Title: Tsukasa-san's Teahouse
Genre: Supernatural/Drama
Rating: T (warnings: OC cast, violence, minor mention of sexual situations, very light slash (M/M))
Summary: When the denizens of Kyōtō have a problem that cannot be solved by normal means, they visit a small store near a quiet shrine on the Kamo River. Shūichi handles their ghoul customers while Tsukasa deals with the rest, which range from simple humans to the inhabitants of the 'other world'. SYOC
Notes: Think of this as a crossover with Japanese mythology? idk it was fun to write. So! This is a story where you can submit your own characters! Given the episodic nature of this story, I am seeking interesting characters who come to the teahouse seeking their wayward services. The form and additional information are on my profile. Please PM me with the form when you are done filling it out!
Also, this first chapter is supposed to mirror the first episode/chapters of the manga. Binge eating is a bit different from surplus killing, though.
The First Story: Surplus Killing
Two ghouls come to the store asking for Shūichi to stop one of their own: a surplus hunter who kills dozens of humans within the span of a week and lays dormant for months, only to resurface and kill again. Shūichi has no choice but to accept the job for his own safety.
Many mysterious beings, more than one can count in a single lifetime, exist in this world. The creatures that sustain their lives upon human flesh, those beings called ghouls, are one of the many existences that lurk beneath the placid surface of a city like Kyōtō.
Shūichi is one such creature to whom the scent of grilled eel smells like moist garbage. He can still smell it even though every window in the house is open to the oppressively humid summer night. A breeze slips into the room, but it carries a cloud of moisture with it.
Ghouls are not the only beings that coexist, at times successfully and at times not, with humanity. The perfect example of such is splayed out on the bamboo floors of the room Shūichi crawled into to escape the scent of dinner cooking in the kitchen.
He turns his head with excruciating slowness, feeling as though he will melt if he moves at all. Blinking lazily, he watches as the young human man across the table polishes a Japanese sword. The metal shines under the artificial yellow lights above their heads, the wave pattern on the blade flickering as if to say 'hello'.
On the floor next to the table is another young man, but the slightly tangy, cold scent that comes from his skin tells Shūichi that he is not human. His hair is dark and long like the style that men from long ago wore - his clothes are a casual yukata in the summer and men's kimono in the winter - but he looks perfectly human.
Unlike Shūichi, whose eyes morph into bloodshot red and black when he is hungry, who can pull an extra appendage out of his lower back.
The one on the floor squirms and laughs or otherwise releases a high-pitched squeak every time the only human in the room wipes the sword with a clean cloth.
Tsukasa calls him a tsukumogami. The spirit of an inanimate object that has gained sentience after living for over a hundred years. Shūichi would never have believed him if he had not seen the spirit emerge from that sword himself.
"How do you have enough energy to roll around like that in this heat? Cut it out; I'm getting hot just looking at you," Shūichi grumbles as he slides across the cool bamboo mats. He prefers to escape to the relative safety of the bedrooms upstairs when everyone eats dinner, but for now the smell is still bearable.
"I thought ghouls were supposed to have good endurance," Yūgiri says. The spirit of the sword has a sharp voice that slices through the air like his name implies, but Shūichi is used to hearing the harsh sounds against his ears by now.
"We aren't immune to the heat or cold."
"Swords aren't either."
"Then why-"
"Now, now, calm down you two. It's too warm tonight to start arguing," Tsukasa says placatingly. As usual, he sounds completely airy and insubstantial, as if he is floating on a cloud. Shūichi has never once seen him take any drugs, not even cigarettes, though. He doesn't even drink except during a festival if he has no choice.
Shūichi and Yūgiri turn towards the smiling human with twin glares as sharp as their respective blades. Tsukasa pretends not to notice and runs the cloth over the sword for a final time before capping the bottle of clove oil and sliding Yūgiri back into his saya.
