Chapter Text

Kyouka was on babysitting duty. 

Sitting in a room, keeping an eye on Zanka whilst she chugs down some afternoon tea. Her limbs were heavy from today's sparring session with Goka. He had gotten the upper hand during today's session, and the loser had to look after Zanka, so now she's forced to watch the kid in front of her dilly-dally all day.

“What is it, Zanka?” She eyes her younger brother, no older than 5 years old. 

His attention was drawn to her hair. 

She was accustomed to receiving those looks from him; he would often attempt to secretly catch glimpses of her hair. Zanka loved to tug at it when he was an infant. Babies are curious little creatures. She let him play with it to ease his curiosity, assuming that he would grow out of that phase when he grew up. 

“...Nothing.” He shyly forces his gaze away from her, as if he had been caught in an inadequate act.

It appears like he hasn't gotten over his fixation with her hair. 

She runs her hand through her red locks, smoothing them out. Zanka barely hides his fascinated expression, watching each strand get twirled around her fingers attentively. 

Kyouka wonders why he was so enamored by it. Had he developed a liking for playing with hair? The thought nearly makes her scoff.

How childish.

If only he put this much interest in training. At his age, Goka had already shown a great passion to live up to the Nijiku clan's name. Zanka, in turn, could barely wield a practice sword; he would much rather waste his time frolicking in the garden to mess with sticks and stones. Hadn't Father taught him proper etiquette yet? He shouldn't be getting special treatment just because he's prone to crying more than Kyouka and Goka.

She groans, letting go of her hair, and his head drops. 

Then again, Zanka is just a child. 

She shakes her head. 

She and Goka still had duties as children; why would that change with Zanka? They should be as strict as their father was towards them; perhaps he hadn't grown out of that phase due to her negligence. Zanka's growth depended on them now that their father was getting old. He didn't have time to train Zanka himself; he was busy making sure that Kyouka and Goka didn't end up failing.

A good member of the Hellguard spares no one. 

Zanka would cry easily at children's books. Let alone the books they had to read about the Hellguard. She had lent him a book about it, thinking that he was finally ready to start his journey to becoming a great force to uphold the law. 

But something about reading about how they utilize torture for information and how they have a prison specifically made for prisoners to experience agony made the youngest member of their family unable to fall asleep at night. 

Kyouka had been able to stomach the information. Albeit, she did struggle to sleep too, but at least she kept that to herself. Sometimes she wishes for her father to take over Zanka's training, even though she knows that the thought is wrong, that she should be able to handle this responsibility now that she's older, but every day Zanka makes it hard for her to push him.

He's just so naive. 

She sees it as pathetic and also a bit heartbreaking. Some part of her wants to shield him from the harsh drills that she herself disliked going through when she was younger, but another part of her wants to see him grow. Her emotions are all over the place when it comes to mentoring Zanka.

She had been coddling Zanka far too much, so he's severely behind in terms of training, weak in comparison to Goka and herself. 

“Stop staring.” She clicks her tongue. 

Zanka tenses up and tears his gaze away. “Sorry…” He whispers.

Kyouka’s expression softens. Unfortunately, she never has it in herself to be too harsh on him; she doesn't know how Father does it.

“If you're going to apologize to someone, you must look them in the eye and deliver that apology full of sincerity, with a promise to never repeat the mistake you've made again.” She lightly scolds him. 

The younger boy lifts his head and folds his hands neatly on his lap, holding shaky eye contact with her. “I'm sorry…I won't—will not do that again…” He speaks louder this time, though still unconfident.

“Good enough.” She sighs, taking a sip of her already cold tea. 

There's only so much that she can do with this timid kid. Oddly enough, he's usually cheery and not shaken up when he's by himself. On the other hand, when they're in the same room together, he clams up and refuses to speak unless he's spoken to. (At least he remembers one of the lessons she taught him.)

“Onee-san, have you seen Zanka?” Goka slides the door open, cracking his head inside.

A yelp escapes Zanka’s mouth, and he runs behind Kyouka, shielding himself from Goka’s vision. He’s crouched down on the floor, softly grasping at the edges of her kimono.

“Considering that my task of the day is to watch over him, yes, I have.” She stands up, causing Zanka to tumble to the floor. She picks him up and carries him over to Goka.

The kid buries himself in the crook of Kyouka’s neck, snuggling in and warming up to her touch. She swears that she hears him giggle; however, she chooses to ignore it. Kids will be kids, she supposed. 

Goka opens his arms to take Zanka off of Kyouka.

Zanka's lips form a scowl, and he shakes his head, refusing to let go of Kyouka.

“Come on now, we can’t delay it forever,” Goka speaks. 

Zanka shakes his head again. 

Kyouka can see a vein forming from Goka’s head, and it threatens to explode.

