Work Text:
The diner Mariko worked at was the type of place most people walked right past; small, grimy, and easily forgettable, just like most other stores this side of the Ground. Tables and chairs were nothing more than scraps from No Man’s Land, a billiard table with oil drum seats the centerpiece of the patchwork establishment. The walls were covered in graffiti and posters, and attempting to get the lightbulbs working was a constant game of chance; she could count the number of times her and her coworkers had gotten all of them working on one hand.
It was, to put it lightly, a complete dump.
Which is why it was so surprising to see a member of the Cleaners, and a giver at that, ducking inside the building with an expression that was equal parts excited and nervous.
He was young, around the same age as her with a clean pressed uniform and deep blue tassel earrings. Dirty blond hair pressed against his face, and he shook it out of his eyes with a drawn out sigh that made her heart flutter. The man was handsome, no doubt about it.
He gripped the staff in his hands tighter, running his fingers along the side and bouncing his leg in annoyance before finally settling into a half wooden half steel chair next to the window, grumbling to himself.
“Damn it, of course the bastard’s late…”
The other two staff on the night shift were poking their heads over the counter and outside the kitchen door now, trying to get a glimpse of the new (and only) customer. It wasn’t often that members found themselves in such desolate areas, after all, and despite the diner’s proximity to Headquarters neither givers nor supporters had ever shown their faces inside.
The cashier leaned over to Mariko, shoving a notepad into her empty hands with a sly smile before gesturing her head to where the cleaner was seated.
“C’mon, go get his order,” she giggled, winking suggestively.
Mariko winced, used to Sumire’s antics by now. Anytime a guy her age came along, it was the same song and dance between them, as well as the same outcome of rejection. “Oh, I don’t know if—“
“Just go! You need to take his order anyways, you’re the only server here!”
“Yes, I’m going,” she winced, making her way through the empty tables as she approached the Cleaner and putting on her best customer service smile.
“Hello sir, how can I help you?”
The Cleaner blinked at that, as if snapping out of a trance. He pulled his eyes away from the store window to stare at her, and Mariko couldn’t help but freeze when met with a rather intense stare that his polite smile did nothing to soften.
His hand was still on the stick. Mariko doesn’t think he’s parted with it once this entire time. The stranger was handsome, sure, but the closer she looked he was also really unsettling for a reason she couldn’t quite place.
“I’ll have two menus, and one of yer coffees as long as it isn’t a latte.”
She jotted down the request as quickly as she could, going over some of the lines where the pen’s ink faltered a second time while asking her next question. “Of course, and can I have a name for that?”
“Sure, it’s—“
He was cut off by a loud bang as the door slammed open and a guy in Raider uniform walked in, steel rings glinting as he extended his arms as if asking for a hug. “Zanka, my man!”
Zanka’s face immediately soured as he turned in the direction of the voice, and for a split second Mariko pictured her family and readied herself to make a run for it before they started beating on each other. “Jabber you ass, how are you goin’ ta show up after me after begging for half an hour over call!”
“Sorry,” the newcomer singsonged, sliding into the empty seat right in front of Zanka, “There was a delay on some mission the bossman sent me on, you know how it is.”
“I’m surprised you know how to do your work reliably,” Zanka replied curtly, though the tiniest sliver of fondness still leaked into his voice.
Jabber just shrugged, his smile too sharp to be anything short of dangerous. Mariko had been working for a long time now, seen her fair share of thieves and traffickers, but the look of a real freak was one you could pick out of a crowd anytime. Someone who genuinely enjoyed getting down and dirty, who saw the gore not just as a part of the job but as an added benefit.
“I don’t, but I had a feelin’ it’d piss you off if I did just this once!”
A vein popped out of Zanka’s head as he shoved a finger into Jabber’s personal space, to his amusement. “Do it again and next time I’m heading straight back to the Cleaners instead of waiting around!”
Mariko just stood silently, watching them bicker while slowly trying to inch away and rapidly signalling Sumire to prepare a set of menus.
“I’ll be right back with that coffee,” she squeaked, although neither of the men in front of her seemed to care as they continued to go back and forth, as if engrossed in their own little world. She took the opportunity to rush right back the way she came, nearly tripping over herself to escape the awkward situation.
Sumire greeted her with two worn pieces of paper when she reached the register, the ‘nu’ in ‘menu’ long faded so the title only read ‘ME’ in big bold letters. “Man, I wasn’t expecting someone like him to swing that way,” she mumbled, “No pun intended.”
“Same,” Mariko groaned. “At least he and his boyfriend aren’t breaking anything. Remember the lady from last week who cracked a window while trying to beat up her cheating husband?”
Sumire rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me! Cleaning that up was such a hassle. Glass everywhere, and the mistress would not stop crying.”
Yoko poked his head out of the kitchen at that, the smell of grease and burnt food still clinging to him. He was below average when it came to cooking, but between the three of them he was the best option when it came to preparing dishes. Mariko had set off the fire alarm more than once when she tried.
“If you don’t hurry up and get in between them with some menus I think they’ll break one of the chairs though. Funky Eyebrows over there looks ready to pop a blood vessel and start swinging.”
Mariko whipped her head around and sure enough, the two of them were inches apart from either fighting or making out. Zanka was still trying not to scream, clearly the one with the shorter temper, while Jabber just smiled, continuing to push every button possible. Mariko doesn’t think she’s seen someone so adept at ragebait before. “Shit.”
“I can’t tell if they hate each other or if they’re…” Sumire made a crude gesture with her hands, sticking her left index finger into a circular shape formed by her right, “y’know.”
Yoko yawned, clearly not taking the situation seriously. “Does it matter? Givers are a different kind of crazy, man.”
The two of them nodded in agreement at that, while Mariko steeled herself to return to their table. Luckily Zanka seemed to have some form of self restraint considering the location, although with how things were escalating he might end up breaking some of Jabber’s bones in the alley next to the restaurant.
The sound of their voices was already loud from where she was standing, what with the restaurant being small enough to cross in a few wide strides, but as she got closer and the words became easier to make out she only grew more concerned.
