a/n: short drabble series im making for tokyo ghoul. focused on kaneki so i can get a better grasp of his character. all of these are based off one word prompts and set in canon universe.
please read and review-critiques are something every author needs.
Kaneki's never been a tyrant.
His gaze is far too soft, his movements slow and paced out, shoulders slumped. He walks without the purpose a tyrant has in order to dominate, and he walks with a book tucked underneath his arm and a boy, his age with vivid marigold hair, hung about his shoulder, talking away and scaring off the birds that picked at crumbs of leftover food in the creases of concrete. Hide spoke loud and he spoke bold, and Kaneki replied in short, little sentences, an inclination of his head.
If anything, Kaneki was a pacifist. He cherished the sun, but he doesn't forget to love the moon, either.
But he had always been set up for tyranny. He grew up alone, with only the faint scent of white carnations, heather flowers, and a dull, storm-ridden sky. No sun, no moon, just clouds that stretch on in both directions.
He smelt rain the day his mother collapsed over on the table. She was only exhausted, right? Just tired.
She never woke up either.
Strong? Powerful? Influential?
Kaneki never considered himself to be any of those things. He always fought, but it was always with the lingering thought of others on his mind. Spider lilies adorn his desk - Lotus flowers litter the pond by a little tree and a side of concrete.
None of these things give him an explanation - it wasn't as if he needed one because he already knows. Eat, consume, devour, control, destroy.
Behind him spreads out four long petals (they weren't anything else, they weren't anything else), each one fluorescent, the color of wolves' teeth in winter and the tips rooted deep into the ground. They shiver and they twitch with excitement, euphoria.
It's gross. Disgusting, hideous, terrible.
He's pulling apart flesh with his teeth, ripping and tearing, picking at the slack body beneath him like the way carrion crows and vultures storm battlefields and get their beaks red and full of meat. And then the ground the tips of his flower petals were dug into become limbs and the petals, a predatory organ. His hands are dirty. Wet with blood. Eyes wild.
Kaneki isn't crazy. Far from it. He's fully aware of what he's doing as he stands up, wipes at his lips with a gory wrist.
And as he walks away this time, he walks upright and he walks deliberately.
As a pacifist?
No, a tyrant.
A king.