“Goka.” She expresses flatly, hinting at him to soften up because he’ll get nowhere with Zanka if he were to explode all over the place. The kid likes it better and responds more if they don’t look mad.

“You spoil him too much.” He frowns.

“I can’t help it. It’s not something I can control.” She runs her hand through Zanka’s hair. “That said, it doesn’t mean that I’m going to take his training progress lightly if you’re concerned about that.”

Goka decides not to comment on that.

“Could ya hand him over? Father wants me to go get him a haircut.” He continues with the reason why he was here in the first place.

“No!” Zanka’s hold on her kimono strengthens. 

“A haircut?” 

“Yeah, he said something about how some guests have mistaken him for a girl.” 

“Well, he does look more like mom…” She mutters, inspecting his hair length. “I can see where the confusion comes from. They look eerily similar. Zanka, go with Goka—”

“Why is Nee-san allowed to have long hair but not me?” He cuts her off, looking up at her with a saddened expression. His expression reminds her of the look puppies give you when you accidentally step on their tail.

She curses whatever God who decided to give kids a boost in swaying one’s emotions with a simple look on their face. 

“Do you wanna be seen as a girl, idiot?” Goka gives him a light whack in the head.

“Goka!” She pulls Zanka closer to her. 

She’s a bit too late because she can already hear the kid stifling a cry.

“What? Are you going to let him cut you off like that?”

“Goka, we’re dealing with a 5-year-old here.” She gives him a deadpan look. “As much as he frustrates me, we must understand that he won’t understand if we don’t hold his hand through things.”

Goka groans in frustration. “Raising a kid is hard. Why did they decide to keep him?”

“We mustn’t abandon a member of the clan unless they’ve stabbed us in the back. The only inconvenient thing he’s done is be an oopsies baby. That is something that no one has control over.”

“We’ll maybe if Father had worn a c—”

“Goka, please spare me from any more of your foul language.”

“Ugh…” He rolls his eyes.

She feels tiny hands playing with a strand of her hair, and she lets out a frustrated groan herself. “Perhaps I’ll get myself a haircut too.”

Zanka’s expression shifts to displeasure at the statement. 

“You can grow your hair out when you’re older and grow out of this baby face.” She pulls on his cheek.

Zanka’s pouty expression disappears, and it turns into a cheerful one.

•·················•·················•

Zanka never grows out of that ‘baby face’. (Or whatever Kyouka had called it years ago.)

“Is he really a guy?” Zanka hears a classmate whisper behind him, though it was loud enough for him to hear.

He has to hold back a smile from forming on his lips. 

•·················•·················•

Hyo wasn’t that well-liked at the academy despite being what the teachers call ‘a natural talent,’ whatever that meant. She didn’t care about the titles being shoved onto her without her knowledge. It sounded impressive, but flashy titles don’t really guarantee a roof over your head. 

One might argue that it does. The reason she was able to enter the academy was that someone deemed her an exceptional talent. Though she thinks there’s got to be more than that.

For example, Zanka. 

Zanka was the top student in the school, both academically and in combat. Deemed a genius for his entire time he was enrolled. That title was swiftly taken away from him when Hyo joined.

Which is why she didn’t bat an eye at the names she got called at school. Who knows, maybe Zanka could’ve caught onto her, then she would no longer hold an impressive title. 

Hyo sees it as a dumb ranking system. A dumb category people boxed her in.

Everyone has their own strengths, and Zanka was still doing better than her when it came to grades, but no one cared about that when he got beaten by Hyo during training sessions. Something about on-field combat being more important than book smarts.

Hyo knows that she isn’t perfect. As her peers said, her knowledge of the basics was not the best. Her fighting style was also deemed crusty. But did she care? No. It did not matter to her. Their opinions don't mean anything; it was just background noise for her. (Getting used to them took a bit longer than she’d like to admit.)

Nowadays, she can easily brush off the gossip and rumors that the students have spread about her. 

But recently, a weird feeling has begun to bubble up in her chest whenever she sees her classmates interacting with each other. Be it getting lunch together at the school cafeteria, or talking about the teachers when they leave the classroom. She figured out that it was envy.

Spending her days mostly in isolation made her feel lonely. Look, she didn’t decide to separate herself from her peers out of nowhere—she did make an effort to respond whenever they tried to converse with her—they were the ones who pushed her out first. Jealousy clouded their vision, so they would act really weird towards her. Some were really outright with their disdain towards her, some were tooth-rottingly sweet; it was always that or a jumbled-up mix of those two. 

Hyo had never bothered with friendships. Back when she was living in the slums, she was occupied with trying to fend for herself. She didn’t have time to sit down and talk to someone. Now that she has a somewhat stable roof over her head and she no longer has to worry much about that, she can feel how dull her life is.

