Chapter Text
“Zanka.”
The boy stops, turning his head to the girl standing within the entryway of their lecture. He’s already biting back his envy, and he’s praying that, amongst everything she could say, it wouldn’t be hinted with any amount of gloating.
He forces a quaint smile towards her.
“Yeah, Hyo?” He says simply. Hyo’s hand leaves the doorframe, something seeming to be stuck on the tip of her tongue before she speaks.
She takes a step forward, squeezing her fist once, “You should know,” Hyo takes a breath. “I’m more of a lone individual.” How lone? Did you spend that time training? Studying? How many hours isolated led you to perfecting your form? Have you stopped me to gloat? Do real geniuses even bother with that?
“It’s not that I intend to change that.” Hyo stepped closer, her face still unbelievably blank. As it had always been. “Although.. If I want to branch out more,” She extends her hand, holding it out to Zanka.
“I’d like to start with someone… Who seems willing to talk to me.”
Earnest. So, so earnest. Even amongst her seemingly cold demeanor, Zanka couldn’t pick a lie out of her tone if he tried. Despite that, bitterness welled up in his emotions, and even though he smiled at her softly, he waved off her attempt to reach out.
“Sorry, I need to get going to my program, I don’t want to be tardy so early into the year.” Zanka responded politely, already turning away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hyo. You’re a real great deskmate.” He only waved over his shoulder once, offering one last polite smile before retreating from the conversation.
Hyo’s hand drops to her side, limp, as she watches Zanka’s figure shrink down the hall. Her face is still unreadable as she turns and re-enters the empty classroom. It’s spotless, the only inconsistency being Hyo’s own (still very neat) belongings, laid strewn out where her seat was. Directly beside Zanka’s own cleaned up area. She moves past her materials, stopping to stare out the window.
The setting sun glared through the glass, missing Hyo’s eyes by barely through the foliage of the few trees around. A few art majors are chalking up the pavement of the front entrance with a promotion for the cleaners. ‘If he’s passionate about it…’
‘Hm…’
‘Should I join?’ Hyo stares, and stares some more, before relenting with a sigh. She turns her back to the window and leans against it, supporting her weight by placing her palms on the ledge.
Her eyes look mindlessly at her own stuff before moving upwards, spotting a figure in the doorway. Neither of them say anything as he enters, approaches, and Hyo’s figure turns rigid upon their closing distance.
In a swift movement, a glinting knife slides out the pouch of his hoodie, nearly piercing Hyo’s side. She grabs his wrist with a jolt, twisting the bone as she maneuvers around the blade. The man slammed his palm into the side of her shoulder, whirling her around as if he were unaffected by her blatant attempt to break his wrist. She isn’t disoriented by the sudden movement, kicking her foot back and having it collide with the man’s sternum. A break of breath forces its way past his lips in a choke, yet he doesn’t let up.
He grabs both of her arms, his knife barely held between two of his fingers. Hyo swings her head back, a grotesque crunch no doubt coming from the man’s nose. She turns her body best she can, bringing her leg up and striking her heeling into his knee.
The man gawks, releasing Hyo from his hold and stumbling back, the blade–hardly–in his hand going up into the air. Hyo’s eyes flit towards the dagger, snatching it up in an instant as she whips her head around to the assailant. Her arm zips through the air, nicking the man’s cheek as he barely dodges.
His hands come against Hyo’s abdomen, tilting her back before slinging her into the ground, the jostle of her bones making a loud thud. She keeps a firm grip on the dagger, slamming her palms against the floor as she sweeps her leg out, nearly knocking the man to the ground as he stumbles back into the window, his hand coming to rest on the knob to turn it open.
Hyo’s on her feet in the matter of a split second, making another attempt to stab her attacker, narrowly missing again. He ducks under her attack, grabbing her again. She doesn’t fall to the movement, plunging the knife down before being thrown against a chair. The man grabs her pencil case, throwing it at her head as she turns her head out of the way.
He rams his full body into her, the blade barely in her grasp as he snatches her wrist, forcing her arm in the air as he flings her into the table she sits at. A pained gasp leaves her mouth as the knife goes whirling in the air again, clattering to the ground as the man charges her again.
She catches a punch he attempted to send, only being briefly caught off guard when he grabbed her waist. Hyo was hauled up onto her side, struggling with the man as she prepared to be thrown to the ground again.
Except the man darts towards the now-open window, shoving Hyo into the opening as she scrambles to grab ahold of the window’s frame.
She tried to pull herself back in. The man attempted to punch her square in the stomach. Instinctually, she blocked it, covering her arms around her organs.
Then she slipped, fell back, and was no longer within the frames of the window.
As the man stared out the window, Hyo plummeted to her death.
And calmly, the man set her belongings back as they were, picked up his knife, then left the classroom.
