kira

From the people who were watching their sparring session, there are cheers and claps and pats on the back as they congratulate Follo on his progress, on his ability to control his vital instrument after Zanka had eagerly trained him for weeks. Zanka is happy for him too– as much as he can be, knowing what Follo's victory over him means.

"Zanka? Are you okay?" Follo asks, offering a hand with a smile, "Come on. You put up a good fight."

How cruel. Follo's eyes hold false kindness– Zanka knows precisely what he's thinking behind that mask of pretend care for his teammate. Though none of those thoughts are voiced aloud, between Zanka and Follo they are deafening.

Now, you're the weakest here, Follo's eyes say, You can't look down on me any longer. I've surpassed even you.

Zanka never once looked down on Follo; he always admired that grit and determination, once even thought that they could be closer friends, even rivals, partners, whatever– but no matter what Zanka did, he and Follo just never seemed to click properly. Zanka always thought it was his awkwardness; now, he's realising it must have been because of Follo's desire to become more than what he was as a supporter.

"Jealousy will kill you and yer teammates, Zanka, faster than ya could ever see it comin'," Kyoka had told him some years ago when she, with her flawless ability to pick her little brothers apart, noticed Zanka's determination had begun to slip, "If ya don't learn 'ta keep it in check, if ya don't work 'ta maintain power as a collective, cracks borne of jealousy will destroy you from the inside out."

Was it always jealousy, that made them so distant? The fact that Zanka was a giver and Follo wasn't, even after all of his hard work? Zanka is vaguely aware that's what stopped Rudo and Follo from becoming friends up until now, but he never realised that he was also a threat to Follo's ego.

No, no, I shouldn't be mad at him, Zanka scolds himself, pushing down the ugly feelings of betrayal and despair and forbidden jealousy, he was only trying to get stronger. I was happy to help him– we were in the same boat. We still are; I can learn more of my own weaknesses from Follo now, too. I can use this.

I'll get stronger from this. Only an idiot doesn't learn from their failures.

"Zanka?"

Come on. Pull yourself together. "Right, right," Zanka says, clipping on a mask made of smiles as he takes Follo's offered hand and hauls himself to his feet, "Thanks, Follo. Ya really have improved a whole lot, recently, I was surprised!"

Follo beams, and it is the blinding grin of a winner. Finally, after years, he's gotten everything he's ever wanted, and Zanka can't help but be happy for him despite the pervasive feelings of regret. He knows he should be happier, but the fact that Zanka is now the weakest– now that he may very well be a burden to his teammates– dulls the feeling of pride significantly.

"I'm proud of ya," Zanka says, bitterly honest as he gives Follo a dazed smile, "Ya earned this win, fair and square."

———

🫧🐠 okay this is all I have in my mind at the moment. Gosh, everyone here is so smart and clever i need to start making notes. OP this is a beautiful idea and the zangst is amazing and the fact that!! Zanka could never blame Follo for wanting what he wants. Follo isn't bad for this either, though! He should feel proud of himself for breaking free of his standards, because he has put in the work! Zanka knows this and wants to die for being so "greedy", I'm sure. Their feelings are so, so messy. Maybe they should kiss it out?

I also hc them to be friends, but they're not close. Not close like how Riyo and Zanka love each other (my sibling agenda! cry cry cry) nor like how Rudo and Follo got over their friction and decided to try and reach out to the other. Zanka's habit of putting everyone stronger than him on a pedestal was bad enough, but now that someone he always considered to be a "peer" has surpassed him, he's certainly going to struggle. Nevermind the fact that Zanka would have definitely helped Follo get stronger, too...

(Kyoka taught him that, I'm sure. Considering she slapped Goka on the wrist for getting jealous of Zanka's "flame", she would want her brothers to be able to lift each other and others up for the sake of collective strength– even if they desired to individually become stronger, too.)

"Well, I know we're running short on time today, but you wouldn't mind if I, uh..." Jabber huffs a quick laugh, and to Zanka's horror, he reaches for Lovely Assistaff with his greedy, greedy fingers, all whilst Zanka is helpless to resist.

No, no, no, Zanka thinks, eyes widening as far as they can despite the full-body paralysis because Jabber is taking Lovely Assistaff, taking Zanka's most treasured item in the world and Zanka can do nothing to stop him, "S... st..."

"Oh, wow, you're really pushing through it, huh?" Jabber giggles, petting Zanka's hair as he slides Lovely Assistaff out of Zanka's weakened grip, "I like that. You're doing that because you know I like it, right?"

Like hell I am, Zanka thinks furiously, his muscles twitching uselessly as he tries to break out of the hold Jabber's toxins have over him, I hate you. I hate you. I can't wait to see the day you're in my position, writhing like a pathetic, useless piece of shit.

"Oh, oh, it's beautiful," Jabber breathes, tugging Assistaff from Zanka's hands entirely, "You really take care of this, don't you?"

Zanka is forced to watch as his enemy, as a complete and utter stranger takes his vital instrument and runs his hands reverently over her, his touch far too intimate and invasive. If Zanka had been quicker, smarter, lighter on his feet, Jabber wouldn't have been able to subdue him like this, and Lovely Assistaff would never have been taken from his hands. If Zanka were stronger, this would never have happened.

