Chapter Text
"The worst thing you can do is open up to others." Zanka's father had once warned him. He'd been young then, naive, stupid, back then he thought his father was being cruel. He knew better now, his father was right. He'd learnt that the hard way, once and only once had he opened up to someone, told them what he felt, what was on his mind. They'd only scrunched their face in response, the look somewhere between disgust and hate. They didn't talk anymore after that and Zanka had learnt to wash away his emotions like markings on his body. No one would ever see that part of him again and it was better off that way. Sure, he was raised to be a weapon but it's not like it was successful; no, you had to be gifted for that. Zanka Nijiku was nothing special, natural talent wasn't his to claim. Instead, he had to work extra hard for everything he wanted. That wasn't enough to take the golden throne, wasn't enough to please his parents, wasn't enough to earn their love, so it would never be enough for him.
Zanka Nijiku was scarred, god did he know. His thighs and triceps lined with scars, not from fighting trash beasts but his own mind. It's confusing, he knows, he wishes he understood it himself but he didn't and that only made it worse. He didn't dare touch his wrists, that'd be too noticeable, that was where everyone always expected those kinds of scars but he didn't want his scars seen. They had to remain hidden from those around him, those who claimed to love him but they barely knew him. Yes, the knew him, they were his friends, his family even but just because they knew him, does not mean they knew him. How utterly fucking confusing. He tried to be happy, tried to be strong, tried to be everything everyone needed him to be but it was hard. Everyday he fought to be enough for everyone he loved because if he could be enough for them then maybe that'd cancel out everything he felt towards himself. He hoped and hoped and hoped, sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't and when it didn't, it hit hard. On those days, he couldn't find it in himself to feel happy, to feel strong, instead he played a game of pretend. He made sure he looked happy, trained to continue the facade of strength, but felt like nothing more than a hollow, pathetic excuse of a human. That's when the scars would begin to rise in numbers again, he'd always clean them up after though.
He never felt empty enough to let them bleed too much, since it seemed that was the last thing he had inside him. He mostly disliked the color red, the Hell Guards were red, his sister's hair was red, etc. However, he also quite like the color red, it reminded him of home, Riyo's striking red hair, Rudos' eyes, etc. His emotions were confusing like that, that's why they had to be kept hidden, erased from the eyes of others, kept deep down in the depths of his heart.
He exited the solace of his room and walked into the desolate hallway, walking towards the cafeteria. When he arrived, he immediately scanned the room for his team members, who he located after a moment of searching. He quickly made himself a cup of coffee and grabbed a small granola bar. His eating habits may not be up to par but at least he wasn't starving himself technically. He sat down at the table with the rest of his group and just listened to them talk. He sipped small sips of his coffee and took small bites of his granola bar here and there, but by the time breakfast was over; he'd only eaten about half the granola bard and drank about a third of his coffee, ehh good enough.
He decided to skip training today, Lovely needed a good cleaning and he just couldn't find the energy for it today. Come to think about it, he really didn't have the energy for much of anything today. What a shame, he was hoping to be less of a burden to everyone but here he was, not even training, he'd have to put in extra work next time. He grabbed a rosemary-scented polish and a silk cloth, a hard thing to get on the ground but managed nonetheless. Only the best for his dear Lovely Assisstaff. She was perfect and he couldn't believe that when he first got her, he called her just "a stupid stick". She was so much more and he would never forgive himself for speaking so lowly of her like that. He gave her a polish and redid the wrappings on her.
He'd be wrong if he said he was tired as hell today, though. He'd finished up cleaning Lovely but now had nothing to do since they'd been given the day off so he just laid in his bed. He lay there for one hour, just staring up at the ceiling. Then two hours, he was now staring at the wall. Then when three hours rolled around, he'd gotten a strange urge. Not quite strange actually, he'd felt it before. He just hadn't felt it as strongly recently, it'd slowly faded into the background as he busied himself with people and tasks lately. Now, he was alone with no one to talk to and nothing to do and he felt it tenfold. He was strongly reminded of the blade that lay in his bedside drawer, taken from a box cutter he'd found once. He was suddenly reminded of it's sharpness, the cold of it's teeth when it bit into his skin and left little red scars in its wake. He suddenly had the urge again but this time to scar vertically. It was a terrible thought and overall bad idea, he was sure of it but it also felt alluring to him. He thought about why not to do it, thinking of all his found family members and all their love and warmth. However, he also thought about why he should do it and it seemed that the bad outweighed the good. He was exhausted from everything, maybe a restart would do him good in his next life.
He opened his drawer and picked up the small blade. He got changed into older, comfier clothes before heading to his bathroom and turning on the tub. When it was about halfway full, he stepped in and sat there for a moment, the cold water a shock against his warm skin. He lay there a moment before staring at his forearms and the blade, he took a deep breath before bringing it to his forearm. He let the cold, solid metal hit his skin before dragging it deeply down the area where his vein shone blue from under his skin. Quickly, crimson began to pool from the wound. First one done. He swapped which hands the blade was in, now holding it in the injured one as it spat out more and more red. He followed the same routine with the other arm and when they were both waterfalls pouring out a deep flowering stream of maroon, he left them to rest in the water as his eyes closed.
Time passed and Riyo and Enjin grew worried. Zanka hadn't shown up for training and he always shows up for training. They tried not to think much of it but afterwards when they still hadn't seen him for hours, they really got worried. Riyo had been the one to make the decision to check up on him directly however. Enjin followed behind her but she was the one who knocked once, then twice, then three times before checking the knob. It was unlocked, weird. Everyone usually kept their doors locked because if you didn't, you were just asking to have someone barge in. She stepped into the room, looking for Zanka but he wasn't on his bed or at his desk, Lovely laid gently to rest on her silk cloth on Zankas' bed that he was always so proud to have gotten her. She then turned her attention to the bathroom, the door was closed and from what she could hear, water was running. She knocked and waited for a response but none came. She knocked again, "Zanka why's the water running?" She asked, seeing some slightly leak out from under the door. It was then she panicked, she went to open the door, again, unlocked. This time, she came face to face with the lifeless body of her friend. "Zanka...? Oh... Zanka... No...." She mumbled quickly, rushing over to him. He was surrounded by dark red water and his eyes were closed. She turned off the water and checked his pulse, "Zanka...? Come on, Zanka... Stay with me..." She couldn't find a pulse. She couldn't find a pulse. She broke out into sobs and by then Enjin had came into check on the two, he stared in shock for a moment before running out of the room and as fast as he could to Eishia. "Eishia, come quick! Please... It's Zanka...! He... He..." Enjin barely managed to get out without sobbing and him and Eishia ran back as quickly as they could to Zankas' room. Time was running out.