Chapter Text
The bustling crowds around them moved like waves, keeping the Cleaners boxed in. As they moved towards the entrance to the arena, it only got worse. Despite Enjin’s Umbreaker held high, it was far too easy to lose sight of the leader. Thankfully, most people moved out of the way with a big enough shove. Sure, it got Zanka a lot of nasty looks, but he’d rather that than being totally separated from the team. Riyo and Rudo dutifully followed behind. They were more than happy to let the older two clear a path.
“Okay, head count before we go in. We’re lucky Semiu gave us all the day off, so I don’t want to get on her bad side by losing one of you idiots,” Enjin smirked.
“I’m sure she would love having less of you in the headquarters,” Riyo snickered. “But whatever you say boss!”
“If you keep talking like that I’m leaving you behind on purpose.”
“Boo.”
“Hello folks! Are we here to compete, or just observe today?”
A far too bubbly woman stepped in front of Enjin, a bright smile plastered to her face. It was unnerving enough for the blond to shoot a look back at the other three. All he got was various versions of confusion, and a very disgusted grimace from Zanka. The woman inched a bit closer, smile even wider. Enjin took a step back.
“Competing is free! Anyone is allowed to participate, and there’s a cash prize for the winner. Are any of you willing to sign up?”
“Jesus, woman, do you have a quota to fill or something?”
“We need one more competitor to start. You all seem like competent folk, so I figured I’d try asking! You don’t need to do much more than punch.” She turned her eyes onto Zanka. “You look the strongest. No punishment for losing, either!”
“Don’t give into her,” Rudo muttered.
“How much is the prize?” Zanka ignored the hissed warnings from his teammates.
“Depends on how much is bet on you. Are you signing up?”
“I don’t see any harm in doing so.”
“Excellent! You’ll have to leave your…stick with a trusted individual, and head down the tunnel to your right. The rest of you, follow the tunnel to your left!”
Zanka tapped the Lovely Assistaff against Enjin’s shoulder, who took it without a second thought. The air had changed. A suffocating sense of dread had overtaken the Akuta team. It only intensified as Zanka’s form disappeared into the corridor, leaving the three to move on without him. The silence was astounding. Only his heartbeat broke whatever stillness seeped from the cracks of the walls. Zanka clenched his fists. His hands felt empty without his instrument clutched in them. Even if this turned out to be a mistake, at least he had an opportunity to blow off steam. Punch something other than walls and trash beasts.
The room he was spit out into was a poor attempt at mimicking the amount of people crowding outside. No eyes turned to him, and yet it felt like every thing in this place was staring at him. Trying to gauge if he would be easy meat or not. The people gathered were of all shapes and sizes. Many of them much bigger than Zanka was. As he slipped through to the far wall, he couldn’t help but notice the fighters that towered over his head. A small flash of panic clutched at his heart. He choked it back down. This was not the time to start freaking out. If he let his mind get the better of him, he’d be broken in the first round.
“They really let rats like you in here? I thought the screening at the front would’ve been a bit more conservative with who they let back here,” a woman muttered as Zanka settled against the wall.
“Runts like them make it easier to advance, you should be grateful.”
“He’s an easy pass. Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”
He couldn’t help but curl in on himself. It was strange to be torn apart like this, dissected by so many strangers. It didn’t matter. Zanka could cut them all down. He could put them all in their damn places. The scowl on his face wasn’t hidden by much other than his hair. Something that seemed to put off the crowd around him. Annoyance crackled along his skin. Missing was the presence of his team to keep him grounded. Missing was Enjin’s shadow, just at the corner of his vision. Not that Zanka needed it. He was here to fight. How strange that he got roped into this.
“Where’s Zanka? There’s no way they’d wait this long to send out a fighter. And there’s no way they have this many people,” Riyo grumbled.
“Because they’re trying to teach you how to be patient,” Enjin snorted. “Just relax. He’ll show up before we know it.”
A roar rippled through the crowd as the speakers crackled to life. Announcing yet another preliminary fight. Enjin rested his chin on the handle of the Umbreaker, eyes flicking between the two doors that people continuously seemed to spill out of. The same nerves that were shaking Riyo had started to worm their way around his skin. Zanka had been out of sight for more than an hour now. Something that would’ve been water under the bridge, if not for the strange weight resting on his back. Zanka’s lovely stick. The right gate flew up. A man ducked through, stretching to a height that made Enjin shiver. A few seconds after, the left opened. The familiar black boot, paired with the dusting of blue, stepped through. Zanka.
His pose was one of practiced calm. Something that wouldn’t give away the storm that had to be brewing in his gut. Enjin had seen it time and time again when the younger was in over his head. As long as it didn’t break down his resolve, Zanka would be fine. He’d have to rely on something other than the training he did with the Cleaners. Dig up whatever he could recall from the Hell Guard. That was something he buried as soon as the Cleaners had welcomed in as one of their own. Enjin’s skin crawled. How did Zanka get dragged into something like this?
The younger man took a shaky position across from the monster he had been put up against. A glint Zanka could only describe as predatory flashed through his opponent’s eyes. Right. He was meat to these people. Something to hunt and sink their teeth into and ultimately forget about. People had a tendency to underestimate him without a weapon pointing at their chest. Something he loved to throw in their face. As the man raised his arms, a poor attempt to rile the crowd, Zanka took the few precious seconds he had to study the thing he would be fighting. It was top heavy. Muscles concentrated along its chest and arms, yet almost nothing below the waist. Skin unblemished. The thing hadn’t seen a fight before this day. He could use that to advantage. Just had to be quick enough.
