Thank you for reading! This fic starts off a bit like a retelling—particularly next chapter when we get to Kaneki—but it will branch out as the story goes on. I plan to update MWF and—when I am able—Sundays (the story's completely written, actually—I'm just editing now.) The main ships I plan on exploring are Touken, Ayahina, Mutsurie, Akiramon, Tsukikana, and Nishikimi, though there will be a few other ones explored to a lesser extent and/or in the background, like Seidou/Kurona, Saiko/Hsaio, Yomo/Uta, Arieto, Naki/Miza, Takeomi/Yoriko, and Ui/Hairu. I should also say that I'm playing with ages here, making some characters (like Ui and Furuta) who ought to be younger than others like Amon, into staff/teachers.

I want to add that, going forward, the story will deal with potentially triggering themes (violence, abuse, etc.) I'll put warnings before specific chapters, and there won't be any triggers that aren't already in Tokyo Ghoul or Tokyo Ghoul:re.

Is there anyone here who can swear before God

That she has nothing to fear, nothing to hide?

"At the End of the Day," Les Misérables

"Oh. You're here too?"

Amon cranes his neck up to see Seidou Takizawa scowling across the dorm's lounge at a girl with pale blond hair and a delicate face. A bird chirps outside the window, the sound more tinny than pleasant. Amon rubs the back of his neck. The last thing he needs is for the other two RAs in his dormitory to have some kind of toxic history.

"I'm not surprised they made you an RA," the girl says to Seidou. "You were second in our class in middle school, after all."

Judging from Seidou's pursed lips, the girl was likely first. But if she was trying to make a point, she doesn't dwell on it. Instead, she turns to Amon and holds out her hand. "Akira."

"Amon," he introduces himself. "I have the fourth floor."

"That must mean you have the third, right, Seidou?" asks Akira, pulling back a red cushioned chair and dropping into it. "Because I have the second."

Seidou scowls and straightens in his chair. The first floor of the dorm is comprised of the dorm parent's apartment and this lounge, which is decorated to resemble a home. Overly stuffed leather couches and cushioned chairs surround a cherry wood table and a fluffy carpet. Windows line the walls and bright purple curtains sway in the breeze. It just looks strange to Amon, and he suspects it will to most of their charges. A welcoming home is something most won't understand. "When will the dorm parent get here?"

"Should be any minute now," Amon answers. "I don't—think I've seen you here before, Akira."

"I went to a different school last year." Akira crosses her legs. Her blouse and skirt are crisp, as if she's interviewing instead of waiting to meet her dorm parent at a boarding school known for taking in troubled kids and orphans. He falls into the latter category. Seidou, he has no idea about.

Amon rubs his chin. So are you a delinquent, Akira? But no, they wouldn't make you an RA right away if you had that kind of history—

"My dad works here," Akira adds. "He thought I'd be a good influence."

Oh.

"Why did you want to be an RA?" she inquires.

"It looks good on college applications," Seidou says, leaning forward. "And it gives us a chance to contribute to the school."

"I'll echo that," Amon agrees, and Seidou actually almost smiles. "The head of security advised me to, last year. He said I'd be good at it." You lack the proper instincts sometimes, but you've got the passion, Kureo Mado told him last year after Amon found two kids trying to run away and turned them in. "You'll meet him."

Akira arches an eyebrow. "I see."

Seidou snorts.

"What?"

"Her name's Akira Mado," Seidou says, jerking his thumb towards her.

Your dad… oh my God. Amon's face flushes. "Oh. You're—he's your—" Amon remembers Mado, his mentor, telling him his daughter would be joining as an RA. You could have mentioned it would be in the same dorm!

"Yes," says Akira, glancing up at the large digital clock on the wall, black with red numbers. The dorm parent's already close to ten minutes late. Amon hopes this doesn't become a habit. "He's spoken about you. Highly."

Amon's heart lifts. "Your dad's—"

The door swings open, and a man with a receding hairline and a huge smile strides in, four binders in his arms. "Welcome!"

All three of them leap to their feet.

"Koutarou Amon?" the man asks. "And you must be Seidou Takizawa—and I already know you, Akira."

The past year, Amon lived across campus, in Dorm Block 6 in west campus. He knew Seidou from classes, but he didn't know the dorm parents on south campus, where Dorm Block 20 is.