Perhaps it’s because she has entered a very socially packed environment; she didn’t feel this way back then. That jealous feeling hit her like a truck when everyone around her had at least 1 person to turn to in their life. She only has herself.

Hyo wasn't immune to feeling left out. She'd be lying if she didn't admit that there's a part of her that wants to fit in with the others. Human nature, she supposed. Who knew that being singled out by people would feel this depressing?

She holds in a sigh, stumbling into class with her eyes washing over the people inside. 

What's the harm of scooping out people to befriend?

The first few times she tried to make friends with her classmates, they seemed to always hold some sort of secret animosity—Friends are supposed to not be like that, right?—it'd be nice to find someone that didn't have that. Someone whom she could maybe trust would be really nice, but she doesn't let herself get excited at that prospect; she needs to be realistic here, especially with the cards she has been dealt. The options were already extremely limited. It was already rare to find someone her age who didn't hate her and reek of jealousy.

Hyo hums to herself, submerged in her thoughts like frog eggs marinating in a body of water; everyone here was a terrible option if she has to be honest. 

This was going absolutely nowhere. She's got the gist of everyone's personality here, and she knows that the few nice ones only tolerated her out of basic human decency—even ‘tolerate' was a light way to describe it, they still looked at her like trash just because she came from the slums. 

Well, there’s one person who didn't think like that.

Zanka Nijiku.

Just her luck.

She thought that he'd be like the rest of the privileged snobs here, but honestly, he was far too busy hating himself to even start looking down on her for her background. That was one positive. He was still filled with jealousy the last time she took a close look at him, so that's been holding her back from interacting with him.

Hyo’s eyes drift back and forth from her other options and Zanka.

She takes a minute to really consider it. 

Zanka was a bit of a loner like her. Hyo has never seen this guy converse with anyone; he always had his head stuck in some sort of book, even during break time. She assumed that some students had treated him the same as her, just quieter due to his family holding power over this area. They should have something to relate to in theory. She could push past his jealousy over her if he treated her without venom seeping through his words.

A weird, overbearing sense of ambition radiated within Zanka; he's always pushing himself to his limits—sometimes she finds him passed out at the library—maybe there could be a lesson or two that she can learn from him. She's curious, so what? Sue her. Anyone would be surprised at the sight of a nepo baby working their ass off instead of leeching off the benefits they got from being born into a privileged life. 

Hyo makes her way to Zanka’s table. He was always sitting in the front to fully maximize his studying. So far, she's always opted to be in the middle; the back of the class was mostly where the students who slacked off would choose to sit. Their class didn't have any assigned seats; each table fit 2-3 students, but there weren't enough students to fill all those seats. Zanka has been sitting by himself. Hopefully, he doesn't turn out to be some antisocial freak that hates people.

She lightly taps the table’s wooden surface to get his attention.

That snapped Zanka out of whatever book he was reading, and she swears that she saw his consciousness leave his body the moment their eyes met.

“May I sit here?” She asks blankly. It was a simple question, so she isn't sure why the boy in front of her looked as pale as her hair. 

“I don't want people pestering me.” People often sat next to Hyo in attempts to get close to her for their own gains; anyone with two eyes and a working brain could easily figure that one out. So she uses that as an excuse to sit next to him.

“Err—Yeah! That's fine.” He awkwardly answers, scooting away to make some room for her.

“Thanks.” She replies, then takes a seat next to him.

A moment of silence washes over them. Zanka doesn't seem like he's going to try to talk to her. Perhaps her statement caused that. She did say that she was only sitting there to get away from people. Making friends was harder than she anticipated. Hyo was used to people starting the conversation for her. In this situation, she's the one who has to speak up if she wants to get to know him better.

“Is there an assignment due today?” She turns to ask him. Trying to come off as natural and not pre-planned.

“Huh…?” He blinks, staring at her weirdly.

She points at the book he was obsessively reading over. “You've been looking through that thing ever since you entered class.”

“Ah…” 

About 3 of the words that left his mouth weren't actual real words, she notices. He's either really bad at talking to people or just nervous. However, she can't put a finger on why he would be nervous. Did he really forget to do homework and was rushing through it right now?

“No, we don't have anything to submit today.” He says after, leaving her hanging. “Though we do have our math sheets due in 3 days.” He offers a plastered smile.

It was the same look that she saw him wear when she beat him in her first mock fight. Vastly different from the boy that she saw whilst getting water. She doesn't want to befriend this heavily masked Zanka; she wants to see that fired-up boy she saw that day. It was the only real side of himself that she saw.

The current Zanka felt artificial; she came here for a human connection, not whatever this was. Looks like she has a lot of work to do if she wants to have a friend.

“Right, math sheet. Can I borrow your notes for that? I'm…stuck on a few questions,” She pulls another excuse out of thin air.

“...You want to borrow my notes?”

