Author's Note: Hey there, guys! So, this is my first one-shot as well as my first 'Tokyo Ghoul' fic. I hope you guys enjoy it as it revolves around Uta, my favorite ghoul (he's tall, dark and handsome; the perfect combination).

I wanted to write a Christmas fic, but not the cheery kind where everyone is holding hands around the tree, singing happily like the Whos. This one is actually kind of morbid. Don't ask me why I chose Uta of all people to be the centerpiece. I don't know myself.

Hope you enjoy it!

"Is this your first time?"

"Mhmm."

Uta stood with his hands in his pockets staring at the ruby red walls of the tattoo parlor. There were many picture frames signed by the artist of various tattoos in shape, length and creativity hung up as decoration.

They were beautiful, Uta thought. An abundance of dyes and vivid imagination come to life in the form of multicolored ink on fair skin. He loved seeing other artist's work up close and personal. It allowed him a small window into the intrigues of their mind and Uta loved nothing more than to metaphorically devour such inventive minds.

"Are you new to this Ward? 'Cause I've pretty much seen every guy around and I don't remember either one looking as eccentric as you."

Eccentric? Well, you could say that from looking at his blonde unruly hair swept over his head by a small girl's bandana, the piercings, the dark rounded sunglasses that he wore even as darkness reigned outside and the industrial-punk clothes he sported.

But was he new?

"No."

"Oh…" The woman smiled awkwardly at his abrupt answer. "Okay, you're not much of a talker. I respect that."

From behind dark sunglasses, Uta's crimson eyes slid to the artist's clustered drawing station. The young woman seemed enamored with writing details in her thick notebook that he was providing.

What was he doing in a tattoo parlor in the middle of the night, you ask?

It hadn't been planned. Actually, he had been on his way to his hideout when the most curious odor, scattered by the night breeze, drafted by his sensitive nose. Unable to control himself, he prowled the length of the narrow alleyway like a possessed bloodhound and emerged at the wooden double-doors of her parlor. That had been what initially attracted him to her little shop, not the opportunity to get tattoos.

It was a curious place, this little corner of hers, partially shielded from the 4th Ward's wilderness. Almost as if one had to be worthy of finding it, or at least have a map to it. Uta had probably been just lucky.

The ghoul inhaled deeply as his eyes slightly rolled in the back of his head—almond lotion on her skin, citrus conditioner in her hair, faint traces of rosé wine and sugar on her breath, faint perfume on her throat and shoulders, and splotches of ink and charcoal on her fingers. But underneath all those artificial fragrances humans obsessed with drowning themselves in, there was a faint aroma of bitter-sweetness that made his mouth water uncontrollably.

He didn't understand why she brought out such a reaction. Uta wasn't the type to get all gushy over his food. To him it was just that, sustenance for the body to continue living. He had lost the zealous eagerness human meat had once sparked in him years ago.

But her…she stirred something deep in the pit of his black stomach—a Goliath ready to consume and dominate.

"So, you only want a tribal characteristic?"

Uta was unaware on how to proceed next. He had no intention of getting a tattoo; he didn't even think it was possible considering his regenerative abilities. The bleached blonde had just followed the delicious scent with every intention of sinking his teeth into the human's flesh, but surprisingly, he abstained from it.

No…He knew why. The images on the walls had caught his attention the second he walked in and remained as she continued to chat with him on preferred tattoos, oblivious to what he truly was.

"Henna…I like that also." Uta uttered as he stared at a particular picture on the wall. It was a woman's leg covered in just the tattoo design he preferred. It was a masterpiece of arched and intertwining inky black henna and he was instantly fascinated by it. He could see the passion and love she had put forth into creating it with every stroke of ink.

"That's good. I can work with that." The young woman turned back to scribble some notes in her notebook, no doubt a reminder. "So where exactly do you want it?"

Uta shrugged as he answered flippantly. "Everywhere."

That gave her pause. "Uhm…maybe you should start with something smaller. No offense, but for someone who's never had a tattoo before, it would be a shock to start with something as extensive as a full-body canvas."

If you say so…

"Can I make a suggestion?"

Uta shrugged again.

"How about a band around your upper arm? I would definitely start with that since it can be easily concealed."