"I'm Yukinori Shinohara," says the man in front of them, holding out his hand. Amon shakes it, followed by Seidou and Akira. "I apologize for being late; Dean Arima had a few special circumstances to discuss. Please, take your seats." He gestures, and Amon complies. Shinohara drops down onto one of the overstuffed armchairs, nudging a magenta throw pillow out of the way. "I thought we'd start by going over the rules, curfew, and the procedures for filing reports on one of your students."

"What sort of incidents require reports?" questions Akira.

"In theory, everything. You'll have to fill out a report form biweekly on each student. But it's mostly just for record keeping. You should be able to handle minor disputes between students, romantic entanglements, etc. among yourselves—and you're free to impose stricter curfews as punishment—but if you come across something like substance abuse or a dispute that escalates into serious violence, you should come to me. And the three of you should be able to consult among yourselves as well—the three of you are a team, and you'll have to work together." Shinohara smiles at them.

Amon's eyes take in Seidou, who furiously scribbles notes, and Akira, who frowns and looks at both Seidou and Amon as if she's not quite sure how well these two will be able to do. Heat prickles on the back of his neck. She seems so sincere, but she's new to this school, and as wonderful as Kureo Mado is, what if he's underestimated how draining this could be for her?

I'll help her, Amon decides. And Seidou. We're a team, and I've been at this school the longest.

Akira peppers Shinohara with questions about the specific curfew hours, the procedures for emergencies, and how to make sure their students are actually seeing Furuta, the counselor.

"Right," Shinohara says when they finally run out of questions. "I look forward to working with each of you this year." He slides a binder to Amon, one to Seidou, and one to Akira. "Akira, you're still fine with sharing your room? It's protocol for RAs to have their own room, but due to overcrowding—"

"It's fine," Akira assures him, flipping her binder open.

"Great." Shinohara rises. "They'll start arriving within the next two hours. In the meantime, I have some phone calls to make. I'll see you at the dorm meeting tonight, right in this room." And he disappears into the adjacent apartment.

"You have to have a roommate, Akira?" Seidou sounds incredulous.

"Kimi Nishino," Akira reads from her binder. "New orphan. As in, just the past month. No record of problems at her previous school." She purses her lips. "Poor girl."

"Who else do you have?" Amon inquires, curious as to whether he'll recognize any of the names.

"In the double room, two juniors: Saiko Yonebayashi and Kurona Yasuhisa. In the triple, two seniors: Yoriko Kosaka, Touka Kirishima, and a junior, Hinami Fueguchi."

"I know Kurona," Amon says. "She's—sweet." What happened to her sister? he wonders. He's never seen Kurona without her twin.

"Good to know."

"Looks like I have your Touka Kirishima's junior brother," Seidou says. "Ayato. Rooming in the double with Juuzou Suzuya. And it's weird, Juuzou's records are sealed." He scowls. "How am I supposed to work with him if I can't see his records?"

"I've never heard of that happening," Amon admits. Weird.

"Two records are sealed," Seidou says. "In the triple, I've got Tooru Mutsuki, Kuki Urie, and Ginshi Shirazu, and Mutsuki's records are sealed too. Do you have any sealed—"

Amon scans his list. "No. I've got all their records. And I don't know them—they must be new."

"Who do you have?" asks Akira. "Anyone you know?"

He shakes his head. "Double room's got Shuu Tsukiyama and Kanae von Rosewald, and there's a note that they asked to room together. Triple's got Hideyoshi Nagachika, Nishiki Nishio, and Ken Kaneki. They're all new except Nishiki, but I wouldn't say I know him. Just that I remember his face." Truancy and obsessive behavior are cited for Tsukiyama and von Rosewald alike. Great. Kaneki and Nagachika's records seem far sadder. An orphan and—a volunteer? Although apparently Kaneki has an aunt who decided she didn't want him. Poor kid.

"Why do I get both the sealed records?" complains Seidou. "What if they're both, like, murderers?"

"You should know that's not unheard of at this school, and if you couldn't handle it, you shouldn't have applied to be an RA," Akira informs him.

"Hey!" Seidou leaps to his feet, his face growing red. "I know perfectly well what I'm getting into."

Amon almost laughs. Akira raises her eyebrows. "I would say you don't, and that's precisely why you're mad."

