Chapter Text
“Pitiful”
Zanka shuffles around his portfolio and shows another art piece.
”Mediocre”
”Alright, what about this one—?”
“—Absolute garbage.”
Zanka slammed his portfolio down, full of fustration. He ran his left hand through his hair irritably.
”Right, okay—well whaddya want me t’do?Ive spent months on this portfolio. Ya can’t expect me to—“
“I’d like you to do better”
Zanka runs his hands down his face, dragging his eyelids down with them.
‘Here ya go again.’
“Ive tried my best, ya just got crazy expectations!—Im the best fuckin’ artist in the country, literally.”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry ‘bout that.”
Silence filled the air.
“Look, Zanka. You are a Nijiku, you’ve been blessed at birth with artistic ability. I trust that as my son, you’ll prove that you aren’t a waste of talent. It is your only purpose.”
“If you can’t bring that portfolio back at the end of the year—up to my standards, consider yourself exiled.”
Zanka’s leg rapidly taps, as he looks down at nothing.
“Oh—and get rid of that accent of yours. It’s foul.”
”Yes, Father”
Zanka got up from the table, exiting his father’s office. He was in a hole, and he was stuck in it.
His family was incredibly wealthy, the Nijiku bloodline had been around since the renaissance era. They were known for their unforgettable, unique art pieces. He was born with a silver spoon shoved down his throat.
—And he doesn’t remember particularly when he became so disgusted with his family. Maybe it was when he was forced to sketch over and over again when he was young, or when he’d get beat when his work wouldn’t turn out right, or when his mother died.
He doesn’t wanna remember.
Art is the pinnacle of self expression, the vulnerability of perception. The way it can capture you and suck your emotions right out of you. It can provide solace and comfort.
Zanka cried when he painted, he sketched out of anger, and he sculpted with dread. All of the skill he had—muzzled him.
He wasn’t always like that.
Since he was little, he always placed first in every art gallery, the first at every showcase, been to every museum
He shook hands with higher-ups, a smile plastered on his face.
Zanka stood outside the tall wooden doors, hands balled into a knot. His fists were so balled up his fingernails stabbed him. His veins popped out of his forehead.
So what if he was mediocre? He’d just half-ass his way to the top.
“Ah ‘cmon kid. Whatcha doin all this art for if you don’t like it?”
“Not that simple, Enjin.” Zanka says softly, while sketching in his notebook.
“—But it is tho that’s like me dating anyone else besides Gris, I’d hate my life.” Enjin says back, while munching on a bowl of cereal.
Zanka snorts.
Enjin points his spoon at him, multiple times before dryly swallowing.
”I’m being serious, gotta fix that. Find something you actually love— ‘cause whatever you’re doing is torture.
Zanka places his sketchbook down, before stretching with a loud yawn.
“‘M workin on it.”
He gets up and washes the graphite off of his hands, shaking them and patting them down.
“I’m honestly shocked I was allowed a life outside of..the family.”
Zanka started college tomorrow, it’d be his first time on his own since he became conscious. No maid, no butler, no daily driver.
It was just him and Enjin.
There was so much he didn’t know, thankfully he had Rudo, and Riyo. They’d teach him how to function as a “commoner”.
”Yeah, thought that old geezer would never let you put the pencil down—at least for now.” Enjin says.
”You’re with me now, so if you need anything let me know, Zanka. I’m here for you.”
Zanka rubs the back of his ear nervously.
“‘lright. Don’t gotta be all caring ‘bout it”
”Oh shut up, that was basic words of fondness” Enjin huffs out a laugh.
He walk towards his room door, waving.
“Night Zanka, good luck tomorrow”
”Yeah, night Enjin.”
The good luck Enjin wished him didn’t reach him at all.
Zanka had been walking around the college campus in circles, while looking at his schedule quizzically.
He thought all he had to do was simply just find the classroom and walk in, but no. There were buildings, block classes, homerooms—he didn’t even understand why there was multiple classes to begin with.
It was his third lap around the main building when he bumped into Rudo. Causing the younger student to rub his nose.
“Ack—watch where your going!?” Rudo stumbles backwards.
In that moment, all of the confusion Zanka created in his mind vanished. He figured the Rudo could show him around his classes.
“Oh my gosh, Rudo ya gotta help me. I dunno where my classes are. ‘can’t understand anything on this paper.” Zanka grabs Rudo tightly by the shoulders.
“Rich people problems.” Rudo muttered under his breath.
Rudo snatches the paper from Zanka’s hand, straightening it out and squinting at it.
He looks up with a deadpanned expression.
“Zanka, you’re fucking stupid. Your homeroom class is right across from us. All of your core classes are on the second floor, and your majors are in the performance arts building.”
Zanka glares at him embarrassingly. He snatches his paper back harshly.
“I knew that.” Zanka turns on his heels and walks in the other direction.
“You’re going down the wrong hall!” Rudo shouts amusingly.
Zanka ended up finding all his classes pretty easy, of course he picked art as a major out of habit. He wasn’t good at anything else.
It was pretty much the end of the day, he only had one class left which was his sub-major. He didn’t remember picking one though. He shrugged it off and walked to class.
”Zanka…Zanka!…Zanka!!” Riyo waved furiously in the middle of the hallway.
Zanka looked up awkwardly, waving back.
”Hey, Riyo. Could ya not do that in a public setting…that’s embarrassing.”