What the hell did this guy mean by that? Did she not make herself clear…?

“Yes.” She nods.

They both stare at each other blankly. Hyo is waiting for him to speak up. And he's looking at her like she was asking an illiterate person about the meaning of a book that was written very metaphorically, without anything to indicate what aspects were supposed to be taken at face value or not.

Zanka opens his mouth but firmly shuts it almost immediately, opting to chew on his bottom lip. His fingers fidget under the table, and he pats around the small drawer until he finds something.

“Here. I'm done with mine anyway, so you can give it back to me on the day that the assignment is due.” He slides over a thick notebook onto her side of the desk.

“You've finished already?” Hyo accepts the notebook, beginning to flip through it. She's a bit impressed at how much information was crammed into this thing; it could honestly be a textbook, but what made it different from the book that the teachers taught out of was the sticky notes and added-on rambles in brackets off to the side on how to use certain formulas for certain equations. 

“Mhm. I got it done in about an hour; it should be a quick and easy assignment for you.” He answers with a little less of that facade. She's getting somewhere.

“I see.” She stops at a page that explains the problem she's struggling with perfectly. He doesn't consider himself anything noteworthy. Hyo thinks that he's gone mad with ambition. 

“This is impressive.” The words escape her mouth unintentionally.

Zanka's face lights up, and there's a faint shade of pink dusting his cheeks at the sudden compliment. “You think so?” He asks timidly.

“Yeah, it's filled with helpful guides.” 

She raises an eyebrow as she watches him trying to act cool, even though he appears unusually giggly. “Zanka?”

•·················•·················•

Hyo thinks that his notes are impressive. 

Did he hear that correctly? Or was he hallucinating this whole interaction?

Hyo thinks that his notes are impressive.

The Hyo. 

The prodigy everyone at school was talking about. The exceptional talent that the teachers are extremely proud of. The genius he wishes he were. The person who reminded him how much of a fake he was. 

Hyo.

Hyo thinks that his notes are impressive…did she think that he was impressive? Did he come across as smart? Does Hyo think that he's impressive?

Hyo…

Hyo thinks he's impressive…?

Hyo thinks he's impressive?!

Hyo thinks he's impressive. 

She's a rather blunt person, always speaking her mind, so she must be telling the truth. She truly finds his stupid notes impressive.

Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive. Hyo thinks he's impressive—

“—Zanka?” Hyo's voice rings through his ears like one of Kyouka’s bullets. 

“Y-Yeah?” Zanka turns to her with a nervous smile, trying to stop himself from shaking too much. 

He doesn't want to come off as a freak. This was technically his first interaction with her. He can't afford to mess up. Especially with that horrendous impression she got of him during that day by the faucet. (Zanka still hasn't gone there ever since, avoiding it like the plague.)

“Are you okay?” She tilts her head.

“Yeah—Yes—Of course. Why wouldn't I be? Haha. M’fine, yes.” He nods to himself, barely holding back his grin.

“...You appear unwell.” Hyo looks him up and down.

Zanka immediately tenses up.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Has he freaked her out?

A sense of dread quickly replaces the rush of dopamine he had in his system just a few seconds ago. That exhilarating, nerve-racking dose of giddiness now feels like a hundred needles pricking his lungs. He’s afraid that if he moves a muscle, they’ll dig deeper into him, so he stays still in place. 

Just as he thought that he was doing well. He should’ve known. He should’ve known that a nobody like him couldn’t possibly impress a genius using a couple of mediocre notes. Notes that he had because without them, he’d be a lost cause. It takes a while for him to fully comprehend certain materials, but he’s been playing it off, acting like he understood stuff right from the get-go. Hyo probably already understands everything. Maybe that was actually a backhanded comment. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was. If he saw someone overexplaining what should be simple material, he’d laugh at them, too. Now he’s made a fool out of himself again, and he doesn’t know what to do to save this interaction. Zanka’s a dumbass. He feels a sudden urge to submerge himself under a body of water and sink to the deepest part of the ocean. Drowning himself out of embarrassment. If he couldn’t even figure out how to act like a normal human being, he should just drop dead—

A chilly hand firmly grasps his trembling hands. 

He’s back. 

Back at the academy. 

Right. 

He takes a deep breath and lets go of it. 

Zanka needs to lock the fuck in.

There wasn’t a body of water anywhere near here—even if there were one, he most definitely doesn’t want to do that near the people from the academy—so he has to act quickly and save this terribly awful conversation. 

The hand gently squeezes his palms. “You’re spacing out again.” 

“Right, sorry. Just thinking ‘bout…stuff. Didn’t mean to ignore ya. What were you trying to say?” 

“You often visit the library, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Occasionally, when I need to borrow a couple of books.” 

“Hm. Okay. Let’s meet up there then during lunch.”