"Whatever." Seidou shakes his head. "I'll go put the nametags on their doors."

Amon heads up the stairs to do likewise. The stairs give way into a small open area with four doors—one to a bathroom, one to his small rectangular room with a bookshelf, a bureau, and a bed crammed inside, and two to his charges' rooms.

"Amon," a voice says behind him as he attaches Kaneki's nametag to the door. He jumps.

"Relax," says Kureo Mado, leaning against the door. "Don't get spooked yet. If they see you flinch, they'll run all over you."

He nods. "I met your daughter."

"Akira? She's a great kid. She'll do well." Mado's voice softens in a way Amon's never heard before.

"I'm sure," Amon agrees, attaching Nishio's nametag. "I'll watch out for her."

Mado's lips curve into a smile. "I'm sure you will. You are the oldest RA here, Amon, and the most experienced. I expect you to be the one they turn to for advice."

He nods again. I can do it. I will do it. I'm responsible.

I'm not what Donato tried to make me into.

Mado claps his shoulder, and Amon smiles.

He doesn't remember his parents, but where he used to have nightmares of Donato whenever someone said your father, he now sees Mado.

"Hello! You must be—um—Tooru Mutsuki!"

Mutsuki nods, clutching his bag to his chest. How much do you know? How much did they tell you? he wonders as he peers at the kid who can't be more than a year older than him. Right, they did say there would be senior RAs.

"We're on the third floor," chatters the RA. "I'm Seidou Takizawa. First floor's for the lounge and dorm parent's apartment, second is for girls, and third and fourth are for us guys."

Mutsuki manages a smile, pushing his green hair back as they climb the narrow staircase of Dorm Block 20. "If you need anything at all," Seidou adds. "Please contact me. We're here to help you."

Mutsuki has his doubts. Seidou pushes the door open, and Mutsuki's eyes immediately find his name printed in white on a black name tag. Two other names rest on the door.

"Your roommates are already here," Seidou adds. "We'll have a dorm meeting in an hour, back down in the lounge."

"Okay," says Mutsuki.

"Is that all you brought with you?" Seidou asks, frowning.

"Oh. Yeah."

"Cool," says Seidou, as if he doesn't know what else to say. He raps on the door, and it opens.

A boy with purple hair and a scowl looks out. "Yeah?"

"Urie," greets Seidou, his voice strained with trying-too-hard cheerfulness. "This is your other roommate. Tooru Mutsuki."

"Oh." Urie steps back, taking in Tooru. "Hi."

"Hi," Mutsuki echoes.

"Hello!" shouts another boy, unkempt blond hair falling in front of his eyes as he peers down from the top bunk. "I'm Shirazu."

"Mutsuki," he repeats, entering the room. Books and clothes are already scattered over the bottom bunk. Mutsuki spots another bed across the room, a bureau shoved against the foot of it. That one must be mine. It looks like the other two have to share one giant bureau. Well, this worked out well. He immediately crouches down to start unpacking.

"See you in an hour!" calls Seidou.

"You new too?" asks Shirazu, tossing a baseball up at the ceiling and catching it.

"Yeah," Mutsuki says, his fingers closing in around a box of tampons wrapped in a sweater. The sweater rolls off, and he bites back a curse as he rewraps it, still in the bag. He does not want his roommates seeing that, developing questions Mutsuki doesn't want them thinking, much less Mutsuki have to answer.

"What are we even supposed to do tomorrow?" asks Shirazu.

"Orientation," grouses Urie, dropping onto his bed and folding his shirts.

"I heard there's a snack bar called Anteiku open every night," Shirazu says.

"Curfew's at nine," says Urie. "Not possible tonight."

"Until nine, but I've also heard that if you get there before ten, they'll still serve you and won't turn you in." Shirazu grins down at them.

"How did you hear?" asks Mutsuki, finally stuffing the concealed tampons into a drawer.

"I know one of the girls who's also in this dorm. Saiko. She's been going here since last year. You'll all like her. She's funny." Shirazu sits up now, crouching over to avoid whacking his head on the ceiling. "We should check it out."

"We have that dorm meeting tonight," Urie points out again.

"Tomorrow, then. We can celebrate classes starting with late night chocolate."