He hands the weapon to its rightful owner reverently, taking a moment to smooth out the faded golden tassels that dangle from the hilt.
"Even a sword will wither and die without proper care," Tsukasa hums as he cleans his slender hands in a nearby basin of water. "The same goes for any living thing."
Tsukasa often wears the same type of yukata as Yūgiri, but his light brown hair is not nearly as long. He dyes the strands auburn red every now and again. It makes both of them look not of this era - unlike Shūichi who dresses in jeans or slacks and a t-shirt, long-sleeved shirt, or a sweater depending on the weather.
Yūgiri moves out of the room with deliberate slowness to replace his main body in the storage room where they keep everything of value that customers are not welcomed to see.
"Dinner will be ready soon. Do you mind tending to the storefront?" Tsukasa asks with an incline of his head. A spark of mischief glints in his eyes, but he likes to maintain this mysterious front at the oddest times, so he won't just come out and tell Shūichi how he knows this information directly.
Shūichi stands with a groan, stumbling to his feet and walking towards the halfway opened door.
"Don't really got a choice, huuh? Shūichi drawls. Tsukasa waves at him as he leaves, turning into the dim hallway.
All manner of creatures visit the tiny teahouse at all hours of the day and night, but one of the other house guests, Kurō, usually minds the shop simply because he is the one who minds the legwork the least. When Shūichi is 'tending to the storefront', he is primarily there for a different reason.
They seem to have customers coming very soon. The other sort of customers - the ones with much more troublesome requests than 'dango and green tea, please'.
Tsukasa only sends Shūichi out when he thinks that those customers would probably like nothing more than to eat both him and his regular customers. Shūichi is a ghoul, though, so unfortunately he knows how to talk to them the best.
The teahouse is so small that it only has three tables. There is room for one more, but everyone else who lives here vehemently opposed Shūichi when he suggested they order another table and chairs.
Four is an inauspicious number, after all. Kurō and his older brother Hakuō won't even leave the grounds of the teahouse on 'inauspicious' days.
Although he can never truly enjoy mingling with the customers like the others do, Shūichi plasters his best smile on his face right before he walks into the store.
"Shūichi! You came to join me?" Kurō exclaims, turning around so suddenly that everyone around them takes a sharp breath, expecting the tea cups on his tray to go flying into the wall. However, amazingly enough, not a single drop is spilled.
"Nah, dinner is ready, but I already ate," Shūichi lies. "So I'll take over for now. Don't take forever eating, though!"
"Yes, sir!" Kurō grins because while they physically look to be about the same age, both of them know that Kurō is a thing that is far, far older than Shūichi will ever be.
Kurō's long, pitch black hair disappears into the backroom just as some of the women at the table closest to the counter giggle behind their hands.
"All of the workers here are easy on the eyes," the oldest one chimes. They are all in their thirties and dressed in business attire despite the heat. Shūichi has a feeling they only come by so often - twice or three times a week - to coo over the people who work here.
"Shūichi-kun, why don't you grow your hair out like the others?" says one with a barely concealed smile and lips that glisten artificial pink.
Shūichi scowls and crosses his arms. "I wouldn't look like a man anymore if I did that!"
Everyone in the teahouse laughs at his expense.
Twenty minutes later, two customers arrive. A man and a woman, a seemingly normal couple wrapped in matching coats and scarves. How cute, Shūichi muses to himself as he welcomes them inside.
They aren't regulars and, upon closer inspection, he can smell the faint scent of his own kind. Most of it is concealed by cheap perfume and cologne, but it is unmistakably a ghoul's scent.
The woman, plain and unremarkable in looks, approaches him first with a hasty bow.
"Are you Fujimori-san who owns this teahouse? We heard about it from a friend...that…" She bows her head and looks at him hopefully. Neither she nor her companion must have good noses or else they would realize that Shūichi is a ghoul as well.
