A/N: Just a little WIP thing I've decided to post up. I saw this fanart by this artist, and I was like...I need to fucking do this, I physically need to do this (THE BASELINE FOR THIS IS ALL PAA-KAA ON TUMBLR'S IDEA NOT MINE! I'll leave the link in my bio, at the very bottom.) This is my first time writing anything Tokyo Ghoul even tho I've been into the series for a while now, and...I'm so scared this is gonna suck. The reason why I usually write Naruto is because it's easy. So much unfleshed canon material for me to play with! Admittedly poor writing for me to fix to my heart's desire! But Ishida-sensei's work is immaculate. Like. If I disgrace his characters, I give you permission to flame me in the reviews. I honestly give you permission. I deserve it.
Suggested Mood Music: Jungle (or) Wednesday Night Interlude by Drake, In the Dark by Cathedrals, Don't by Bryson Tiller, The End of All Things by Panic at the Disco, Antichrist by the 1975, and Bite by Troye Sivan which I recommend the most. I think that's it. Lyrics from the fic are In the Dark by Cathedrals.
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To: Ayato
From: Touka
it'll be less than ten minutes. all I need to do is grab my bag from Anteiku and I'll be there. I promise I'll be there.
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To: Ayato
From: Touka
don't leave me alone
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Touka trembled, clutching her cellphone like a lifeline as she stumbled through the front doors of the bar. She could barely hear the person behind her, his footsteps drowned out by the blood thrumming in her ears and her half sobs. The sprint up the stairs took too much time. Her feet took her through the middle of the room, around the coffee table and towards the black messenger back sitting on the couch.
"Touka."
Her head was pounding with a childish, heartbreaking plead. Please don't leave please don't leave please don't leave, she pleaded to the universe. Her thoughts stumbled onto her tongue and out her mouth without conscious thought.
"Touka."
Just as she stumbled back towards the door, an arm caught her by the elbow, jerking her backwards. She shrieked in fury as she stared into depthless black eyes, but he settled his hands down on her shoulders, steadying her, quieting her.
"I won't," Kaneki said.
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(I can't see you fall apart
you turn away and fade out of sight)
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Touka has worked as a bartender since she was a teenager with a fake ID and a painful desperation for extra income. The summer before her senior year of high school, when Ayato collapsed in the middle of a neighborhood soccer game, coughing up blood, Yomo set up a job for her at a shady bar a few blocks away from Kamii University. Anteiku sat in the very heart of the city, a surprisingly well liked establishment that was frequented by mostly business men and graduate students. The owner, an old man named Yoshimura, whom Yomo trusted implicitly, allowed it. Within the week, she knew how to mix most of the drinks customers asked for. Within the month, she was taking double, triple shifts, staying up late and skipping school early to get in more hours. Between work and school, all her extra time was spent at the hospital with her brother.
Ayato hadn't liked it - a girl navigating the city at night on her own was apparently asking for trouble. He would go on about how she shouldn't be neglecting her studies so close to university entrance exams, or missing out on sleep, or keeping him up worrying. He had that tired, pinched look of irritation on his face, knowing that she was doing this because of him.
Even with tubes shoved up his nose and IV speared into his wrist, Touka still felt the urge to hit him. (For him, she always has to correct, not because of.) It still manages to lighten her mood on the dreariest of visits. Some things, she knew, wouldn't change so easily.
She'd reached forward and held onto his hand and told him to shut up.
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That had been two years ago, though. She's twenty now, with a respectably legal ID and two years of Kamii's Biology program under her belt. Ayato's in remission, Yomo's taken over the reigns from Yoshimura, and she has her own spending money that doesn't need to be saved up for crippling hospital bills. Her tuition, however, is another story, but at least she's in the same boat as many of her peers. She knows she'll be alright.
But all that was before she got shot.
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"It doesn't matter if you don't do well on this midterm, though. Your professor will curve the final exam," Yoriko says, Friday night, comfortably watching a movie in their living room. The brown haired girl has on a strange looking charcoal face mask on, and Touka frowns in apprehension every time she looks over.