"Then what would be the point be in having a tattoo?" A pale eyebrow rose in bewilderment at her ambiguity. Tattoos were meant to be paraded about, not obscured like a dirty little secret.

"It's for modesty's sake, I guess. Some people work in places that have policies against inked skin." She said as she scratched her cheek, leaving a smudge of charcoal on it.

He almost grinned. "I don't work in those kinds of places."

"Yeah, you definitely don't fit the type." She smiled friendly as she eyed him from head to toe. "Then how about your wrist? If you're not shy about displaying it."

He nodded apathetically.

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere." She swiveled with her chair and went back to her notebook.

Uta winced as once again those annoying lights glared at him. There was a small Christmas tree in the corner of the room blinking dazzlingly every few seconds from the many lights wrapped around its branches. It really pissed him off since he wasn't into the whole Christmas spirit, never had been. His childhood had been barren of such jolly festivities, opting for harsh survival instead. Even in winter, Doves operated like tireless dogs. Even more so since people tended to go out in the city to celebrate. You never noticed a person disappear in huge crowds and ghouls took advantage of that.

Uta didn't appreciate Santa or snowmen or presents or those weird little elves which freaked him out to be truthful. And he especially hated carolers. Those fuckers and their peppy jingles scratched against his brain like nails on chalkboard.

"Are you usually open on Christmas Eve?" Weren't humans obsessed with this holiday? Tokyo practically became a giant Christmas tree once the holiday peeked around the corner and Uta had to seclude himself to his own ward lest he became blind. In addition, it shielded him from the many atrocious foreign Christmas movies that came out this time of the year.

"Actually, I wasn't supposed to be open at all today, but a last minute session just came up and the guy was insistent." She sighed almost surly. "And I needed the money."

"Not many customers I take it."

"Not really. This ward isn't exactly known to be safe with all the ghouls running around, so not many would venture out here, especially at night." She turned in her chair and watched him with thoughtful, narrowed eyes. "Which makes me wonder what you are doing out on such a late stroll and on Christmas Eve?"

Uta just stared at her unresponsive, but the sudden playfully grin on her lips had him slightly bewildered.

"Hey, you're not a ghoul are you?"

The artist asked in jest, but if she knew that her life was on a countdown then she wouldn't think of it as such a laughing matter.

But Uta just smiled courteously. No need to scare her yet.

"And if I was?"

"Then I'd direct you to a more juicier human. I'm skin and bones mostly." She pinched her own slender arm to emphasize her point. "You'd just be eating scraps."

"That I would be." There really wasn't that much meat on her, but it was enough to satiate. "If I was a ghoul."

She laughed deep in her chest and Uta could hear it rumble against her throat. It was a pleasant sound, almost like hearing a cat purr and he liked cats. They were vicious creatures that loved to toy with their prey for no other reason than that they could.

A small gust of wind blew through the air vent waking Uta up to the fact that it was still night outside and he still had places to be. This was not the time to be stuck in some unfamiliar place, chatting up his dinner.

Uta's gaze remained on her as he contemplated eating her now. He was growing impatient with this delay, his hunger was stinging at his stomach and her scent was just as appetizing as the first time he came upon it.

—The ghoul had appeased his curiosity and now wanted nothing more than to gorge himself on her flesh until his belly was full.

Like a panther in the night, he stalked his prey. The young woman didn't hear him as he approached nor did she sense him as he slinked behind her. Her obliviousness of her surroundings will cost her her life.

Uta's pale fingers curled over the back of the chair. Crimson eyes blazed like Hell's fire as he pushed the black lenses over his forehead. He wanted to see her properly, this fine specimen of humanity.

The ghoul's eyes roved over her exposed pale skin as he tuned in on the blood pumping through the veins of her throat, and beyond that, following the intricate threads of life—

Ah. The beat of her heart.

—A siren's song beguiling him into temptation.

Uta had to control his shivering body as her scent was so much potent the closer he was. He could already envision her delicious flesh passing his lips and sliding against his tongue, his taste buds exploding in rapture. And her eyes…those pretty molten honey eyes of hers. He'll save them for last.

A stray thought had him smirk.

He'd always believed cats were his spirit animal so maybe, like those regal creatures, he could play with his prey for just a little while. The artist wasn't ugly, far from it, and it was Christmas. He might not be overjoyed with the season, but it was that one time of the year that he indulged himself with everything he wanted. And what he wanted was sitting right in front of him.