He forces a smile and motions for them to step into the backroom. "No, no, I'm just an employee here. You may call me Shūichi. Please step inside; I'll answer any questions you have to the best of my ability."
Tsukasa could, technically, take care of their ghoul customers' requests. It is no more or less dangerous than the other types of creatures that visit their humble teahouse, but Shūichi had insisted on being in charge with the weak excuse that 'only a ghoul can understand another ghoul'.
He offers the couple coffee, which they accept with twin smiles of vague worry.
"I apologize for the taste," he says. "We are a teahouse after all."
"No, no, it's perfectly okay," says the woman as she takes an obligatory sip. "So, about this store…and the owner...we heard that you will listen to any request? No matter how strange?"
Shūichi nods patiently. "That is true. We will try to fulfill any request you have, if it's within the realm of possibility."
He's glad that Tsukasa and Hakuō taught him polite language. The customers seem much more relaxed when they hear him speak like this, as if it makes him more trustworthy or something. As if he's an educated ghoul who knows what he's talking about.
"And you won't tell anyone about who your customers are?"
Shūichi smiles and goes over to the window in the small room, which only contains a low table surrounded by thin cushions as furniture. Tsukasa is fond of traditional styled rooms, after all.
He closes the window, cutting off the weak glow of moonlight from outside. When he turns around, his red and black kakugan are showing - he isn't hungry or anything, but this method is more reliable than any words he could offer the couple.
"Unfortunately, the owner is busy having dinner. I would be more than happy to listen to your request in his stead."
The man and woman nod simultaneously, concealing their startled expressions behind masks of composure.
"You must know about the...troublemaker that the Doves have been hunting for these past few months, right? He operates in the residential districts, preferring to ambush people on their way home from work or children playing in the park unsupervised," the woman provides, speaking quickly as if she does not trust that window to stay shut for long.
The teahouse is quiet in the sense that it is safe from prying ears most of the time, though, and the twins Hakuō and Kurō will alert Shūichi the second they hear someone out of the ordinary arrive. So he calmly sits across from the two other ghouls and listens to what they have to say.
"He kills dozens of humans within a week or two, but hardly eats them, and then he disappears for months on end. But, well, what the Doves aren't aware of is that the recent ghoul killings are his doing, too. He is very protective of his caches," says the man.
Shūichi's eyes widen considerably. He has heard of the incidents from some old friends of his who haunt downtown Kyōtō, but it isn't unusual for territorial disputes to break out between ghouls.
"And how do you know all of this?" Shūichi asks, because his friends never told him this information - that the killers are one in the same. He wonders if they have intentionally left something out or if they really don't know.
"He, well...he's in our 'group' I guess you can say," the woman says haltingly. She closes her eyes briefly. "He isn't the most confrontational ghoul you'll ever meet. But he's avoided us for the past year or so and only started acting this way during that time. It's fine to horde a bit, but the Doves are getting really persistent. And the other ghouls he's been attacking are starting to remember that he was once one of us. So…"
Shūichi is careful to wear a neutral expression and speak with an emotionless, but vaguely positive voice.
"In order words, your request is for a 'ghoul extermination'?" Shūichi inquires.
The woman and man look at each other, their faces clearly lined with stress, but he wonders how much of it is real and how much is the mask all ghouls learn to cultivate from an early age. Shūichi wonders.
"If there is another way, but...yes," the woman says, bowing until her head nearly touches the table. "This is really troubling us. So, please…!"
Shūichi would have just accepted it a few months ago, no questions asked, but he's had more time to observe how Tsukasa runs this business and so he does not say 'yes' immediately.
He says, "Is this something you absolutely cannot do yourself?"
The woman's eyes widen, flashing red.
"No," the man says firmly. His voice is deep and grating like gravel underfoot. "We can't. Otherwise…"
"We should tell him," the woman says in a low whisper. She knows that Shūichi can hear it, though a human might not. It's just another reason why Shūichi can't allow Tsukasa to handle these cases. "He needs to know if he's going to do this for us."