Zanka’s brain explodes, and he goes haywire again.

•·················•·················•

Hyo didn’t expect the boy in front of her to randomly go from giggly to gloomy. 

Zanka was strange.

But she had to admit, there’s a small spark of curiosity in her that wants to figure out what sets him off. She must’ve triggered something in him to provoke that swift transition in body language. This isn’t good. If she said something to disturb him, this camaraderie wouldn’t even get the chance to start blossoming. And she was having a rather nice interaction with him; she wants to know where things go with him.

She pulls her hand away from Zanka now that he’s present in his body and no longer drifting away in his head. “If you’re free, that is. I’d like some help with that math sheet.” 

With that, he lifts his head up from looking at his lap, and he kinda looks like an excited puppy. 

Hyo learns that Zanka likes praise.

•·················•·················•

Hyo makes it a habit to sit by him daily. 

Things were weirdly formal and awkward for the first week, but as the weeks turned into months, they were at a point where they could be considered friends. 

Friends.

Her first friend at the academy. 

Friendship felt nice. 

At school, they were often seen together. Hyo has begun trailing Zanka around while he does whatever. Sometimes they spar together—Hyo always winning, of course—to help each other improve. She’d sneak a few glances at him when he wasn’t looking, and Hyo learns that he doesn’t really like himself.

They weren’t at the stage where they’d be comfortable with being vulnerable with each other, so she could only throw in a few compliments in hopes that he’d stop beating himself up. It usually does the job.

They do other activities together; the selection of what to do was a bit limited since they only hung out at the academy. She likes it when they go to the library just to read in silence. They were still a bit on edge when it came to conversations, unsure of the things they should or shouldn’t share. So reading together was the best activity they had together. 

Zanka would recommend to her some useful guides and thick educational books for an upcoming assignment that he’s probably already finished. She’d try to repay him by offering a few novels as a silent reminder for him to take breaks, sharing some of her notes as a small gesture of appreciation, which he seemed to really like. 

“Hey, Hyo. Do you have the notes that I lent you last week? I kinda need it.” Zanka asks as they walk to their usual spot in the library. 

“That’s rare.” She hands him his notebook back, taking a seat at the table. Zanka sits next to her and frantically starts flipping through it. “I thought you were done with the assignment?”

“Kinda—I just need to double check some things.” 

It was nearing exam week, so the teachers had been cramming a ton of work for them to get done. She’s doing well when it comes to her grades, above average. Zanka was also doing pretty well. Though he’s been acting like he’s at the bottom of the class with how much time he spends studying. He barely had time to spend with her anymore, not that she minded; she understood that he had a reputation to uphold as a Nijiku. She just wished that he could slow it down a bit. 

“Why are you fussing so much over that?”

“Why aren’t you fussing over this? You’re weirdly chill about an assignment worth over 20% of our grade.” He huffs.

Hyo had finished all of her work. So she doesn’t have much to cram for. She doesn’t even know what she should be cramming for. Zanka’s behaviour made it come across like there were tons of revisions that needed to be done. She would usually just brush this off as Zanka being his typical self, but this didn’t seem all that healthy for him. 

Has he even been taking care of himself? 

Hyo knows the answer to that, and unfortunately, the answer is no. 

“Your hair has gotten longer.” She breaks the silence, closing the novel that she’s been reading but not processing. 

“I haven’t had time to cut it.” He answers quickly with a soft sigh escaping his lips, tucking a loose strand behind his ears.

His hair was usually kept neat and short; long hair would get in the way of his vision. Hyo thinks that the long hair suits him. It looked nice if she had to be honest. Highlighted some of their feminine features. 

“You kinda look like a girl, you know. With the long hair.” 

“...You think so?” Zanka’s hands freeze, and he looks over to Hyo with a few shimmers in his eyes. 

The silence bored her, so she wanted to try riling him up; Zanka was fun to poke at, especially since he was always caught off guard by it. She expected him to act mad at the comment. Not look at her with hope in his eyes. 

Interesting…

“Yeah. If I didn’t know that you were a guy, I would’ve assumed that. Not in a bad way. I do think that you look nice with your hair grown out.”

She watches as Zanka tries to stifle one of his usual deranged giggles. Well, he seems a bit more cheerful now than he was a few minutes ago.

“...I like it too…” He looks away, face heating up.

Hyo learns that Zanka likes having long hair.

“You should tie it up so it doesn’t get in your face.” She suggests.

“Oh, I don’t have a hair tie—”

Hyo holds out a hair stick. It’s a basic white coloured one, though it does have a little butterfly at the end of it. 

“Have this, I don’t use it much. My hair is quite short, so there’s never been a need to tie it back.” 

She swears that she can see Zanka’s metaphorical dog tail wag behind him. 

“That’s nice of you, but I don’t know how to use one.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“What?”

