Chapter Text
Definitely, everything was going very wrong. Nothing was okay.
Starting with his clothes, somewhat thick and perfect for the cold that was approaching, but now stuck to his skin thanks to sweat, mud, and the soft rain that was beginning to fall harder.
He was starting to get tired.
His legs burned from running for so long over such uneven terrain as the forest, full of protruding roots and loose stones that threatened to twist his ankle at any moment. His lungs also hurt from the lack of oxygen and constant effort, each breath of cold air made them burn.
Thanks to pure adrenaline, he could keep going without slowing down.
Adrenaline, and the possibility of being devoured alive, of course.
“Yo! Pretty boy! If I were you, I wouldn’t look back” He heard the shrill voice of the dreadlocked stranger in the distance.
Hearing that voice only made things worse. Clearly, before, he had no intention whatsoever of looking back. But, as Semiu sometimes said, curiosity killed the cat, and Zanka quickly glanced over his shoulder.
The image of dozens of those things chasing them at full speed with their disgusting, unnatural movements, like mindless beasts hunting their prey, would haunt Zanka’s nightmares for a long time.
Just like the shrill laughter that could be heard not too many meters behind his position.
Why the hell were they still running together?
It was supposed to be a calm trip, just a few days, where he might fight off one or two “cannibals” and soon arrive at the agreed city with Enjin and the other Cleaners.
But no. He was running from those things as if his life depended on it (which, in fact, it did), and to make it worse, with a masochistic lunatic who wouldn’t stop following him.
So yeah. Everything was going wrong and he was screwed.
⸻
A soft clinking sound rang out above the baby’s whimpers as the other man slightly turned toward Zanka, lowering the height at which he was holding the child.
His reddish eyes looked at Zanka with a mix of intensity and curiosity, losing interest in the baby he was holding. As if Zanka were a new toy and the child an old rag.
Silence stretched between them. Zanka stood completely still, unsure how to react under the stranger’s intense gaze.
He wasn’t afraid. It was more like a certainty that he had to be careful with the other or he might regret it.
Underestimating someone never ended well for anyone, and Zanka didn’t want to suffer the consequences of letting his guard down. But he wasn’t going to run either. His pride was too great for that (going unnoticed was another thing, but that option had been discarded the moment the other recognized his presence).
A smile took over the stranger’s lips, turning into a playful grin of imperfect teeth and prominent fangs. A shiver ran down Zanka’s spine.
“ ’Sup man. Taking a stroll to enjoy this nice view?” the stranger spoke first, with such a relaxed tone that it was unsettling.
“I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here, but I want to keep going” Zanka remained firm, gripping Lovely tightly with one hand, keeping it at his side in an imposing stance. “You go your way”
A sudden laugh burst from the other, who had already completely lost interest in the child. He let it fall to the ground with a dull thud, the small body still twitching on the blood, and dust, stained asphalt.
“Yo! Didn’t know I was standing before someone so refined” He said between laughs as he shoved his hands into the front pocket of his purple hoodie. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Zanka, who tightened his fingers around Lovely.
“But come on… wouldn’t you like to spend some time with someone…” His gaze briefly shifted to the child twitching on the asphalt. “…yk, alive.”
Zanka clenched his jaw. The other looked far too relaxed for the situation they were in. He didn’t like it at all. “I don’t want to make friends. Move”
The other hummed softly, a sign of understanding, Zanka assumed. The stranger leaned slightly to the right, his dreadlocks moving with feline grace, and lifted his chin to look at him through half-lidded eyes.
“That’s a bit boring, you know?” His voice softened, almost sickly sweet, when he spoke again. Zanka noticed how the other leaned forward, almost imperceptibly. “Let’s just… have a little fun.”
The movement was sudden, yet not rough. Rather, it carried a nearly feline grace that completely caught Zanka off guard.
One moment the stranger was several meters away. And in the blink of an eye, he was less than half a meter away, hand raised and filled with gleaming claws that faintly reflected the sunlight.
Zanka had always prided himself on his quick reactions in unexpected situations and his ability to come up with a plan. But this was something he had definitely not foreseen.
The claws came down toward him like a guillotine.
He barely managed to block the attack with Lovely. He grabbed it with both hands, holding it firm to keep the claws from getting dangerously close to his face or neck.
Metal scraped against wood with a sharp screech.
At Zanka’s defense, the stranger let out a shriek of excitement. “The bastard looks thrilled” the Japanese man thought with annoyance.
He clenched his jaw at the satisfied grin visible beneath the other’s dreadlocks. There was something sick about that smile, something that disgusted Zanka.
He frowned as he pushed the other back as far as possible with his bō. With a fluid, quick movement, he shifted his grip on Lovely and raised it high to deliver a strong blow to the stranger’s torso.
