false waves of panic through his skull. He presses his hands to his chest and drags a slow puff of air in. It’s not enough.
What is his purpose now, if Enjin’s found a new natural to recruit. Is it even a possibility, or is it a certainty? Enjin seemed certain. Zanka knows him. Despite his laid-back exterior, he was strong and determined. If he wanted something, he’d do his best to get it. This natural guy might as well already be on the team.
He’s not supposed to be so attached to The Cleaners, but he couldn’t help it. A selfish, childish piece of him thrived under the attention and the almost family-like connection he’s formed with Team Akuta and the others he’s gotten to know over time. This connection makes him weak, vulnerable. It interferes with everything he was taught and everything he strives to be.
And now it’s going to be the end of him, because Zanka doesn’t think he’ll be able to cope with having to leave. Because that’s what’s going to happen. It’s a cycle. He thinks he’s doing oh-so-well, but then some natural comes along and screws everything over for him.
Best case scenario, Zanka becomes a side character. Someone meant to be overshadowed, and someone built for others to be better than. A foundation. Worst case, he ends up in a fucking well again, waiting helplessly for someone else to drag him out of rock bottom. He got lucky the first time. It’s not going to happen that way again. He’ll waste away down there. He’ll die like he’s meant to, average, alone, and unremarkable. No one will remember Zanka Nijiku. In his place, they’ll remember Hyo and whoever this new kid is.
Zanka likes to believe he’s matured since it happened the first time. He’s regressing, shrinking back to an older, stupid version of himself. He’s here again, sitting on his ass and wallowing in his misery. Except this time he’s on a roof and not stuck in a well.
He hasn’t changed, not a single fucking bit.
The comforting rays of light feel blinding and harsh. They’re lighting him up, exaggerating all of his flaws in his soul and the blemishes in his skin. Zanka Nijiku. A name he doesn’t deserve, but puts up as his shield and drags it through the dust with him.
He exhales sharply, and stares at the ground over the edge of a roof. Useless. Stupid. Nijiku. If he’d known any better, if he’d known he’d be forced back to where he started, he would’ve stayed in that damn well and let himself rot away when he had the chance. When no one cared.
It’s an impulsive and fleeting thought, but he thinks it anyway. He doesn’t remember exactly how deep the well was, only that it was deep enough to hurt when he hit the ground. This roof has surely got to be even worse than thought. Maybe it could finish the job for him.
Zanka sighs, and stands up slowly, just enough to send an ache through his legs. Fine. He’ll go meet this guy, if they’re even worth training.
He runs his free finger over his communicator again. It’s not gone. This opportunity, this life with the Cleaners hasn’t been ripped from his cooling hands.
Yet.
—
Well, this kid is an asshole.
He took Assistaff right out of Zanka’s hands. If she’d been leaning against the wall, that’d be one thing, but no. She never left Zanka’s grasp. This rat had to make a conscious effort and put strength into his hold to tug her away from him. Who does that?
And now he’s using it to beat some helpless kitten. What kind of sicko goes after an animal like that?
“Hey,” he snaps, stepping out of his perch in the alleyway. The kid– seriously, he can’t be any older than 15, though Zanka’s not one to talk– jumps at his voice and brandishes his own Treasure at him.
“That’s mine,” he says, as calm as he can. He narrows his eyes, taking in the kid’s starved and small frame. It’s not uncommon to see on The Ground, of course, but Zanka was expecting a bit more from a Spherite. Expectations, huh? He really did have a way of disappointing and being disappointed. “Give it back, you little shit,” his voice is gritty from how low he’s forcing it. It’s effective, though. The kid looks even more freaked.
“The hell are you talking about?” he asks, bold and loud. The sound grates on Zanka’s ears. He scowls. Stupid. “This money’s mine. What kind of stupid–”
“Not that,” Zanka says, rolling his eyes. “The stick”
“This?” asks the kid– Rudo, if Zanka can remember correctly. Who is he kidding? He always remembers. Drilled the information into his brain the second the words left Enjin’s mouth. “It’s just some dumb stick, man.”
