Chapter Text
Often, there are tells for when a day is going to be horrific.
For Zanka, it starts on a Monday morning, the sun burning light into his eyelids as he wakes up twenty minutes later than he should've. For some reason unbeknownst to him, his alarm decided to not scream into his ear, shaking him into the waking world and now he's going to be late.
He gets ready as quickly as he can, throwing on his uniform and stuffing his face with a banana and half a slice of bread. But of course, the bread just has to be mouldy and Zanka's only able to notice it once its already in his mouth. He chugs down like three cups of water but finds that the taste still continues to linger in his mouth. But it doesn't matter because he's late, so he leaves the mouldy bread on the counter (because if he has to suffer with accidentally eating it, so will his family) and sprints out.
Though after a few seconds, turns into a brisk walk because Zanka realises that even if he ran like his life depended on it, he still wouldn't be able to make it in time for the first bell.
He's sure he could by car, but he hasn't gotten his license yet, and not having his licence would mean having to ask someone from his family for a ride up. Yeah, no. Zanka would rather die.
And besides, it's not like they'd do it anyway. At least not his siblings. He's sure that if Kyouka saw him making his way to school through a snow blizzard, she'd let him because it'd build character.
By the time Zanka arrives at school he's avoided stepping on dog shit thrice, ended up actually stepping on it once and also evades getting hit by a car that definitely was supposed to let him cross. He ends up just a little over 11 minutes late. Not his worst time ever, but definitely not his best. He knows that certain people like to act as if being punctual to school is optional and stroll in whenever they want, but all it shows is that they're lazy and uncommitted to their education.
People might think that such a small action isn't enough to cast such judgement, but Zanka thinks it's plenty. After all, impressions matter. It's one of the few teachings of his family that actually stuck. It's because of this, he wastes no time rushing past the lockers to get to his first class of the day: Home Economics.
Honestly, he doesn't really know why he chose it back in first year. Or, well he does. But he regrets it. Back then, he thought he was so smart picking a subject he assumed nobody else would. Less people as competition, then better would be for him. For some odd reason, it was the fourth most picked subject in their year group. But it was fine, it helped him realise he shouldn't rely on other people being bad at things in order to suceed but rather his own ability to do well.
Pushing the door handle down, he enters the classroom, muttering a quite apology to the teacher, Mrs Winters, for his tardiness. His eyes briefly scan the classroom, and seeing as his usual seat next to Riyo is taken, he sits in the row ahead of it.
From behind, she taps him with her finger, her nails now honing a newer coat of nail polish as compared to the week before. “Rudo was wondering where you were this morning,” she tells him and internally, Zanka groans at the reminder.
Their school has a sort of mentor system where certain third years (like Zanka) help out the first years with things like finding their classes, scheduling their work and other related matters. Rudo’s a good kid, but his organisation skills are trash. He's probably already sat in his maths class with a Shakespeare textbook instead of a calculator.
“Don't worry, he doesn't think you ditched him. I told him you probably just slept in.” She leans further over her table. “Though it was a little surprising, since you're like never late. Are you sick or something?”
Zanka slumps down into his chair, shrugging. “I think today's just a shitty one for me."
She offers him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Well chin up. School's already started. The day can't get much worse than that.”
Unfortunately, their teacher at the front of the classroom proves it most certainly can.
“Okay everyone, quite down,” She says, clearing her throat. “Mr Caines has now brought over the supplies, so I'll begin explaining what your next project will be.”
The current TA, Tamsy, digs his overly long sleeves into the box and out of all the things Zanka is expecting him to pull out, a semi-realistic baby doll is not one. He holds it upside down by its leg which is definitely not the way it's supposed to be done, but he's facing the teachers back so she's unaware of his crimes.
“For the past few weeks we've been going over the household responsibilities and you've all shown your abilities, or perhaps lack off…in the basic upkeeping of a home,” she states. “So now we will be experiencing the biggest job that someone might have face within their home. Caring for a child.”
“And,” Tamsy chimes in, the baby now suddenly upright the second the teacher glances at him. “The project is worth 60% of your grade for the semester and will be done in pairs that we have already selected.”
Immediately, whispers break out into the classroom. Zanka feels his heart sink.
Tamsy goes through the list of names, calling out the pairs that will do the project together. They've already been predetermined, but Zanka still crosses his fingers under his desk, hoping that if not with Riyo, he'll at least be matched up with someone competent.
But as they're all picked out, Zanka realises he might not even end up with a partner at all. There's only 29 people in the class, so unless they're going to throw him into a trio, in which at that point, he'll choose Riyo's pair with Eishia, then he's pretty much guaranteed to get a solid grade in working alone.
It's what should've happened, if life was normal and the world didn't hate Zanka. But it does, and so the door swings open twenty minutes into class, revealing none other than Jabber Wonger.
Zanka can already feel a scowl stretching across his face.