"Maybe," Touka replies dully, standing by the front door, shrugging into her oversized leather jacket. She's gotten through her midterms today, and histology was pure hell. The ache inside her shoulders from hunching over her work all week refuses to go away. "Or maybe I'll do so bad that nothing can save my grade point average."
"Don't be too pessimistic."
"It's impossible. I'm about to spend six hours standing and being hit on on by idiots."
Yoriko shifts around on the couch, looking over her shoulder to watch her best friend, probably to scold her some more. Touka looks back with a neutral, I refuse to partake in positive though processes expression, undoing the pony tail at the back of her head. Her short hair falls limply over her shoulders and she sling shots the hair tie across the living room
"Grab my dry shampoo," Yoriko says.
"Right."
Touka jogs into her friend's room, past the pictures of her parents and Ayato being discharged from the hospital. She finds the pale green bottle of dry shampoo on her friend's vanity. She combs through her hair and sprays the little miracle bottle into her scalp generously. After a minute, she shakes out her black, voluminous hair, half curls settling around her chin.
Touka goes back into the living room, patting at her clothes: phone and wallet in one jacket pocket, taser in the other, apartment keys inside her back pocket, and lipstick slipped into the breast pocket of her tshirt. She calls out a quiet goodbye to her friend, who reminds her to stay safe, and to please pick her up some banana milk on her way home, she's been craving it.
"Alright, alright," the dark haired girl says, closing the door behind her. "See ya."
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To: Ayato
From: Touka
You haven't asked for help with your homework lately.
To: Touka
From: Ayato
I've been getting help from one of my classmates. It's fine.
To: Ayato
From: Touka
Oh? And who is she?
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To: Touka
From: Ayato
"Oh" - the hell? And why are you assuming it's a girl?
To: Ayato
From: Touka
Yomo mentioned a girlfriend, but I didn't believe it.
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To: Ayato
From: Touka
It's alright. We can talk tomorrow, I'm about to start my work shift. I'll come over to the apartment tomorrow afternoon. Sleep well.
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To: Touka
From: Ayato
We're not talking about shit. And tell Yomo to stop keeping tabs on me.
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"-and then he says that- to protect me? Because he has to protect me? What's that even supposed to mean?"
"Protect you from what?"
"That's what I said!"
Touka shakes up Kimi's martini brusquely with one hand, the other supporting her as she leans against the bar's counter top with a forward's tilt of her head. The lights are low as usual, so it makes it harder to clearly see the distraught tears that threaten to spill onto her eyes. It makes the dark haired girl sigh angrily, but she softens her reprimand for her friend's sake.
"Will you stop crying everywhere?" The bartender straightens to uncap and pour Kimi's drink into her emptied martini glass. The brunette curls her manicured hands around it immediately. "Aren't you wearing fake eyelashes?"
"Four thousand yen eyelashes," Kimi spits bitterly.
Touka rolls her eyes.
Heavy, smooth music plays from the back of the bar, sexy lyrics that would have made her blush a long time ago. On this particular Friday night, the end of midterms week for Kamii law students, Anteiku is packed. There's loud conversation, laughter, drunken arguments, and several couples holed up into various booths, having their fill of each other. On a regular night, it wouldn't grate on her nerves, but something felt distinctly off.
"Refills, please," a business man says, leaning over the bar with two glasses in hand. He is squirms at the proximity to the half drunken, depressed girl. "Water and shochu."
"Yeah," Touka mutters.
She tucks the cocktail shaker into a shelf under the counter, and looks behind her for shochu. She takes both the bottle and the pitcher of ice water, and turns towards him with a neutral expression, though a sneer threatens to twitch its' way to life on her face.
His hair, somewhere between violet and a true purple, is terrifically neat. His ridiculously ugly white suit, black button down, and red tie ruins the sophistication of him. Never has she seen a man dress so terribly carry himself so well. Only an idiot could secure that kind of self confidence.
As Touka pours his drinks for him, he stares at her in a distinctly condescending manner, eyes trailing from her black hair to the navy circle skirt that sat over her hips. It isn't a glance of attraction, or lust, but of utter distaste.