A bell rang, signifying the start of the bloodbath. Something Zanka desperately wanted to avoid. The cleaner he kept his uniform, the less he’d keep out of the depths of his own mind. Those eyes turned back towards him. A dark yellow that seemed to get under every inch of his skin. Zanka gave a shallow bow. Show respect. The ground seemed to shake as the thing approached. Big and cumbersome and not at all graceful. Hardly a threat. A thing that couldn’t tell where its legs ended. Zanka darted forward, slipping between outstretched hands and moving legs. He flipped, dragging his hand along the ground to slow his momentum, and launched himself up the thing’s back. He clamped his thighs around the thick neck and wrenched the mouth open with a free hand.
The thing had no chance. A resounding crack echoed up through the seats. Hands that had been reaching to tear Zanka from around its neck fell limp, dragging the body down with them. He deftly leapt off, using the man’s back as a springboard, landing only a few feet away from where the head of his opponent made contact with the ground. It made no attempt to get up, or even move. Zanka bowed once more before stalking back towards the door he had come out of. If this were how all the fights were going to go, he’d be better slamming his head into a wall a few times and calling it a day.
The woman that Zanka found himself standing across from was…different. She carried an air of threat. Far different from the other opponents he had beat into the ground. From her hands swung a simple chain, end links shattered apart. An instrument. That had him on edge. If he had to fight someone with that sort of advantage with his bare hands, he was done for. And only four places away from the end. If he failed now, the sting of disappointment would trail him for weeks. His teammates had no chance at chasing that away.
“Say, ref, can’t we throw a party with this one? Make it a wild card?”
“Granted. If you are a Giver, locate your instrument now.”
Zanka didn’t have time to do that. Trying to find Enjin in a stadium like this was an impossible task. He didn’t dare to look for him. Taking his eyes off the woman in front of him was a guaranteed death sentence. He shot his hand into the air, hoping that Enjin’s aim was good enough to reach him. A rush of air announced his Lovely Assistaff more than the thwap of it against his skin. His shoulders relaxed with the familiar presence of his instrument finally back in his hands. Lovely Assistaff dropped once against the stone. The bell rang. As the blades grew from the curved part of the staff, the whistle of metal caught his attention. Zanka darted back as the awakened chain slammed into the space he had just been standing. The only discernible feature on the woman’s face was a sharp smile. It dripped with power. All the more desirable to wipe out.
For a bit, all Zanka focused on was keeping out of range of the chain. Its length was littered with spikes of different sizes. They all had the same purpose, to rip him to shreds and leave nothing left of him standing. Something to avoid. He danced a bit closer, able to touch his opponent if he pleased. That would end the fight too early. He wanted to study her, to toy with her ability a bit more before locking in. The whole point of this was to show off. To entertain the idiots filling the seats around him. It wouldn’t be much of a show if he outright killed her at the very beginning. Air rushed past his face, following seconds after the metal cut through where he had been standing.
Zanka flipped the Lovely Assistaff, catching the chain before it could be dragged back to its owner. Using the instrument as a launchpoint, he caught her face with a well timed kick. That was followed by his instrument. The woman went flying, barely staying within the concrete arena. A frankly impressive amount of blood spilled from her nose. Zanka had half a mind to smile, really tick her off more. Make it more of a fight. The other half of him wanted this over as soon as possible. He could feel himself slowing. It was getting to the point where he hardly received a bit of rest being forced back out to make a spectacle of himself. Seriously, why had he agreed to this? Some selfish desire to show off in front of his team? In front of Enjin? He gritted his teeth at the frankly childish thought and jabbed his instrument into the woman’s stomach. She dropped like a bag of cement. Zanka didn’t feel an inkling of pride.
“Well, for such a last minute entry, you didn’t do half bad there,” Riyo snickered.
“Hey. Second place overall is something,” Rudo piped up.
“Don’t listen to those idiots,” Enjin said. He planted himself in Zanka’s line of sight. “I thought you did pretty good.”
Zanka nodded, too tired to do much else. He could feel bruising starting to bloom along his skin. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for a few days. A wish that would never be granted. Something that never should’ve crossed his mind. Sleep was only a necessity, it wasn’t something he should be using to hide from his duties. Leaning on the Lovely Assistaff as a crutch, Zanka started to reach a hand towards Enjin. Man, he really was tired. Acting like a small child. His hand never connected. He was pulled back by his collar, his feet barely touching the ground with how he was being held. Hostility settled into the eyes of his teammates. Zanka didn’t have to turn around to see who was behind him.
“I’d have to agree. That was a wonderful demonstration of beautiful strength, something that has been quite lost within our own ranks. Wouldn’t you say, Zanka?”
Kyouka Kyouka what was Kyouka doing here?
“Put him down, lady. He belongs to the Cleaners.”
“Oh, Enjin, I’m afraid not. A Nijiku belongs to the Hell Guard, even if he thinks otherwise. You can keep this, but we’re taking him.”
A hand wretched his Lovely Assistaff from his grasp and threw it at Enjin’s feet. The older man only made it a step forward before several weapons were leveled at his chest. All words were trapped in Zanka’s throat. He didn’t even think to scream. Kyouka turned him around, marching him in whatever direction she chose. The shouting of his teammates was quickly drowned out by the roaring crowd. He couldn’t breathe. Every inch of him ached. The comfort of the Cleaners and his own familiar bed had been stripped away in only a few seconds. The grip on his jacket never dropped, even as they passed through the gates. Even as he was shoved into part of the Hell Guard’s convoy. Even as they left the arena behind.