“Mr Wonger, you're late,” the teacher says, instead of ‘get out’ or perhaps more nicely, ‘this isn't where your Chem class is having a study period, go down the hall’.
“I got lost,” he admits, taking a seat a couple away from Zanka, his schoolbag clattering onto the floor. “I got told to take a left, but then I did that and ended up outside the building so it took me a while to find this place.”
She blinks at him, shocked. “Have you not been at this school for nearly three years?”
“Yeah and the hallways haven't gotten any less confusing.”
The lenses on her glasses must be clouded, as well as her ears being filled with cotton, because despite the fact that Jabber, who is clearly not a student in her class, has taken residence within it, she continues on where she left on.
“Anyway, the last pair for this project will be Zanka Nijiku and yourself, Mr Wonger. He'll fill you in on whatever you missed later.”
Zanka's stomach drops. He thinks this is the sort of shock that's felt when hearing an objection at your wedding or being told that you're being convicted of a crime that you didn't commit. Jabber being here, and being his partner must be a crime. Because this is Home Economics and Jabber is scheduled for Chemistry right now so it makes absolutely no sense for them to be in the same breathing space at all.
He can't have dropped Chemistry. He's great at it, amazing even. A prodigy. And people don't quit things they're great at. At least normal people don't. Though if Zanka's learnt anything from their shared Biology class last year, along with just general word of mouth around the school, Jabber definitely is anything but that.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Zanka chips in, because, hello, why is everyone so okay with this? “But Jabber isn't in our class.”
As if prepared to be a walking nuisance, he pulls out a crumpled and abused page containing his timetable. “Actually I am! At least for now,” he says, like Zanka doesn't know how easy these sorts of things can be edited and tampered online. “Check the roll, I'm third from the bottom.”
Mrs Winters nods knowingly. Zanka can't believe his eyes.
“He's clearly lying!” he yells out, much louder than he intended to.
“Mr Nijiku!” She gasps. Clearly amused, Tamsy raises a sleeve to stifle his laugh. “It isn't kind to throw around baseless accusations.”
“But it ain't baseless,” Zanka retorts. He's never been one to start arguments with teachers regarding assignments or homework given out but this is just ludicrous. “He's meant to have Chemistry now. He doesn't do this subject.”
“He is, at least for the moment,” she says. “Mr Wonger has had a bit of a…mishap in the chemistry lab and has been suspended from there until further notice.”
Zanka's not even surprised. He plays with the chemicals in the labs like they're bathroom potions in his house. Yet somehow, he hasn't managed to blow himself or the school up. Or maybe he has and that's the reason he's been kicked out of the lab.
She goes on to explain how the students taking Chemistry also have an upcoming collaborative project, but due to the current circumstances, he isn't able to participate. And since there was a blank in his schedule and her classes aligned perfectly with them, she was more than happy to take him into her class and have this project count in place of his major Chemistry one.
“Besides, I think Mr Wonger being here and contributing towards a project is much more productive than having him sit around in study hall, don't you think?”
She cannot be serious. Sure, okay, she wants to be the saintly teacher who takes Jabber into her class, Zanka's class. It's annoying, but he can deal with it. But the two of them being partners in an already absurd assignment that is worth over half of his grade is pushing it.
“He doesn't know what we're covering in class,” he says, taking on a less accusatory tone in the hopes it'll have a more positive effect. “Wouldn't it be unfair to throw him head first into a project like this?”
“That is true,” Riyo confirms, thankfully coming to his defence.
Ms Winters considers the stance for a moment, finger to her chin but dismisses it just as fast. “I'm sure he'll manage,” she says. “After all, this project is focusing on the hierarchy of needs and the basics in child development. Mr Wonger, you take Biology so I'm sure you'll settle in just fine, won't you?”
Even though he's replying to her, he turns to look at Zanka, a sly grin on his face. “Yes ma'am.”
Zanka wishes he could smack it right off.
Ms Winters clasps her hands together. “Alright, then it's settled!”
The lesson is then handed over to Tamsy who goes on to explain the details of the project. In short, they'll be given a doll that looks mostly realistic and holds equally realistic reactions. Basic things which constitute an automatic fail is hitting, aggressively shaking or starving the baby. Tamsy, once again with the teachers back facing him, demonstrates these forbidden acts a little too eagerly. Zanka feels their school needs to have stricter vetting regulations when it comes to hiring.
Tamsy drones on about a couple more things, like just how in real life, the dolls won't all act identically, and that no, you can't just yank the batteries out when you're tired because that'll count as an automatic fail too. There's more, but after a certain point, Zanka drones it out.
He's never been anything close to a genius. When people talk about those who get perfect scores on every test and can grasp every topic in a blink, he knows his name isn't being mentioned. But what Zanka does know is that he's a hard worker. He's the type who always shows up to class with his A-game no matter what. He submits every assignment without fail, and extra credit ones on top of that too. He takes part in extracurriculars, and gives back to the community when he can.