The man slips away from her as soon as she's finished, several crisply folded bills left on the bar, several hundred yen too many.
"I've never seen someone dress so ridiculously in my life," Kimi gasps out, martini at her lips.
Touka smirks.
It's only the first hour of her shift, but tonight's still been strange. Off. Yoshimura told her to direct anyone asking for him to head to the strictly-off-limits room upstairs; the room that she has never been allowed to enter, in which Yomo and the owner of Anteiku secretively frequent several times a week, is suddenly a guest room. So far, a blonde with glasses, the purple haired weirdo, and a tall man with a swirling tattoo on his chin have asked for the old goat.
Each time, she directed them upstairs with a lazy point and suspicious eyes, but they ignored her. The four eyed blonde managed a tired glare before heading up.
They all came down together after a good half hour in a small cluster. The three of them sat together at the very back of the bar, given a wide berth from everyone else. They wore suits like business men, but there was something distinctly unprofessional about their little trio.
They gave little glances towards the exit every few minutes, clearly impatient.
What are they waiting for? Touka thinks. It makes her a little nervous.
She walks back to Kimi's side of the bar as she sips her drink, hands trembling just the slightest bit. Tears are falling indiscriminately now, and they're glistening like soft pearls over the sleek band of her lash line. Touka runs a hand through her hair.
"The both of us know," Touka says, leaning onto the counter with her elbows, cupping her jaw, giving her friend a bored look, "is that he's hiding something. Something big enough to scare hi. And maybe it is dangerous. Maybe he only means the best. It all depends on what you think, in the end. Do you think you're worth more than a few half assed apologies?"
The doctor set down her drink, breathing deeply to settle herself. The tears still came, but her hands were still this time. She nodded virgorously.
"So the next time you see that shitty bastard, you give him one right between the legs," Touka continues, flattening her voice and raising her volume to normal. "And then you end things on your terms. Not his."
"You're right...you're right."
"I'm always right."
Touka's straight faced as Kimi grins, bright and full of life and nearly herself again. She clasps her hands around her drink a little tighter before sighing.
"One day, when you're having your own love life issues, I'll be here to listen," the brunette promises, sweeping some of her sleek, short hair from behind her ear. Impossibly, there is something teasing in her tone, in the way her pupils begin to dance with light." Hopefully it's less irritating and more fun than mine."
Touka deadpans as she reaches behind her for a bottle of white wine as a couple walks forward, hands clasped, wine glasses emptied. "I'm a no-strings-attached girl," Touka says bluntly.
Kimi raises a brow. "A virginal no-strings-attached girl."
"Who says I'm a virgin?"
It's still surprisingly easy to resist this sort of interrogation. She gets it every other week from the young doctor, who always frantically searches
Touka comes forward to the counter as the pair of girls slip their glasses down. They're pretty girls, softly smiling at one another as she pours their drinks, as if they already know where their conversation is going. As soon as they leave, Kimi starts at it again.
"You seriously think you can fool me?" the med student says, leaning forward over the counter. "And anyway, just because something hasn't come your way doesn't mean you wouldn't like it."
Touka rolls her eyes and snatches up a towel to wipe down the bar. "Relationships complicate things, and take too much energy. They're complicated and annoying.I don't want to be bothered," she replied gruffly. The bartender knew she was wiping down at the marble counter with more aggression than necessary, but she couldn't help it. "I'm busy trying not to fail out of school."
"True. Maybe I should get into something without strings attached."
"Make sure you send him the pictures."
Kimi chokes out a cackle, smothering it with another sip of her drink. They start talking about the new lab that's supposed to be added to Kamii's chemistry wing the following fall semester, and after a few hours, the bar begins to empty. She checks her phone and sees that it's almost past one in the morning.
The door of Anteiku opens, a huddled up group of people trailing inside. Touka murmurs something else to her friend before looking up at the group.
"What the fuck?" she mumbles out loud, squinting.
The short young man that walks inside has a shock of snow white hair, as if he'd been involved in a terrible bleaching accident recently; it throws off the sleekness of his black slacks, white button down, and double breasted black coat that looks as expensive as all her current text books put together. He's huddled by three men, all noticeably larger than him. It makes her stiffen unconsciously. Their gazes meet, and his dark eyes look full and depthless in the low lights of Anteiku. Touka looks away first.
