Chapter Text
The Nijiku Association was a prestigious organization of unprecedented fame, connected to the most diverse markets, from entertainment to agriculture, and affiliated to companies all around the world. Even so, a specific branch of the Association highlighted itself: the Academia, a segment dedicated to supporting and providing for the most talented minds of the century, serving as a basis for the further development of the sponsored individuals' talents and capabilities. The Academia allowed the Nijiku Group to build an image based on perfection and magnanimity, an image that also stretched to the family behind all of it.
A reliable father, who always made time for his children, a caring mother and capable wife who also took responsibility for the business and two sweet children who's intelligence could not be underestimated, the Nijiku family made it to every headline being showered with praise on how they not only built a great empire, but also how they were able to remain a harmonious and tightly knit family, at least, until the birth of their third child.
The path Zanka had been walking down had been uncannily similar to that of his siblings, another sweet and intelligent child with which the Nijiku family had been blessed with, yet as time passed, he came to realise that things did not come to him as easily as they did to Kyouka or Goka. And that's how ten year-old Zanka found himself pulling at his hair, desperately staring at a mathematics worksheet as if begging for it to make sense. Even so, no matter how much he pulled his hair, begged or suppressed his tears, none of it seemed to make sense, so he kept pulling and hitting at his head, harder and harder, as if punishing himself for not knowing enough, for not studying enough, for not being enough, only stopping when he felt a cold hand against his tiny wrist.
The same cold hand lowered his wrist in front of him, placing it on top of the table and gently, yet awkwardly caressed the top of his head, and at this point, Zanka knew who it was. He knew Kyouka's cold hands all too well, and despite her affectionate gesture, Zanka had long frozen, terrified of his sister's reaction, would she be mad? Annoyed? Or even worse, disappointed? A Nijiku shouldn't cry, at least not so easily, neither should they struggle with simple maths exercises, or at least that's what he believed, regardless, as he turned around to check on his sister his worries dissipated as she remained with her usual impassive expression.
"Come with me," she patted his head once more and walked out his room "and put your shoes on." She finished, as she started walking downstairs.
Despite his visible confusion, Zanka hurriedly followed his sister's demands, putting on a pair of mismatched socks and leaving his shoelaces untied. As he ran down the stairs, he gazed at his sister, and for what he believed to be the first time in a very long time, she smiled. It was not her usual neutral expression, nor was it her bothered one, but a soft, almost imperceptible smile. She raised her index finger to her lips, signalling him to be quiet and opened the front door. As if on cue, Zanka quickly tiptoed across the corridor only to take her hand as they walked into the night.
That evening was a lot of Zanka's firsts, his first time having Kyouka tie his shoes, his first time eating fast food, his first time being awake past his bed time but most importantly, it was the first time he had seen his sister smile so much. Even when they arrived home and their parents rushed to the door, berating her for being a terrible influence for her younger brothers and for being both "disgraceful" and "insidious", words Zanka could not fully understand the weight off, Kyouka had smiled at him, urging him to go back to his room.
After he closed his room's door he heard a loud smack, and he knew very well what this meant, he was being protected, once more. Though Kyouka was often cold and overly critical, she had her own way of looking out for him, and it had not been the first time she had taken the blame for something he did, so Zanka felt like the only thing he could do for her, was remain by her side.
He went into the bathroom, to brush his teeth, like the good boy people had said he was, wore his pajamas, and grabbed his favourite stuffed animal before sneaking into his sister's room, sitting on her bed while waiting for her to come back, silently fighting a battle against his sleepiness. By the time Kyouka entered her room, Zanka was already halfway to the land of dreams, his head idly bobbing to the side, sporadically jerking back up when he felt like he would fall. Despite his tired state, Zanka still remembers this night as certain details were dearly imprinted into his heart, things like the redness of the rim of Kyouka's eyes despite the absence of tears, she never cried unlike him, or Kyouka's surprise as she saw Zanka nodding off, barely able to keep his eyes open, and how her surprise turned into fondness. Zanka also remembers how she laid beside him and whispered to him, words that have now shattered away as the years went by, but there was a single sentence that stuck to him to this day, something that makes his heart ache with longing just from remembering.
Before dozing off to sleep, he distinctly remembers the sweetness in Kyouka's voice as she cooed at him "You are perfect the way you are Zanka, my perfect little brother."
