Retrouvaille: Chapter 1
Haise let out short bursts of air, wishing the burning sensation inside of his lungs would relax. Wishing was futile, for wishes never came true. Not for him, at least. He found wishes rarely came true for him these days. He licked his cracked lips with the tip of his dry tongue, and beads of cold sweat rolled down the side of his neck.
The sound of yelling and rapid taps of feet were approaching closer and closer with every second. He couldn't afford to rest-the people who had once been his friends, or at least some sort of pleasant acquaintance, considered him an enemy. But his legs burned, and if he didn't rest, they would fall off altogether.
Five more seconds. No, maybe a minute, they can't catch us this quickly. Right? But they've caught others quicker, he thought turbulently. We might be-they might-!
"Haise, dude, get it together! We've got this far, we're going to be fine."
A steady hand shook his stiff shoulder and stopped him from drowning in his own hyper worries. Haise lifted his weary head to look at the man standing next to him, looking just as worn as he was. A certain warmth cradled his pounding heart.
He-the man-was the reason. For his sore legs, for the people running after him, for his life he could no longer return to. Haise was still weighing the pros and cons of the situation, and it was beginning to look like there were more negative things to say.
Looking at him reminded him that maybe it was worth it. Maybe he didn't have to regret it. The man smiled reassuringly, and Haise felt himself smile, despite everything. The man's smile was infectious.
Haise called his name.
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"Rank 1 Sasaki!"
The Quinx had come to work early to review their current investigation, pertaining to a ghoul and the death of a human. Isn't that always the case? Haise thought in disdain. He didn't have much time to spare for his lingering thoughts as one of the Rank 3 workers came walking briskly towards him.
"Oh, good morning," Haise greeted. Even if it wasn't necessary, Haise felt it was practically protocol to greet every person with a "good morning" if the time spanned from six to eleven in the morning. The fellow employee flashed a brief smile and returned his "good morning"'s. "What's the matter?" he asked.
"Arima wishes to speak with you immediately. Privately," the man added lowly, blandly eyeing the other all-too-eager Quinxes. "He says the other are to wait calmly in the lobby."
"Can't we at least go work on our current case, as we're here?" Tooru asked. The messenger paused, and then shrugged.
"Arima specifically requested that you stay here, but I don't see why you can't work on your case," the man agreed wonderingly. He scratched the back of his head. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "I'm only relaying what he told me."
"How about we listen to Arima for now?" Haise suggested and turned to give the Quinx a wary smile. "Stay here. I'll try and be quick."
Shirazu huffed impatiently, but plopped down on one of the lobby couches, arms folded tightly. As ambient as ever, Tooru complied smoothly and scooched into the space next to his impatient friend. Urie gave a curt, silent nod, but something in the back of Haise's mind whispered that Urie was going to go work anyway.
"Now, if we can get going?" The man suggested. Haise tore his gaze away from the ones he considered as family, even if their view of him wasn't a mirror image, and followed the man to Arima.
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"Hello, Haise."
"Hello. Good morning, Arima," Haise greeted, making sure to keep up with his morning tradition. He gave a small, respectful bow. The air was always so icy in the meeting room, no matter the season. He suspected the cause was reckless, intense air conditioning. "What do you need?"
"I would like if you sat down first," Arima spoke blandly. He pushed up his glasses, which surely had not a smudge on the lenses. Haise smiled dryly. It was always hard to tell between Arima's fine lines of sarcasm and seriousness, but he complied nonetheless. He slid himself into the hard, cold seat across the long table from his superior. Somehow, Arima seemed colder, more distant than usual.
"Alright. So…?" He trailed off, urging him to begin. Haise could tell there wasn't any room in the tense atmosphere for light banter. Arima pulled out a surprisingly thick manilla folder with countless colorful tabs. It was difficult to estimate exactly how thick that bulging folder was.
"Your team is to drop the current case. Starting from today, you're to find and kill the S-rated ghoul The Vagabond, Hideyoshi Nagachika."
There was a sudden explosion inside of him that singed his heart, but when Haise opened his mouth, he found himself saying that's fine. The words were oddly difficult to push out.
It's probably nothing, he thought to himself.
Despite his thoughts, there was a distant cry in the depths of his mind.
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.
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"Sassan?"
How many times did someone have to save himself from his own thoughts?
"Oh, sorry," Haise replied absentmindedly. Everything was fuzzy and unclear, like impressionist paintings. The scenery sharply came back into focus. As expected, it was their clean and tidy apartment. The lights felt too bright for their own good. "What's wrong, Shirazu?"