Jabber was standing on his seat now, looking like a hyperactive toddler rather than a grown man. “All I’m saying is, beating on some trash beasts doesn’t come anywhere near beating on a stronger opponent!”
“Oh?” Zanka raised an eyebrow while trying and failing to suppress his annoyance, “I suppose that girl with the manhole cover on your team does look pretty powerful.”
Jabber’s smile dropped and the temperature around him seemed to as well. It was almost like a switch had been flipped, the easygoing attitude replaced with something sour. The change was sudden enough to give her whiplash, and it only reinforced her earlier impression of him. Mariko paused, not daring to move forward, menus still clutched tightly in her hand.
The way Zanka smiled was almost victorious, the look of a predator when something walked right into its trap. His voice was almost manic; forget testing the waters, Zanka was diving right into the deep end when it came to taunting someone who could very well end his life. “What, ya got a problem with that? Maybe I should go looking for her, get in some trainin’.”
“Cthoni wouldn’t even bother,” Jabber responded, nails digging into his legs hard enough that Mariko could see pinpricks of blood beginning to form, “I’m the only Raider you’ll be fighting anytime soon, got that?”
Mariko could see the sparks flying in between them, any of the earlier softness nowhere to be found. How in the world had she ever even considered the chance these two liked each other, much less that they were dating?
Fuck, she realized, the memory suddenly surfacing from nowhere as if to taunt her, I forgot the coffee.
Zanka didn’t falter at all, the jealous energy Jabber exuded acting like fuel for a fire. Any sane person would have backed down already, but the two seemed to just feed off of each other’s intensity. “You better make it worth my time then.”
The two of them turned to her in sync then, Jabber waving at her to come closer. Mariko obliged, still wary of their little showdown as she distributed the menus and made up an excuse for the coffee.
“Yer good,” Zanka waved, “No need ta explain it. He’ll have the fries an’ I’ll just have a salad.”
“Screw that,” Jabber huffed, glancing over the options, “He is gonna have the exact same thing as me. Ya gotta eat more, ZanZan! Otherwise you’re gonna pass out before getting to break my ribs with your fancy stick again!”
…Nevermind. She was not delusional and dating was not off the table. These two were just on a different level of freak. Seeing people order for each other was usually pretty cute, but the way these two did it right after having a moment heated enough to burn just made her feel slightly nauseous.
“I’ll have that right out for you,” Mariko nodded, already turning around to run back to the counter. Jabber seemed to sense her discomfort, and she could swear he was trying to hold back a laugh as she did her best to keep an even pace instead of breaking out into a sprint.
If there was one downside to manning a constantly empty diner, it was definitely handling the crazies.
The duo continue to argue, kick each other with far more force than necessary under the table (to which Jabber would moan while Zanka hissed in pain), and make Mariko’s life hell for the next two hours. Every time she thought it was over, she’d turn around and see another thing worth bleaching her eyes over.
Jabber was currently holding his last french fry up to his mouth but refusing to eat it, instead trying to get Zanka to feed it to him like some twisted version of baby bird and mother bird.
“C’mon! I swear I won’t try to bite your fingers off!”
“Oh, fucking—“ Zanka snatched the fry from him, holding it out like it was a bomb and not a microwaved piece of potato. “Here, happy now?”
Jabber, clearly pleased with the action based on how smug he looked, just leaned y forward and swallowed the fry whole along with Zanka’s fingers before biting down. Hard. Mariko just watched in horror as a sickening crunch echoed through the restaurant, Sumire flinching and turning pale right next to her. Inside the kitchen, Mariko could hear the sound of a pan hitting the floor in shock.
Zanka, to his credit, didn’t even flinch as he yanked his fingers back and scowled. None of them seemed to be severely injured, but based on how the teeth marks were rapidly beginning to discolor, it had to hurt.
“This is why I didn’t want to help ya, ya freak!”
“What’re you gonna do about it?” Jabber teased, tilting his head to the side in a way that he knew would get on the other man’s nerves.
Zanka suddenly stood, fishing enough Galla out of his bag to pay for their meal and then some before slamming it onto the makeshift table with enough force to rattle the entire thing. The back of the repurposed washing machine shook, tilting dangerously to the side as he strapped his stick to the back of his uniform and grabbed the back of Jabber’s hood as he dragged him along. “Just you wait til I get this healed by Eishia!”
Jabber simply went along with the whole thing, and Mariko got the feeling he was right where he wanted to be, even as the door slammed shut and the two of them disappeared into the night.
“Well at least that’s over,” Yoko shrugged, finally emerging from the kitchens. A large stain clung to the bottom of his apron; clearly whatever he had dropped had been messy. “Still can’t tell if they were together or not.”
Sumire just stared in disbelief at the muddy prints and messy plates the two had left, mourning the fact she would probably need to put in a good half hour of overtime. “Who cares if they are? Those two better not come back, look at the stains they left! It’s going to take forever to clean this up!”
She grabbed a mop, stalking towards the door as Mariko followed, intending to help out with cleaning and lessen her friend’s workload. The two of them moved in silence, scrubbing at the floors until the brown coat began to fade, and the slightly less brown floor began to show.
Their job was interrupted by a sudden yell as the lid of a garbage can flew through the window, shattering it completely. Mariko just barely managed to duck, shards of glass flying over her like a sudden gust of snow. Sumire had jumped out of the way, landing just inches away from the debris. She peered outside, only to be met with more flying objects as a set of claws wider than her head tore through the street. The Raider from earlier had activated his jinki, it seemed, razor sharp points dripping with something Mariko did not want to identify.
Zanka came into sight then, transformed staff in hand as he swung right at Jabber, knocking him into the garbage he was so haphazardly tossing around earlier. For a moment, the only sound was the creaks and groans of the wreckage, as well as the water spraying into the air from a twisted pipe.
Mariko breathed out a sigh of relief, slowly standing even as her legs shook like a baby deer’s. It was finally over.
…Or at least she thought so. She watched in horror as the rubble began to shake, and Jabber popped right back up sporting a black eye and a nasty head injury. Despite his current state, his eyes shone with manic glee and Mariko’s stomach sank as she realized he was enjoying it.
Her assessment was right; this guy was a total masochist!
