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It starts out as a small, burning ache deep in his gut. Not a pain, but almost like a memory.
Zanka likes Eisha, he respects how she’s humble and dedicated to her work and how she always does her best despite her insecurities. He also likes August, although he could be kind of loud and intense for his tastes. He’s confident, bold, and always puts himself out there, even with his designs. What he doesn’t like, however, was how his chest hollowed out every time he ended up being in a room with them together.
Their conversations always came across as easy, straightforward and empathetic. Even when Eisha claims August was embarrassing himself, it was light, sweet. It didn’t carry the weight of expectation behind each syllable. It didn’t prevent August from being his true unfiltered self at any point. In fact, he often laughed when she would make those comments as if he hadn’t even digested Eisha’s words at all.
....
At 15, he counts the hours, minutes, seconds he sat at the bottom of that empty well. He counted them until day became night and his eyes began to cloud over and sting. Until his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth with dryness. He clutched the stick in his hands tighter as the next day came around, laughing silently to himself. He doesn’t know exactly what he was expecting.
Embarrassment wasn’t something he was equipped to handle. It stung in the same way as failure and disappointment, being able to see the exact moment when others views on him had changed. When they had stopped seeing him as untouchable.
By mid day, the sky greyed out and the air became damp and thick as he breathed into his sleeves. He thought about how long it would take for a storm to fill a well to the brim with water, if its purifying properties could wash away his inadequacies for good and keep his mind from stirring up memories he could never manage to escape from. He was never so lucky however, and the promise of rain came to pass without so much as a drop touching the sandy soil beneath him.
The night drew on long, his stomach beginning to protest by the 24 hour mark. Pins and needles spiked through his legs and shoulders from lack of use as he curled in on himself and ruminated, thinking about what the potential outcomes would have been had he chosen any other weapon, venting to the worthless object in his arms. The smell of it was dry and earthy, and it dug into his cheek uncomfortably as he drifted off to sleep, cobblestone at his back and knees to his chest.
....
August came to check on Eisha when she was healing patients, almost constantly it seemed. When he wasn’t busy working on a project or bugging other cleaners for the sake of it, he was at Eisha’s side. He talked endlessly and she would simply let him brainstorm in her direction while she worked.
He observes by listening to them that a sister could be kind, gentle and considerate without expecting anything in return. He sickened every time he got injured on a mission, sitting silently before Eisha as she aided her brother in creative decisions while prepping her cords. “You know I’m busy,” she sighed, waiving a hand towards a buckle August was asking her to choose between.
He also witnessed how easily a brother could be supportive and protective. When she spiraled over her work, August would offer her praises and encouragement that would revitalize her almost instantly. When she shook from over exhaustion, he would practically drag her away to eat and force electrolyte drinks onto her she would only accept after being haggled. Zanka pointed out his seemingly constant visits when he wasn’t actively working on a new project, and Eisha blinked at him in surprise. “Sorry, I never thought about how much he showed up,” she stammered, wrapping bandages around his shoulder.
“I can tell him to stop, if that helps” he mulls it over and decidedly shakes his head, quickly coming to the realization he was the weird one for noting these visits when they happened maybe twice a day and at least half were for Eisha’s sake.
They didn’t match at all, yet somehow they made sense alongside each other. Zanka began pretending to sleep or taking walks earlier than what would probably be recommended in the healing process as a form of escape from their conversations.
....
At 13, there was a period of time where he had to be seen by his family physician for almost a month straight. He had persistent, sharp pains in his stomach and chest. When he brought this complaint to his father, he warned him about the dangers of eating food from chefs he couldn’t trust, he was an Nijiku after all and envy could get the best of the average man. He ate meals strictly cooked by their own chefs from then on, denying lunch offerings from girls at school and sweet treats from old ladies who thought he had a melancholy look to his face.
The food got blander, but he could tolerate it.
It wasn’t until a week later when he collapsed during training from the pains shooting through his chest that the doctor was called. Nothing was found during the exam, so he was sent on his way.
