Taking the time to stop and actually analyze the situation, Amon Koutarou thought it was almost comical at how ironic this was. Here he was, gorging over a corpse as a certain investigator cautiously approached him. It was only.. how many years was it exactly? Three? Five? Amon should've felt worried about his lack of sense of time, but he couldn't find it in himself to care much anymore. Regardless of the time, it didn't feel too long ago that he wore that white cloak of death.
Those were certainly better times, back when he still saw the world through black and white lens. Being turned into this monster certainly shook things up. Gone, were all the rules of life and how he expected the system to work.
Ah, but no, perhaps he had started seeing things in a bit more of a grey scale when he met that one hybrid. Eyepatch was it? How could it feel like so long ago yet so achingly new at the same time? Amon had no idea how things worked anymore, but he stopped trying to figure it out and started listening to his baser instincts instead.
He had to, if he wanted to survive. And for the most part, he did. When there came those extremely low points in his life where he eyed a knife warily, Amon simply pushed those thoughts away. He knew it was useless, too. It's not like much could hurt him, and he wasn't as desperate as to go out and find an investigator to put him out of his misery.
Looking up from chewing on a forearm, the half-ghoul regarded the investigator with a carefully blank stare, the only thing giving anything away was a single red eye. Maybe, Amon dully wondered, now's my chance to leave this wretched life.
In the back of his mind, Amon coolly commented on how Father would most likely be very disappointed in him if he saw him now.
Then, Amon broke out of his half-dazed state when he truly took in who, or more like what stood in front of him. He pushed his bulky self to his knees to get a better look as the investigator shuffled forward, now stepping out directly under the lamppost. Left kakugan stared into right, moved to observe long, white hair.
There was no way this was possible. Even if Amon figured the ghoul had gotten away alive and was now wreaking havoc elsewhere, he never expected to actually see him again. No, this couldn't be Eyepatch, not him; not while he was wearing Dove clothing. It was just one of those Quinckes who happened to look similar, right? He'd heard rumors about them, but he'd never seen them in action- tried to avoid them if possible.
Amon absently licked at the blood caked around his mouth before standing up to a defensive position. He didn't want to fight so much right now. His meal had put up a bit of a fight and Amon already being injured heavily was only making the healing process that much slower. The taller of the two was about to make a move but stopped mid-step when he saw the Dove clutch his head in agony.
Strange. Amon watched for a few seconds- slightly shocked- but took the opportunity to strike at him with his fist, hoping to effectively knock him out with little effort.
It didn't go as planned.
A fiery red tendril blocked the hit, loud thump echoed down the empty street. A quiet, "Koutarou." Was heard. Koutarou. That's me, Amon Koutarou. How? How does he know my name? The gore-covered man felt all the color drain from his face (thought there wasn't much color to begin with). This meant they had files on him now. Looks like that disgusting doctor wasn't so great at keeping things a secret, was he?
Amon would've considered that as a victory against the doctor, but then he remembered that he was still involved so much and that now he'd have to be more careful.
Irritated, Amon tried lashing out again a few times, but they were all dodged or blocked. He was too exhausted for this. He feinted to the right and shot past the smaller one on his left, but his kagune attached itself to Amon's wrist.
Amon hated to stoop to bargaining, but it looks like he'd have to do that if he wanted to not end up in a suitcase. He turned around, preparing the words sitting on his tongue. "Look, I don't know how much you've got on me-"
"Amon Koutarou. I… I know you. From… from my past life," The investigator interrupted.
From his past life? Could he have amnesia or something? What if this really was Eyepatch? It would answer a few questions, but even more popped up in their place.
"Could it really be you, Eyepatch?" Amon breathed out. He stared expectantly at small, pale lips- urging them to say yes, it truly was him. A brief look of recognition passed on his face, before his features turned to confusion. He cocked his head to the side.
"Eyepatch..?" He mumbled more to himself, then raised his voice, albeit waveringly. "I am Sasaki Haise."
Odd. Perhaps this 'Sasaki' was merely confusing him for someone else? But then, why would an investigator recognize a ghoul if not for the sole purpose or wanting to eradicate him?
Amon should be dead by now, wrist harshly broken and chest punctured with a pointy tendril. Yet, here he was, conversing with his sworn enemy as if it were an everyday occasion.