“Shall I repeat myself?”

“No—I mean, that’s not…” He trails off.

“Then turn your head, let me put your hair up.”

He gulps, following her orders.

His hair has a few layers; it takes a couple of tries to get the stick to stay in place. Once done, she couldn’t help but think about how similar he looks to Kyouka with his hair like this. If she remembers correctly, Kyouka often wore her hair in a bun secured with two sticks. Zanka’s hair wasn’t that long, so it only needed a stick to keep it up. 

“Do you like it?” Hyo asks, offering him a handheld mirror. 

Zanka stares at himself in the reflection, wide-eyed. A few tears well up, and he swiftly wipes them away before they get the chance to fall down his cheeks.

“I do…Thanks.” He says with a sad smile.

“You're welcome. You can keep it if you want, the stick.”

“I can?” His eyes widened, once again full of glimmer. 

“Yes. I still owe you one for helping me with that math paper.”

“What math paper?!” His voice drains, and a look of panic washes over his face. 

“The one we worked on when we first came here together.”

“Hyo, that was months ago.” 

“You still remember it.”

“Shut up.” He groans, handing her the mirror.

“Well, forgive me for trying to thank you. And I mean it, keep it if you like it that much..you look pretty.”

A pink hue colours his cheeks, and he nods. “Thanks again.”

Hyo learns that Zanka may not be a guy.

•·················•·················•

Zanka can be a huge hypocrite. 

Hyo thinks.

He walks into class with his long hair nowhere to be seen. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, trying to hide a scowl that desperately wants to form.

“What happened to liking your hair?” She raises an eyebrow. 

“My brother made me cut it.” His response is uncharacteristically cold and bitter. 

“Oh.” Hyo stares at his neatly shortened hair. It doesn't look bad. But she knows that it's not something that he likes. He didn't have a say in the matter, which piques her interest. 

The Nijikus are an uptight clan. It wouldn't be surprising to find out that Zanka has little to no control over the things going on in his life. The golden throne, for example, is definitely not a goal that Zanka was aiming solely for himself. 

But hair? 

Why would hair be in that mix?

He takes his seat at their desk, instinctively trying to push back his loose strands, but there’s nothing there.

“Why?” 

“...What do you mean by why? It’ll get in the way of training…and…stuff.” 

“But it made you happy.” 

“Yeah…that doesn’t really matter.” He sighs. “At least I can see more clearly now. It felt lovely—nice to look at, but things are better like this.” He forces the corner of his trembling lips into an upward smile.  

Her blank eyes rake over his head and his expression. Everything about him screamed, “I’m uncomfortable,” and she almost doesn’t want to press him more about it. They’re friends, right? She should do something to comfort him. Her mood sours at his current state. She doesn't like seeing Zanka like this. Never does.

“You should try fighting back against your brother then.”

Zanka stares at her like she’s an idiot.

“I’m not doing that.” He says sternly.  

“Sometimes you have to put your foot down on certain things. Can’t you tell him that you like having your hair like that?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? It is just hair. Having long hair shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

Zanka bites down on his lower lip again. She can see that he’s busted it up. His head lowers, and his eyes are looking everywhere but in her direction.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Later.” He mutters.

Hyo nods. “After school, then.”

The two of them didn't exchange a single word during school hours. 

Hyo finds herself counting down the seconds until their last lesson ends. Her legs bounce under the table in anticipation. Any minute now…

Never has she found herself feeling this antsy. For once in her life, she felt worried for someone. Said someone was possibly a harm to themselves. (Purely judging from small moments she's seen coming from him.)

Huh.

She really has…changed.

She's gone soft. She realizes. 

Hyo shakes her head, pushing that thought away to deal with at a later date. 

The sound of their teacher's voice brings her back to reality. He promptly excuses them and leaves the classroom. Hyo closes her textbook, craning her head towards Zanka. He's absentmindedly tidying up his desk. 

“Do you wanna have a stroll around the area?” Hyo offers.

It takes a minute for Zanka to register her words. “Are you asking me to hang out?”

“If that's what you're going to call it, then yes. I think we could use a walk to clear our heads. Plus, I'm certain that you wouldn't want to discuss whatever's going on with you near the academy.”

Friends do this. Friends spend time together even outside of school. She nods to herself, seemingly proud of herself for coming up with that.

“... That'll be nice—I guess.” He mumbles.

“Let's go then.”

•·················•·················•

“So, why is your hair like that?” Hyo asks as they walk next to each other.

Zanka’s steps weaken, and he ends up walking slower than her, lost in thought.

…

“Why is your hair like that?” Goka walks in, distracting them from the novel they were trying to finish up.

“Like what?” They closed the book after placing a bookmark at the last page they had read.

“The hairpin.”

Zanka’s whole body freezes. Their heart hammers in their chest, pounding at a rapid pace. 

