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Deep down, Zanka always knew that his desperation to prove himself—to Enjin, to his family, to himself—would kill him.
He knew that his insistent need to show that—despite being a failure of every sense of the word in his family’s eyes, despite lacking that integral human connection most people are capable of—he was still worth something would lead him to his demise. He’s known it ever since he threw himself into that well, holding on to a stick that shouldn’t have even been in the lineup of weapons offered to those like him, those whose souls weren’t compatible with a single Demon Weapon in his class.
At least those people didn’t feel a sort of connection with their reserve weapons, weapons that were only to be used until they found a Demon Weapon whose soul was compatible with theirs somewhere outside of the academy, if it came to that. It was only ever meant to be temporary, but Zanka had looked at that feeble, unassuming stick, and he’d picked it up because he thought, “I’ll bet you’re capable of great things,” and rather than getting praise for picking an unorthodox weapon, he’d instead been met with confusion. Disdain, even, for even looking in the direction of the thing. It was a mistake, and now, so was he.
Still, he hadn’t let go of it, something Enjin helpfully pointed out when he’d found Zanka in that well. No, he’d held on because he couldn’t let go, especially not now that people believed that it wasn’t worth even a shred of attention. Now, he has to prove them wrong, has to prove that it is worth it, that he’s worth it, and what better way to do that than fighting over-large trash beasts with it? Sure, he can’t fight the Kishin Eggs that roamed the world—those could only be dealt with by Meisters and their Demon Weapons—but there were plenty of trash beasts that wrought havoc on the land that also needed dealing with, and if Zanka couldn’t do one thing, he’d certainly do his best at the other.
So, of course, it only made sense that this acute yearning for a feeling of worthiness would lead him to a situation that he couldn’t easily escape.
To be fair, how was he meant to know that walking away from his Meister Weapon duo was bad this time around? He hadn't ever had any problems before—there were many more trash beasts than there were Kishin Eggs following them—so he'd figured that this time would be like all the others. A simple trash beast causing problems that needed to be dealt with.
Unfortunately, this time, there was a Kishin Egg following this trash beast, and as soon as the trash beast had gone down, Zanka had not a moment of reprieve before he was being slammed into, pushed forward by the force of it. The wind is knocked out of him as he goes flying through the air, landing rudely in the debris of the defeated trash beast. He barely has a moment to call Lovely Assistaff to him when he’s being hounded again, using her to block the blades that had been a quarter of a second away from slicing his neck.
This Kishin Egg was clearly farther along in its road to becoming a Kishin, if he was seeing things correctly. The madness in its eyes was prevalent, nearly taking over what had once been its sanity, and Zanka was hardly even sure if it was once a person with a human body. It leans all its weight down on him, pressing hard against the unrelenting metal of his Lovely Assistaff, and it’s as Zanka is about to use the rest of his strength to force it off him when something nails it in the side. It goes flying sideways, crashing into more of the trash beast debris with a loud groan, a noise Zanka somehow couldn’t fathom it making.
He uses the opportunity to get to his feet, but then he freezes in place because what was he meant to do? He was a Meister without a Weapon, a Giver who could do no damage against an advanced Kishin Egg like this, and now that he has a moment to even think, that was probably why he was targeted in the first place. According to the first (and hopefully only) Kishin, Giver’s souls were particularly appetizing, and they had been savored during his murderous rampage. Zanka remembers the disdain on his teacher’s face as she’d told the class that Givers needed special protection from Kishin Eggs, given that their souls were not only more sought-after but worth at least five pure human souls. Seeing as the common giver could extend their souls to their beloved objects, it only made sense that they had so much more of it to spare. The relationship between the Givers and Meisters with their Demon Weapons was a tentative one, but a relationship nonetheless. It was one of admitted reluctance, but the Hell Guard had a duty to uphold, and if protecting Givers was a part of that, then so be it.
At the time of the teaching, Zanka was fully ready to accept this. So Givers needed extra protections from Kishin Eggs–-fine by him. This was just something he could lord over their heads when the time came; ‘Don’t step too far outta line—you need our help as much as we might need yours’.
Then he’d gone and bonded with his precious stick, and that advantage had been thrown out of the window, a fact that had never been more obvious than now, where he stands across from a cloud of dust hosting an advanced Kishin Egg and something strong enough to plow it over.
A moment later, something is being thrown at him this time, and he’s got just enough time to—to catch a person?
Dropping Lovely (and internally apologizing about it), he manages to open his arms just in time to cushion the very human-shaped object coming at him, grunting as he bears the impact of their weight, which truthfully only really has him sliding back a few feet. Despite their apparent height, they weren’t all that heavy, and Zanka adjusts his grip on them as soon as he’s reaffirmed his footing.