She ducked under the table once more as he began to laugh, pressing down on the same spot Zanka hit him as if trying to cause more pain, biting his lip until tiny pinpricks of blood began to form. “Where’s that fancy footwork of yours, Bad Attitude!?”
Another loud crack echoed as Zanka tossed him out of the alleyway with one hand. The sounds of pure chaos grew further and further away as they chased each other towards the direction of No Man’s Land, a blur of dust and metal. Soon, the only thing left was silence and the wreckage that was once the front half of the cafe.
Mariko sighed, staring at the broken window as Yoko rushed out of the kitchen in a panic, medkit in hand.
This was going to be a total bitch to clean.
-
One deducted paycheck and a stern speech later (which, what were three minimum wage workers supposed to do about two maniacal givers fighting?), they had all but forgotten about the whole debacle. The diner was constantly getting destroyed anyways, considering its location. Zanka and Jabber became just another funny story to bring up when shifts grew slow, the situation feeling almost like a joke rather than anything life threatening. Mariko expected this to be another one-off situation, where the people involved were little more than characters in a funny storyline.
Unfortunately, the peaceful atmosphere of petty arguments and acid rain leaks was soon disrupted by the exact same cleaner walking through the door he and the masochist Raider had destroyed a month later. Yoko had dropped a plate in shock upon seeing him, quickly scurrying away as if anticipating the drama that came with his arrival. Mariko had just let out a long sigh, her eye twitching as she prepared herself to deal with yet another broken window.
Sumire shoved two menus in her hands. “Why don't you go talk to him?” she drawled, voice sickeningly sweet and clearly meant to tease her with how things went the first time. Mariko scowled, swiping the worn out cards from her hands and approaching Zanka, who seemed to be far more relaxed than the first time he had shown up.
“Hello again, sir,” she started, “Table for two again?”
Zanka jumped a little at that, fiddling with the choker on his wrist, clearly not expecting her to recognize him. “Ya still remember me?”
“Of course we do,” Mariko deadpanned, “You’re going to have to pay for the window you smashed by the way.”
He winced, having enough decency to seem apologetic for the mess he had caused. The few other customers in the store glanced over, the nearest one seemingly debating whether or not she should leave before whatever had transpired last time happened again. Mariko couldn’t blame her; if there was one thing you shouldn’t be doing this close to No Man’s Land, it was take chances.
“That’s not a problem. Sorry for Jabber, he can get a little…intense.”
Intense was certainly one way to put it. Mariko would have preferred psychopathic, but she supposes Zanka can’t be too rude to his friend (or boyfriend, Mariko was still unclear on that). “Please try not to destroy the place this time, we actually have a few people in here.”
Zanka laughed nervously, trying his best to maintain eye contact and not combust out of sheer embarrassment. “That won’t be a problem, I’m here with my girlfriend today.”
Girlfriend? Now that was surprising information. Mariko filed it away for later, a bit of gossip for her coworkers to enjoy. Apparently they were all wrong about Jabber, although Zanka’s status as off the market only seemed to raise more questions about their relationship. “I see. In that case, you two can have a seat next to the window.”
Zanka nodded, taking a seat in the exact same spot he had been in the last time he visited. Mariko shuddered, the memory suddenly far more fresh than it had been just yesterday. At least he had brought his girlfriend this time—Mariko just hoped she was a little more well behaved.
As if right on cue, a white haired girl walked through the doors, her expression stone cold. She was pretty, that much was certain, blessed with an ethereal beauty that sent a shiver down your spine and so few on the ground possessed.
And yet, for lack of better words, the newcomer felt distant. Like a desert mirage, perhaps, fleeting and just out of reach. Mariko felt like her hand would pass right through as if she was mist if she reached out to touch her.
Zanka’s face lit up when he saw her, immediately getting back up to pull the seat out in front of him in a show of thoughtfulness Jabber had not been privy to. “Hyo! You made it!”
“Of course,” Hyo nodded, her mouth curving into the tiniest smile as her features softened, “I did promise I’d come.” She slipped into the chair, no further unnecessary movement and a certain rigidity that screamed formal training despite the lack of a vital instrument anywhere on her person. Ex-Hellguard, maybe?
“Can I get you anything?” Mariko asked, handing them both a menu and feeling much more confident that Hyo wouldn’t crash through any windows now that she’d seen her, “We just received a shipment of hot chocolate, although it hasn’t been added to the menu yet.”
Zanka just hummed, glancing over the rest of his options before looking up at Hyo expectantly. “I’ll order whatever yer gonna get.”
Hyo hooked one of her legs around Zanka’s under the table, and he sputtered like a broken car engine. She took the paper in his hands and stacked it onto hers before handing both copies back to Mariko. “In that case, we’re both having hot chocolate.”
Mariko walked away feeling far more single than she expected. She punched in the order with Yoko, which meant yelling into the kitchen window as he gave a thumbs up since they didn’t have the budget for receipts or sticky notes, before rushing Sumire away from the counter and into the storage closet for a few seconds to gossip about the couple up front.
“I’m telling you,” Mariko whisper-screamed, pulling the light switch as she closed the door, “That’s his girlfriend! They’re together! It made me feel like I was third wheeling watching it happen!”
Sumire waved her hand, cursing as she managed to knock down an old broom. The two of them shuffled around, trying not to step on each other’s toes in the cramped space. “There’s no way. Who’s the last guy he brought in then? His side piece?”
“Maybe they’re just friends, who knows.”
“Either way, he has some…strange tastes,” Sumire laughed incredulously. “A masochist Raider or someone who could star in a horror movie, does he know a single normal person?”
“She doesn’t seem that bad,” Mariko winced. “Sure, a little closed off, but she seemed pretty respectful all things considered.”
“I dunno, her vibes were just totally off. She looked at me like I was a bug from across the room, I swear!”
Outside, someone yelled for a waitress; something about their coffee having a rusty spoon inside? Mariko whipped her head around, quickly brushing the dust that had gathered around her uniform away as she tiptoed back to the door. “Shit, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later!”
These idiots! Don’t enter some rundown place and expect stellar five star hygiene, for Sphere’s sake! Just go to an omakase in Kamuatari or something, will you!?