Anger flares through Zanka. How dare he? He doesn’t know shit about his Lovely Assistaff. Not how he found her, not how he suffered for her, and now how she’s been there for him his whole life, despite the fact that he’s had her for just a few years. No one taught this guy about the significance of Vital Instruments, surely. Either that or he’s just insensitive. It could certainly be both.
Zanka blinks, and he suddenly holds her again. The interaction is blurry in his head, unrecallable over the ringing in his ears. What’s going on with him? Either way, he has her back now. That’s all that matters. It doesn’t matter how missing time sends an uncomfortable feeling to Zanka’s stomach. How could he let himself fumble like that?
“If you steal someone’s treasure, you better be prepared to deal with the consequences,” he warns. The feeling of Assistaff in his hands is comforting, and grounding. “Mr. Rudo the natural.” The way his voice drops on the last word is unmistakable, and he mentally curses himself for letting his malice become so obvious.
Rudo blanches, it’s noticeable even with how pale he is. “You know my name?” he asks, anger and confusion replaced by hesitant curiosity, so childish it’s disgusting. “So, you really are with the Cleaners?”
“Enjin filled me in about you,” Zanka admits. He allows himself, his posture to relax just barely for a moment. “The name’s Zanka Nijiku,” but is it really? “Enjin’s put me in charge of your training.” Just kill him now.
“Never thought I'd have to start with something as basic as ‘don't steal from people,’” Zanka snarks, staring down at Rudo like it’s all he’s got.
“I was just trying to get my money back from that cat–”
“You keep saying that, and all I hear is your daddy didn’t raise you right.” Is it harsh? Yeah. Maybe Zanka’s projecting a bit. He’s disappointed his father quite a bit, not that he’s seen the man in years.
The immediate reaction of anger that takes over Rudo’s expression is amusing. He’s unfocused, even more so than Zanka. Zanka’s gut twists in some sickening satisfaction, watching Rudo’s eyes dilate in anger and seeing the way his breathing picks up. Rudo’s not perfect. That’s all he needs.
Then, he completely switches up. If Zanka had to put a word to it, it’s like Rudo deflated.
“I didn’t mean to take it,” he mutters so incoherently it’s like he’s not even saying it. “I didn’t realize it was your… Treasure. I’m… uhm, sorry.”
Now it’s Zanka’s turn to freeze. What the Hell?
He clears his throat, staring at the kid before he is able to conjure up a suitable response. “Oh. I mean… I guess you did give it right back,” he mumbles, awkwardly. What’s he supposed to do now? He’d been getting ready to fight Rudo, not whatever this is.
“I apologize for losing my temper, I suppose. She’s my Treasure,” he says, gesturing lightly with his Assistaff. “I didn’t exactly overreact, but regardless I didn’t mean to scare you.” There. That’s decent. Not too vulnerable, but not enough to qualify as an asshole.
“You’re joining the Cleaners, aren’t you?” He asks, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. To replace me, just like Hyo did. But if Rudo is going to try and be civil, he may as well try too. Afterall, if he gets to stick around he’s going to have to train this kid anyway.Maybe that’s what Enjin needs him for now. As long as he gets to stay, he’ll take what he can get.
“I guess we got off on the wrong foot,” he continues. “We can… try and work together now, yeah?”
Rudo looks genuinely shaken at his change in demeanor. Zanka tenses, wondering if he said something weird. Is there something on his face? No.
“Sure.” Rudo says, simply.
“So, what’s your Vital Instrument?” he wonders, real curiosity jumbled in with what feels like an obligation to ask. “How do they work?”
“I think it’s my gloves,” Rudo admits, holding his hands up. The gloves in question look entirely too big for his hands. They must be three times the size of whatever appendage is hidden under them. “I don’t really know what I… do with them.”