Long, long hair, so long that, despite being in his arms, it nearly scrapes the floor. It’s the only thing he manages to register before the person is springing out of his arms, toward the Kishin Egg that had stood up from the dust cloud. They’re a blur of hair and clothing and something metal as they clash with the Kishin Egg again, a maniacal giggle sounding from the tumult. Zanka can only look on in complete bewilderment. He wanted to move, wanted to jump in there and help maybe, but he’d only get in the way, and clearly this person was someone equipped to deal with Kishin Eggs in the first place, something he woefully was not. He would have been, were his soul not ‘too intense’ or ‘overbearing’, as his peers had so kindly put it. Maybe they were just too weak, too—
“Hey, you!” A voice yells at him, startling Zanka out of his inappropriately timed musings, given the situation. “You’re a Meister, right?” The voice was coming from the chaos, and the dust cleared just enough for Zanka to make out the form of the Kishin Egg, a Demon Weapon disfigured by their greed, and someone clinging to their back. The Kishin Egg thrashes and jerks, trying its hardest to dislodge the person, yet to no avail. The person’s arms were wrapped tight around the Kishin Egg’s neck, except they didn’t look much like arms at all…
“Yeah?” Zanka calls back, cursing himself for sounding unsure. He was still a Meister—he’d passed every single physical test for it with flying colors after his extensive training—but he hadn’t thought about wielding a Demon Weapon in years (that was a lie; he thought about it every day. He was constantly trying to convince himself that he was perfectly happy with his Lovely Assistaff).
“I need ya to use me!” The Kishin Egg twists, reaching behind it now to try and force the person off its back, and it’s only partially successful. One of the person’s arms is pried off its neck, and the other doesn’t get a chance because the person abruptly jumps from the Kishin Egg’s body, flipping in midair and landing next to Zanka in an erratic manner. It takes Zanka entirely too long to realize the words that had been spoken to him.
“You—huh?” He stammers, dumbfounded because surely he hadn’t heard that right. None of the Weapons he’d ever encountered wanted Zanka to be their Meister.
The guy—because Zanka was certain they were male now, given the bobbing lump in his throat—huffs irritably, turning a bored look on him. “Are you deaf or somethin’? I said I need ya to use me.” He points at the Kishin Egg, which was currently writhing around weirdly, clawing at its throat. "That thing is stronger than it looks, and my venom'll only hold it off for so long—I need a Meister to wield me so I can eat its soul." The guy then fully turns to grab Zanka's shoulders, staring gravely into his eyes. "I'm hungry, man—it's been a hot minute since I last had the soul of a Kishin Egg, and I've been tailin' this one for ages now. It's had a lotta human souls at this point, so its own has got to be nice and juicy at this point. You gotta help me out."
It's all very much in a short time, but once again, Zanka isn't given much of a chance to take it all in before the Kishin Egg lets out a harrowing wail before charging headfirst at them. Then, a few things happen, almost all at once.
First, the man, without another word, transforms into a weapon Zanka doesn't think he's ever seen before: two rather sizeable metal rings lined with spikes along most of their rounded edges, save for a small part lined with leather for grip.
Second, it takes Zanka all of one second to figure out how to grasp them, his fingers slotting perfectly along the handles like they were made for him, and of all the Weapons he's attempted to partner with in the past, that has never happened before, not even with the most intuitive of forms (they always felt wrong somehow).
Third, when the Kishin Egg is about a step away from them, Zanka has the instinct to bring the rings together, and when he does, they form one giant ring with a handle cutting through the center of it, just in time to meet the Kishin Egg's next attack. The clash of metal against metal reverberates through Zanka's body, vibrating him down to his very core, and he feels surges of something pulsing through him. It felt as if he were a lake, and waves were being raised to crash against the boundaries of his skin, coming back to his center of being stronger than before. It's overwhelming, almost, and he feels out of breath with it, grunting as he pushes against the Kishin Egg and forcing it away from him.
Fourth, and likely most important of all, Zanka experiences Soul Resonance.
It's that same pulsing feeling from before, stronger this time as those same waves rise to a tidal level, practically bursting at the seams with it. The ring in his hold seems like it gleams, and Zanka feels as though he's being urged to do something.
Throw, throw, throw, throw—
The 'urge' says, so he does.
Spinning the ring rapidly, he picks up speed until it practically threatens to fly off his hand. Then, with all the strength he can muster, he hurls it at the Kishin Egg.
It's severed in two before Zanka can even blink, and the ring slices a graceful arc into the air as it returns to him.
That's the first Kishin Egg Zanka's ever handled on his own.