Mariko tumbled out of the cramped closet, rushing towards some angry old man who was waving around a bent utensil. Her mind was still stuck on what Sumire had said, and she couldn’t help but glance over at the topic of discussion by the window as she offered the man either a refund or a new mug.
They looked like a normal couple, or at least as close as you could get to one on the Ground. Zanka was talking about something while gesturing animatedly, Hyo nodding along while sipping on her drink and occasionally making comments. Mariko shuffled closer to their tale, tuning out the complaints coming from in front of her as she attempted to eavesdrop.
“...No idea why Gris won’t confess already, it’s drivin’ the whole damn team up the wall. Him an’ Enjin keep walking on eggshells, it’s getting real annoying!”
Ah. So it was some Cleaner drama then. What was with givers and messy relationships?
“I see. Was Semiu unable to get through to them?”
“She tried her best,” Zanka sighed, “But they’re both stubborn and Enjin is…not the best with feelings an’ all. Not that I’m insulting him! I’d never–”
Hyo cut him off. “So you take after him. I see.”
“What’s that supposed to mean!?”
Hyo just shrugged, angling herself towards the window but keeping her eyes on Zanka as he grew more indignant. “I don't know, you’re pretty similar to him in that aspect.”
Mariko watched as her eyes seemed to sparkle, and despite the calm facade she could tell Hyo was enjoying making Zanka squirm.
Like a bug, Sumire had phrased it, and Mariko hadn’t really understood it then but she did now. Hyo looked at Zanka as if he was another specimen to dissect, or a particularly interesting fly on a petri dish. As if every little shift in his face, every tremor in his voice or twitch in his hand was the most interesting thing in the world.
It was honestly slightly unsettling. Mariko could tell they loved each other, that much was certain; even Hyo, with her blank slate of a face, couldn’t disguise her clear affection for him. The pure love mixed with her interest in getting a reaction out of Zanka was what made it feel off, she supposed.
A Raider who enjoyed pushing Zanka’s buttons and driving him up the wall with anger. A strange girl who also enjoyed pushing Zanka’s buttons, but just so she could enjoy the way he blushed and reacted to her teasing.
…Huh. Zanka really had a type. Forget Jabber; with the people he was hanging around, maybe he was the real masochist here.
“Couldn’t ya have at least compared me to one of his better traits?” Zanka whined, “Like his reliability or something?”
Hyo didn’t miss a beat. “Oh. You’re reliable too.”
More wheezing. Mariko just sighed, turning away. People on the Ground were crazy, and far be it for her to stop them.
Zanka and Hyo continued their back and forth, jumping from Cleaner drama to life updates to Canvas Town graffiti. Eventually, when it became clear that the conversation was going to stick to mundane topics, Mariko began to tune them out and focus on the other, less interesting tables.
Behind her, Zanka handed Hyo his half finished hot chocolate just as hers ran out. “I wasn’t planning on finishing this thing anyways,” he muttered, resting his head in one hand as he reached out the mug with the other. “Ya seem to be enjoying it though.”
“Thanks,” Hyo nodded, her hand lingering on Zanka’s as she took the cup, sticking her spoon in and pouring in a criminal amount of milk before stirring it together. The once half full cup was suddenly filled to the brim, the mixture turning a shade of brown three shades lighter than it was earlier.
Somewhere between the sink and the oven, Yoko shivered, the sense that someone was committing an unforgivable crime towards one of the drinks he had prepared suddenly running up his spine.
Zanka and Hyo continued their weirdly cute couple activities for a few more hours, and would have gone on for even longer if it wasn’t for Hyo’s choker suddenly ringing. “Sorry,” she murmured, looking like a cat who had been denied treats, “I need to get back to work, my employer is quite busy with preparations for the Doll Festival. I’m sure you understand…”
Zanka stood up in sync with her, leaving behind enough Galla for their meal, as well as for the property damage from last visit wrapped in a cloth pouch. “I’ll go with ya to the next town, wait til yer pickup gets there.”
“How gentlemanly of you,” Hyo teased, watching as Zanka opened the door for her.
Zanka flushed red at that, his ears turning the same shade as a tomato. He looked away, as if trying to stop her from seeing the face he was making, but to no avail. “It’s jus’ having manners.”
“Not as common as you’d imagine, these days.”
Mariko watched the two of them trudge into the distance, Hyo finally answering whoever was calling her. A female voice rang out, loud enough that she could just faintly hear a familiar voice over the choker’s static and how far away the two were.
…Was Mariko dreaming, or was Too Lily’s voice the same one telling Hyo to hurry up?
-
The second time Zanka returned with Jabber, Mariko was disappointed. If he was going to bring someone, she would have preferred his girlfriend; the two of them just sat down and made conversation in peace, after all.
Unfortunately, she was not so lucky. The two of them tumbled through the doors in a mess of limbs, Jabber grinning madly as Zanka struggled to stand, leaning on him for support. His jinki stayed deactivated in his hands, looking almost like a crutch. One of his ankles was twisted unnaturally, hovering slightly above the ground as Zanka hissed in pain.
Jabber waved at Mariko, gesturing towards the accursed window seat. “Yo, blondie! Mind if we use this for a bit?”
Mariko didn’t even get the chance to respond before he marched over and tossed Zanka into one of the seats and bounced over to the other side, putting his bloodstained shoes over the table and making a sickening squelch. “We’ll take some of those fries if you got 'em," he announced, pointing towards another table with a large basket of golden brown, slightly overcooked fries. The poor lady sitting in the booth jumped at that, speeding up her bites as if worried Jabber was going to lunge over and just take them.
Mariko felt a strange sense of deja vu. She could only hope they wouldn’t start feeding each other again this time.
“Got it,” she squeaked, rushing towards the counter to place their order. Zanka scowled, wiping the dried blood off of his face as droplets continued to gush out of his nose. Out of the two of them, he was clearly far less happy with his injuries. Across him, Jabber sported twin black eyes that made him look like a panda.
Zanka pulled a roll of bandages out of his bag, tenderly bringing up his leg to take a look at the injury. “Did ya seriously need ta throw me like that!? A break like this won’t be easy to explain to Eishia as just tripping and falling, ya know!”
