Happiness:
When Tatara glances up from his newspaper to see Fei and Yan laughing together (no doubt at a joke one made–he shakes his head in exasperation) but he can't help the slight twitch of his lips. It is those little intervals of time, when the outside world is suddenly far away and problems just seem to vanish, that he will forever treasure, always.
Memories:
Looking back, he realises his life has been nothing but blooddeathdestruction of his enemiesfamilycomrades—and it will continue to be so, until Aogiri's goals have been achieved.
Ice:
Many Aogiri members would immediately describe him as such, no doubt referencing his color scheme and cold demeanour. However, Eto thinks differently—instead, he is like a rock; sturdy, stable and with just the right conditions—also able to be warm and comforting (as comforting a rock could be).
Tragedy:
When Chi She Lian has all but been destroyed (the base burnt to the ground, the survivors scattered to the winds—that is, if there are others) and worst of all, Fei and Yan taken—for the first time ever, Tatara realises the bitter taste of failure.
He looks down at his blood stained hands—not his own blood, never his own- and sheds, for the first and last time, a single tear.
(On that day, the sky weeps for him as well).
Nightmares:
These occurrences are few and far between, and after many years he thought he'd get over them—but he never ceases to wake up shaking in cold sweat at the images of Fei and Yan being dragged away into the darkness (to where Tatara shall never know, though he can guess-and the implications are never, ever pretty).
Sometimes the dreams are different. Sometimes he sees them in a crowd, getting further and further away no matter how fast he runs, no matter how far he reaches.
And the worst-the worst of all, is when he sees Houji—that damned, wretched bastard with the too-calm-smirk holding the familiar investigators briefcase which is about to open-
The dream ends.
Revenge:
There is nothing more in the world (aside from achieving Aogiri's objectives) that Tatara wants—this is what drives him, what pushes him, what feeds him.
He would love nothing but to twist the neck off that man, ripping that body apart piece by piece with blood falling to the ground (like roses) and everything dyed a rich, vibrant red.
After all, as the saying goes, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
(And Tatara always pays his dues.)
Exasperation:
There are somedays, somedays where Tatara cannot believe the strangeness in his life.
(In retrospect, he should have accounted for this—Tatara mentally smacks his forehead—afterall this is what he get for assigning an underaged ghoul as an executive.)
"I will say this one last time Kirishima—Get. Rid. Of. That. Rabbit. Now."