Riyo stands beside him and nudges his shoulder.
”Gosh, you have no social skills. What class do you got?”
He scratches his head. “I actually dunno, it’s in the performing arts department…I ain’t pick that”
Riyo looks at his paper while standing on her tippy toes.
“Oh! We actually have the same class, never took you for the type though.” She looks up at him.
“What typa’ class is it?” Zanka asks genuinely.
”You’ll see.” She gives him a closed eye smile.
Zanka and Riyo walk to the class together, making conversation and catching up with each other. When they finally arrive the first thing Zanka notices is that he can hear loud, rap music from outside the building.
”Riyo…what exactly this class?” He says while holding the door handle.
“Don’t freak, it’s dance.” She clasps her hands in Zanka’s free ones.
”WHAT!?—why the hell didn’t ya tell me?
”Cause I knew you would react like this.” She shakes her head with a sigh.
Zanka felt perpetual dread consume him. The only people he could hold a conversation with is Riyo, Rudo, and Enjin. Only because they overlooked his snobby attitude.
—And he never danced before in his life. Maybe bopped his head to a song before but dance? He was too sheltered for that.
Him and Riyo fought with the door. She tried to pry it open while he wasn’t focused. Flinging it open with roughness.
Zanka flung to the side dramatically, glancing at her with fear.
She rolled her eyes and walked into the classroom, dragging him with her.
The inside of the room looked similar to a dance studio, just smaller. There were mirrors on every side of the wall, bags and shoes cascaded onto the floor messily.
The room smelt like sweat, music was still blasting. Zanka caught a glimpse of his reflection in the parallel mirrors.
Then he looked around and saw students moving rhythmically. Following the beat of the song, everyone’s shoes squeaking as the song continued.
Zanka did not like this, it was too loud, too sweaty, too much.
He continued to observe the other students dancing, he looked up completely focusing on the instructor. Everyone there was good, but he was great.
The first thing Zanka noticed was his foot work. He was gliding as if gravity only applied to the upper half of his body.
The second thing he noticed was he body control, he moved so fluid , but not to the point were he could melt into the dance moves.
The third thing he noticed was his style, the man had on baggy clothes, almost too baggy. He had one leg of his sweats scrunched up, a baggy purple tank, and a black hoodie that was hanging off one side of his body.
’Wouldn’t that be hard to move in?’ Zanka thought to himself.
The fourth thing he noticed was his voice. The man would make random noises that were somehow acclimated to the beat, throw out random numbers, and paraphrase the lyrics messily, yet it all made sense.
Zanka wasn’t aware but by this point, he was subconsciously bopping his head along to the song, and tapping his fingers along to the beat.
The fifth, and last thing he noticed was how captivating the man was. He had dark, tan skin, long cuffed black locks tied in a disheveled man-bun. Sweat trickled down his forehead with the swiftness of each movement. A look of contentment yet exhaustion evident on his face. His eyes were half lidded as he breathed heavily.
The song cut off, and the moment it did everyone dropped to the floor, breathing in disarray.
The man let out a chortled noise of exhaustion before literally, dropping to the floor and laughing.
“‘Ah shit man—‘went all out on yall. We gotta—continue next week ‘fore I end up breaking—a bone in this—this damn studio.” He says in between huffs, letting out a few giggles.
Everyone else giggles in agreement copying his exhaustion.
Riyo stands up from the back of the wall, clapping profusely.
“Woo! That was so good!!” She says enthusiastically.
Zanka snaps back into reality immediately. He awkwardly try’s to pull his best friend back down.
Riyo doesn’t budge, instead she pulls him up with and walks towards the man enthusiastically.
”Yo, Jabber. You got a newbie.”
Jabber gets up off the ground, raising his eyebrow quizzically.
“oh? who this?”
Riyo looks at Zanka expectantly.
”Go on, introduce yourself.”
Zanka felt like he was gonna shit himself, he planned to just leave the class and change his schedule. Now he’s standing right in front of the choreographer like a dummy.
He gulps quietly and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m Zanka.”
Jabber blinked and huffs a laugh out.
”Damn, thas’ it?”
He grabs the end of his shirt and wipes the sweat off his face, showing his happy trail. Zanka couldn’t help but glance—maybe eyeball a bit. The man’s hand being outreached to him snapped him out of his trance.
”Jabber, im the assistant choreographer for dance. Nice to meet ‘cha.” He looks at Zanka.
”S’nice to meet ya’ too.” He shakes his hand while looking down.
“Youonknow where to put your eyes or sum?” Jabber huffs a laugh.
No, he didn’t know where to put his eyes.
Zanka looked up at him with a glare. Causing Jabber to put his hands up in playful defensive.
“Don’t worry—he’s just like that.” Riyo said while twirling a piece of her bright red hair.
“Shuddap.” Zanka told Riyo quietly.
Jabber put his hands in his pockets casually.
”But no, in all seriousness ’m glad you’re here. Come back next week ‘n I’ll show you the ropes.” He smiles
“Yeah, okay” Zanka says softly while looking up.
Riyo and him share their goodbyes to Jabber before leaving. Right before they leave Jabber calls out to Zanka.
”Oh yeah Zanka, stop tryna hide the accent—t’sounds good on you.”
He takes his right hand out his pocket, thick silver rings glistening on his fingers before waving and mouthing ’byeee’ to Zanka.
Yeah, he did not wanna come back next week.