“I just got a little distracted, nothin’ to worry about,” Jabber waved his hand dismissively, “Besides, look whatcha did to me! I’m pretty sure my femur is fractured, not to mention my face!”
“That’s different," Zanka shuddered, watching Jabber bite his lip and poke the skin around his eye in an attempt to worsen the bruise, “Yer a total masochist, this type of thing is fun for you.”
“As if you didn’t enjoy letting loose on me just as much, ZanZan. Admit it, we’re perfect for each other!”
Mariko listened to them go, Zanka patching up his injuries as Jabber continued to try and make his worse.
“They really do sound like they’re dating,” Sumire whispered, giving the two a nasty side eye. She wasn’t the type to forgive and forget after all, and the mess of dried blood and who knows what else that was now stinking up the place and pooling at the bottom of their table only cemented her distaste for the two.
“Would be a match made in hell,” Mariko replied, making sure to keep her voice low. “Besides, Zanka doesn’t seem like the type to cheat. His girlfriend was pretty nice, I don’t think he would jump ship for…whatever this is, would he?”
Sumire continued counting change, smacking the cash register a few times when the drawer jammed. “Guys can be fickle. It's been a week since he came in with her, for all we know they broke up and Jabber is the rebound.”
Yoko opened the window then, sliding a bright red basket of fries towards Mariko, which she caught with ease. She resisted the urge to take one, picking it up and getting ready to bring it over. “They seemed pretty in love, no way they’d break up that fast. Plus, Hyo looked way too scary to mess with. If I was in Zanka’s shoes no way would I even think of cheating on someone like her.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Sumire sighed, turning back to the lump of coins in front of her. “Go serve those fries, the sooner they leave the better.”
Jabber was poking fun at Zanka for taking too long to wrap up a long gash up his arm when she dropped off their meal, his rings catching the cheap fluorescent lights as he fiddled with one of Zanka’s earrings. “Here you go,” Mariko beamed, attempting to put on her best customer service smile as she set down a small glass cup filled with ketchup next to the food. “If you need anything else just wave.”
“Nah, you guys can go shoo,” Jabber huffed, clearly uninterested in her.
“Oi!” Zanka yelled, looking up from his impromptu first aid, “At least try ta be nice, they’re doin’ their best to put up with us here.” He turned to Mariko, clearly feeling apologetic. “Sorry about him, no manners at all. Thanks fer letting us stay here again, I know we didn’t leave the best impression the first time.”
Mariko looked down at the puddle of red underneath his seat, as well as the mess of bandages. Forget a bad impression the first time, their second time here was far from standard either.
“We’ll pay extra for the cleanup,” Zanka chuckled nervously, quickly placing a hand over Jabber’s mouth to prevent him from complaining. Jabber just rolled his eyes before biting down hard enough to make Zanka jump.
Mariko nodded in approval, ignoring the mess in front of her in favor of the promised payment. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
The Raider-Cleaner duo remained surprisingly calm in comparison to their last visit, although the bar was astoundingly low and they had only just managed to jump over. The two of them were just a little too touchy for Mariko’s liking, especially considering how one half of the duo was no longer a bachelor, but who was she to judge?
“Zankaaaa,” Jabber drawled, coating a fry in ketchup before using it to point towards his ankle, “Ya look like you need a little bit of help with that.”
Zanka just groaned in frustration, tossing the roll of bandages onto the table and letting it continue to roll until Jabber caught it. “Nah,” he grit out, despite the gauze being a clear invitation for Jabber to help him, “I’m totally fine.”
“Sure, sure, whatever you say.” Jabber crouched down, sticking out his tongue slightly as he concentrated on the wound. Suddenly, he raised his left hand and activated his jinki, long claws appearing in a burst of pink anima. Mariko flinched as the sound of grating steel suddenly echoed through the space. She left the tray she was holding on the counter, subtly preparing herself to run for cover in case they started swinging.
Zanka tensed up, but made no move to activate his own, giving Mariko pause. He could clearly see Jabber’s claw extending towards his leg, so why wasn’t he doing anything? If last time was any indication, Zanka was on par with Jabber’s speed, and with both of them injured the playing field was level.
Unless…Jabber meant no harm.
The man in question just giggled like a schoolgirl, before viciously jamming a claw into Zanka’s injury, the already torn skin spasming as it was attacked once again. “I gotchu something for the pain, found it yesterday at a trafficker den the bossman had us search through! I even tweaked it a little bit, let it speed up the healing process!”
“Fuck—!” Zanka wheezed, gripping the table and attempting to regain his composure. No matter how prepared he was for the strike, it didn’t make it any less pleasant. “You couldn’t have been a bit more gentle!?”
Jabber started humming, the beat something Mariko was completely unfamiliar with. She had finally calmed down, rushing to continue serving the remaining customers despite most having left without even finishing their meals out of fear or panic. He grabbed the disinfectant, pouring enough over the wound to make even the toughest Hellguard scream in pain, but Zanka seemed to feel absolutely nothing. Mariko wondered how much of it was his own natural tolerance and how much was the effect of whatever poison Jabber had pumped into him earlier.
Jabber brushed away the debris with a surprising amount of care. Despite being close enough to cause serious damage, enough to leave Zanka unable to even stand for the rest of his life, Jabber chose to just. Take care of him. And Zanka trusted him enough to get close. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“If I get seriously injured, ya won’t have anyone else willing ta beat your ass like this,” Zanka mumbled, taking a bite out of one of the now cold fries still left. Despite the rather intimidating expression on his face, his voice carried more annoyance than real malice.
Bandages came next, steady hands working to crisscross the white cloth across the entire area. Jabber even made sure to tie a bow over the entire thing, wiping his hands on his pants before standing. “What, don’t trust good ol’ Jabber to take care of you?”
Zanka continued to angrily shove fries into his mouth, dunking them into the ketchup with enough force to break another bone. “Not particularly.”
“Oh come on!” Jabber whined, “Does my track record not speak for itself? Look how good I patched ya up just now!”
The restaurant went silent. Zanka seemed to contemplate his next words very carefully before finally opening his mouth.