The sweetness and care with which Kyouka treated him that night had also been a first, and unlike his expectations, it had also been the last time such a thing happened.
But none of that mattered now, why mourn a past you cannot go back to? Specially when you're mourning alone? Now Zanka had only one thing to focus on, to not be a bigger disappointment than he already was, and despite already having been gnawed, chewed and spitted out by the press, he could still prove himself at the year's most important event, The Nijiku Association Gala. After much deliberation, his parents finally allowed him to attend the event with the rest of the family, and he felt that perhaps his parents hadn't fully given up on him, yet as he approached the building in which the Gala was being held, he felt the weight of expectations fall upon him.
Essentially, the Nijiku Association Gala, or NAG, was just another source of profit, a means to establish more connections with other business and perpetuate the organization's grandiose image. Since it was a place where all the association's branches were present, the Academia would be no exception, which allowed all sponsored individuals over the age of sixteen to participate in the "cultural experience". Similarly to the previous years, the Gala was being held in a baroque style palace in the north of France, which allowed all the sponsored not only to get to know each other, but also experience life outside of Japan. Yet for Zanka, this experience only earned him countless hours of excruciating silence with his family while he nervously gripped his Lovely Assistaff.
"Zanka." Kyouka called for him, for what seem to be the first time in the last 24 hours on top of the treacherous 14 hour flight along with a 2 hour drive to the hotel.
"Avoid interacting with anyone who is not part of the Academia, angering any foreign investor or entrepreneur would not benefit mother and father. Understood?" She whispered to him as they walked to the room where the Gala was being held, as if ashamed of having to talk to him. But Zanka understood, he always did, basically he had to stick with normal people, except they weren't normal, they were "geniuses", just economically powerless.
"Understood." He said under his breath.
Kyouka hastened her pace, leaving him behind, and he saw the perfect family everyone talked about, a family in which he didn't belong in. He looked down at himself, wearing a boring black and white tuxedo that clearly did not suit him, and all of the sudden he felt too small, like a child drowning in their father's clothes. At the very least he did not need to use his Lovely Assistaff, his family would not like the look of it.
Finally, they reached the two enormous metal doors that would take them into the ballroom, light slipping through as they slowly opened, only to be met with an incredibly spacious and brightly lit room full of people. A big chandelier, hanging in the middle of the room, seemed to tie everything together has it shone done on every possible surface, it highlighted the detailed embellishments of golden swirls which slithered across the walls of the ballroom, enhanced the golden colour of the sparkly wine, maybe champagne, that the waiters carried as they waltzed through the crowed room. Even people's smiles seemed brighter, only eerily so, overly white teeth being plastered on arrogant and mistrustful smiles, so white and artificial it hurt to look, still, despite knowing that his teeth were the normal ones, Zanka made a mental note not to open his mouth much.
Zanka was a bit slow to realise that unlike him, who was stuck in place analysing the room, his family has already moved on without him, each drifting into their designated places, a social hierarchy that was defined at an astonishing speed, as they occupy themselves with mindless chatter and excessive pleasantries, the kinds of things Zanka had never been able to humour. Thus, he decided to take his sister's advice into account and keep to himself, avoiding any figure that seemed mildly important, that is, everybody, since, funnily enough, he could not seem to find anyone that belonged to the Academia, how would he even identify them? By their teeth?
He decided to simply observe the room, leisurely walking around the hall, and making another mental note to sneak by the snacks table, at least until his attention was settled on a conspicuous individual. Despite his tall frame his face gave away his true age, which should be around Zanka's, leading him to believe that he was surely someone from the Academia, that if that was not enough proof, his composure and appearance surely were.
His posture was terrible, slouching as he completely monopolized the snacks table, earning him quite a few pointed stares. Actually, even if he was behaving decently, his appearance would've still made people stare. From the ten ill-fitting rings that embellished each of his fingers, to the different piercings hanging from his ears, each of these metallic details, both silver and golden, made the boy shine beneath the iridescent light of the lustrous chandelier. Even his hair, locks tied into a loose bun, had glints of gold enveloping them, he practically shone.