Goka scoffed any time he noticed Zanka suffering from the symptoms. “Maybe if you were stronger,” “It wouldn’t hurt so much”. So, he trained more. He trained until his arms couldn’t move and his legs trembled and his chest heaved, but the sharp pains didn’t go away.
The doctor was called again. He still found nothing, but left drinks filled with vitamins with his father. That night there was a long lecture about honoring his family legacy and pushing himself through pain to reach glory. The drinks sat at his bedside untouched and the look of acknowledgment his father gave was enough to tolerate the pain a little longer.
He trained with Kyouka but it never felt the way it did with Goka. He fought like he wanted to crush him. Kyouka fought like she hoped someone could match her. In her eyes, he could tell he always fell just short. The pain clung to his stomach day and night to the point where he was bed bound. The doctor returned, examining him again and wringing his hands. Nothing, again. Except.
“I believe it to be a psychosomatic disorder” The words spiraled around in his skull until he could pull them apart to process.
The doctor stumbles over an explanation, how stress can build up in the body and fold in on itself until it expresses itself physically. He cuts him off mid sentence. “What yer sayin is,” he grits, “it’s all in my head”
His father doesn’t call on the doctor again, and he doesn’t ask. The pain still digs beneath his ribs, but he learns to deal with it.
....
Zanka, Riyo, August and Eisha sometimes head into town for miscellaneous items. Riyo liked looking over every magazine she could get her hands on , drawing Zankas attention whenever she saw a particularly interesting celebrity or gossip article since her usual gossip buddy (Enjin) hadn’t come along with them, and gasping in interest at the different hair styles and tools on display in specialty shops. August was searching for hardware to add to his latest project, and Eisha was coerced by August to leave headquarters. “You’ve gotta get outta that canned lighting every once in a while sis, it’s not like anybody’s gonna die if you just leave for a break!”
“ I fear thats exactly what might happen,” she squeaked , gazing back into the distance with concern.
Riyo pokes at the window of a shop with hair picks and gushes at the designs, Zanka gives her a nod, attention somewhere else. She pouts and waves a hand in his face.
“Dude, you’re being weirdly quiet, and somehow even more antisocial than usual. Are you overthinking again?”
His nose twists up and he gives her a look. “Ya can’t tell that” she giggles something about him being ‘so emo’ and ‘easy to read’ while poking him repeatedly in the hip with the point of her nail, he yelps and jumps away from the onslaught.
“Come on Zanka, you know me by now. If I want to know, I have ways to find out!” she spoke softly at his side, just about a whisper, a knowing look in her eyes. “So I wanna know why you look so pissed off at the Stilzas”
They walked a little further as Zanka mulled it over in his head. August was eagerly holding up two fabrics in front of Eisha as she felt them, smiling. “ I dunno. Is it weird to feel like ya missed out on somethin’ ya technically already had?” he didn’t actually want to explain much further since the thought hardly even made sense to himself, but his nose scrunched up as he tried to come up with the words anyways. “They’re not tryin’ to prove anythin’. It’s different.”
Riyo tilted her head, expression clearly showing that she didn’t expect to get that out of him the easy way. “Well,” Riyo started, “Maybe you never should’ve been expected to prove something at all. Things should be easy when you’re siblings, right?”
The smell of something grilling permeates the air from a nearby truck and August screams. “Oysters! They’re selling grilled oysters! This is a once and a lifetime opportunity, we need a lunch break ASAP!” he points dramatically in jerky movements to the truck and passersby turn their heads to stare as they walk. Eisha makes her best attempt at burying herself in his shadow and pulls at the back of his shirt, begging him to stop.
Soon after, they all end up sitting at the roads edge eating oysters. Or, a very close substitute since he could taste the difference, but the smell was almost identical in every way that counted with a hint of lemon and soy sauce on top. August and Riyo began slurping theirs down almost immediately, but Eisha hesitated.
“I kind of lose my appetite when I’m thinking a lot, sorry. I feel like I’m not being useful enough here,” she holds an oyster and August looks seconds away from eating it straight out of her hands.
