Chapter Text
The moonlight broke through the thick clouds and illuminated the medical wing. The soft beeping of the heart monitor filling the space and steam rose from a cup of licorice root tea Granny got for Zanka.
Zanka has yet to even try it. It wasn’t the right type of tea.
For now, he just sat in the bed, the blankets feeling to light and making any exposed skin tingle. The stick was still in his hands, he hasn't let go of it once, and still dug splitters into his palms. It was soothing.
He was..okay feeling wise.
He understood what was happening and going on.
He understood he was a co-dependent now.
He understood that the cleaners won’t let him just up and leave.
He got all that. Truly. Understanding was easy. A walk in the park. But accepting it?
Zanka didn’t know if he could do that. He won’t do that.
If he accpted this new reality, then his past work and experiences would be for nothing. All that training would go to waste. All Goka’s lessons. All of the time spent sitting next to Kyouka, it’ll be useless.
He can’t waste their time like that. All they taught him. He would disappoint them.
Zanka held the stick, his grip tight and he took a deep breath. He started to bend it, his hands starting to bleed again as the wood cut his palms. He heard the quiet creaking of wood, could feel something in his chest starting to squeeze.
He’d break it.
He’d snap it in half and then go back home.
Take whatever punishment was waiting for him.
Goka might up training. That’s okay, Goka knew how Zanka could improve.
Kyouka might make lessons longer. It’s okay, Kyouka never dragged out what wasn’t necessary.
It’ll be okay because it’s home.
It’ll be okay because it’s his older siblings.
All it would take was snapping the stick in half and throwing it out like the trash it was. He didn’t need it. He wasn’t some co-dependent. The stick wasn’t important. It was a fucking stick.
“You’re going to hurt yourself, kid.” A voice called, footsteps walking across the yellowed tiles and towards the bed.
Zanka ‘s head snapped to look, cursing himself for not noticing the other there. Enjin pulled a stool close to Zanka’s bed and sat down, a bag in his hands and the umbrella leaning against the stool he sat on. It must be his instrument.
“You have a close bond with it already, breaking it will only cause you pain.” Enjin explained, “not to mention you haven’t dropped it once, so I’m sure ya don’t actually want to snap it.”
Zanka looked at the stick in his hands, no longer bending it but still having a tight grip on it.
“Why?” Zanka asked after a moment of silence, “why’d ya bring me here?”
Enjin leaned back, mock thought as he looked up at the ceiling, “why do you think I brought you here?”
Zanka looked at him, before his navy blues drifted to the window, “cause ya pity me. Found some random ass kid tryin’ ta kill ‘imself and ya felt bad ‘bout it.” His speech became less proper, more accented.
“Well..I did feel slightly bad, you got me there,” Enjin admitted, rubbing his neck, “but that's not the only reason.”
Zanka looked at Enjin, the guy who talked him out of killing himself and, for some reason, Zanka listened to him. Enjin was in a red, loose fitted shirt and some sweats. His tattoos were extensive and in a black out design, nails painted to match.
“Whenever I noticed you at the bottom of that well, I felt the potential you have.” He shifted, eyes soft yet sparked with a truth, “you bonded with your instrument in days, most take at least a few months. At least the ones I’ve heard of.”
Enjin sat the bag he had with him down on the bed, “I get it’s hard to grasp. Whatever the Hell Guard taught you probably is different from what everything actually is, big powers usually do that shit.” Zanka hesitated before leaving the stick in his lap and opening the bag.
The bag had sandpaper, different colors of wood stain, wood finisher, paint sealer, and some bandages. The bare minimum to do a simple crafts project.
“I know you're probably gonna take a minute to come ‘round, but when you do you can treat it right. Not try and break it.” Enjin said, picking up his own instrument, “you’ll name it, make it look good, and care for it. I don’t know if you’ll use the shit I got you, I kinda gathered what I could.”
Zanka looked back at Enjin. He looked the opposite of Goka, which Zanka couldn’t help compare him to when looking at his hair style and eyes. In every way.
He didn’t look mad at Zanka.
“Thing is,” Enjin stood, “you got potential, kid. I feel it.” He smiled at Zanka, wide and a bit goofy, “And I, for one, can’t wait to see mister average beat all the odds I know he can.”
Zanka looked at him, feeling his cheeks warm. His heart thumped, pounding against his ribs. It was a good feeling.
Enjin snorted, ruffling Zanka’s fluffy hair, “get some sleep kid, as soon as you're healed I wanna see what you can do.” with that Enjin left, leaving Zanka alone.
Zanka hadn’t felt this way in a long time. His lips twitched and split back open, it was like he was filled with a buzzing energy. His legs twitching, minor jolts of pain going ignored, and his fingers moving like he was playing the piano.
It was a feeling of endless energy, like he was filled to the brim with the need to move. To walk or to just twitch and shake. Soft giggles slipped past his lips, more like squeaks and squeals. He would be heavily embarrassed if anyone walked in and saw him in such a state.
No one did though. Zanka got all that vibrating energy out, the bed now a mess, before he crashed. He was exhausted, maybe it was a good thing. His head hurt and he honestly didn’t remember sleeping all that much, if at all, while in the well.
While accepting meant turning his back on what he was taught, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Especially when someone believes in him so much.
He’ll learn.
He’ll grow.
He’ll show everyone that some average Joe can be better than a natural talent.
He’ll prove himself to the Cleaners.
He won’t let everything they’ve done for him so far go to waste. Let their kindness mean nothing.
Even if it means being a Giver, he’ll prove himself.
When he woke up, he went through the bag Enjin got him and slowly sanded down the wood on the stick. He was still hesitant to do so, going about it slowly, but he did it regardless.
He’ll prove himself.
He’ll show everyone.