His eyes roved over that ugly, large sweater she was swimming in and envisioned himself slowly peeling it off her body. He wondered what she hid underneath—if her breasts were large or small, if she had her own set of tattoos or if she had some fat on her hips. He always did like his females a bit curvy.

Uta readily admitted he had never been with a human female before, only his own kind. The thought of copulating with a human had always left a bad taste in his mouth. Maybe it was the fact that he had been put off by the many Doves hunting him like a rat or maybe because he wasn't the type to sleep with his own food. 'Don't shit where you eat' was how the saying went if he remembered correctly.

But he could make an exception today. It was the holidays, after all.

—Besides, from what little he saw, the woman would look fantastic riding him.

But as that leering thought gave birth to other lewd and downright disturbing scenarios, they disappeared just as quickly as they came. This was not the time for sex since it implied that Uta would have to seduce her and that took time, even more if she was one of the shy ones.

Damn, this is why he liked his kind better. Ghouls were more basic and straightforward in their needs. They felt hungry they ate, they got horny they found another ghoul to fuck. But humans…they needed to be coddled and adored and the females liked to be swept off their feet with flowers and candy.

Uta had no patience for that.

Leaning forward, he opened his mouth wide, ready to sink his teeth into her throat and feel the life slip away until she was no more but a still warm corpse.

But just inches away from ripping into her, he spied the cluster of papers on her station—sketches, drawings and even some watercolor paints, all captivating in their own right. Uta's eyes remained glued to them as he scrutinized every inch—animals, symbols, portraits, the human body, all enriched with details born right out of the artist's robust imagination. Neither one was in double, all unique with their own quirks and themes.

His heart skipped a beat.

He knew this sensation as he too dabbled with art. His masks were his pride and the times spent molding them were where he was at his most serene and passionate. A juxtapose of emotions he never thought himself capable of feeling since life simply passed him by with the occasional annoying bump he had to take care of. But in those instances, he was more alive than ever before.

Just as his masks were his Nirvana, he realized the picture frames on the walls were hers. Her work here was probably what fueled her soul and kept her passion alive.

His eyes slid to her hands—petite and willowy and delicious. He wanted to suck the meat off her fingers just as much as he wanted to see them create new worlds and sensations on paper and skin.

So much talent, he thought, so much beauty created by such fragile human hands is almost sin.

If he had wanted tattoos, he wondered what she would have created for him. What drawing would fit 'No Face' and his arrogant, wild self? Tattoos were an extension of the bearer so then what sort of tattoo would describe who he was? His artistic side wanted to know what she saw that could be translated into paper and from there, permanently imbedded into his skin.

Although, considering that she couldn't even see that he was a ghoul, he didn't exactly expect much.

But…

It didn't change the fact that for the first time in his life Uta hesitated. Was this right? To devour such hands? To lower this talented human being to just a nameless snack he would forget by tomorrow?

Uta was many things—sadistic, violent and heartless first and foremost, but he was also an artist. An artist without such barbaric impulses. He wanted to create just as much as he wanted to destroy and sometimes that infuriated him because it made him second-guess himself.

And right now he was in Limbo. One side wanted to eat while the other wanted to see this woman's talent flourish and bloom. Who was he to destroy such ingenuity? But who was she to have her inconsequential life spared?

Uta swallowed thickly as sweat pooled at his hairline. He was so close. So close to his goal and yet…

Something on her desk, almost hidden by the many papers, caught his eye.

A ghoul.

Or at least her interpretation of one.

Uta's brows rose high in bewilderment. The ghoul looked grotesque with a more fantastical edge to it and not one trace of humanity. Not that he had, but he wasn't some monstrous grave-robber like her image conveyed.

Was this what she thought he was? Some slobbering, mindless beast?

Heh…

It shouldn't bother him. All humans viewed him exactly the same but he thought, that as a like-minded individual, she would see his kind differently.

But, who was he kidding? It wasn't like his brethren ever gave them a reason to. Ghouls didn't try to give essence to their meals. Some humans did that with their animal meat and vegetables and they were weird. You didn't argue or chat with your food, you just ate it because that was the order of the food chain and, currently, ghouls were above humans.