Hmm. Annoying, yes, but Zanka assumes that’s where he’ll come in handy.
He looks at the gloves, a small smile on his face. He’s always appreciated craftsmanship, even if these gloves were worn to Hell and back. That’s what makes them so special, after all.
“Those are awesome,” he says, and finds that he really means it. “Where’d you get em? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen that mark before.”
Rudo doesn’t respond for a moment, seemingly transfixed by Zanka’s face. He fights back a frown.
“My Vital Instrument’s just a staff,” he says, quickly, trying to save the conversation. “Well, others have teased me about it but it’s still special to me. Uhm… what made you decide to want to join… the…”
He looks back at Rudo’s face to see the most unsettling, unnatural smile he’s seen in his life. Zanka jumps out of his skin and resists the urge to smack the kid with Lovely Assistaff right then and there.
“I wouldn't say I joined,” he chirps, just a bit too happy. It’s fucking creepy. “I'm just lending a hand until I get what I want from you guys!”
Oh.
Hell.
No.
Zanka sees red. Or, more accurately, he sees blue. He raises his Lovely Assistaff.
And then everything goes to shit.
—
Literally. Everything went to shit.
Zanka sits in the middle seat of Enjin’s car. His clothes are rubbing against his skin in a way that makes him want to rip it off. He feels coated in layers of grime and we all know what else that not even scalding hot water could burn off. Every rock Enjin manages to hit (Zanka swears he does it on purpose) sends a pang of pain right up to vibrate around his skull.
He’s going to fucking bash his head against the wall. Just like back in Hell Guard. He still hasn’t changed.
Enjin’s still cackling. The humor hasn’t worn off on him yet, despite the fact he picked them up at least 2 minutes ago. Zanka can feel Rudo stirring with anger and embarrassment through the seats of the car even though they’re both shoved up against the walls in an attempt to create as much distance as possible.
I’ve never been so humiliated by shit before.
“You guys sealed the deal with poop, hah!” Enjin grins at them in the rearview mirror, but Zanka refuses to meet the man’s gaze. This is the guy he looks up to, despite his questionable sense of humor. Behind that lazy grin and that obnoxious laugh is the man who pulled Zanka out of hell. He can’t let himself lose sight of that, no matter how humiliated he feels right now.
“Zanka’s the closest thing the Ground has to a spoiled rich kid,” Enjin chirps, “And you flung poop at him! Awh, I don’t know what I was expecting from you two,” he muses, making an unnecessarily sharp turn. Zanka nearly vomits, both from the movement and the words spilling out of his idol’s mouth. Rudo eyes him curiously but doesn’t say anything. Zanka refuses to acknowledge him. If he learns about Hell Guard, it’s over. Rudo will have no trouble surpassing Zanka, especially if he knows of his previous failure.
“Stop laughing,” Zanka grumbles, even though Enjin’s quiet snorts are the least of his problems right now. Despite his embarrassment, part of him feels proud. Enjin’s laughing because of him. At his expense, sure, but he’ll take anything. If he’s entertained, he can’t kick Zanka out.
“It wasn’t the most dignified first meeting,” Enjin says, barely calmed, “But this guy’s gonna be your trainer. Zanka’s the most skilled Giver we have at controlling Vital Instruments. He’ll teach you a ton.”
Zanka’s heart skips a beat. Enjin thinks I’m good? Excitement swells up in his throat and he forces himself to swallow. The Enjin thinks I’m…
Zanka can’t help it, he giggles. He has to look insane to everyone in this car, but he doesn’t care. Enjin thinks he’s skilled. He wants him to train this natural. Zanka’s worth keeping around for now, if only to be a supporting beam for Enjin’s new project.
Rudo hasn’t won the other Cleaners over yet. He’s not technically part of them yet. Zanka has time to prepare. He won’t let himself hit rock bottom again. He’ll train Rudo, sure, but he’ll push himself harder. He won’t be bested. He won’t survive it if he is.