Hi all. So, I wrote this a while back, and I figured I might as well post it. I may or may not continue...if I do, it will be a series of one-shots revolving around Kaneki and Touka's relationship (I love these two). There will probably be manga spoilers later on, but I'll give you a warning ahead of time (assuming I continue). I'll also be switching between both POV's. Anyway, thanks for reading, and let me know what you think?

Setting: After Kaneki leaves Anteiku (to, in his words, become stronger).

I don't own these characters.

Touka

Eyepatch.

That's what they called him.

It was a simple name, really, one so aptly chosen that it was almost moronic in its blatancy. Just a description of a boy who wasn't a boy. Not to them.

No.

To them, he was a monster.

It shouldn't have made any difference to Touka. After all, every ghoul was given a similar title:

Rabbit.

Gourmet.

Devil Ape.

Black Dog.

Owl.

But for some reason, it did make a difference. Not because it was inaccurate from the CCG's standpoint (the likes of which she couldn't care less about, anyway). Not because it bothered him (or so Touka assumed), or because of the fact that he was considered dangerous enough to have his name plastered all over the news like some high school campaign flyer, or even because it put him at risk (although she silently admitted that this did, in fact, bother her. More than just a little).

Still, what Touka hated most about the name "Eyepatch" was simply that she heard it. Because if that persona, that title, that pursuit, was whispered on the lips of the Doves,

then she wouldn't be allowed to forget it (him).

He still existed in this world, away from Anteiku. Away from Hinami (at least until she went to stay with him). Away from the Manager, from Yomo and Irimi and Koma.

Away from Touka.

Even that human friend of his—the boisterous one with the scruffy orange hair and the eyes that were this close to seeing too much, to knowing too much—hadn't seen him. Instead, to Touka, he was just another reminder.

A reminder that he had changed.

A reminder that he had chosen.

A reminder...

...that he was gone.

Eyepatch.

That's what they called him.

Shitty Kaneki.

That's what Touka called him. Because he was there, and then he wasn't.

Kaneki

Protect.

That's what he was thinking. It was the word that, more than any other, came slicing through his thoughts. Driving him. Calling him. Denying him.

Killing him.

It was the word that kept him from going back to Anteiku. Back to Hinami (although, as it turned out, she eventually came to stay with him). Back to Hide. Back to the Manager, to Yomo and Irimi and Koma.

Back to Touka.

He had to protect them, had to keep them safe. And to do that, he had to become stronger. Kaneki was tired of being weak. He was tired of being useless. He was tired of not being able to do anything.

And so he trained and he fought and he pushed his body to its limits, and when that wasn't enough, he pushed even further. During the day, all was ceaseless movement—running and fighting and investigating new leads, new targets. Training with Banjou and eventually Tsukiyama. The ceaselessness of it all became easy.

It was the resting that was hard. The stopping. The lack of forward motion. There were nights when, after helping Hinami with her vocabulary and sending her to bed, he would make his way to the roof and swing his legs over the edge, staring out across Tokyo's cityscape. It was always the same edge—the far one, facing north—for he knew that if he leapt down and walked that way, for miles and miles and miles, he would eventually reach Anteiku.

Kaneki wasn't sure why he did it, exactly. Perhaps it was to reassure himself that it was still there. That they were still there. That it hadn't gone up in smoke and flames; that, even though Dove activity had increased in the area, they (she) would be okay in that unassuming little coffee shop.

But really, at the core of it all, Kaneki sat there leaning over the edge—through wind or snow or rain—staring through the city lights and wondering just which one belonged to Anteiku, because he missed that place. He missed them. He missed her. How was she doing, he wondered? What was she doing?

Probably studying.

Hopefully sleeping.

Definitely hating his guts.

(Perhaps, though of course he would never know it, she, too, was staring out over the city, a pillow clutched to her chest, as she leaned her head against her bedroom window. And if she just so happened to be watching in his direction...well, she wouldn't admit it. Not even to Hinami).

But as long as she was safe, he thought, it shouldn't matter (it did).

The roof was a lonely place...but it was also a sacred place. It was the place where Kaneki stored his thoughts—the pensive ones, the ones he never shared with anybody else, not even Hinami—and sealed them away in a tightly-wrapped package, only to be opened again the next night.

Protect.

That's what he was thinking during the day.

But at night, on those sacred evenings, he thought only of her.

Touka.