Work Text:
Zanka lay there on the floor, next to his mother, the room silent except for his own quiet, shaky breathing, he didn’t understand why he couldn’t hear his mother’s breathing. He just thought that she was sleeping, sleeping better than Zanka ever could.
“Mama, when will Kyouka be home…?” Zanka murmured quietly as he scooted over and curled up against her to feel any type of warmth, only to feel none, he didn’t flinch away, only looking up at his mother with wide eyes filled with the confusion and innocence of a young child. “…mama?” He whispered, getting no response again, now choosing to curl up more, quietly holding onto her sleeve.
The room was silent again, Zanka didn’t cry, didn’t get up to get his older siblings or his father. He stayed there in that quiet state for the majority of the night, wanting to get up and get someone, but he didn’t want to get in trouble for still being up at this time of night. Staying with the corpse of his late mother.
Zanka stayed in that same spot, unmoving, aside from the slight tremor that happened every now and then.
“Mama, when you wake up…can I stay with you…? I don’t want to train tomorrow…” Zanka whispered quietly, knowing he wouldn’t get a response, but he didn’t care, he wanted to pretend that his mother was still alive and that she could respond to his questions, hold him and call him brave like she did when he was younger than he was now.
The silence stretched out, Zanka not saying anything else, lost in his thoughts.
Zanka’s mother had always been there for him when Kyouka and Goka would ignore him and when his father tried to get him to act his age, or more like older than his age. Zanka’s mother didn’t want that, she wanted all of her children to be happy together, rather than separate from each other. And she wanted Zanka to be a kid, she wanted him to have a decent childhood that wasn’t filled with 24/7 training, like how Kyouka and Goka’s childhoods were.
Though, none of that mattered anymore. His mother was dead and there was nothing he could do about it. He was home alone and no maids worked this late. Zanka was only eight, he didn’t know what to do other than lay there and wait. Wait for someone to come back and find his mother and take her away.
Zanka already knew what they were going to say to him, they were going to ask why didn’t he do anything, why didn’t he try to help her, why couldn’t he have just been better and try to get others to help him.
None of that mattered to Zanka. Not the looks that he’d get from Kyouka and Goka, or how his father would slap him or do something worse. Zanka didn’t care, all that he cared about was his mother, and she is dead, so why bother caring about anything else anymore when the one light in the dark finally went out.
Nothing mattered anymore.