Though the blow was partially cushioned by the claws intercepting it midway, the stranger was inevitably pushed several meters back. A groan of satisfaction slipped from his lips, and that sound only angered Zanka further.
The motherfucker was enjoying it.
Quickly, the stranger charged again, ready to deeply slash any exposed spot on Zanka. Zanka defended and attacked constantly, pushing him away whenever he had the chance, but the other always came back with that satisfied smile.
In a moment of distraction from the other, while he bit his lip to keep from letting out a moan of pure delight and rolled his eyes, clutching his shoulder after a particularly precise hit, Zanka lunged to strike him with Lovely.
Ribs. Shoulder. Arm. Chest. Every place he considered painful, he struck, though most of it was blocked or softened by those damn claws.
What made his blood boil the most was that the other was enjoying it so enthusiastically, as if his blows were nothing.
“Oh shit, Mr. Bad Attitude” the other moaned, crouching to avoid falling backward after a particularly strong hit that pushed him several steps. His voice sounded so damn pornographic it disgusted Zanka. “You’re bruising me so well I think I’m gonna get a hard-on, fuckfuck…”
An awkward silence immediately settled. Zanka, who had been about to strike again, froze completely and looked at him with pure disgust mixed with revulsion. The hand holding Lovely trembled, but not from exhaustion.
Before he could even respond harshly, a loud noise similar to groans (which were not coming from the stranger, to Zanka’s relief) sounded dangerously close.
Both of them turned toward the source, finding several of those “cannibals” quickly emerging from the forest and also approaching from the highway.
Some dragged their legs, others ran with agility, but all had their eyes fixed on them.
And Zanka certainly didn’t know what was worse, if fighting a deranged masochist who was getting turned on by his blows, or fighting that same lunatic while making so much noise that it had attracted those flesh-eating things.
They looked at each other, equally surprised by the scene.
Zanka, still holding Lovely up, turned toward one that was relatively close and struck it with enough force to send it flying several meters.
“We need to get out of here” He said while hitting another one that was getting dangerously close.
He cursed under his breath at how fast some of them moved.
The stranger let out an annoyed groan, jumping to his feet and narrowly dodging a cannibal that Zanka had thrown toward him. “Does Mr. Bad Attitude want us to run away together?” He laughed far too cheerfully for the situation. “Didn’t know you were such a romantic!”
Zanka shot him a glare, seriously reconsidering hitting him instead of continuing to attack those things.
Unfortunately, that interaction made Zanka momentarily lower his guard.
A cannibal got close enough to grab him by the bicep, its dirty, cold fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket.
Zanka was ready to punch it without letting go of Lovely when the creature’s head was sliced into several pieces with a quick, precise motion.
The other had helped him.
The stranger grabbed Zanka by the wrist of the hand that wasn’t holding Lovely and started running, dragging him along.
They were heading straight into the forest, into the density of trees and shadows.
“See ya!” the stranger shouted, cheerfully waving his free arm, his clawed glove glinting.
Finally, they disappeared among the trees.
⸻
In the end, after more time running between low branches and treacherous roots, Zanka felt his speed drop slightly. Just a little, but enough for the cannibals chasing them to get dangerously closer.
He could hear their growls behind him, getting nearer and nearer.
The stranger (whom Zanka was already considering naming himself) suddenly sped up, moving ahead of Zanka and leaving him behind.
Zanka had expected that, so he didn’t blame the man. If he were the one falling behind, he would take advantage of it too. Still, he couldn’t help the anger, and he clenched his teeth as he pushed himself forward as much as his burning legs allowed.
What he didn’t expect was a gloved hand grabbing his shoulders and lifting him with a lever-like motion onto a tree branch.
Apparently, the other had sped up to climb a tree using his claws, digging them into the bark effortlessly, and had decided (in an act of pure charity, Zanka assumed skeptically) to help him too.
The Japanese man quickly grabbed the branch and the forearm still resting on one of his shoulders, his heart pounding in his throat as he looked down.
Most of those things kept running forward, lost the trail, and disappeared among the trees. Others (which Zanka assumed were smarter, or less gone) stayed behind, searching around in confusion.
Once most of the horde had passed, Zanka let out a shaky breath of relief. He panted from the accumulated exhaustion, resting his forehead briefly against the rough bark.
This experience had been horrible, and exactly what he had wanted to avoid.
“Jabber” the stranger spoke as he released his hold on Zanka and began removing one of his clawed gloves with slow, almost lazy movements. “Jabber Wonger.”
Zanka stared at him for a few moments, still breathing heavily as the adrenaline slowly faded.
“Zanka” He murmured. “Just Zanka”