“...” His voice won’t come out.

They’re screwed. 

Goka’s going to find out. 

Fuck, they were stupid. Absolutely stupid. 

They knew that one day someone was going to find out; they couldn’t keep it a secret if their appearance were to change like this. People will catch on. They’ll figure out soon enough if he were to keep indulging in this gross fantasy that they had. There was no such thing as being some sort of 3rd option. There shouldn’t be. Each person has a role they’re born to play; he’s been avoiding that role like a stubborn toddler throwing a tantrum over not getting a toy that they wanted. 

Will Goka tell his father about this if he finds out?

What will his family think of them then? 

They can already see the look of nauseating repulsion on his family's faces. The thought is enough to make them want to disappear into thin air, either from humiliation or sickness. Unfortunately, humans can’t just die out of nowhere. If they’re going to end it, they should at least choose a method that they deserve—

“Cut your hair before Father decides to have another talk with you about it.” His brother closes the door, and they wait for his footsteps to fully go away before they choose to stand up.

…

Zanka stares at themselves in the bathroom mirror and sees themselves as who they truly are, despite standing in his body. 

“Well, forgive me for trying to thank you. And I mean it, keep it if you like it that much..you look pretty.”

That memory would’ve transmitted a bang of euphoria down their spine. They wished that it did. Instead, it made them feel grossed out, perverted even. Their stomach whirls, and they feel the impulse to retch their guts out. The overgrown hair touching the back of their neck feels spiky; it sends a sense of distress through him. 

This should be comforting. 

This was what they yearned for. 

They loved this. Nonetheless, this isn’t suitable for him. 

Zanka fumbles with the pair of scissors that they held.  

Goka was right. He had to chop this off fast before he got any more unorthodox ideas. 

…

The strands of hair that fall to the floor make him recoil in agony.

Cutting their hair felt like dragging a razorblade through their wrists. 

A sob escaped his lips, and before he knew it, he was a crying mess.

…

“You’re spacing out again.” 

“Right—sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck, trying to ease his nerves. “What else is there to say? My brother told me to cut it.”

“You could’ve just not cut it.”

“I can’t do that, my father would’ve…” He clicks his tongue. “He dislikes it when I don’t cut my hair.”

“Well, I think your Father’s acting illogically—” Zanka’s hand slaps over her mouth.

“...Don’t say that. Someone might be listening in. We’re already getting weird stares from people at the Academy for being friends. I don’t doubt that there’ll be a few eyes on us. If you’re going to badmouth my Father do it in private where no one can hear you. I don’t want you getting reprimanded for that or worse, expelled.”  

“Fine.” She huffs, grabbing Zanka’s wrists.

“Youch—what the hell—” He hissed.

“Let’s find a private area to discuss this at then.” Hyo proceeds to drag them to a secluded area, where there’ll be no one watching. 

“This should suffice.” She lets go of him.

True to her words, Hyo had chosen a location far away from where people usually crowd. They were in a pretty dead area; people only came here when they needed to discuss something without anyone there to listen in, that’s how devoid of people this part of town was. A few shops selling Manju and other local delicacies were open, but that was it.

“You should be able to forget about other people's opinions on you. It’s just the two of us.” She sweeps off a layer of dust that had begun to layer up due to months—maybe even years—of neglect. She takes a seat and pats down the area next to her, signaling him to sit down.

“How deep is this hole?” He takes a look at it before plopping himself down where Hyo had cleaned for him.

“Loosen up, you won’t fall. This well is old, but it’s sturdy.” She kicks the rocky wall with the back of her foot. “See?”

“Mhm, yeah—don’t do that again.” He stops her from inflicting even more damage on the well.

“Care to open up now?”

“...”

He’s never had a sit-down talk like this before. What the fuck does he say?

His family was not the kind to be open and vulnerable with each other. He couldn’t go to his family when he had troubles. A man should always bear his problems on his shoulders without burdening others, or whatever his Father liked to preach about. Sometimes he’d break down with his bedroom door wide open, and his siblings wouldn’t bat an eye at it if they happened to pass by, which he didn’t really fault them for.

They have never shown comfort towards each other; it would be weird if one of them were to suddenly insert themself in the middle of Zanka’s immature tantrums. 

The closest he’s gotten to any type of comfort was his siblings' odd ways of showing affection to him. 

Goka would either deadass ignore him until he was done or complain about the noise he was making, but Zanka would sometimes find a bowl of cut-up fruit by his desk when he finished crying. That was nice. Goka somehow always had the fruits he liked stocked up. If Zanka were to confront him about it, he’d deny it to the sphere and back.

Meanwhile, Kyouka would aim her gun at him like she was actually going to kill him, as some sort of encouragement to keep going. He appreciates the thought, not so much the execution of things. If she isn’t doing that, she usually comes by his room at night to tuck him in when she thinks that he is fast asleep.