“…Sure. Thank you.”
The words looked like they physically hurt him to say, and despite the supposed sincerity behind them Zanka couldn’t help the saltiness laced throughout the show of gratitude.
“Awwww,” Jabber crooned, pinching Zanka’s cheeks like someone’s grandmother even as Zanka batted his hands away. “So ya do care for me!”
A vein popped in Zanka’s temple. “Don’t twist my words!”
“Anyways,” Jabber continued, bulldozing right over his complaints, “Since you’re soooo grateful you won’t mind sharing a few fries with me?”
“Wh—you ordered these! Use yer hands and pick some up!”
“No thanks, I think I need a little bit of help…” he trailed off. Mariko just let out a long sigh internally. She had clearly jinxed herself earlier, wishing for them to refrain from the handfeeding.
“Why you—!” Zanka raised a fist, before stopping himself and snatching a fry instead. He leaned forward, holding it up to Jabber as if he was holding up meat to a lion. Considering what Jabber had done to his fingers the first time they had come here and ordered the same thing, he had every right to be. “Fine!”
Jabber pointed lazily at the saucer. “You forgot the ketchup.”
Mariko expected Zanka to finally snap, to reach over and strangle Jabber with the way his hands continued to twitch. She was so focused on his anger that she almost missed the flash of fondness that crossed his features as he coated the fry with just about the same amount of ketchup Jabber used earlier.
Oh. Oh.
For as much as Zanka seemed to hate Jabber, and as much as they fought like cat and dog, he cared. Both of them did. Far more than they would like to admit.
The realization would have been almost heartwarming if it wasn’t for the pit that opened in Mariko’s stomach, because a display this intimate could only mean one thing.
Zanka continued to feed Jabber, letting him steal the fries from in between his fingers as he talked about whatever he had injected Zanka with earlier excitedly. Mariko didn’t miss the way that Zanka avoided making contact with Jabber, allowing the other man to initiate contact on his own terms and pull back whenever he wanted. They orbited each other like twin stars, so close yet so distant, the relationship a push and pull like the ocean waves Mariko used to see in storybooks.
Zanka let his hand linger as Jabber pulled back, finishing the half eaten fry before he could take it and picking up another. “Can’t believe you caved that fast,” Jabber teased, “You starting to go soft on me or what?” He seemed almost disgusted at the idea, wrinkling his nose as if he had just smelled something rotten.
“As if I’d ever,” Zanka shot back, clicking his tongue. His expression was so full of tenderness it made Mariko feel sick for more reasons than one.
“Yeah you wouldn’t,” Jabber nodded, “Otherwise I’d totally break up with ya!”
And there it was, confirmation of what she and Sumire had suspected all along. Zanka not only had a girlfriend, but also a boyfriend.
With Hyo, Mariko was almost jealous of how Zanka stared at her like she was the only one for him, as if he saw her as above the rest of the Ground. The way he treated her was similar to how the groups of hooded cultists worshipped the falling trash from the Sphere, prostrating in front of the debris as if it was something otherworldly, something worth more than anything else.
And here Zanka was, turning that same gaze to someone new. Now, all she could do was question the concept of love, because Hyo was not the only one for Zanka apparently. She was just another girl caught up with a two-timing boyfriend, like so many others who had come into the diner before her.
Mariko couldn’t help but sneer in distaste. No matter how many times she’d watched it happen, it was never fun watching someone cheat.
Sumire whistled, low and slightly smug. “Knew it,” she hissed, “No way those two were just friends! That white haired chick better be ready for the surprise of her life when she inevitably finds out,”
“Well I hope it doesn’t happen here,” Mariko said, dusting her hands off, “Though knowing our luck it probably will.”
When Zanka waved her down for the bill, Mariko felt no sympathy for his injuries. “Sorry for the mess again,” he winced, “There’s extra Galla for ya and the lady behind the counter.”
“It’s no problem,” Mariko nodded, noticeably colder than earlier. Zanka gave her one last questioning glance before standing shakily, hopping around on one leg for a little bit before grabbing his staff and hobbling for the door.
Mariko watched as Jabber caught up to him, throwing a hand over his shoulders and laughing as Zanka leaned into his side for support while still trying to look refined and tough. The two of them continued their antics, limping into the distance.
Her and Sumire were silent as they cleaned the blood off of the floors.
-
Mariko barely managed to conceal her dislike when Zanka came in with Hyo again. Her first impression of him as a total gentleman despite the craziness that came with being a giver had been turned upside down, and every nice thought she had about him had been crossed out and replaced with ‘cheater!’ in big red ink.
This time they had brought large sketchpads, the nice kind from the Kamuatari district with smooth pages and even cuts. Mariko had held a job in a paper mill for a little while, and it already took weeks to press and prepare the cheap cardboard-like notepads sold across the ground, much less a real high-quality sketchbook like the ones Zanka and Hyo were carrying. A single one would probably cost a fortune, and despite how long they lasted barely anyone save for extremely dedicated artists would dare make such a purchase.
They took their usual seat by the window, Zanka taking a small handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe off the coffee stains left by the previous users that Mariko had failed to clean off before they arrived.
“The nerve of this guy,’ Mariko thought, ‘To use the exact same table for both of his partners and not feel guilty at all…!’
Hyo pulled out a small bag and handed him a calligraphy brush and a well of ink from inside, both just as high quality as the paper they were using, before taking out a few pencils and an eraser and laying them right in front of her.
“We should have the hot chocolate again,” she demanded, opening her sketchbook to a half finished page full of trees. Even from the perspective of someone like Mariko, who knew absolutely nothing about art, they were professional and clean. Each branch was shaded to have just the right amount of detail without cluttering the scene, the shadows real enough to look like a photograph. The outline of a bench was just faintly visible in the middle, still boxy and unrefined.
Zanka nodded, flipping his own to a blank slate. She couldn’t quite make out what his style was, but considering his pen and the flashes of fluid strokes she had seen on previous pages it would likely be in the same style as the screen doors and long parchment scrolls Kamuatari had, long, flowing characters and as much detail as possible in the least amount of strokes. “Sure, we can do that.”