After a moment of silence, the man nods. "He has an older sister who is part of our circle as well. Even if we try to stop him, she will probably…"
Shūichi wants to sigh and shake his head. Ghoul politics are just as convoluted as human ones, at times. He nods his head though, figuring that this is doable.
"I understand. We will try our very best to complete your request. Is there anything I should know about this guy?"
And that besides, nothing good will come of the Doves' activity increasing. Since that terrible incident six months ago there has been relative peace in their city, but sooner or later everything will return to normal.
"His type is ukaku and like most of those guys, his stamina is bad. But he's very fast."
"And he doesn't wander around much during the day," the man adds.
It's ghouls like this guy who give the rest a bad name. He knows that Tsukasa will gladly accept the job, no matter how dangerous it might be. So he finishes collecting the details that the customers can provide, works out a payment plan, and returns to the storefront before their human customers run off without paying.
As it turns out, Tsukasa does not gladly accept the fact that he has already accepted such a dangerous job. The human man's frown of displeasure is painfully disappointed and Shūichi makes up for his urge to shrink away by grumbling excuse after excuse.
"You know that I already have my hands full trying to please those old gods warring over who gets the honor of hosting the Jidai Festival this year. I don't have time for this!"
Tsukasa will never admit it, but he tends to be more concerned over their otherworldly customers than the humans and ghouls who live in this city. Shūichi watches as Tsukasa tries to work a comb through Yūgiri's dark, long hair after the tsukumogami has taken a shower. As Tsukasa's voice rises, so does Yūgiri's yelps of pain.
Shūichi tries his best not to let his voice rise, too. He's a ghoul, he reminds himself. He's supposed to be superior to the petty human beings they are forced to share the world with - his mother and father told him this long ago.
"The Jidai Festival isn't until October! And it's the only thing you've been doing these past few weeks!"
Tsukasa knows that Shūichi can slice a human open in the span of two seconds, but he doesn't back down as they argue over cups of untouched tea and coffee. Well, Yūgiri will sooner let himself shatter into pieces and be melted into scrap metal before he allows anyone to harm Tsukasa. Shūichi has no idea how his kagune will match up against the tsukumogami of a sword forged by the gods.
"I've been working out these negotiations since before the last festival even started! Ayakashi have a terrible sense of time, but they're awfully demanding when they want something done. I can't very well put it on hold for however long it will take to fulfill this request."
Tsukasa's clear hazel eyes, odd for someone of purely Japanese heritage, are narrowed. But they do not burn with anger - they seethe with the cold harshness of a winter night.
"I can't do anything about it now," Shūichi grumbles, sitting back and staring at the coffee on the table. It's cold by now, but he reaches over to drink it anyways. "I promised them. Besides, it affects us too, you know."
Tsukasa sighs and turns his attention back to Yūgiri's head, apologizing to the tsukumogami with a soft smile. Yūgiri glares at Tsukasa, thankfully realizing that this is hardly Shūichi's fault, but lets the human finish combing his hair.
"You're right; there's nothing we can do now. But are you sure it's not something we can leave to the CCG? I pay taxes for a reason, you know," Tsukasa says, much more reasonable this time. "There are plenty of problems they can never even dream of solving but if it's a matter related to ghouls, they should be able to handle it. I'm sure if they need help they will eventually call upon my family. We don't need to take care of it, right?"
Tsukasa's tone is light, but Shūichi winces as the slight dip in his voice when he mentions his family. The Fujimori family is an old family of onmyōji and Tsukasa is the youngest son who avoids their calls whenever he sees their number pop up on the phone.
Shūichi growls low in his throat. "You are human, aren't you? I doubt it sometimes...you should be more scared! This guy kills humans! Indiscriminately! It's exactly the same thing your predecessor promised me not to do!"