"What?" Kimi asks, eyes shifting to the side.
Touka shakes her head. "Don't look," she mumbles. "Some asshole with an entourage walked in."
"Is he cute?"
"He has white hair."
The brunette, fully bewildered now, shifts to look over her shoulder at him, but Touka makes a reprimanding voice in the back of her throat. Kimi sighs, but stays still. The bartender snatches up her emptied martini glass and replacing it with a wine glass. Her friend brightens instantly.
"What do you have?" Kimi whispered excitedly.
"Something old. From seventy six, I think. At least thirty thousand yen." Touka looks at the long shelves of alcohol behind her, back lit by an old, dim light bulb that forces her to squint to read the labels properly. She picks up the bottle of red wine and turns it over in her small, calloused hands. "Yomo said I could have it. Be grateful."
"Aren't I always?"
After uncorking the bottle with a sharp jerk of her wrist, Touka turns back around and pours Kimi's glass as the white haired man slips to the back of the room, towards the table of suspicious bastards. He looks rather normal, aside from the hair. He's wearing a crisp white button down and black slacks underneath an aquamarine blue haori, patterned with sakura blossoms branching out over the fabric. It made his skin and hair look paler. Not a single person turned to stare at him as he entered the room. Not a single person inside takes a second glance at him, strangely. It makes her even more suspicious.
Clearly, he's an important person.
Touka continues her conversation with Kimi and eyes him minutely. He goes to the table in the very back, already filled with angry weirdos, and his entourage sits before he does. They engage in conversation for a moment before he walks back, towards the bar.
His eyes are zeroed in on her.
She has the urge to tell Kimi that the weirdo with anime hair is coming this way, but Touka's paranoid enough to assume he'll try to read her lips (...successfully?). She knows Yomo can flawlessly, and since this group of degenerates masquerading as businessmen are clearly untrustworthy, as suspicious as Yomo is on his good days, she doesn't try it.
Instead, Touka starts talking about her histology exam for a moment, the fading click of the stranger's loafers coming into earshot.
"Don't be discouraged, Touka," Kimi says, swirling her wine in her glass. "Cells are boring for almost everyone. I mean, of course, the people who decide to work with them for a living are a different story. You'll pass the semester just fine."
Touka grunts, scowling in a way that she doesn't have to fake. "Maybe," she mutters. "I don't need this affecting my grade point average."
"Water, please."
Touka and Kimi look up at the same time to see the white haired man smiling calmly, politely, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. She's immediately struck by how handsome he looks up close; even, symmetrical features cradle a pair of dark eyes without discernible pupils, white lashes fluttering over pale skin. Though he is well dressed and sharp-shouldered, there is something soft and fine about his face that lends to an air of delicateness. There is a medical eye patch drawn over one eye, worn as casually as a watch, and she wonders what's behind it.
Still too strange looking, she decides.
Touka nods, and makes it a point to frown at the nonalcholic request before turning around to grab the water pitcher. Just something else to add to the list of strange qualities.
"Kaneki-san?" Kimi murmurs, eyes narrowing dangerously.
The bartender has the white haired man's - Kaneki's? - glass of water just as her friend calls out to him. Touka frowns as Kimi narrows her eyes in a dangerous, vicious manner. The fuck? she thinks irately.
It's rare to see her friend this angry, if ever, and Touka doesn't understand the immediate source.
"Nishino-san?" Kaneki said, a frown twisting up his face. "Are- are you alright?"
Kimi slipped from her seat gracefully, pushing away her wine glass. "Where is he?" she hissed.
"I don't- ah, understand?"
"Where. Is. Nishiki."
Kaneki frowned more deeply, looking over his shoulder towards the back table, and Touka, still holding the man's water, watched as Kimi cursed under her breath. Her expression changed completely - fury gave way to heart break. She dabbed under her tear stained face, patting smeared concealer back into place, and steadied her audible breathing.
