Because let's face it, everyone and their dog knows Haise Sasaki is Kaneki. (You probably should read Tokyo Ghoul:RE if you want this to make any sense, and also, I should warn you, spoilers.)


Haise Sasaki stepped in tune to the cheery whistle on his lips as he made his way down the street, the bitter February wind doing little to damper his spirits as he nodded politely at the passing strangers.

His way to work was a simple route from his apartment. It was a short distance- ten minutes, never more and never less, where the traffic proved to always be light, the neighbors pleasant and never intrusive, and direction nearly straightforward.

He passed the familiar stores with happy disinterest, their contents holding nothing new nor compelling, as he made his way to the stop light, which, according to his internal clock, would turn green in just about twenty seconds.

He wasn't sure how the quaint little caffe initially caught his attention, maybe it was the fact it was so easily glanced over, wedged between the other buildings, that it proved to be alluring when found, or maybe his head just happened to turn in the right direction by coincidence and he noticed the appealing aroma wafting from the open door. Either way, for the first time in… ever really, he stepped away from the curb and broke the routine that had never gone disrupted for years.

The cheery whistle died on his lips and his steps came to a slow stop as a sudden feeling of deja vu overtook him, causing the brief case to slip through his fingers and clatter to the pavement. He blinked once in confusion, his form wavering slightly and mind reeling, grasping for something that wasn't there. Haise quickly cleared his head with a firm shake, tugged on the lapels of his white trench coat to straighten any wrinkles, picked up the handle of the briefcase, and walked into the toasty warmth the shop provided.

The interior displayed all the comfort the outside had promised, filled with deep harmonic colors that vaguely reminded him of home. Home… he tried to think back to the last time he had thought of something as home, his brow furrowing in concentration. There was a flash of vague discomfort, growing stronger the harder he tried to remember. So, he stopped, clearing his throat and making his way over to the nearest table.

Then, he realized how much he did not like the colors of the cafe, how the richness of it gave him a head ache and the brightness pounded unforgivingly into his head. He should leave.

No.

And the comforting warmth was now blistering heat, beads of sweat forming at the base of his neck and making his swirling head even lighter. His hands were shaking. He tugged at the collar of his coat and swallowed thickly. He should leave.

No.

This was wrong, this entire place was wrong. Everything was wrong. Nausea was creeping up his throat and was going to be sick all over the table if he just didn't leave. He really needed to leave.

No.

Leave.

Haise scrambled to his feet, wavering with the sudden sickness, and wiped his forehead with the back of his gloved hand. He tried to focus on the clock on the wall above the counters, but his eyes were glazed and drifting. There was the sound of shattered glass.

"Kaneki?!"

And everything crashed back down on him with a stunning sense of clarity. His mind coherent and focused, his eyes clear and unwavering. The humidity that had been choking him was gone, leaving him breathless in the cleansing starkness of the cold.

Haise turned slowly, shoulders taut, facing the girl who had called the name.

She was young, not too much younger than him, her slim form swaying uncertainly over the pile of shattered glass at her feet. Her dark hair appeared purple casted in the direct light of the sun and drifted all the way down to her waist in straight smooth locks. Her face was casted in shock, soft lips trembling and deep blue eyes wide, undoubtedly staring straight at him.

Before he even he even knew what was happening, he found himself speaking in a dull voice, "I'm sorry, I think you've mistaken me for some one else. I'm Haise Sasaki."

She stepped back in shock, mouth agape, as if she were seeing a someone who just came back from the dead. Then her eyes narrowed, almost in a calculating way, taking in his form with a sudden attentiveness. She focused on the white trench coat, then to the matching brief case, then to his hair and face, her head cocked to the side. Then she stopped at his eyes, and he could tell she was taking in the strange discoloration. He chuckled nervously.

"Heterochromia." Haise licked his dry lips and tried for a smile. "One gray eye, one red, freaky right?"

She didn't laugh.

"I think the hair attracts more attention."

His eyes darted upwards, focusing on the bangs hanging fanning away from his forehead, the once solid white locks stained with the ever growing roots of raven black. His hand scratched the nape of his neck, unsure of what reply she wanted.

"Yeah… can you believe that it was once all white?"

"Yes." She said with undoubted certainty. He shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, what did you say you're name was?"

"I didn't." Her form tightened, as if she was unsure of what reaction her next words would produce. "It's Touka."


This will probably be a two or three part story of a possible 'awakening' for Haise. Any Thoughts?