Mutsuki's heart lifts. You're so nice. "I'd like to go."

Shirazu grins. "How about you, Urie?"

"Sure," he agrees, but without any reaction on his face. "But only if we go before curfew. I'm going to get a scholarship. I'm not risking getting in trouble."

"Fair enough," Shirazu agrees.

An uneven laugh erupts through their floor. Mutsuki jumps to his feet, anxiety clamping. "What—"

"What are you doing?" shrieks the voice of their RA.

Urie creeps towards the door. Shirazu hits the floor with a thump and scrambles.

I guess I follow? Mutsuki hangs back, peeking out the door from behind his roommates' shoulders.

A boy—is he a boy?—Mutsuki wonders—with wild white hair and wearing clothes that seem way too big for him, almost like a costume, stands in the doorway of one of the other rooms, a spool of red thread in one hand and a needle in the other. At first Mutsuki thinks he's got tattoos, but then he realizes red stitches wrap around his right arm and hand, and a few red xs stand out under his lips and one eye.

"It's just some decoration," says the boy, holding up his hand as if to admire it. A half-finished flower sits on one forearm. He scowls. "I don't like this, though." He reaches to tear it out.

Shirazu clamps his hand over his mouth as if he's going to vomit.

"Would you stop doing that?" Seidou tries to ask, fists clenched and chest heaving as if he's trying to force himself to stay calm.

"Why should I?" returns the boy.

Another kid, with long purple hair and dressed in a black sweatshirt like he's trying to be an emo stereotype, emerges from the bathroom and stops in his tracks.

"If you don't, I'll write a report!"

The boy with the stitches rolls his eyes and drops his hand. "Boy, you are annoying."

"I'm your RA," snaps Seidou, folding his arms.

The boy's eyes start to glow. He takes a step towards Seidou, and Mutsuki shrinks back behind Urie and Shirazu. The boy's red and ghostly white fingers wave around their RA's face like he's trying to cast a spell. "Why don't I sew up that mouth that keeps opening so much, Seidou?"

Seidou stumbles back just as the door to their suite flies open. A tall, broad-shouldered man shakes his head at the scene. "What's going on here, Seidou, Juuzou?"

"Shinohara!" gasps Juuzou. But he doesn't look irritated with the man Mutsuki assumes is the dorm parent. "Seidou's being annoying."

"He's sewing his own skin!" splutters Seidou.

Mutsuki's heart races.

"You're all late to the meeting," points out Shinohara. "Come downstairs, please."

Seidou's face turns as red as the stitches on Juuzou's skin. Mutsuki expects Juuzou to protest, but instead he scrambles back into his room to stuff his feet into red slippers and clatters down the stairs.

"What kind of a freak is he?" Mutsuki hears Seidou hissing to Shinohara.

"Don't call him that," reproaches Shinohara. "If you start categorizing, Seidou, you won't be able to help any of your charges."

No categorizing? Mutsuki doesn't understand. Aren't they all here because they've been categorized as orphans or disturbed or both? Aren't they all stitched with a red unwanted label?

"But his records—"

"You don't need to know his records to get to know him," Shinohara returns. Mutsuki's heart thumps. He knows his records are sealed, too. But Shinohara has to know.

If he's saying that about Juuzou, does that mean he didn't tell Seidou about me either?

In the lounge, Urie and Shirazu take the two beanbag chairs. Mutsuki hesitates. Should he sit on the floor by them? Faces, all the faces—six girls, so many boys—stare at Shinohara, waiting, and then at Mutsuki, because he doesn't know where to sit, what to do—

"Hey," says a voice belonging to a sweet-faced boy sitting next to a redheaded guy on a couch. He nudges his friend, and they shift over. "Do you want to sit here?"

Mutsuki nods, dropping down.

"I'm Ken Kaneki," introduces the boy.

"Tooru Mutsuki," he mumbles.

"Hello," calls Shinohara, dropping into a wooden chair with red cushions. "I suggest we all start by going around and introducing ourselves. I'm Shinohara, and I'll be your dorm parent for the year—maybe two years, for those of you who are juniors. We're all going to be like a family here."

"A dysfunctional one," mumbles Urie from the beanbag chair. Shirazu covers his mouth as if trying not to laugh.

Family.

Mutsuki can't tell if this proclamation excites or terrifies him.