— So why couldn't he just stop with these poignant thoughts and get on with it?

Because…

Because he was not a monstrous grave-robber and he did not wish to confirm her suspicions that all his kind was the same. She was like him, an artist. Candles like that should never be extinguished, not until the flame melted the entirety of the wax and flickered out by its own, and the girl was nowhere near that point yet.

With a restraint he had never thought possible, Uta straightened out and closed shut his maw. All of his primordial instincts were battling against this strange choice. If he had been human, this would be like letting the rabbit live even as he was dying of hunger. But, he abstained from this one human even as his gut rebelled continuously.

Uta wanted to punch himself. This was a bad time to grow a conscious.

The young woman's breath hitched.

The ghoul swiftly dropped his sunglasses back over his eyes as she finally seemed to recognize a presence behind her. The artist suddenly turned and jumped in her seat at his proximity.

"What the fu—"

"I was looking at your drawings." He answered before she could scream, his hands slipping away unnoticed from the chair. He really hoped she wouldn't see the holes he stressfully created in the material of her furniture. "Is that what a ghoul looks like?"

The artist looked between him and the drawing and Uta almost groaned as her fear escaped out of every pore of her body. Fear had always been an aphrodisiac for him and, currently, he was in terrible pain judging by his tightly clenched fists.

—Oh fuck, how he wanted nothing more than to nibble on the flesh of her thighs. She probably even had a pretty scream to go with it.

"I don't know, I've never seen one before." Her elevated heart rate could be seen pulsating under the soft skin of her throat and Uta had to move his hands behind his back to keep himself from lunging. "I heard they look pretty human, but you know…we all love a good fairy tale."

"Why? Does making them monsters appeal to you? Does it give you relief?"

The young woman's eyes narrowed in faint anxiety. He knew that his ominous questions, towering presence and dark sunglasses were unnerving her and he could see her clutching her pencil to the breaking point. Uta almost laughed out loud if she thought that little piece of wood would save her if he decided to attack.

"I think it just makes me feel safer." She swallowed thickly. "I can't imagine them walking around side by side with us, so I draw them in a way they distinguish. I would rather they be like this than look like you and me."

"Because then who would the monster be, hmm?"

Uta smiled faintly as he lowered his upper body until he was face to face with her. The girl seemed to mold herself into her desk as she tried to put as much distance between them as possible, but there was no escaping someone like Uta.

"Are you frightened of me?"

Her heaving chest, her dilated pupils, the slight tremble in her voice as well as the quiver of her body had him on the verge of the aforementioned cliff. If he hadn't known better, Uta would think she was teasing him.

"You're kinda giving me reasons to."

The smile sharpened as a black nail painted finger touched her cheek right above the charcoal blemish. He felt her flinch under his touch, giving him an exhilarated rush through his system.

Damn, she wasn't the only one having trouble breathing.

Her wide-eyed stare reminded him of a doe in the headlights and Uta relished in her discomfort. Not only because it aroused him, but also because it gave him pleasure to see her petrified after drawing that hideous picture of ghouls, of him.

His finger moved deceptively tender over her cheek—almost as a lover's caress—but Uta was just impudently smudging as much of the splatter as he could. He could be surprisingly petty when he wanted to.

Having reached an acceptable level of terror, Uta straightened out and pushed away the ominous aura surrounding him.

"Sorry, it wasn't my intention to frighten you." The smile didn't slip away, though. In fact, it took on a more derisive appearance, almost like a jester's. "You just had some charcoal on your face."

The girl's agitation didn't ameliorate even as she saw the proof on his finger. Instead, she shrunk in on herself, terrified of what he might do next.

But Uta had no intention of continuing. He's had his full or, more like, he lost his appetite. Her drawing and her words just drove the nail in deeper. Despite what one might think, Uta was not upset over this, just disillusioned.

It's time to go, he thought. There's nothing else for me here.

"You should sleep here for the night, miss. It's not safe out there so late."

With a bland goodbye, Uta pushed open the doors and walked out into the fresh night air.

The ghoul breathed in deeply as he craned his neck until a sadistic pop resounded. His entire body had stiffened as a result of his self-control and he thanked all that was above and below that it was winter. The coldness around him was enough to cool down his heated body.