Zanka knew that his conduct was improper and that this mystery person was not the type of company his family would appreciate yet he was much too dazed to stop staring, leaning against a heavily adorned wall as he stared at the other, who was currently munching on a quiche. Before he knew the boy was already looking back at him with a curious glint in his eyes and his gaze was so intense that Zanka couldn't help but look away, still, the boy decided to stride in his direction, but not without taking a few more snacks from the table. As the stranger approached, Zanka felt as if his feet had merged with the ground, he was unable to flee, unable to speak and unable to look away, since as unbelievable as it might've been, the boy was even prettier up close. Sun-kissed cacao skin that was oddly clear, especially in comparison to Zanka's own blemished skin, his magenta eyes, which he previously thought brown in the distance, shone brightly with interest, complementing his mauve suit with fuchsia highlights. And then he finally reached him, being close enough that Zanka had to slightly tilt his head upwards in order to face him properly, and for some reason this subtle movement had made the other's grin grow even wider.
The stare off continued for a few more seconds, one with a lousy, furrowed expression and the other with a giddy smile that almost ripped his face in two, until the silence was broken.
"So you gape at me and now you're giving me all this attitude? Do I know you?" The stranger sneered with an unreadable smile, talking a bit more loudly than necessary.
"I wasn't gaping at you." Zanka replied curtly, despite visually relaxing. He was not talking to anyone of significant importance, so he felt like he could lower his guard a bit, and for him lowering his guard meant letting his temper out.
"Sure, you weren't," the stranger mocks, taking a bite out of one of the snacks he brought with him, "you were just drooling, right? " He finishes with a satisfied smirk.
"The fuck are you on about?" Zanka hissed, he hadn't had such a terrible first impression of anyone since Rudo.
"Chill, Mr. Bad Attitude, it's just a joke, I'm just trying to get to know ya, you know? This is the part where we ask each other's names, man! Mine's Jabber." He said extending his hand for a handshake, making an overly exaggerated curtsy.
Evidently, it was a joke, yet Zanka could never seem to see the fun in said jokes, he was always the one who had no sense of humour, the one who overreacted, and worst of all, he was always the one who had to hear jokes about having not only a stick in his hand but one up his ass. Still, he couldn't help but admit that some of these accusations were mildly valid, so he decided to put up with "Jabber".
"Last name?" He asked, ignoring the other's hand which hanged, still waiting for the handshake.
"Wonger" that devilish smile melting back into his face as he rolled his R for longer than necessary. "So, should I keep calling you 'Mr. Bad Attitude?'"
"Zanka." He answered with a hint of disgust in his voice, in such a way that made Jabber's eyes glint with excitement.
"Last name?" Zanka's eyes widened slightly at the question, despite being the black sheep of the Nijiku family, he'd expect people to at least know his name. He would accept people not recognizing his face since he was able to spend the last few years under the radar, but then again geniuses always seemed to be too caught up in their own worlds. Even so, the fact that this person before him knew nothing about who he was and was not influenced by any narrative imposed by the press relieved him, and as weird as this 'Yapper' guy was, he had no intention of changing that, thus instead of answering his question, he simply slapped his hand away, making him finally give up on the handshake.
Jabber simply guffawed at Zanka's aggression, making himself comfortable by putting an arm around Zanka's shoulder.
"Then, shouldn't your last name be Bad Attitude? Hm? Zanka Bad Attitude! it's got spunk to it!"
"Who even says spunk anymore? Your ass's got spunk to…" Zanka was interrupted by both Jabber's laughter and by his own realisation of what he said. The other doubled over, tightly holding his stomach and wheezing so loudly that it attracted the attention of anyone within a ten meter radius.
"Yo, that's a crazy thing to say, you flirting or sum?" He said, his laughter still relentlessly loud.
"It came out wrong, shut the fuck up!"
"Oh yeah, I'm sure something came." Zanka quickly kicked his shin in an attempt to shut him up and to vent hiss frustration and embarrassment.
"Okay, okay, sorry...Fucking spunk up my ass…" Jabber muttered still giggling but now at a much more acceptable volume.
"Dang. Hadn't laughed like that in a while, hah…" Jabber sighed, seemingly satisfied with how easily he was getting under Zanka's skin.
"There's something seriously wrong with you…"
"I guess, not that you're different. Like why are you even here?"
"Huh?" Zanka tilted his head in confusion, trying to decipher if this was yet another way to annoy him or a genuine question.