He raised a hand, gesturing for Mariko to come over. “Two hot chocolates,” he repeated, and Mariko resisted the urge to punch him. No other sleazy guy had managed to get on her nerves as much as him, and she wondered if it was because of how much care he afforded to each of his lovers.
“I want pancakes too,” Hyo interjected, already starting to carve out the details of the bench she was drawing from thin air. “I remember seeing them on the menu last time.”
“Alright, I’ll go grab those for you.” Mariko squinted at her own uneven notepad, deciding against wasting a page on such a short order. And, just because she couldn’t resist, she threw in another comment to make Zanka feel guilty. “I’m so glad you two came back, you guys are such a sweet couple! Really makes me jealous, you know?”
Zanka laughed nervously while Hyo just smiled, replying for the both of them. “Thank you, it means a lot to us.”
Mariko left feeling satisfied. He deserved to feel a little bad for going behind such a perfect girl’s back, even if she was a little terrifying and not exactly normal.
Zanka picked up his brush, taking a deep breath as he steadied his hand and began to drag it across the page, his movements enough to take away Mariko’s breath. As quick as lightning a character she couldn’t read began to appear, accompanied by what seemed to be the start of a lotus flower. She couldn’t help the twitch in her eyebrows as she watched, entranced. He may have been a scumbag but he was a talented one, damn it!
Eventually, his lines began to grow thinner, the ink slowly running out. Only then did Mariko realize how long she had been staring, slapping her face a few times as she rushed to accommodate the neglected diners.
Sumire just shook her head, calling out just loud enough for Mariko to hear. “Was it that interesting?”
“I will not confirm or deny,” Mariko responded, handing out forks to a family seated right in front of a giant bulletin board with, ironically, wanted signs for multiple raiders. “In my defense, you don’t see someone who can do that everyday around here.”
“You know that’s right,” Sumire yelled, covering her mouth quickly upon realizing how loud she was. Hyo and Zanka glanced over at their side of the diner, before thankfully turning away, none the wiser about the current topic of conversation between the night staff. Sumire cleared her throat before continuing, this time with much less volume. “Usually only those snotty Kamuatari officials know how to do that type of work. I think the Cleaner boy might be a little bit more well off than he lets on.” She wiggled her eyebrows, rubbing her fingers together as if there were invisible bills between them.
“It’d make sense, just the materials alone would cost an arm and a leg. The only problem is how much they dislike givers over there; no way they’d let one of their rich kids run around as a giver without disowning them at the very least.”
Sumire deflated at that, clearly not happy with having her theory disproven. “Whatever. All I’m saying is that line-work doesn’t come from self studying.”
“And how would you know, exactly?” Mariko raised an eyebrow, stepping towards the storage room to grab a mop and tackle the floors. “Not like you’re an expert in this field either.”
“Doesn’t take a chef to know when the food’s good.”
Mariko just turned to her, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, if you say so.”
The evening continued uneventfully, Zanka once again handing his leftover hot chocolate to Hyo before taking a bite out of their shared pancakes. There was only one fork, and Zanka made sure to cut out enough pieces for Hyo to grab easily since her hands were covered in graphite.
Speaking of Hyo, her drawing was almost complete now, two figures seated together the final piece of the puzzle. From the rough outline, they were clearly meant to be in Hellguard uniform, and Mariko wondered if Zanka had trained with her. Leaves blew around them, grey stones and roots eating up the bottom of the paper.
Maybe they had quit at the same time, or perhaps she had gone with him after he discovered he was a giver; the Hellguard were quite clear about their hatred for those with vital instruments. Maybe, if the scene was true, she would come to regret that decision. The boy she had sacrificed her position in the most elite organization on the Ground for, running off with another woman (or, in this case, man).
Zanka’s was less detailed, but just as impressive. A string of text at the top she couldn’t decipher, but looked beautiful anyways.
相思相愛. Two flowers and intertwined branches sat underneath, unfinished. Despite the lack of colors, a washed-out shade of brown and a light green the only ones present, it still managed to catch the eye. Zanka had set down his brush on his inkstone, taking a break to sip on some water before continuing.
Both works were enough to be professional, that much was certain. Even someone from Canvas Town would have a hard time replicating it. And yet here they were, two geniuses taking only a few hours to create a masterpiece, the whole time making it look absolutely effortless.
Mariko was just about to clear their empty plate when the door burst open, and none other than Zanka’s boyfriend walked in. Jabber took one look at the scene in front of him, Hyo’s hand freezing right as she was about to add something off to the side of her drawing’s focal point.
“Well, look who it is!” he yelled, skipping over to their table.
This was it, Mariko thought. She was about to witness the greatest couple’s dispute in diner history, and not even live to gossip about it with her coworkers. If the capabilities of any of the people present in this love triangle were to go by, the diner was going to have a few less walls and workers left before the night shift ended.
As much as she would enjoy seeing the cheater get what was coming for him, getting caught in the crossfire was not part of her plans for today, thank you very much. Behind her, Yoko ran out the back door as Sumire reached under the table for the old handgun they kept in case of emergencies.
She expected the sound of vital instruments activating, the smell of blood as someone lunged, maybe even tears and yelling. A quick glance at Hyo showed her hands had left the pencils and paper and were now closer to what looked suspiciously like the hilt of a dagger sheathed in her pants.
Jabber, either unaware of the tension or deliberately choosing to ignore it, pulled up a seat and wedged himself between them, blocking the pathway. “It’s Mr. and Mrs. Bad Attitude!”
…What?
Mariko had been ready for the worst; forget a broken window, she was prepared to handle the entire wall coming down in one fell swoop. She had not been ready for them to start acting like everything was completely normal.
“Uh,” she let out, jaw still wide open as she gaped like a fish.
Jabber turned around, glancing at the smoothie she was supposed to bring to a different table and snatching it for himself. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Mariko stuttered, continuing to stare in disbelief. “I just…aren’t you angry?”
This time, it was the three of them who looked at her in surprise. Jabber took a long sip of his stolen drink, the sound just loud enough to be irritating. “Why would I be?”