Tsukasa's expression darkens and his eyes close slowly, giving the impression of someone calm. He knows that a throbbing pain is coiling below the surface of his skin, deep within his chest, because Shūichi feels the same thing.
"I know, Shūichi," Tsukasa says quietly, lips barely moving. He gets up and moves around the table to sit across from Shūichi so close that their knees almost touch. He holds out a hand, the left one, because Tsukasa is different from the average human in more than one way.
Tsukasa's dry lips curve upwards, but the motion has no feeling behind it.
Shūichi lifts his right hand and allows Tsukasa to hold it. He does nothing further, just stares at their hands as if comparing the size. Shūichi is a bit bigger than Tsukasa, who is not short but rather thin.
"If I let you handle it yourself, will you come back in one piece?"
"Of course," Shūichi says seriously. He doesn't like the hollow look on Tsukasa's face - it's completely out of place on a human like him. "I can take Yūgiri with me if it'll make you feel better? I know the other two have to go with you to talk to those mountain gods, but you don't need Yūgiri."
Yūgiri crawls over, the long strands of his hair dragging on the floor as he does so. It's not that he doesn't know how to bathe himself or tie his own hair, but he likes being coddled. Shūichi has long since stopped complaining or teasing him about it.
Tsukumogami can injure ghouls, after all. And Yūgiri has had - what, three hundred years? - to practice his swing.
"Hey, aren't you even going to ask me if I want to do this? I don't, by the way!"
"Now, now, Shūichi is being perfectly reasonable, Yūgiri. All you would end up doing is sitting prettily at my hip if you accompany me. But you can fight ghouls."
Yūgiri frowns and makes and face of brief disgust. It isn't directed towards Shūichi, but he feels an unwelcomed twinge of pain in his chest anyways.
"I can doesn't mean I want to. Besides that, I'm only at half my strength when I'm on my own. A sword only truly shines in the hands of a human being, you know?" Yūgiri says desperately, but Tsukasa's mind is already made up. Shūichi knows he should be happier. Tsukasa is going to let him handle this one alone. Well, with Yūgiri's help, but stil.
But he only smiles because Tsukasa is smiling as well.
"So, so, where are we looking for this guy? Maeda, you said his name is?" Yūgiri drawls. He looks up at the treetops as if trying to search for the sky through the leaves. "Why the forest?"
Shūichi is too hot to speak, but he knows that Yūgiri can talk endlessly and annoy him for the rest of this trip if he doesn't comply and tell the tsukumogami what he knows.
"We're looking for his food caches. The customers from last night said that he's become a recluse lately and they haven't even seen him in ages. But he attacks anyone who messes with his food."
Yūgiri whistles, but it is the chilling sound of a blade cutting through air and parting a stalk of bamboo in a dead silent forest. Shūichi cannot stop the shiver that runs down his spine. He inadvertently eyes the sword strapped to Yūgiri's side. The black and gold saya sways innocently as he walks.
"Your kind is so obsessed with food," Yūgiri muses, not noticing how Shūichi flinches. The young looking man blinks against the shadows that fall across their faces. His eyes today are an odd, clear grey. "I don't understand the appeal of it."
"You don't need to eat at all," Shūichi points out. "Of course you wouldn't understand."
Yūgiri stares at him for a few long seconds, but ends up shrugging.
"Do you bury your food like a fox? How am I supposed to look for it if I don't-"
"The smell," Shūichi interjects, refusing to turn around just to see those cold grey eyes staring at him again. "Don't ask me what human flesh smells like to you, but it's been so humid lately that the scent will be strong. And I don't know where he keeps it. We're like humans, you know? It's better to keep it in the refrigerator or something, but he's not exactly sane at the moment."
"The scent of human flesh?" Yūgiri says with vague curiosity. "Okay...well that should just smell like regular old rotting meat, right?"
"Don't ask me," Shūichi mumbles, sniffing the air. The tsukumogami doesn't have the sharpest nose for these sorts of things, but it's better than Tsukasa's at any rate.