Its soul comes drifting down, bright red and plump, as the guy said. Said guy was currently reaching an arm through the ring, pulling himself half out of his weapon form to grab at the soul, pulling it toward him and practically swallowing it whole.
"Whew," he sighs, transforming back into his human form. "That hit the spot!" He rubs contentedly at his stomach, burping quietly, and the most Zanka can do is blink in shock. His fingertips felt tingly, and they twitched absently, as if already missing the sensation of the handle in their hold. His body was practically thrumming with restless energy, and his heart still raced in his ears. Was this what it felt like to finally find someone whose soul was compatible with yours?
He was startled once more out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps, and he realized that the Weapon was walking away from him.
"Wait!" He called out, regretting it immediately. What was he supposed to say?
The Weapon turned around, raising a questioning eyebrow that edged on irritation. "What? I got places to be, man."
"Wha—but yer soul—it was compatible ta mine, wasn't it?"
The Weapon scratches absently at his cheek, tilting his head as he looks away. "Is that why it wasn't hurtin' like it usually does whenever I let someone use me?"
Zanka blinks. "…How often are ya lettin' other people use ya?"
The Weapon shrugs. "Whenever it's convenient. I can usually take care of Kishin Eggs on my own, but some of 'em are bitches to deal with. Usually, though, most people ain't able to hold me for longer than a few seconds before shit starts achin'." He sighs woefully. "If only people weren't such pussies—the pain is the best part."
Zanka feels like he's losing his mind.
"How come it starts hurtin' so fast?" He can't help but ask, his head feeling full of cotton as a theory forms. It usually took a Meister trying to wield an incompatible Demon Weapon for their soul wavelengths to clash painfully, not just holding them alone.
The Weapon kisses his teeth irritably, eyes skirting to the side as if recalling a memory. "Some bullshit about my soul bein' too violent and overbearin' or whatever. I just think that their soul is too weak."
Zanka's heart is sent into a frenzy at this, and pounds loud enough in his ears that he can't hear his own thoughts. In just that moment, they manage to get away from him enough for him to blurt out,
"Will ya be my Weapon, then?"
"There you are, Zanka!" Bro Santa's voice brings Zanka out of his—reflection? Lamenting? He's not sure what he had been doing, simply standing where the Weapon had left him. "Are you alright?"
'Fuck no,' the Weapon snorts, and he's gone before Zanka can respond, leaving the Cleaner in a state that he was far too aware of to be called shock.
"I…" he starts, then trails off, then shakes his head forcefully. "I'm fine, Bro. Just encountered a Kishin Egg, is all." Bro lets out a sound of surprise and whips his head around, searching the area. Behind him, Dear Santa does the same, rolling up his sleeves in preparation. Zanka merely sighs.
"Where? Did it get away?" Bro closes his eyes to better focus his soul-perception abilities, and Zanka can tell that he's attempting to search for Kishin Egg nearby.
"It's been dealt with already, so don't worry about it." Lifting his hand, Zanka summons Lovely Assistaff back to him, and there's part of him that relaxes when she responds. He knows that practiced Meisters were capable of becoming Givers—he was proof, after all—but it wasn't often that a Meister was partnered with a Weapon and had a vital instrument at the same time. It was believed that, when a person had one thing, there wasn't enough of their soul to be dedicated to the other.
Bro Santa opens his eyes in surprise. "Oh." He says simply, putting a hand on Dear's head to get him to relax. "Did another Meister and their Weapon come by to deal with it already, then?" Zanka shakes his head.
"No, I did." He states simply, and silence falls over them for a moment before Bro realizes that Zanka clearly wasn't going to explain further unless prompted.
"How…uh…how'd you manage that?" He asks weakly, rubbing at the back of his neck, and he watches as an odd expression passes over Zanka's face.
"A Weapon came by an' told me ta use him. Turns out, our souls were compatible, and we were able ta handle the Egg ourselves."
Bro's eyes widen. "Really? Congratulations, Zanka!" He places a gentle hand on Zanka's shoulder, smiling at him. "See? I knew you'd find someone compatible with you—no one's soul is 'too intense' for everyone. There will always be someone out there that can work with you, even if it takes you a little longer to find—
"He didn't wanna be my Weapon, Bro." Zanka cuts in, voice now flat, and Bro goes quiet. Dear snickers at his side, earning him a slighted look from Bro.
"W-well—my point still stands. It's not uncommon for a Meister to be compatible with multiple Weapons—I'm sure you'll find someone out there willing to work with you." Bro pauses, glancing at Assistaff now strapped to Zanka's back. "If that's something you still want, of course."
And with a surprise that isn't a surprise at all, Zanka finds that he doesn't have an answer to this.