"G-Ge... -t, t..."

"I hate to break it to you, Mr. Bad Attitude, but you'll still be paralysed for another thirty minutes," Jabber sighs, endlessly fond; Zanka's skin crawls at the thought of ever becoming fond of this maniac, too. "But oh, I can't wait for our next fight! You're mine next time, you understand?"

Zanka scowls, and Jabber chuckles delightedly. "Come on, lil' Cleaner, you don't want that?" The Raider says, sitting down cross-legged and settling the curved, forked end of Lovely Assistaff into his lap, "I know you do, okay? You don't need to lie to me. It's just us, you hear?"

It's just us.

Zanka thinks that sounds far from romantic- he doesn't want to be left alone like this. Not with someone who would gladly poison himself for the sake of entertainment, who nearly killed Zanka's teammates, who has undoubtedly killed many others; Zanka needs to get away from him, now.

"Ah. Your name is Zanka, huh?"

Inhaling sharply, Zanka grits his teeth and stares daggers into the Raider, who looks back with nothing but wonder in his eyes and a big, shark-like grin stretching halfway across his face.

"I like the way it rolls off the tongue," Jabber laughs, his voice light as he looks back down at Lovely Assistaff and runs his fingers over Zanka's engraved name. Zanka swears he feels those fingers ghost at the back of his neck at the same time, an invisible touch that lights up all of his nerves at once. "Zanka, Zanka, Zanka. How pretty. Jabber and Zanka. Zanka and Jabber? Which is better?"

Zanka and Jabber, because you're secondary to me, is Zanka's first thought, before he catches himself and tries instead to focus on the fact that Jabber is pushing aside some of the ropes over Lovely Assistaff's wood as if to make more empty space. It's hard to focus, though, when Zanka swears he can feel Jabber touching Assistaff as acutely as he would be able to feel those hands on himself.

Lovely Assistaff is a soul-bound item. Zanka carved his name into her when she became his, completely and utterly, and that bond between them is the most sacred thing Zanka has. Jabber touching her as he does pricks goosebumps along Zanka's arms and down behind his neck, the intimacy almost overwhelming as Zanka is left paralysed with nothing to do but see and hear and feel.

"I think 'Jabber and Zanka' is better," Jabber hums, tracing a neat little rectangle of bare, unmarked wood at the base of Assistaff's two curved spikes, "Or maybe, 'Jabber and his Zanka.' That way, everyone knows that I was the one that found you, right?"

"N-No..." Zanka grits out, his heart beginning to race as Jabber re-activates his vital instrument and places a dainty claw right onto Zanka's vital instrument, "S... St-!"

"I'll mark you as mine, and then next time you can mark me as yours!" Jabber says, his voice dripping with ecstasy, "Isn't that right, my Zan-zan?!"

Zanka cries out as Jabber's claw drags down his vital instrument, feeling it as if Jabber is clawing into him— it hurts like hell, feeling like as if a part of his soul is being torn out—

"Gosh, Zanka, it's all happening so fast," Jabber giggles, hysteric, "You're so— ah, ah, this means we can fight forever! That you'll make it hurt so good for me, won't you?!"

—And as if something new is being shoved back in.

He needs it to stop, needs Jabber to drop Assistaff and leave and never come back and so that Zanka can cross out his name, but at the same time...

It's so warm.

Zanka hates how warm it is, how he can tell Jabber is being so utterly genuine because his soul sings with every letter Jabber adds to Lovely Assistaff's body. Jabber is insane, completely and utterly nuts, but now all of that is now Zanka's, too, because Jabber's engravings are not an act of defilement; Jabber is establishing a soul bond.

"You like it? Oh, Zanka, you're so beautiful..." Jabber says, breathless as he finishes the final character for his name, "I can— I can feel you."

Inside Zanka, somewhere between his heart and his brain and spinal cord and every single nerve ending in his body, something distinctly other has made its place. It's foreign, but not unwelcome; never before in his life has Zanka felt so complete, so whole and fulfilled, and the sensation is dizzying.

"Can you feel me, Zanka?" Jabber asks, digging his nails into his arm— and like a mirror, Zanka can feel that very pain reflected in his own body, tiny spots of sharp stinging echoing over his own skin. "We share— we share pain now, don't we? Does it hurt? Does your stomach hurt, like really, really badly? Can you feel it?"

Thankfully, Zanka cannot. He hopes it's the soul-bond's method of protecting Zanka from insanity, but what if it doesn't? What if Zanka is forced to feel Jabber's love for pain first-hand?

"If I— Zanka, if I press down on my wounds, can you— can you feel me?"

Oh, oh, no, fuck—!

A scream is torn from Zanka's throat as agony rips like a forest fire through his body, excruciating pain licking like flames up his nerves and searing his senses. Like the feeling earlier it is dizzying, but in the way that Zanka feels the urge to throw up, to purge himself of everything secondary so that the only thing that remains is his agony.

"You can! Zan-zan, you c-can!" Jabber laughs, eyes wide as his hands shake from his self-inflicted pain, "Oh, oh, this means we're— we're—!"

Soul-bound, Zanka knows, trying to blink out the tears from his eyes, this means we're soul-bound.

———