They wander the woods for over an hour, during which Yūgiri trips and falls into a shallow stream of dirty rainwater with a screech and Shūichi almost walks into a tree because he is too busy looking around. But eventually he catches a whiff of that scent - it is slightly less appetizing than a fresh kill, but it is the smell of food that makes him salivate and head in the right direction.
Yūgiri doesn't actually pick up on the same scent until the scent has long since invaded Shūichi's senses. The dark haired tsukumogami wears a face twisted into disgust as they get closer to the cache. When they are only a little bit away, Yūgiri has already lifted the edge of his yukata to his nose and mouth, pressing it to his skin harshly.
"Does it really smell so bad?"
Yūgiri nods vigorously, glancing desperately over his shoulder. "When can we leave? This is so gross…"
"What does it smell like?"
"Sweet…"
Shūichi doesn't understand how a sweet smell can be bad since he's seen Yūgiri nibble on chocolate and red bean paste filled mochi before, but he never gets the chance to ask. He doesn't know whether he heard, felt, or smelled the ghoul first, but he only has enough time to shove Yūgiri so hard that the young man goes flying into a tree a few meters away. Shūichi takes the brunt of the other ghoul's attack on the right shoulder, the shards of the ukaku kagune embedding themselves in his skin as easily as Tsukasa can cut himself while chopping vegetables.
"He's here!" Shūichi gasps. The ghoul in question has wide, wild kakugan burning brightly and an ukaku kagune that fans out like the gangly branches of a tree.
"I can see that!"
Shūichi wants to curse, but the pain in his shoulder flares as he leaps away from Maeda to give himself enough time to let his own kagune unfurl from his lower back. Yūgiri's words have attracted the ghoul's attention and he flies towards the tsukumogami muttering something about food.
Shūichi has no idea what will happen if a ghoul tries to eat the spirit of a sword, but he doesn't want to find out either. With a shout to call Maeda's attention back to himself, Shūichi lunges.
The bikaku kagune that he ended up inheriting from his mother is tough enough to shatter the ukaku shards like glass, but he knows his own weaknesses and soon finds that his limbs are all cut up. His kagune is strong, but Maeda is so fast that he can barely swing around fast enough to hit him.
Their fight is like a dance for quite some time. Shūichi won't die anytime soon from these wounds, but he is steadily growing frustrated - so frustrated that he almost slices a tree clean in half after getting thrown against it.
But Shūichi did not ask for Yūgiri's assistance just to make Tsukasa feel assured that he would have back up. Yūgiri is more than just an old, pretty piece of art to be admired in the storeroom on the night of a full moon. And Shūichi finds out exactly why Tsukasa insists on cleaning that blade so much, why he makes sure Yūgiri eats even though as a sword food is unnecessary, and why Yūgiri was named 'night cutter' by a god from long ago.
Neither Shūichi nor Maeda realize what has happened until they see the pieces of the other ghoul's kagune falling to the ground, not until Maeda coughs up blood and gurgles in pain. Yūgiri has slipped behind him and drawn his sword so quickly and silently that their enhanced senses never had a chance of noticing. The blade is slick with blood.
Shūichi can't help the grin that crosses his face like a madman. He swings his kagune around and lets it pierce Maeda through from the front.
"You...thief…" Maeda gasps.
"I didn't do it to steal your food," Shūichi grumbles, stepping away and watching as the ghoul slides to the ground, gasping and trying in vain to send a few shards flying at Yūgiri, who merely deflects them with his sword. "Your hunting methods have been causing a disturbance. Two of your old buddies asked me to take care of it. You can thank them once you get to the afterlife."
Maeda is a ghoul in his mid thirties and it shows in his deep voice tinged with bitterness and humorless mirth. "Traitors, all of you!"