"I'll be going now," Kimi said thickly, voice full of emotion. She slipped the clutch from her lap open, but Touka waved away her attempts.
"You're fine tonight," she replied. Then she walked closer, placing the water on the bar counter, but not letting it go. "He's here?"
"He's here."
Touka pursed her lips, hoping against hope that Nishiki wasn't the purple haired freak show. The bartender said nothing as her friend swallowed thickly, snatched her clutch into her hands, slipped on the coat hanging over her chair, and clicked away on high heels towards the back of the establishment.
"...is she alright?"
Touka returned her attention to the white haired man looking bewildered and confused as he switched glances between the bartender and the brunette ready to rip her ex a new one. His wallet was still clutched between his hands, cleanly folded bills hanging out half way. She heaved a sighed, and set down the water.
"You know Nishiki?" she said, raising a brow at him.
The white hair man nodded slowly, carefully. His visible eye is blank.
"Then you should probably inform your friend that breaking up with a long time significant other by text is pathetic," Touka says dully, eyes focusing over the man's shoulders, the bite in her voice deliberate. As Kimi drew closer to the table, the blonde with glasses shot up, a decidedly panicked expression on his face. "And cowardly."
"Ah," Kaneki said, pulling his money out. There was a strange wobble to his voice. "And...and when did this happen?"
Why do you need to know? she thinks, suspicious all over again.
Thankfully, for a different reason.
"Probably" Touka says carelessly. He handed her the bills, and she took them, walking over to the other side of the bar towards the cash register.
Kaneki is silent, still standing by the bar. He clutches his glass of water, ice already beginning to melt from the warmth of his hands. Touka puts the money into the cash register and stares at him. There is a decidedly guilty manner to his fidgeting, his wide eyed stare.
She isn't sure why she continues, and a part of her chalks it up wanting to fuck with him, but she doesn't ponder it long. "Pretty shady, if you ask me. Doesn't even give her any heads up before calling it quits," Touka drawls, slinking back to his side of the bar. He looks up to her with a neutral expression. "Kimi knows he's been hiding something, but she kept quiet. Didn't think it was serious until he says that he's dangerous."
Kaneki's mouth opens slightly, brows puckering, and then he gives his own tired sigh. "Is that so," he murmurs.
It wasn't a question. She scowls
"Yeah. Pretty fucking suspicious."
The door to the bar opens, but she barely registers it. Touka leans across the bar counter just slightly, enough to catch his attention. His gaze sharpens against her's. Behind him, Nishiki is dragging Kimi by the elbow through the bar and towards the upstairs room, their voices going unheard. No one really pays attention.
"Almost as suspicious as you," Touka says boldly, the words coming out of her mouth without thought.
Kaneki reaches up to scratch his chin unconsciously, and with a start, she realizes that his finger nails are black. It tickles at her memory, the combination of his pale hair and dark nails and this ridiculous demeanor that is both intimidating and incredibly irritating. She's close enough to catch the lingering scent of outside's winter wind and something distinctly skin-like.
"Is that so," Kaneki murmurs again, eyes narrowing.
Touka looks away, pushing his water closer to him. Her eyes land at the flash of long, purple hair from the corner of her eyes. The woman that stands there is full figured and swathed in dark clothing, a pale, heart shaped face with features she can't quite make out.
"Do you need anything else?" Touka's eyes not leaving the woman that is opening her coat rather deliberately. There is something small and black there. Away from the dim lights of Anteiku's main sitting area, it's hard for her to tell.
The bartender doesn't hear Kaneki's next words. A cold tremor something distinctly awful runs down her spine as the woman pulls out something that fits into the palm of her hand.
She isn't sure what slows down the world around her in the next few seconds, and hilariously, she's brought back to the adrenaline-pumping brawls of her elementary school days between her and kids twice her size. The lights go out completely. Her body moves on it's own. Touka lunges over the bar to grab Kaneki by the collar of his shirt as the woman aims and the loading of the pistol sounds in the back of her head like a bad memory. The white haired man makes a loud, strangled noise as she heaves him sideways to the floor.