—////
Wham. Went the boy as his back hit the mat, his hair tousled and his skin sweat-clad. An arm chopped against his throat, forcing his head to stay down as his leg was pulled into the air by its ankle.
The boy stared up at the other boy above him, dazzled, a little loopy if you asked, and absolutely beaming. Above him, the other kid didn’t share the same disheveled appearance, nor the maniacal smile. But he saw. He saw the dilated eyes that prissy rich kid sported. It was different. Much different than anything Jabber had ever seen in an opponent. Especially not from an opponent that had beaten him.
“I forfeit.” He says breathlessly, almost, happy. The instructor clapped his hands, permitting the boys to separate. They stalled for a mere second.
The instructor grinned at the two. “Wonderful work, Zanka. As expected of a Nijiku.” He held his hands behind his back as Zanka rose to his feet, bowing respectfully.
“Thank you, sir.” He said properly.
None of the praise let up. “I ought to tell your folks about this, hm? Beating a renowned champ isn’t something to turn an eye to.” Their instructor offered happily, not even blinking at Jabber as he staggered to his feet. Haha. He was so wobbly!
Zanka stood upright, shaking his head lightly. “It’s alright, they would expect as much from me. It won’t be much to fawn over.” He answered the instructor calmly. The other pupils exchanged envious and discomforted glances. Must have been their first time seeing a guy real quick on his feet who wasn’t a total stuck-up.
“Huh,” Their instructor blinked, pleasantly surprised by the response. “Well! Guess it’s about time we start free period! Everyone, please pick someone to do a mock-fight with.” He said, already moving past the situation. Zanka gave a brief nod again before he seemingly remembered something. He turned his head towards Jabber, then walked to him again.
Their hands touched.
Zanka held Jabber’s palm firmly, before fluttering his eyes shut and lowering his head. “Thank you for sparring with me.” He said. Ah, proper manners and everything.
Despite not being one for formality, Jabber found himself stammering out the same cordial line. “Thank you f–? for sparrin’ wit’ me..” He said; Being nervous was unlike him. Although…
At that moment,
Zanka Nijiku had shocked color into Jabber’s boring, bleak life. More than any quick fight ever could.
—////
A girl next to Zanka sighs, “Gosh, it’s really sad what happened to Hyo…” She says sadly. “You and her were close, right, Zanka?” her head turns towards the half-spaced out man. He blinks, then brings his eyes to her form.
“Ah, I wouldn’t say so, but… It’s hard ‘ta think something so grisly could happen at a college as prestigious as ours.” He says with a sympathetic smile, turning his gaze towards the grey material of the lecture tables.
“Well, the courses really are stressful..” Another girl interjects, putting in her two cents.
A boy approaches, speaking up as well. “She was quite the loner, maybe it caught up with her.” He mentions, getting offended gasps from both of the girls.
“You can’t just say that!”
“That’s a bit offensive, Taro…”
“Gosh, your classroom is pretty bleak.” Another girl talks, tapping a pair of scissors in front of Zanka. His eyes dart up to be met with long, styled, red hair. “Heard about what happened,” Riyo says with a small smile and sorry eyes. “Sorry.” She shrugs her shoulders.
Zanka fixes his posture, trying to hide his obvious happiness to deal with someone unrelated to the ordeal. “It’s nothin’, really. Sure, it was sad but.. We’ve only spoken once ’er twice.” Zanka excuses his lack of care, reasoning that nothing was there in the first place.
Riyo crosses her arms, shrugging once more. “That’s true and all, but you still saw her around. It’s scary to think about. Anyone can just die before you know it.” Riyo said, her voice sounding somewhat solemn. She shakes her head. “Anyway, there's a food truck outside,” She points her scissors towards the doors to their lecture room. “Care to come out and try some ghost chili-dogs with me and Rudo?”
Zanka would often reject the idea, but today, anywhere else would be better than his classroom. “I’ll give it a try.” That wasn’t a no; Far from it, actually. Riyo gives a silent cheer as Zanka raises from his seat, pulling his backpack onto his shoulder.
He slips out from the row and follows behind Riyo, avoiding the attention of his classmates. No doubt they’ll try to hold him there as long as they can.
The pair exit, only to be met with a slender figure leaned against the wall. Right in front of them. “...Oh.” Riyo says blankly, staring at the grinning man.
“Yoooo…” He purrs slowly, a grim expression on his face. “Where are you two headed?” He asks whilst tilting his head. His grin somehow grows wider.
“We’re leaving, Wonger. Go back to your department.” Zanka states bluntly, his eyebrows furrowing as he attempts to storm past. Jabber’s hand shoots out and grabs Zanka’s forearm. It’s as if he doesn’t even blink while doing so. He didn’t even turn to look before choosing to act.