Mariko paused, thinking over her next words very carefully. She was currently standing in front of a bunch of people who could probably kill her faster than she could blink, and while she had enough faith they would avoid such an outcome you could never be too sure. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that your boyfriend is here with a different girl?”
Okay. Maybe that was a little too strong. Mariko braced for impact, suddenly very aware of how close his rings were to her face.
Instead, Jabber just started cackling. Full body laughs that caused him to shake as he doubled over, Hyo reaching over to pat his back. Zanka looked like he was about to pass out, face white as a sheet.
“Ya…ya thought I was cheating!?” Zanka squeaked, placing a hand over his chest.
“Wh—your girlfriend and your boyfriend are sitting in front of me!”
“Oh man,” Jabber wheezed, finally catching his breath, “She thought you were a player, Zanka!”
Zanka let out an unholy screech, and Mariko resisted the urge to cover her ears and wince. “I am not!” He stopped himself, the gears in his head turning as he considered the implications of her sentence. “Well—alright, I’ll admit it does look bad…”
Mariko felt like her mind was about to melt. The situation had just gotten even more strange, and she had no possible answers for what was going on anymore. “Wait, so no one’s cheating?”
“We are together,” Hyo continued to rub Jabber’s back, treating him more like a sick dog than a person as his face started to turn purple from all his laughter. She sounded more like she was discussing the weather and not her questionable relationship status. “All three of us.”
“…Huh.” She hadn’t considered it before, but now that Hyo had mentioned it, she felt stupid for not realizing. Throuples weren’t the most common occurrence but they weren’t exactly unheard of either. Polyamory was a relatively accepted concept, one that most people were familiar with.
Jabber shot up like a bullet then, having the time of his life. “Isn’t it great!? Not one, but two people strong enough to leave me unable to walk!”
“He means that in the fighting sense, by the way,” Zanka muttered, “Not—not the other kind.”
Oh of course, because that was so much better. Totally not even freakier than what she was originally thinking.
“To be fair,” Hyo countered, “It’s Jabber. He could also mean the ‘other kind’.”
Mariko felt extremely blessed that Zanka and Hyo had finished the pancakes earlier, because judging by Zanka’s reaction he would have choked on anything he was chewing on. “She also doesn’t mean what you’re thinking of! Hyo is talking about when we put him on bedrest after a bad injury!”
Hyo said nothing in her defense. She made eye contact with Mariko as if to say that yes, she did not, in fact, mean bedrest.
Mariko felt like she was going to combust out of sheer embarrassment. “Okay,” she repeated, feeling dazed. “Makes sense.”
“Glad we cleared that up,” Zanka clapped his hands, trying to force any expression other than a face that screamed ‘I want the ground to swallow me whole right now’ and failing miserably. He looked about five seconds away from being sent to a psych ward, eyes twitching as he stared down at his unfinished artwork.
“I dunno, it woulda been pretty funny if it went on just a little longer,” Jabber shrugged, Hyo humming in agreement.
Oh Sphere. If Mariko thought one of them was bad, she clearly hadn’t envisioned what it would be like with both Jabber and Hyo attempting to provoke Zanka. Why he chose these two as his partners for life would remain a mystery.
If Zanka didn’t go grey from stress before thirty, Mariko would consider it a miracle. Satisfied with the outcome and the lack of destruction, she quickly extracted herself from her position as the third wheel (or was she technically the fourth?) in whatever kind of strange bonding time the three of them had going on right now.
Sumire was just as shocked as she was, her hand no longer resting on the gun but instead over her mouth. Yoko peeked over from inside the kitchen, having come back inside after the place didn’t explode after a few minutes.
“What the fuck,” Sumire shuddered. “This is so much worse than if he was cheating. A polycule? They’re going to blast us all Sphere high given enough time and boredom. How does Zanka survive those two?”
“He’s just as bad as they are,” Yoko raised a finger, “Look. He’s like…their biggest enabler and supporter at the same time. It seems like he enjoys being picked on, to be honest.”
Over at their table, Jabber was trying to poke at Zanka’s hand and get him to mess up on the details of the third flower. As much as Zanka continued to curse him out, not once did he actually try to stop him. Hyo just went along, occasionally looking up from her work to say something.
Yoko waved his finger around in a circle. “See? Enjoying it. I’d say encouraging it, even.”
“You’re right,” Sumire gasped, “He is. What a masochist.”
Mariko couldn’t argue with that.
The nightmare throuple finally left just as Mariko was about to clock out, packing up their things in a hurry. When she came over to take the bill, Zanka and Hyo’s finished pieces, as well as a third charcoal sketch from presumably Jabber were all visible.
Bold, black strokes with the same words from earlier, though a few drops of ink had splattered where Jabber had shoved Zanka’s hand. The mistake only seemed to amplify the piece, making the message stand out even more. Below, three blooming flowers stood out against a series of interwoven leaves and branches, stuck so neatly together it could have been mistaken for rope if not for the careful wood patterns running across.
A serene scene that could pass for a black and white photo, if not for the pencil strokes of the ground. Two Hellguard trainees sat on a bench, their faces identical to a child version of Zanka and Hyo, looking off to the side where a third boy who looked just like a younger Jabber ran towards them, hand outstretched. They were clearly waiting for him to arrive, an empty space on the seat just for him.
The last was the messiest, and the least finished. Jabber clearly hadn’t had enough time to work out all of the finer details, but three bodies lying together were visible, clearly relaxed and in various states of sleep. Despite how messy it was, she could just make out the hairstyles; distinct enough that she could tell who each person was supposed to be.
They were beautiful. Mariko was almost disappointed when they packed up the papers, tucking the loose one Jabber was using into Hyo’s sketchbook. The three of them bid her goodbye, Jabber unable to resist the urge to tease her about her awestruck expression, before finally disappearing into the streets.
If Mariko dreamt of trees she only saw in photos, moving charcoal figures and flowers blooming, it was nobody’s business but hers.
-
The door rang, a brand new bell above it clanking from side to side. Three figures stepped in, ones Mariko knew all too well. Zanka tumbled in first, followed by Hyo, then Jabber, who shut the door behind them. They made their way to the window, three empty seats waiting.
Mariko smiled, waving at them from over the counter. “Should I start serving the hot chocolate?”