The iron fist grip on Amon lessened greatly, and Sasaki now approached him slowly; almost as if to give him enough time to run away. He really should, but he hadn't met someone as interesting as Eyepatch in a long time. He would admit, he was curious. Maybe stupid, but he stayed rooted to his spot. Sasaki had now stopped a scant five inches away from him and was peering up at him from under frosted white bangs.
The half-ghoul in loose captivity questioned again if this was the ghoul from so long ago, but if he said he was Sasaki then he must be Sasaki. Amon was about to say something along the lines of, 'Are you sure you're not Eyepatch?' but was interrupted when the Dove reached up and gingerly grabbed white strand of hair. He seemed to be focusing extremely hard on it, eyebrows furrowing into a v-shape.
Amon was speechless. Where he expected cold and calculated attacks, came what he could only describe as gentle curiosity. He looked down and expected to find glossy, black fingernails, but no- this was Sasaki Haise. He shouldn't mix the two up.
"Your hair… is like," Sasaki audibly gulped and Amon tracked the movement of his Adam's apple bobbing up and down and it was just so tempting to just lean down and bite- no, you don't want the Doves after you just yet. "It's like th-that guy…" Sasaki trailed off.
Hm. Was he talking about Arima? He didn't know many others with white hair. Unless… no, the Doves couldn't know about Takizawa and the rest… could they? As much as he hated Eto and her gang, Amon hoped for his own sake that no one knew just yet He had to make sure.
"That guy?" Amon made a bold move, manipulating his hand to be grasping the kagune still wrapped around his wrist. Sasaki made a strangled noise at the back of his throat and looked aside. He was about to respond when a feminine voice sliced through the thick air. A voice Amon remembered only too well.
"Sasaki! Hurry up and report back! We're all waiting!" A silhouette called out from the distance. The sound of heels clacking on concrete echoed down to them. Amon froze. He had to leave. Now.
However, Sasaki seemed to have other plans in mind. He used two other tendrils to shackle Amon, then called out, "Sorry Akira-san! I just found an old friend of mine, I'll be there in a minute!" He glanced over nervously at Amon.
"Friends?" Amon harshly whispered. "We are not friends," He glared.
"What would you have preferred, boyfriend?" Sasaki spit out reflexively, then seemed to replay the words in his head as he processed what he said and paled considerably. "I mean,"
"Hurry it up!" This time it was Saiko yelling off in the distance. "We're going to get some udon and Arima's paying!"
…. Did Amon hear that correctly? The stoic Arima he knew from years ago would never go out with someone as boisterous as that stranger. He raised an eyebrow and Sasaki chuckled sheepishly. He turned back to the half-ghoul, eyes darting around quickly. He looked to be having some inner turmoil. Amon couldn't believe it. Was he seriously contemplating on whether he should take him in? If it were him, he'd already be dead right now, but that was before everything. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Maybe he understood his dilemma a bit. Amon desperately wanted to get at least 500 yards away from all these Doves, so he made the choice for him and bit down on a shoulder. He got his share of multiple layers of fabric along with tender flesh. Sasaki was not expecting this and cried out, putting a hand over the wound to staunch the bleeding. In a flash, Amon removed himself from Sasaki's kagune and sprinted off. He didn't risk turning around to see if Sasaki was ok (why does he care, anyways?).
After 15 minutes and what felt like a reasonable distance, Amon stopped to catch his breath. He strained his ears to listen if he was being followed, but after five minutes it seemed safe to slow down now. Amon spit the variety of fabrics into his hand and shoved them in his pockets. He didn't want the Doves getting more evidence from him.
He curiously licked at his lips, Sasaki's blood still tingling on his tongue. It was an interesting blend, something partly ghoul and partly human- almost like him. Except Amon had this forced onto him, whereas he assumed Sasaki volunteered to be experimented on.
At least Amon hoped it was voluntary. He hoped the CCG hadn't changed so much that they started to force members to become lab rats.
But then again, why did it matter to Amon? So some investigator who looked like Eyepatch had been surprisingly stupid enough to let a monster like him go. It was more like a good luck sign to him.
So then, why couldn't Amon stop thinking about him?
AN: Yeah, it's a bit abrupt I know, but I didn't want to drag this out for too long. So uh guess what? This is for a friend too! It was interesting to write these two. I had fun.