Riyo’s hold on her scissors tightens as she stands off to the side. Jabber exhales, long and slow, as he pushes himself off the wall. He stares ahead for a few seconds before tilting his head over his shoulder, and staring at Zanka with a flat face.
After a beat of tense silence, his odd smile slinks back onto his face, stretched and grim. “I made a pretty great trek ova’ here.” He says, before bending his back, slow, tilting his head even more. “It’d be a shame to jus’ head back ‘cause you ain’t in the mood for ya boy.” Jabber still leaned back, more, and more.
His locs dangle. “Came ‘ta chat.. Can’t a guy get that much?” His painted-black nails began to dig into Zanka’s arm.
Zanka scoffs, wrenching his arm free from Jabber’s grasp. “Fine! What d’ya want? An’ stop standing like that, ya damn weirdo.” Zanka demands with a huff, taking a step back. Riyo still watches Jabber silently.
Jabber hums. Then he shoots up in an instant, his wicks catching airtime from how fast he’d moved. “Let’s fight.” He suddenly asks, giving a weirdly chill smile to Zanka.
Both Riyo and Zanka blink, utterly baffled by Jabber’s personality. Silence stretches across the hall. “You.. wanna fight? At this point in yer life? Where there’s no do-overs and you jus’ get kicked out?!” Zanka’s voice grows louder as he speaks, staring at Jabber as if he were crazy. He is crazy.
“Us against you?” Riyo takes a step forward, facing Jabber head-on, her own, empty smile plastered on her face.
Jabber flicks his wrist at Riyo, rolling his eyes. “Nah, I ain’t interested in ya, fishbone girl.” He says bluntly. “Mr.Bad attitude over here is who I got in my sights.” Jabber crooks his head to the side, cupping his hand over his face as a mock-telescope. “Real fine pickin’ for a scufflin’.” Jabber grins.
“I ain’t no sparrin’ partner for the crazies.” Zanka holds the strap of his backpack tighter. “If ya wanna fight someone, seek out someone like ya, I don’t got time fer yer crap.”
Jabber only smiles more. “You are like me.”
Zanka’s figure tenses as he avoids eye contact with the taller man. “I ain’t, not even by a mile.” Jabber suddenly whines, loud. He resumes his awful posture, huffing at the pair. More specifically Zanka.
“Listen, I really ain’t wanna call up this chick ta’ fight me instead. You would be soooo much more fun ‘fa me.” Jabber mentions, almost absentmindedly. He suddenly slings his hand forward, dropping a small paper which Zanka caught. “Just call me up an’ tell me if you on ya way to tha’ skate park. Don’t leave me hanging now,” Jabber looks up at Zanka through his locs. “Mr.Bad attitude.” He says, before breaking out into a grin and standing up straight, turning and walking away.
Silence again. Riyo turns her head towards Zanka, then her gaze flicks down to his tight hold on the strap of his back up. “You… good?” She asks with concern, raising an eyebrow.
Zanka pauses, then musters up a strained smile. “Odd to think there’s someone out there who’d fight that wackjob willingly.” He says.
Even though it’s obvious, Riyo doesn’t call out his weird smile, only choosing to look forward to watch Jabber’s figure turn a corner.
“Yeah, wonder who it is..?”
Jabber’s body slams into the ground, blood speckling the pavement as he pushes up against Zanka’s neck. Whap. Wham. fwit. The fight is senseless, a mere mess of limbs and pulling, and punching. Neither of them are sure whose blood is actually on the ground, and the gore covering Zanka’s face that drips down onto Jabber’s isn’t helping.
The two tumble over, Zanka’s head whacking against the concrete with a sickening noise as Jabber takes to being the one above. He flicks open a butterfly knife, not hesitating for a second to stab down where Zanka’s head lies. Narrowly, he dodges, jutting his palm out and chopping Jabber in the neck.
He chokes, stutters, and receives a positively painful left hook from Zanka. Then an even meaner right hook, and he’s crashing to the ground right beside him. Zanka smacks the blade out of both of their reach, kicking Jabber in the shin before scooting away.
“You.. Ya tried ta’ fuckin’ stab me?!” Zanka calls out, absolutely bewildered. At the moment, Jabber looks no different from a slightly shifting mound of worn clothes, pained groans sounding from him as he tries to regain himself. Those groans devolve into laughter, slowly but surely, and even still, Zanka can hear the absolute pain in each giggle that slips past Jabber’s lips. Although, the man doesn’t seem to care. He just looks up at Zanka, with big, wide eyes, absolutely beaming.
Jabber sits on his knees, tilting his head at Zanka as blood practically pours from his face. “Aye, it ain’t land. No harm no foul, amiright?” He threw his hands up in mock surrender, still grinning like a maniac. Zanka blinks, utterly baffled by Jabber’s train of thought as he rises to his feet.