“By just takin’ care of yerself?” He questions. She purses her lips like it was a conversation she’d had before. August throws his hands up in exasperation, oysters finished in record time.
“That’s what I’m saying! Tell her!” Zanka bites his tongue for accidentally becoming the catalyst in reigniting whatever conversation they’d been involved in before. He gives Riyo a look but she smirks in the way she does when she’s choosing not to get herself involved. Eisha sulks as August lectures her about enjoying things and forcefully drags Zanka into the discussion by asking for backup. This goes on until Zankas stomach loudly interrupts. August looks to him, as if for the first time.
While Eisha hadn’t touched her oysters, Zanka had only had one of his own.
“Huh? Are you guys the same? Too busy thinking to enjoy good food when it’s right in front of you?” When August starts scolding the both of them Riyo bowls over laughing so hard she drops her empty shells to clutch her stomach.
....
The day he turned eleven was the day he began serious training. He trained at minimum twice a day and the rest of his time was spent learning techniques and studying. He would train alone, with teachers, and eventually as his skills progressed, with his siblings as well. Kyouka practically towered over him at this age,
“You can’t just be good, you have to be better. Far better. Even better than Goka. Do you understand?”
She aims the pistol right between his eyes.
He learns to read and predict the moves of his opponents this way, micro movements, the smallest flicker of an eyelid or twitch of a finger. He became a natural at dodging and tracking the number of satisfied nods he could get out of his sister for his performance.
He also ends up hitting a servant because they approached him too suddenly. Pity flashed in the woman’s eyes and he scowled at his hands. “Sorry about that, not sure why I did it.” He offered an award winning smile the way a humble prince should and her expression changed to flattery.
From then on he worked to correct the reflex until he could sense the difference of intent. He pulled ahead of Goka easily, because he didn’t let himself fall victim to his emotions the way he did.
....
For two years straight, Zanka took great pains to avoid his siblings. It was surprisingly easy with his association to the cleaners, but there were more than a few close calls. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like they went out of their way to see him either. He could already guess what they’d say, the looks they’d give, so he didn’t want any confirmation.
Unfortunately for him, it never seemed like he got what he wanted. As his consciousness dipped in and out, the burden of knowing was seared into his brain. Pathetic. Incompetent. How clever, you asshole. He’s dying and his so called brother couldn’t even bother carrying him in a way that didn’t dig directly into his injuries.
He could hardly stay awake for much longer, but he caught a glimpse of Rudo’s face before he blacked out completely, concern bending his features. Pity. From his trainee. Pathetic. Incompetent.
....
When he was nine, his brothers envy became painfully evident. It was clear Zanka was a faster study than Goka, and it was clear to him that Zanka had the potential to be more superior He’ll Guard than he would become some day. He noted the distance that made its way between them day by day, for every acknowledgement Zanka received he could feel Gokas glare at his back.
Their name took precedence over everything, over their relationships with each other. Over their desires. Over their health, their safety, their sanity.
He would sometimes wish they could’ve been born with a different name. For every time they were lectured about its importance, it became clear they were destined to separate themselves from others.
....
The familiar jolt of Eisha’s powers zapped energy through his limbs, and he was greeted by the familiar tiles of the HQs hospital ceiling. He glances over at Eisha, who was currently hovering over his bedside trembling. Her hair was slightly out of place and there were bags under her eyes. “Ah! You lived, that’s good,” she sighed, “please don’t move, I’m not finished healing yet.” Static zipped over his skin and he could feel parts of his wounds mend themselves, the stiffness he felt upon waking left him as well. Once she was satisfied, she removed herself from the bedside and shuffled over to the door, which practically fell in as she opened it from the weight of his visitors.
Enjin, Riyo and August tripped over each other falling into the room, as if they were all leaning on it. “Zanka! So happy you didn’t die, take this!” She tossed a folded piece of paper at him and Eisha squeaked from her suddenness.