"You don't know? Nobody goes to the Galas cause they fucking suck and their full of old people. Are you new to the Academia?"
The question ringed in Zanka's mind, making him flinch, he was not exactly new to the Academia but it was not like he belonged in it, so he settled on answering with a question of his own, "Then why are you here?"
"I wouldn't miss a chance to eat good food, you never know when your next meal might be." He said, his tone as sinister as it was eerily excited. "But it's already getting late, a pretty boy like you shouldn't be in a place like this all alone. Come with me to the hotel?"
Zanka wanted to refute, to question what was so wrong about this place, but his attention was captured by the word "hotel", he was fairly sure that his parents would never book them in the same hotel. And this realisation only made him antsy, since it would become even clearer who he was, and for some reason, he felt like he should avoid that.
"I'm not staying at the hotel." Zanka grumbled, and Jabber only looked at him, his smile faltering for a second as his expression settled into one of subtle confusion, until he seemed to reach his own conclusion, his smile opening once more.
"Then walk with me to the hotel, the least you can do, right?"
"How far?"
"Around fifteen minutes."
"Yeah, no."
"What, why??" Jabber asked, yet Zanka was already out of the door, determined to go to his own hotel, only to be coerced by Jabber to walk with him. Better to take him to his own hotel than to be followed by him, Zanka realised.
The way to the hotel was anything but silent, with Jabber blabbering whatever facts about his life he could remember despite the absence of any questions or interest from Zanka's part. Still, he learned a lot about the other, that he intended to major in biochemistry, that he had a sister named Cthoni, that despite being a year older than Zanka, they were in the same grade, (which actually shocked Zanka since he never expected that a genius from the Academia could be held back a year). Zanka got a bunch of pieces of information that probably would not be useful to him any time soon, even so, he couldn't help but indulge Jabber as he spoke, providing soft hums of acknowledgement as he rambled on, and perhaps, Zanka was indulging himself more than he was indulging the other.
"Well then, here we are. If ya ever wanna hang out come see me, the room's 1014."
The hotel was much better than Zanka previously thought, his family really was loaded, paying for so many people's rooms.
"As if. Goodbye."
"Bye-bye, Mr. Bad Attitude." Jabber smiled as he flirtatiously wriggled his fingers while waving Zanka goodbye, watching him until he disappeared from his line of sight.
In his way back, as Zanka found himself reminiscing about the night, he couldn't help but cover his mouth with his hands as he attempted to suppress the laughter that erupted from his throat as he recalled the "spunk incident". It was a stupid joke, one that he shouldn't laugh at, specially when it was embarrassing for him. Exactly the type of joke Riyo would make and he would criticize her, only for her to tease him since he couldn't contain his laughter probably. Yet right now it was not Riyo who made him laugh, it was this random guy he just met, a guy that was so annoying and cocky that Zanka could not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was the reason for his laughter.
He could already tell that his first gala would not go as peacefully as he hoped.
He finally reached his hotel room, laying on his bed after running a hot shower, wondering if his family was still at the Gala, with their white smiles and perfect facades, always knowing what to say, but he brushed that thought aside as he had more important things to do, such as, updating Riyo. Zanka felt quite bad because he indirectly was the reason why Riyo did not go to the Gala. Every year Zanka's parents refused to let him come with them, so Riyo had already denied the chance of going to the Gala, the only issue was that this time things had taken a different turn.
He rustled on the hotel bed, white comfy sheets enveloping him, and reached for his phone only to find a message already waiting for him.
"I heard from some people from the Academia that they can kinda do whatever they want around town so don't torture yourself by being near your family and have some fun. And as a formal apology I want tones of photos and souvenirssss!! Gn!"
He chuckled as he read the self indulgent message, despite everything, he knew this was Riyo's way of trying to make him feel better and deeply appreciated her for it. He sent a short reply, deciding that he should go to sleep soon, but not before checking on his reliable Lovely Assistaff.
He gently took her out of her case, checking if she was completely undamaged from the trip, and then proceeded to clean her, rubbing her with care. He knew that he would probably need her to help him walk tomorrow, he could already feel the strain in his muscles, but the thought did not bother him, she was too important after all. He planted a kiss on her before putting her back on her cover, chugging on some pain medicine before finally falling asleep.