“This is the crap..” Zanka lowered his head, “I missed out on a nice, warm bath for?” He looked at Jabber with disdain, not missing the obvious shift in relaxation from the man. Jabber shrugs at him, and it doesn’t calm Zanka whatsoever.
“I said I had a backup if you didn’t show, no?” Jabber looks off to the side, mindlessly flicking at one of his wicks as he focuses on nothing in particular. “She's no fighter, but she was willin’ to catch a fade. I’d be just as sated with that.” Jabber suddenly pauses, then frowns, and turns his gaze to the dark sky, “Well, nah, now that I think about it…” He wonders when the streetlights even came on.
Jabber’s attention settles onto Zanka’s figure as a lazy smile creeps its way back onto his face. “She’d’a died.” He says grimly.
“I couldn’t be bothered to get rid of no corpse today, I’m tired to all hell.” Rising to his feet, Jabber shrugs at the thought of the cleaning process, already looking tired of the ordeal. “Though, maybe if I am ready to shed some serious blood, at least I can hit her up.” Zanka’s not even sure if Jabber’s really talking to him, maybe he’s just speaking to himself out loud. Regardless, an ugly emotion starts forming in the pit of Zanka’s stomach.
He purses his lips. “Who is this chick anyway?” Zanka feels his hands balling into fists. He hopes the calmness in his voice is enough to keep Jabber from noticing.
“Oh, #######,”
"Don't you know her?” Jabber asks, as though he really cares if Zanka did. “Could’a sworn yall both were on that math olympiad-whatever…” Zanka knows they were. He’s silent as he turns away.
“Heeyyy, where you headin’?” Jabber doesn’t follow him, just wonders aloud. Zanka feels his eyes bore into his back.
—
“Ah, hm?”
She pulls open the front door of her apartment, blinking in surprise at Zanka’s frame in the doorway. “Oh, Zee! How have things been?–” Her calm demeanor shrinks away upon seeing the bruises, cuts, and dried blood stuck to Zanka’s face. “Oh- Oh my god?! What the hell happened to you?” She questions him with blatant concern. Zanka doesn’t respond.
Calloused hands surge out, colliding with the girl’s neck and squeezing. She barely has time to freeze up before instinctively soaring her hands up to grab onto Zanka’s wrists. She pulls and tugs but the only development that happens is her waning strength.
His eyes are so, so cold. They watch her, unblinking, as the light fades from her eyes.
Everything goes dark, and she falls back on the ground of her apartment with a thud.
—
Zanka steps into his home quietly, pushing the front door shut as he carefully slips out of his shoes. “Where have you been?” A firm voice asks, catching Zanka’s attention as he freezes. He looks up to be met with Kyouka standing in the hall, seemingly intending to pass by before she notices her younger brother’s presence. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten into a scuffle with your supposed friends again. If father hears about this, you know it will be your own fault for the punishment you receive.” Her cold gaze doesn’t fail to convey her seriousness.
Zanka bows his head briefly. “Sorry Kyouka,” He responds flatly. “It wasn’t anything like that, I apologize for returning late.” Zanka hears Kyouka click her tongue, then the sound of her feet pattering against the floorboards as she crosses into the kitchen.
“Do not stay out as you please,” She reprimands him, the scolding coming lightly compared to her usual acts. “As it stands now, there may be a culprit in our area, and your status is a good motivator for them to take you out as well.” Kyouka shifts through the kitchen. Zanka lifts his head in confusion, looking at her as if she’d spoken backwards.
“Culprit… For what, exactly?” He wonders, furrowing his parted eyebrows. Kyouka pulls open a cupboard above the toaster.
“Hyo, our junior in training. Her death is being ruled a murder.” It was always jarring, the way Zanka’s sister spoke. She turned her back to him as she began to make a small, healthy dinner for herself. “The public lacks adequate sense, so letting them believe it was a suicide has no affect on the case.” She slides a knife out of place from their block.
Zanka stares at her back as she begins to chop, lightly, firmly. “Regardless, from this point forward you are expected to be careful while commuting from your classes. Do not linger.” Her demand is said without room for argument. If Zanka even tried, she’d probably hurl the knife in her hands straight at him. “You will begin refining your self defense. At the end of this week, I expect you to hold your own against one of our black belts.”
Kyouka looks over her shoulder. “If you fail, we’ll have the office set up for you to take your classes remotely.” She turns back to the cutting board. “You will not be a liability to this operation.” Kyouka states blankly, uncaring for Zanka’s frozen form.
He’s quiet for a trice, before letting out a breath and turning his head forward. “Yes ma’am.” He answers, walking towards the staircase as their conversation ends. He still hears her knife colliding with the wood.
Chop. Chop. Chop.