Work Text:
In the middle of the Cleaners headquarters, a little to the left of the mess hall, long corridors of room after room followed. Dorm after dorm, cleaner after cleaner lived inside and rested during the night. It was never fully quiet in a place like this but most human activity was gone for the day, everyone in their own respective dorms to regain energy after a hard day at work.
In one of those dorms, it was just as quiet as in the neighbouring dorms, let alone for the shaky breathing that could be heard if you pressed your ear against the bathroom door. It wasn't the breathing that appeared when scared, or trying to be quiet despite just running a little too far. It was shaky and shallow, the sound of someone trying to silently cry while desperately holding back from doing something stupid.
Zanka wasn't fully aware of how long he had been in the bathtub for. Could be 15 minutes or two full hours, not that it mattered. No, nothing mattered, Zanka had come to that conclusion and it scared him. He could even admit that fear to himself instead of claiming it was something stupid like his heart racing when he forgets to eat before training, or hands shaking when the body was too tired to function properly.
He had tried to blame the feeling of dread on the fact he purposfully used the coldest water possible when filling up his bath, but he couldn't lie to himself for long. He was scared of his own mind, of his own life and of how pathetic he truly was. The cold water stung on his body, prickled his skin like needles as he sat motionless in the middle of the tub. His knees had been drawed up to his chest as he cried but his arms had been too numb to hold onto them, and now he sat awkwardly, palms pressed into his eyelids as he ignored yet another wave of tears that threatened to spill.
Pathetic, pityfull, useless. Nothing more than scum and dirt thrown onto the Nijiku family, nothing more than a weight holding down Team Akuta from being greater.
He hadn't even bothered with soap in the water. It wasn't to clean his filthy body, stained with hatred and jealousy and hurt. The cold sensation simply hurt his skin just enough for him to not do anything stupid. He's not stupid enough to hurt himself, but the thought had crossed his mind too many times ever since he woke up with his stomach barely intact.
Really, Eisha could do wonders. Zanka chuckled dryly to himself, a tired smile creeping onto his face, wet with tears that still cluncg to his skin. At least she could continue working even when she did doubt herself—which she did, she did more often than not—unlike Zanka, who just fell flat on his ass and had to be saved by someone else.
Zanka pressed his hands harder against his face as he giggled, the sound quiet yet so annoyingly loud in his ears. He felt like he was going insane, truly losing his sanity over something so stupid. He should be stronger, be able to fetch for himself in fights. How the hell is he supposed to mentor Rudo when he's too pathetic to win against anyone?
Ignoring the stars dancing across his closed eyes, Zanka let his body lean back against the cold porcelin, his body too cold to even feel it anymore. There was just a lingering pain in his every body part that he couldn't help but smile more at. He didn't deserve any comfort after everything. Time and time again he proved just how painfully average—no, even worse. He was barely okay at most—he really was and all it did was make Zanka crawl in on himself. He had become more agressive, easily ticked off and refused to let anyone help him.
He was practically an adult, damnit. Kyouka would look at him with disgust if she saw him.
It wasn't his intention to think of his sister, but it happened a lot lately. With every defeat, with every training session that seemed to only make him worse at fighting, with every second Zanka let him rest just once, the image of his siblings appeared in his mind almost subconciously. Every time it happened he felt extremely nauseous and no matter where he felt exposed, like a weak prey having its hiding spot be exposed to its predator.
He knew he wasn't nowhere near as good as his siblings in any situation, no matter the circumstances. It was a simple fact he had accepted at the same time he accepted being an average Joe. It was simply who he was but the shame clinged onto him despite the years he had spent away from his family as a cleaner; in fact, it had only worsened after Goka saved his pathetic ass at the Doll Festival.
He had barely been conscious as he was carried around, vision fading black everytime Zanka tried to figure out where the hell Goka was taking him. Unfortunally, he was alive enough to hear Goka's comment about the gaping hole in his stomach merely being a 'minor injury'. And he was right, Zanka did survive, after way too many days spent resting, but damn if those words didn't hurt.
Good-for-nothing average Joe. Should've stayed in that well, should've spared Enjin the disappointment of seeing his student fail over and over.
Zanka removed his hands from his face, letting his eyes open and stare at the wall before. He didn't feel like giggling anymore, not even at his own pathetic state. Nothing was funny when he thought of his siblings. His hands pressed into knuckles, nails digging crescent moons into the palms. His vision was still littered with stars from the preassure he had applied to his eyes, dancing across the room as he tried to chase after them, just for them to move with his own vision.
It was stupid, really.
Should've stayed in that well.
His siblings had always been better. Quick learners who were picture perfect examples of how a child should develop. Zanka had been nothing from the beggining; a 'late bloomer' as the family doctor tried to put it, a 'useless body' as his mother so harshly remarked the few times they ever met. Had his parents been just as distant with his siblings as they were with him? Or did they just hate Zanka that much, that they couldn't spend time with any of their children at all?
His siblings were the only ones ever talking to him, ever sparing him as much as a glance, and barely even that. Most of the time it was Kyouka scolding him or telling him things to improve about himself. Goka had always been more distant than their sister, the few times he accidentally saw Zankas pain slip beneath the perfect mask he always wore Goka would simply ignore it. Shut it down without a word, making Zanka feel like he was invisible. He really, really wished he actually was.
Zanka sat still in the cold bath, jaw quivering no matter how hard he pressed his teeth together. He hated feeling pathetic. He hated dwelling on his perfect siblings. He hated, most of all, always being useless to the people around him and knowing he was nothing compared to them.
The water no longer felt like a punishment, nor as something Zanka could just live with. It was inviting, dragging Zanka in, making him lean back and submerge even his face
under the clear surface. He held his breath, feeling the weight of the water against his chest, taking over and dulling Zankas every sense.
He wouldn't attempt to die again, that would be pathetic. But he could always pretend like he was so that freedom constantly felt near