Those small moments of warmth easily make him feel giddy.

He could only hope that they hadn’t noticed the weird giggles he tried to stifle.

Though he does care for his siblings to some extent, he’s well aware that love in his household is very much conditional. Zanka’s surprised that he’s come this far; he was certain that they’d kick him out for being a stain to their family name at some point. 

“...You ever feel like that you aren’t…a guy?”

“How would I know about that?” She stares at him, then herself. 

“...I mean like, ugh—just forget it actually.”

“Are you a girl? Is that what you’re trying to say?” Hyo tries to string together the context she has.

“No! No, not that…” He’s quick to deny it.

“...So neither?” She tilts her head.

“You could say that.” 

They both fall silent. 

Hyo was already hard to read as it is; she’s like a stranger to him now. Not that the two were close—were they even close to begin with? Now that he thinks about it, just what were they? Friends? No. That can’t be. Hyo and him being friends? The sky might as well be red. That thought was nearly as delusional as his weird wants. 

“I fuck with that.”

“Excuse me?” Zanka stares at her. Puzzled beyond comprehension. 

“I heard some of our classmates say that. Did I say that wrong?”

“No…I think?”

“Well, whatever you are, I really don’t care.”

•·················•·················•

Hyo was having a good time. 

She and Zanka have made some progress on their friendship. They’re bonding. Talking to each other about their problems. She really doesn’t mind this friendship stuff. 

“You’re looking at me weirdly.”

“...I just—didn’t expect that.”

“Friends accept each other for who they are, right? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. My opinion of you still hasn’t changed.”

“We’re friends…?”

“Is that a question?”

“Yes?”

“Then that’s your answer.”

Zanka is still looking at her funny; she doesn’t get it, nor do they, they’re both confused. 

Then, Zanka lets out a laugh. It was now Hyo’s turn to look at them weirdly.

“Guess I was worried about nothing, huh…” They smiled through tears—wait—when had he started to cry?

Was their friendship in danger? She said something upseting hasn’t she? Think…Think, think, think…

“Thanks, Hyo…” They rub their tears away with the edges of their sleeves. “I really appreciate it.”

“I’m not sure what I did to cheer you up, but you’re welcome.”

“...Friends.” She hears Zanka whisper to themselves. 

“Yeah, friends.”

Hyo learns that she’s officially friends with them now.

•·················•·················•

Hyo reminisces on that memory with a bittersweet smile planted on her lips. 

She misses them.

After their weapon choosing class, she hasn’t seen them come to the academy. Which was extremely strange, knowing that they had perfect attendance, always coming into class bright and early. It’s been weeks, where were they?

She takes a seat at their desk, boredly flipping through the notes that she had yet to give back due to them not being at the academy. 

Had they gotten reprimanded over their weapon of choice? Maybe she should give them a visit; their absence has been eating her up every time she comes into class and doesn't immediately see them around. 

She had gotten used to having a familiar face greeting her each morning. Going back to total isolation from her peers was not fun. 

Hyo even finds herself listening in to her classmates' mindless gossiping sessions, trying to get any sort of hint as to what had happened to them. 

So far, she’s heard about a teacher’s wedding, bad mouthing of multiple teachers, a few dating rumors featuring a bunch of students—who she can’t be bothered to remember, some kid’s parents getting divorced, some new trainees breaking into the weaponry, and somehow succeeding in stealing a gun. Nothing interesting. 

“Did they get reprimanded yet?”

“Nah, their parents help fund this place. They barely got a slap on the wrist.”

Boring.

She turns her conversation to another classmate until she hears a familiar name being spoken about.

“Speaking of—have you heard about Zanka?”

Now that’s what she’s been looking for. She usually doesn’t indulge in whatever nonsense they like to spew about them, but she’ll break that rule just this time. She has a really tight curfew, so she hasn’t gotten the chance to search for them herself. This was the closest thing she could get to finding out where they were. Through very clouded judgments and unreliable sources. She was desperate for any sort of information, so unfortunately, this would have to do.  

“If you’re going to joke about him choosing a stick because he has one stuck up his ass, I am not listening; that’s like old news. Of course, the member of the Nijiku clan has some sort of ‘I am better than you.’ problem—”

Hyo would like to argue that it’s actually quite the opposite of that. She nearly rolls her eyes. These people need to find some sort of hobby that isn’t just talking down to other people. 

“—Are you new here?”

“No, I’m not talking about that, let me finish—”

“That’s what she said!”

“Dude, grow up.”

Hyo is really listening to worthless garbage. School has never felt this insufferable before. 

“Can we get back on topic again, please?”

“Yeah, yeah, what is it?”

“I heard he killed himself.”

…

Hyo’s blood ran cold.

What?