Those are his last words. He looks as if he wants to say more, but he dies with hatred and tears in his eyes as he stares up at the pointed end of Yūgiri's sword. The blade is directed at the center of his head and the sleeves of Yūgiri's yukata move gently in the warm breeze. He knows that to most ghouls, Yūgiri smells perfectly human - Shūichi can only tell he is not because he has known him long enough to be able to parse apart the tang of metal from the heady, succulent scent of human on him.
Shūichi closes his eyes and turns away, watching the blood drip from his own wounds, as Yūgiri drives the sword through the ghoul's skull and the man breathes his last. When Yūgiri joins him to stand in front of the rotting corpse that has been poorly buried at the base of a tree, Shūichi cannot help the shiver that travels down his spine. He retracts his kagune and stares down at the corpse of the dead human. The woman's half eaten arms have been wrapped across her chest in the mockery of a funeral pose.
When he looks up, he sees that Yūgiri's eyes are solid grey and flat, empty, like the surface of his blade. He easily forgets that this young man standing next to him isn't human, after all. He is a weapon made to kill, just like Shūichi's kagune.
"Don't you want to eat?" Yūgiri asks.
Shūichi shakes his head even though he crouches down to take a bite anyways. He can't pass up a free meal, but it feels weird having the tsukumogami looming over him, waiting for him to finish. As he eats his fill, Shūichi sits back to observe the two corpses in the vicinity.
"I don't think he really wanted to kill all these people," Shūichi says. But at the moment, he has no explanation to offer as to why he thinks so. And, he finds, his companion doesn't seem to care.
"I don't really understand," Yūgiri admits. "Wanting or not wanting to kill."
"Of course you don't," Shūichi says as he stands and wipes his mouth. It tastes stale, but something is better than nothing.
"Congratulations! You made it back alive!" Kurō exclaims when they return to the teahouse. It is past noon by now and the customers inside peer at them curiously. Kurō reaches out to grab Shūichi for a suffocating hug, but he manages to avoid the man just in time to see his older brother step outside.
Kurō, like his name implies, is dark all over. His hair is nearly black and his eyes are an eerie brown. His skin is much darker in comparison to his older brother, Hakuō's, which is pale as snow. They are twins who stand on either side of an invisible divide. Black and white, energetic and stoic.
Hakuō smiles, pushing strands of white hair behind one ear. "Tsukasa-sama was worried about you."
"I told him everything would be fine!" Shūichi protests with no real weight to his words. Something flutters in his chest at that moment and it isn't the adrenaline running through his veins anymore.
"Hey, it's thanks to me that you didn't get cut into pieces!" Yūgiri snaps, his voice a sharp whistle that makes Kurō hurry over and slap a hand over his mouth to stop him from attracting more attention. It doesn't help that he still has his main body strapped to his side where everyone can see it. "Mmph!"
The door slides open with a clatter and everyone hears light laughter emerge from the teahouse. "Welcome home! I'm glad you came...back...safe…"
Tsukasa has evidently noticed the torn clothes and blood seeping out of half closed wounds. His clear hazel eyes go wide before he is shoving Shūichi and urging him to walk around the teahouse so that they can enter through the back door. No matter how much he wants to dig his heels into the dirt, Shūichi knows that he cannot stay out in the open like this for long, so he lets himself be pushed and dragged.
"I'm fine!" he tries to protest.
"Shut up. See, I let you go off on your own and look at what happens!"
"It's already healing!" Granted, he heals slower than a rinkaku type, but after eating his body feels much better already. "Besides, what are you doing home? I thought you had negotiations to mediate?"
Tsukasa doesn't say anything, just opens the backdoor and practically throws Shūichi on the floor of the kitchen with a huff. The others, except for Kurō who has gone back to the storefront, trail in behind them. As the human disappears into the bathroom, Hakuō walks over to Shūichi with a shine in his light brown eyes. For just a moment, those eyes shine gold. Shūichi knows that it isn't a trick of the light.