He picked up the scrap of paper thrown on his blanket and examined it. It looked like a shoddy attempt at origami. “I’m not as fancy as Rudo and he’s still not felling so good right now,” her face became stormy for a moment, distracted by memory, before her smile returned full force “So that’s my best attempt at making you flowers! Those took me a while you know, so you better appreciate them” he gave her a doubtful look and she snuffed out his accusations of pity immediately with her glare.
He looked them over again, blinking slowly. He was trying to process when she’d become so sentimental, but he kept that thought to himself. She seemed satisfied at winning their little staring competition and skipped happily over to the nearby chair. Enjin and August practically talked over each other recapping all that happened during the battle at the festival, mentioning how his brother had to haul him to safety sent a sick chill down his spine. Enjin noticed silently.
“Gotta hand it to you Zanka, you’re a lot bolder than me taking that thing head on first.” he would not have described it that way at all. His “boldness” ended in him becoming dead weight for the team almost immediately after his initial attack. Regardless, he flushed from the praise as Enjin patted him on the shoulder.
Ever the pessimist, he couldn’t help but doubt his words. “How can ya say that when I got one shotted by Mymo while Rudo and the newbies did all the hard work?”
August gasped. “No way! What are you saying? You practically got your insides blasted out by a god and you think you did nothing? Eisha was healing you for weeks!” Enjin immediately slapped a hand over August’s mouth but it was too late. Zankas shoulders tensed.
“Fuckin’ weeks? I need to get outta here” he attempted to leave the hospital bed but his guests trapped him.
“Nuh uh, If you move around too much your wounds will totally open up before Eish finishes her healing! You’re bed bound for a while, doctors orders” August wagged a finger and pointed back at Eisha, wiping sweat from her brow. Zanka curled in on himself and seethed in bed.
Enjin regarded his student sympathetically. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, you took the initiative when the rest of us started doubting. We needed you there. You showed off just how much your determination had grown, and that team up you and Riyo pulled on Mymo’s groupies before that, are you kidding?” Enjin and August performed a reenaction of Riyo’s version of the story while she laughed in the corner. He ducked his head and bit back the emotion that threatened to creep its way onto his face.
“Please, stop. Yer joking right? I hardly did anythin’ at all. Give Riyo the praise since shes the one who came up with the idea, not me.” anything to redirect the attention. Anything to stop thinking about how close he was to losing even then, before gods had even came into play. Enjin noted how he was still in denial about his involvement and sighed, asking the others to leave the room before taking the chair Riyo had been sitting in previously.
“You know, part of getting stronger is acknowledging how much you’ve grown already. You’re on a team Zanka, nobody’s expecting you to beat a literal God all on your own. Let your team carry some of that weight on your shoulders, won’t you?” He would have preferred to stay silent, or simply thank him, but what escapes him is a choked out sob.
“I’m just so tired of losing. I’m doing everythin’ I know how.” Every time he thinks he’s finished, more tears escape him as he silently gasps, nearly hyperventilating. Enjin sits by his side and doesn’t say anything more. He thinks he needed that more than anything.
....
When he was 7 years old, his brother gave him hugs. They would play swords together in the garden and Zanka would lay on the ground and count the branches of the trees that would never grow. Goka would even spend time in his room when he studied, Zanka peeking over his shoulder to see what he was doing, and he would dramatically cover his writing with an arm and smile when he pouted.
Kyouka would cut his hair, running her fingers through it and commenting on how long it would get with a lilt in her voice, making quick work to keep it at an acceptable length. Her smile never quite reached her eyes and he couldn’t begin to understand why.
His father was always a very serious figure in his life, but he couldn’t say he knew the man himself very well, only his accomplishments. The expectations were just stories about the strength of his elders and his family name was a symbol of power he had no full understanding of yet.
At 7 is the last time he could remember sitting with his siblings without holding the weight of hundreds of years of history on their shoulders. Before being the best and a never ending chase for more consumed him entirely, winding him up like a rubber band until the tension snapped forcefully from the pull.
Sometimes, he would still dream about artificial trees and combs made of jade, waking up drenched in nausea.