The loud crack of the pistol is just a moment shy of the hot, piercing stab of pain in her bicep. It's all a disturbing blur from there. Blood gushes, shrieks echo, and bullets ricochet.
Shit, Touka thinks as she falls.
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To: Touka
From: Ayato
Anteiku was on the news for some kind of shooting? Are you okay? Did you get home?
Missed call from: Ayato
Missed call from: Ayato
To: Touka
From: Ayato
I swear to god if you don't pick up your fucking phone I'm going to your apartment.
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Missed call from: Ayato
To: Touka
From: Ayato
What the fuck, aniki
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She wakes up blearily, swathed in white sheets and yellow hospital lights and aching skin. The rest of her body is admittedly numb in a boneless sort of manner, but she doesn't dare try shifting a muscle. There is noise that's hard to process, but it melts into the murmur of voices, and trembling gasps that just might be her own, and the click of loafers against linoleum floors. There is something that is just not right settling into the pit of her stomach, and it's not necessarily the fact that she was fucking shot.
Touka takes her time with opening her eyes to the world. Then, immediately regrets it.
The bright lights make her shift away on command. "Goddamn it," she mumbles, feeling the throb of her arm echo all over her upper body.
"How are you feeling?"
Her eyelids flutter as she rolls her head to the side, where she heard the voice, and finds that movements involving her neck are just fine. A little stiff, a little sore, but still alright.
Touka glares.
Yoshimura sits by the hospital issue bed in a small, wooden chair that looks as old as him. It is a disturbance against the sleek, modern room around her. He looks down, a guilt-ridden expression on his face that makes her swallow back a scathing answer. It's a stupid question, but the man looks pitiful, so she excuses it.
"What happened?" Touka croaks.
"Our enemies have made...a grand statement, it seems," the old man murmurs out, his benevolent smile wry and bitter. She didn't like it one bit. "And you have been unfairly caught in the cross fire."
"Literally," she mutters on instinct. His expression grows more bitter, pinched around the brows. "What do you mean, enemies?"
"I mean," Yoshimura says, shifting his forearm towards her, unbuttoning the cuff, "that I have been hiding a terrible secret from you."
Silently, she muses to herself that she's never once seen the manager wear full sleeved shirts as he reveals his forearm. Her mouth goes wide, soft and weary, as his aged skin is revealed. The tattoo has clearly faded with time, but it is no less striking to her. An intricately designed owl takes flight over his wrist as thick tree branches and leaves stretch and thread together around it. Blood is stained against the owl's feathers, on down the tree branches, and even on the small, lifeless creatures that lay dead on it's branches.
She tries to force out words to no avail. Yakuza tattoo? Why does this kind old man have a yakuza tattoo? And why is it so horrifying? So gruesome?
"It's a long, convoluted story," Yoshimura mumbled, fixing his sleeve after what is probably several silent moments. Touka's mouth is still open. "I can only tell you my own part in all of this. There are others..."
"Kaneki," Touka blurts out. "The white haired one."
"Yes."
"And the blonde? Kimi's boyfriend?"
"Nishiki as well."
She nods, swallowing thickly. Yoshimura seems to understand that she isn't quite finished with him, so he stays, buttoning up his sleeve cuffs neatly. Touka breathes, shakes, and winces as the pain radiates. Yomo too, she suddenly decides. Yomo had to be the strangest of them all, if only because she knew him the longest. What was he hiding up his sleeves?
"I want," Touka starts, licking her suddenly dry lips, "my phone."
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...
From: Touka
To: Ayato, Yoriko
I'm fine, I swear I'm fine. I'm really sorry I get back to you sooner. I won't be back for a little while, but don't worry about me.
From: Touka
To: Ayato
Focus on school. I'll be there to annoy you soon enough.
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Thankfully, she manages to turn off her phone before she clocks out again.
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Maybe it's the pain killers that muddle together her next few hours, or just how truly terrible she feels, but Touka finds herself fading in and out of true consciousness. There is no window in the pseudo hospital room she's held in, and without any way to tell time, all she has is the level of grogginess to compare to the first time she'd awoken.
