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Summary
“Goka!” Zanka hisses, eyes wide as he tugs on his brother’s sleeve and subtly points at the group, “Goka, who are those people?” The awe in his voice is clear.
They pass each other, Zanka leaning his head behind Goka to continue staring.Quickly, Goka grabs Zanka’s arm that holds his sleeve and pulls him forward.
“Ouch!” He cries. The sudden movement had hurt his shoulder. “Goka-”
“Those people,” Goka interrupts, voice suddenly clipped, “are Cleaners. The Hell Guard works with them sometimes. But you should avoid ‘em as much as possible.”
“Okay.” Zanka accepts easily. If Goka says someone is no good, he’s usually right.
“They’re sick in the head.” Goka grits out.
Or, Zanka grows up wondering.
Or, or, my completely self indugent fic where I make Zanka into a trans girl because I think she has something going on. Something something, repression, something something, Givers as a metaphor for queer awakening.