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In the middle of havoc in a Doll Festival, two figures watched it unfold from a semi-safety of a bench. Not knowing who these men are, or what they are talking about, passersby could say that they’re just having a very pleasant evening.
“So, to conclude your report,” The older man in a crow-like mask finishes his food when the younger in a fox half-mask has done talking, “After getting revenge on the Cleaner woman, The God chased after Zanka Nijiku, ignoring everyone else on its path, only stopping in front of the Red Horn Hell Guard for a moment.”
“I think it confused them, Boss. Family resemblance and shit.” Jabber didn’t catch a close look at the said man at that moment, but seeing him taking Zanka away after the Giver got punctured gave him a realization that it might be Goka Nijiku himself. Ugly as hell, Jabber might add.
“Hm. That’s a possibility.” Another high-pitched scream from either frightened or injured civilians. Probably both. “The Cleaner got punctured, but he still performed a hit with his Vital Instrument–”
“Lovely Assistaff.” Jabber is still munching on a spicy meat skewer that was brought to him. Zodyl looks at him with an unreadable expression that is not so different from his usual poker-face. He hates unnecessary details, but her name is important, at least to Jabber.
“Bless you.” The words do not match the tone of the older man’s voice. “The God grows a talking mouth, which is something that didn’t happen with other Vital Instruments later on, according to Chtoni’s report.”
“That’s right.” He throws the now-empty skewer into a trash can. Score!
“And yet, the only one able to fight is Rudo, the wielder of the Watchman gloves.”
The implications are obvious. For some reason, only Zanka was able to make some kind of real damage, while other Givers failed to. Until Rudo messed some shit up with the Watchman series, proving it to be the only way. What does it mean for the staff wielder then? Is there another way to fight Mymo that Zanka subconsciously figured out? Is it Lovely? Is it pure luck?
Zodyl gets up from a bench they were sitting on. This whole conversation might have looked like a cute sibling quality time, if not for the constant noises of battle and houses getting destroyed.
“This is a good report. To be frank, I didn’t expect such results from that bland boy.”
“Told ya he’s special, Boss.” Jabber wears a proud smile, because he’s, as always, right. And when he’s right–
“Yes. Welldone.” There it is! Man, does Jabber love to hear that. “Too bad he’s going to bleed out. He did get stronger since the Trash Beast experiment, but, clearly, that is not enough.”
Jabber's heart drops. First of all, if that stupid excuse of a brother would have at least tried to stop the bleeding, Zanka would have had better chances at surviving. Second of all, the last words hit too close to home, being something that Zanka tells himself all the time. Jabber doesn’t get it. How could someone like him not be enough? Yeah, sure, he didn’t win against Jabber yet, despite many close calls. But, c’mon, have you tried to fight a fucking God?
Zodyl starts to leave, as Jabber quickly stands up and calls for him. He plans to do what he wants to even without the permission, but getting the Leader’s possible approval?
“Boss!” Zodyl doesn’t turn around, but does silently stop on his way. What else? “Wouldn’t it be a shame to let him just die?”
“That is none of our concerns. If his teammates, or family, or his own body fails him, that is only their fault.” No, it would be mine as well, a wild thought runs through Raider’s head. If I watch him die without doing anything to prevent it, it would be my fault too.
“What about the potential? Man, his name is not even fully manifested on Lovely Assistaff yet!” Damn it, he’s getting desperate. At the new piece of information, Zodyl finally faces him.
“It’s not engraved on it?” Most Givers that Zodyl knows of have their names on their Vital Instruments, signaling the usage of their full power. The only exception is people who haven't found their true power yet, or the ones who already hold it back, like Jabber himself.
“It is, but it’s not engraved properly.” The Raider always found it interesting, since Zanka is truly unique like that. Even a fucking rope is covering it up. Lovely is basically screaming This Bitch is holding us back! Though, of course, she would say it way nicer.
“If he is already holding such power at this stage, imagine how useful he could be to us, when he finally unlocks the rest of it.” Jabber knows the implications behind his own words and he doesn’t like them.
He joined Raiders for mere fun, being able to fight strong opponents, while getting free money and health care out of it. He doesn’t understand Zodyl's plans at all, nor does he really care for them. As long as the Leader grants his wishes, Jabber will be there. But that doesn’t apply to Zanka.
The Cleaner, with a fucking gold of a heart, will never consider helping them with whatever they’re doing. Too damn soft and loyal for his bunch of weirdos. And the Sphereite. Zanka will probably never admit it, but Jabber sees how the kid is growing on him. Being his personal mentor and shit, the Cleaner probably sees him as a little brother he never had. Isn’t it funny how from the youngest I suddenly became the oldest? He would absentmindedly say after retelling another of Rudo and Riyo’s shenanigans.
Jabber always wondered if it’s like something he has with other Raiders. He looks up to Zodyl and Chtoni, while liking to chill with Momoa and Bundus too. Sometimes he wonders if he and Noerde would have gotten along. Zodyl remembers her as a strong woman, which is the kindest praise of his.
In order to make Zanka useful for them, they will have to use force. Probably kidnap or set a trap. Take Lovely away from him to make him talk. Torture a little until he obliges. Though, knowing Zanka and the trainings he went through back home, they will have to use a lot of torture.