Kaneki sits in the chair Yoshimura awoke in. He is slumped over in a distinctly pathetic way that makes her think he hasn't had the best night (day?). Touka zeroes in on the slim black cell phone he toys with in his hand.
"Give it here," she rasps out.
The white haired man starts, nearly dropping it. Touka scowled at him and stretched out her arm that wasn't bandaged. Kaneki pursed his lips as he pressed the phone into her hand securely, reluctance clear in the gesture. Their hands brush together more than she likes, but she's too tired to glare at him properly for it. His hands, at least, are warm, and comforting to her icy fingertips.
Touka holds the button at the top of the phone as she gives him a sidelong glance.
"You look terrible," she says offhandedly.
Kaneki looks up, white lashes fluttering for just a moment. The smile that stretches across his face is genuine, if not weary. "Not as bad as you, hopefully," he replies.
She narrows her eyes.
"Seems like you're trying to compete," she retorts. His smile, the miserable thing, grows irritatingly shy. Touka focuses on the phone screen that suddenly floods with light, the plain maroon background showing several voice messages from Yoriko and angry text messages from her brother. She has to scroll through them to see the bottom. "What day is it, anyway?"
"Monday."
She missed her morning classes then. "Shit."
Touka only manages to send a reassuring, minimal message back to her brother and roommate before her arm gets tired. She knows she should call, should make sure that they can hear from her own mouth that she is okay, that she will be back soon, and there is nothing to worry about, but a stressful phone call is the last thing she needs right now. She doesn't want to end up falling asleep in the middle of it or snapping on people who don't deserve her anger.
"I...I'm...," Kaneki begins, attempting to draw her attention away from her phone.
"Are we really doing this?" Touka said lowly, shutting down her phone once more. Staring at the screen for too long hurt. "It's fine. Don't bother, honestly."
"B-but- you-"
"-seriously, just stop."
"I can't."
Touka blinks at the emotion in his voice, strained with something raw and...
...unstable, she decides. He trembles a bit, wide eyed and almost frightened. She scowls in confusion, but the expression drains from her face when their eyes meet. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, but a smart one - one that knows it's death is imminent, that it can only hope for something quick and clean.
"I- I am...Kirishima-san," Kaneki starts, biting down on his lower lip. It looked like it hurt. "I am someone that tries very hard to keep those closest to me safe. That is my...goal, so to speak."
"Really," Touka mutters, lips pursing. It's hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
He must have sensed it anyway, because he pauses. "I'm supposed to be keeping those precious to me safe," Kaneki murmurs. "And instead, I have...a track record of bringing others into the mess I've made. So...I am sorry. I am so sorry."
Touka sighs. She wants to keep arguing, because the look in his eyes...grates on her nerves, just the slightest. Hadn't she seen the bullet coming? Hadn't her body decided to pull him out of the way? It was pure instinct with how she knew that woman was aiming at Kaneki's head. At the end of the day, less of a mess was made if it was her arm rather than his skull, no matter how thick and impermeable she's finding it right now.
"How am I supposed to forgive you for something that I don't even blame you for?" Touka said, supremely irritated.
He didn't say anything at that, but his smile seemed to say something she didn't want to listen to. Clearly, he finds it a more acceptable answer than dismissal.
"How is Kimi?" she asks. Then, she sighs. "What-what even happened afterwards?"
His expression changes completely, a slow melting of normal human emotion to cold calculation. Kaneki looks away from her, toward the white walls of the fake hospital room like he can see right through them. "The woman that shot you is...was after me, in a sense," Kaneki murmurs softly. "There was some commotion, and the authorities were contacted. She's taken care of now."
Touka blinks.
"So she's dead," she says bluntly.
His smile is dark and immediately makes her uneasy. "You're a very straightforward girl, Kirishima-san," he says.
"Just Touka is fine," she amends.
.
.
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A/N: Y'all better tell me if I should continue this. Honestly I'd be chill with leaving this here and patting myself on the back for even pumping out this one shot when my life is so hectic rn. Also give me character feedback. Also dicuss with me the latest :RE chapters because I can't physically handle it (also, I"m so fucking tired of this lack of Kirishima siblings...I'm over it...where are my fucking kids). Remember to review!