Basically, all of this is to say that no matter the situation, or how successful he actually is in his endeavours, Zanka Nijiku will always try his best.
Jabber is the exact opposite. He shows up to school when and how he likes, bandages plastering his skin. And receives at least a dozen reprimands from the faculty on a weekly basis. He's the type of person who says their dog eats their homework and gets kicked out of science labs for doing God knows what.
Yet, despite all this, Zanka isn't better than him.
Jabber sends in his homework as often Zanka has normal conversations with his family (which is never), but when they get given random pop quizzes in class, he's the only one who can ace it without a lick of study.
He's not like Zanka who feels shame burn down his neck each time he has to ask their teacher to further explain a topic. He just knows it all already. Jabber could be an academic weapon, the sort Zanka's family wished he was, who his teachers say he has the potential to be if he just pushed himself.
But when it comes to being serious about these things, about his future, Jabber never puts in the effort. He doesn't even try.
The two of them can't do this project together. It isn't going to work out.
An eraser whacks against Zanka's head. The culprit doesn't surprise him.
“Hey partner,” he greets, his tone playful.
“Don't smile at me like that,” Zanka mutters. There's four desks between them but it's not enough. Zanka would need a moat with molten lava and a steel wall built into the ground before he could ever feel at peace around this weirdo. “And we ain't a couple, so don't call me that. This is just for the class."
He holds his hands up in defense. “Ay, chill. I meant we're working together.” He then bites down on his lip. “But if the other option is where your mind is going I don't mind. I think you'd make a mighty fine da—”
“If you value your life, do not finish that sentence.”
“What if I don't?"
Zanka presses a palm to his face. He's in Hell. He doesn't know what egregious sin he's committed in life to deserve this, but he's definitely in Hell.
“Look, it's not like I wanna do this anymore than you do?” He says. “I'd be having a way better time being in Chem. But I'm stuck here until they say I've learnt to behave myself.”
Is that even possible for him— to behave? During their rat dissection in second year, he spent more time roleplaying and talking to the deceased rodents instead of listening to their teacher's instruction. Somehow, he still managed to get an A.
“What did you do to get kicked out of the Chemistry lab to begin with?”
“You don't wanna know.” He looks away for a moment, almost as if he's reminiscing over the event, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Unless you do wanna, then I'll tell ya.”
“I don't wanna know.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
Now, people are being called up to collect their babies and it's not long until it's their turn to claim their little plastic companion. Jabber offers to go up and take it but Zanka would rather not get an immediate fail because of him accidentally dropping it and subsequently stepping on its head.
Sliding out of his chair, Zanka trudges up to the front of the classroom. With all the stress he's faced today with such a weird morning and getting an even weirder partner, he can only hope the baby they get given is a normal one. Is that bad to say? Zanka doesn't think it should be. If he was a parent, he wouldn't want an ugly baby.
He approaches Tamsy, who digs into the rucksack and pulls out the baby which for the next week, will belong to both him and Jabber.
“Here you go,” he says. “Ignore the missing eyelash. Manufacturing error.”
There's a bigger issue to be addressed. “Why is it green?”
“Zanka Nijiku!” The teacher exclaims. “You are bringing new life into this world and your concern is the colour of its skin?”
A roar of laughter erupts from the classroom and Zanka can feel the colour draining from his face.. “No! I just…I wasn't—” he takes a deep breath in to steady himself before pointing at one of the many heads poking out from the bag. “Can't I take that one?”
Tamsy shakes his head. “These are reserved for the first year students. They'll also be taking on this project.”
Ms Winters looks disgusted with him. “Take your baby and sit down.”
This school is fucking insane.
Shame hanging over his head, Zanka sits down at his seat. Jabber's already taken a spot in the one directly beside him, shaking his head in dissappointment. “I can't believe you're racist to babies, Zan-Zan.”
“I'm not!”
He looks at the baby in his hands again. It isn't just green either. It's the luminescent type too, like the highlighters. He swears just by holding it, he's slowly turning into a similar shade himself.
“I think she's beautiful,” Jabber says. “What should we name her?”
“I'm not naming that creature.”
Tamsy feigns a shocked face. Why is he even listening in on their conversation? “That's an awfully harsh way to address a baby,” he says as if he wasn't flinging them around a couple minutes ago. “We'd hate to dock marks for verbal abuse.”
Ms Winters gives him the stink eye and Zanka's sure he has one more chance before he's failing the class.
Around him, his classmates discuss names. The type that are normal and would be found on Birth Certificates. Not supermarket vegetable aisles.
“Let's name her Cabbage,” Jabber says.
Zanka's eyelid twitches.
“Cabbage is…” The most stupid name he's ever heard. But Tamsy is smiling like he's waiting for him to say those exact words and fail for abusive behaviour and Zanka just wants this to be over so he sucks it up and forces a smile so stiff it rivals even Rudo's. “...perfect.”