"Tsukasa-sama was worried about you," Hakuō repeats what he said earlier.
Shūichi frowns. "Wait, does that mean he could have gone with me!?"
Tsukasa returns with a curious look on his face, like a confused dog with its head tilted to the side. Shūichi scowls because he has no clue if Tsukasa really has no idea what has just been said or if he is just pretending not to have heard. Humans are hard to understand.
"Shūichi, come here. Let me bandage you up. You can't walk around like that," Tsukasa says sternly. Stern is a strange look on the young man, who to Shūichi looks so frail that he sometimes thinks if he touches Tsukasa too hard, he'll break.
"I don't need you to coddle me like you do Yūgiri," Shūichi grumbles, though he allows Tsukasa to tug his shirt over his head and start to clean the blood off with a damp towel.
Yūgiri growls low in his throat. At least he doesn't sound like he wants to cut Shūichi's head off. Hakuō redirects the tsukumogami towards the main room, telling him to go put his sword away.
It's just Shūichi and Tsukasa in the kitchen now.
"So how was it? Your target," Tsukasa says, careful to withhold any emotion from his voice. "Was he the fearsome monster the newspapers make him out to be?"
Shūichi shakes his head as he watches Tsukasa wrap the bandages around his shoulder and arm. It's uncomfortable, but he lets the human do whatever he wants.
"I don't think so. He was just...desperate."
"Desperation is no excuse for murder," Tsukasa says lightly, as if he has forgotten that Shūichi is a ghoul.
Shūichi is quiet. He waits for the rest, knowing that Tsukasa isn't so forgetful nor so prejudiced.
"Tell me why you think he did it."
"Does it matter? He's dead," Shūichi mumbles. Tsukasa leans down until they can look each other in the eyes. Shūichi didn't realize that his head had fallen until he opened them and saw the floor.
"I want to know more about your kind. I can only help those I understand, you know," Tsukasa says. "I know about ayakashi and humans the most, naturally. But even then, until I met Kusaka I never tried to understand them - either of them. I thought my job was just to eliminate the troublemakers. Understanding others wasn't part of the job description. But I was wrong."
Shūichi gives a tiny nod. He looks into Tsukasa's eyes and sees a young man whose gentle mask is so perfectly moulded that he might as well be a ghoul. But he has seen the other Tsukasa before and so he nods and tells him.
"We ghouls have no choice but to become murderers to live. Some care about that, others don't, but regardless of how you feel, you need to eat. And hunting - the thrill of it - is something you can never forget once you have experienced it just once. It consumes you, makes you feel like life is worth living. At least, for the moment." Shūichi swallows, trying to make sure that his voice never wavers. "But that feeling fades for some. And then you start to feel guilty - and sometimes that guilt consumes you."
Tsukasa continues his ministrations, but he is listening, eyes only leaving Shūichi's in order to make sure he's wrapping the bandages well.
"So maybe this guy was one of those types. He had to eat so he hunted, but he kept on going because he couldn't stop. And when he did stop, he hoarded them so he wouldn't have to hunt again for months. But it's not like this stops the guilt. People are still dead because of him, regardless of when they get killed. So it just continued like this, over and over again."
"...How did you figure this out?" Tsukasa says because the means are sometimes just as important as the goal.
Shūichi thinks back to the corpse in the woods, to the half eaten woman. "His victim was posed. Her hands were positioned as if she was going to her funeral."
Tsukasa hums in consideration. "Kurō wants to throw you a party to celebrate. Any requests?"
It isn't that Tsukasa is ignoring him. Shūichi knows that he will file this information away and someday, he may actually have to use it. Shūichi laughs.
"You mean about food? How the heck would you accomplish that?"
"No, no, no. Is there anywhere you want to go? We hardly get out anymore. We'll be busy preparing for the Gozan Fire Festival double time after this, so we might as well enjoy it."
Shūichi smiles.