But that will be later. When Zanka will get to prove himself. And for that to happen, he needs to be alive. Until then, Jabber will figure something out, he always does. Maybe he will leave the doors a bit too loose, neurotoxin dosage a bit smaller than usual, putting Assistaff a bit closer to her owner than he should. Zanka is a fighter, the Cleaner will figure something out too.
“Jabber,” Zodyl looks at him dead in the eyes, getting all the attention. The mask, somehow, makes him look silly. The Raider wonders if the merchant recommended it for that exact reason. “Remind me of your mission.”
“Observe and do not intervene.” Jabber wants to roll his eyes, because this is stupid, but getting his ass whooped by the older man is not in his plans. Not right now, anyway.
“And you’re proposing to intervene.” Now you understand how foolish you sound? Goes unpronounced.
“But, Boss,” Jabber knows it’s his last chance, but he has no idea what else to add, before he decides to just say the truth, “Where else could I find such a fun toy to play with?” Nowhere, the Raider knows.
There is no such place in both Ground and Sphere where another Zanka Nijiku resides. He’s irreplaceable, despite what the Cleaner thinks of himself. If Jabber succeeds and manages to get away with this, he promises himself to make Zanka to finally believe it. If he ever dies, the man thinks, he must die knowing he’s enough to love.
Something shifts in Zodyl’s stare, like he’s actually thinking about it. If Nijiku boy perishes, there would be a problem containing Jabber’s cravings for violence. He doesn’t have much time lately to sate it himself, and sending him to fight other Raiders will end up in a reduction of people who can go on missions. How interesting, the Leader thinks, it might turn into a problem of our own, after all. He scoffs, turning and walking away, back on his track.
“Don’t cause a scene and don’t let anyone know we’re here.” Don’t fuck it up.
A self-satisfied grin appears on Jabber’s face. Not only does he get to save Zan-Zan, but under Zodyl’s indirect command too. He loves multitasking.
“Sure do, Boss!” The younger man can’t help but giggle, running in the opposite way, tracking the blood on the floor. He even skips around in joy, locs swaying, cuffs ring up.
Now, where was that little sheep with pink eyes again?
Goka’s reflexes screamed faster than his mind did. After all, he’s a Second Commander of Red Horns for a reason. The only problem was, in order to get the katana out of its sheath, he needed to let go of Zanka. And that was the moment when he hesitated. A mere second was enough to let himself end up in this situation. How disappointing.
Feeling a light slash against his neck, his body started to betray him. Sedative? No, he was still in his right mind. Paralytic? His knees buckled, leading both of them to fall, but before Zanka could, someone picked him up.
Though a person was wearing only a half-mask, Goka couldn’t recognise him. He could see the unnatural glowing eyes behind it. Another filthy Giver. Was it someone from the Cleaners? The Raiders? Secret third thing?
He gently puts Zanka down, kneeling before him. Goka can’t see how the left claw nicked the Cleaner’s neck from his angle. With eyes back to a humanish magenta, a stranger unravels a purple cloth around himself, revealing the real obi underneath. Disrespectful brat. He uses it to wrap around Zanka’s abdomen instead, tying it tight.
“Oh, Zanka,” The man drags his name like it’s honey. So he does know him. “C’mon, man, don’t be dying on me now. You’ve got a date to take me on.” He holds the other’s face as he licks blood from his mouth. What the actual fuck?
Is this delusional man mad? Who does he think he is, talking to a Nijiku like that? Touching his little brother like that? Goka feels sick. That can’t be right.
They would know if Zanka was in a relationship. Cleaners send them reports weekly, including about Zanka’s wellbeing from his team’s Leader. They would know about this, right? Right?
The man with a fox half-mask picks up the Cleaner again, this time in a bridal style. He puts Zanka’s mask on his face as well. Doesn’t want them to be recognised? When he finally acknowledges Goka on the ground, the man’s expression is devoid of all the warmth that there was a moment ago.
“If you ever think of showing up in his life again, without a proper apology for basically leaving your lil’ bro to bleed out,” Leaving him to bleed out? He was saving him. He was on his way to a Hell Guard medic. “I won’t be so kind as to give you only a paralytic.”
So he knows Zanka and Goka. And that they are related. This information is not really a secret, but there was a silent agreement to stop acknowledging each other’s shared blood. So these two could be close. Or, Goka thinks, there’s still a recognisable family resemblance. What a silly thought, since when did he care about that?
Stranger gets closer only to carefully pick up the damn stick Zanka was so attached to, murmuring apologies to it. He knows the Giver gave it a name, but he never bothered to remember. Why did Goka even consider picking it up back there? If it wasn’t for this stupid piece of wood, Zanka could’ve turned up a great Hell Guard, better than he is, even. Maybe in a Second Command like him, standing tall and close to his siblings. His real and only family.
“Seriously, dude, you have to do better than this, if you want to get a wedding invitation eventually.” This motherfucker–!
Goka tries to mumble some curse at him, but his mouth doesn’t listen. The deranged man simply turns around and vanishes into the panicked crowds. With his dying little brother in hands, fuck!
Several moments later, when Goka Nijiku finally gets a hold of his own hands, he shoots a flare-gun up in the sky. Without chokers, that was the only way to inform of the emergency. He doesn’t even need assistance, the toxin in his body leaving on its own, but he failed to protect his little brother, the only thing his older sister ever asked for.
As the red smoke paints the clouds, Goka can’t help but plead:
Kyouka-sama, I hope you punish me accordingly for my hesitance.
I may have turned to a weakness, like him.