For some reason, Uta felt off balance. This incident had driven him down a road he had never been on before. Compassion and mercy were not his style and neither was leaving his prey alive and untouched.

This had been a first for him.

Shit, maybe I should have just eaten her. But, he was already out and didn't feel like making another trip back inside. With rigid steps, Uta walked away, her bitter-sweet scent haunting him like the Ghost of Christmas past.

Large snowflakes fell around him, basking his coat and hair in white puffiness. Christmas was today and he had promised to spoil himself with a delicious meal, but he just pushed away the most appetizing dinner he found in this ward all because of a flaw in his ghoul mind.

—Was he going soft?

He's heard about ghouls losing their sense of identity and actually protecting humans, even shacking up with them like lovers, and he didn't want to be counted among them. He barely gave a shit about his own kind, why the hell would he care about some weaker specie?

Or maybe…this was the beginning of something unwanted. Something that would change the axis of his core.

That lone thought had him feel something that he hadn't since he was a small boy hiding from Doves—fear.

Uta sighed gravely as he tipped his face towards the heavens. The snowflakes instantly melted as they touched his hot skin and he was glad for the contrast of temperature. His mind was too agitated to be calmed down by internal factors. He needed an anchor to reality and the cold wet patches on his face were just the right incentive.

No use crying over spilled milk, I guess.

His choice had been final and he wasn't going to change his mind at the last minute just because it made him uncomfortable. Besides, he will never see the artist again. She'll probably die sooner or later, eaten by some other ghoul who wasn't as conflicted as he was.

Uta smiled derisively.

Merry Christmas, girl, and hope you never realize how close to death you came today.

What now? He was still hungry and the 4th Ward wasn't exactly the most populated, but good thing that it was a part of Tokyo, one of the largest cities in the world. Or as he saw it, an all you can eat buffet. He could just journey to one of the other wards in search for sustenance, maybe even break into a house and gorge himself on a happy family. The endorphins in the human body gave off a delicious tinge to their meat, almost like seasoning. Besides, the tangy smell of blood would cover all other scents and free him of her lingering one. Uta clenched his fists as the feel of her soft skin was still felt underneath his fingertips.

Yes…He will do just that and forget about the tattoo artist and her little shop, as well as his one moment of weakness. It would not do if 'No Face' suddenly went soft. Other ghouls might get the stupid idea of challenging him for his position and Uta had no time for such cheap distractions.

He sighed as the silence of the night was beginning to unnerve him. Except for his labored breathing, the scrunch of his boots on snow and the faint howl of the wind, there were no other sound in his immediate range.

Uta tightened the coat around him. This was not a night for him to be alone with his own thoughts. They had a tendency to take a life of their own and lure him down the rabbit hole. He did not wish to learn what lurked in the dark.

"Silent night, holy night. All is calm, all is bright…"

Uta frowned at the voices that broke the tense silence. Not just voices, but harmonious singing.

He knew that song.

All trains of thought ceased as a frenzy grew in his belly.

—Carolers…

He hated carolers.

Uta's lips split into a horrifying smile, the kind only serial killers were capable of producing.

Well, this might prove to be a jolly Christmas after all.

The night continued in silence as humans and ghouls stayed inside their houses, either enjoying the festivity or simply shielding their bodies from the cold. It was a special night, one where you could spend it in happiness and serenity with loved ones. Troubles and problems of the past and present where pushed to the side to make way for a well deserved hiatus.

Nothing could destroy this joyous moment, nothing but—

The silence was briefly disturbed by the poignant, echoing screams of some carolers before dead silence blanketed over the 4th Ward once again.

Silent night, indeed.

Foot Note: So, what do you guys think? Uta-ish enough? I do hope I didn't make him OOC (that is one of my greatest fears as a writer).

I actually intended for a very different ending, but I think leaving it like this is better. This was the beginning, the spark that lit the fire in Uta renouncing his old ways and showing some measure of compassion, and it all started with a fellow artist (or so I want to believe). But that doesn't mean Uta is now running around through daisy-filled fields. He's still a ghoul and he's still 'No Face', the vicious leader of the 4th Ward.

I hope my Tokyo Ghoul story kept you entertained enough! "Are you not entertained?!"

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, guys!