Shirazu sighed the way an exasperated teenager might. "I've been callin' yer name for the past minute," he snapped irritably, eyes narrowed sharply. Then, they softened. "You've been kinda out of it ever since the meeting. You...You okay?"
Haise, out of pure will, smiled. "Sorry, Shirazu," he apologized, distractedly scratching the back of his head, "but I'm okay. Just tired," and his throat tightened. To make a point, he stretched his mouth wide open and pretended to yawn drowsily. It wasn't that hard, since he was already tired.
He seemed to buy it. Shirazu blinked, and then brightened up instantly, much like a brand new light bulb.
"Alright," he replied, seemingly content. His serious mood lifted completely, disappearing to the land of who-knows-where. "Oh, yeah! Hey, could'ya help me with-"
"I think I'll have to head to bed early," Haise interrupted, feigning ignorance. "Good night, Shirazu. Don't stay up late." His ears rang like hyperactive wedding bells on drugs, and his voice felt detached from his body. Shirazu opened his mouth, but then shut it and went silent.
"O-OK," Shirazu stammered. He visibly deflated. "...G'night, then." Haise gave him a small smile, roughly patted his shoulder once, and trudged heavily up the winding stairs.
He hung his head low, hair flopping messily in front of his face. What he had said earlier wasn't entirely a lie, as he was beginning to find out. Normally, analyzing any case wouldn't leave him so unbearably drained, but this new one sure as hell did.
His movements didn't feel like his own. His consciousness felt distant, focusing somewhere else. As he brushed his teeth, his arm noticeably drooped with fatigue.
Haise fell face down with an airy whump onto his happily fluffy bed, and allowed an exhausted groan from himself. He was still struggling to figure out the reason for this mysterious lack of energy. Looking at files for hours on end was the norm, and everything today was just everyday routine.
So…why?
With his limbs feeling quite strikingly like lead, he rolled onto his side, back facing the wall. His heavy-lidded eyes drifted towards his desk, and he felt a soft pang seeing the thick manila folder sitting there on the edge.
Ah.
Yes, that.
The new case-it had to be it. Feelings he couldn't place nor understand had been sapping away his time, thoughts, concentration, and energy all day. Just looking at it made Haise just a little bit-frustrated. It had, after all, been bothering immensely for the past 24 hours.
Slowly, the folder began to tip off the edge. In his tired, groggy state, Haise merely watched to see if it would stabilize itself. Then, it began to tip off the far edge. He jolted up to attempt catching it before it fell, but it ended up hitting the ground with a loud slap.
Considering his mind was spinning and the voices just wouldn't fucking shut the hell up, he reached over, arm flailing, to reach the folder. He caught it with his fingertips and heaved it onto his bed. He splayed it open across his lap, careful not to let the bulging contents spill.
The first paper was a thorough description about everything the CCG currently knew about the S-rated ghoul Hideyoshi Nagachika. Just reading the bolded letters of the ghoul's name on the paper put a weight on his chest.
This nearly unbearable weight confused him beyond words. He-he-he didn't even know this man-no, ghoul. Never in his entire life had he ever met Nagachika. (Fuck, there was that weight again.) He was a total stranger, and Haise wanted to keep it that way.
Well, to say that was a bit of a stretch. Even if Haise didn't want to know about him, he wouldn't be able to help it. On the paper was written the ghoul's personality, old department in the CCG, favorite dishes, quirks, and everything in between.
That was the strange part.
Hearing this ghoul was originally human shocked him. Even now, the thought made his heart soar to the seventh heaven, because that meant this ghoul was not a ghoul, per se, but half ghoul and half human.
In other words, he was like him. Nagachika was like him, and that meant Haise wasn't alone in this world.
However, Arima could tell right away that Haise felt this way by the expression he had when Arima told him. His superior had said to him, "Either way, the Vagabond is a ghoul. Remember, he's a ghoul first, and a human second."
Haise had begged to begin a protest, but had also known it was unwise to do so.
He would never tell this to a single soul, but when he read that name, he felt more than just a weight. He felt nostalgia like reading old favorite children's books, happiness that could send a person to heaven right there, and a bitterness that could rot the world
That wasn't just because Nagachika was a human-ghoul hybrid. Haise knew more than anyone that he must've had a connection to this person in his past life.
And that was exactly what had been tiring him all day.
Even worse, Haise knew he would still have to kill him.
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In a distant, black alleyway, a starved man groaned at the pain.
The pain was both physical and emotional, but damn everything if it wasn't mainly emotion.
He laid his head against the scratchy brick wall, not even caring about the way his yellow hair stuck to it. He found it hard to are when the pain in his heart was near excruciating.
It was even enough to prick his eyes with tears when he hadn't cried in nearly a year and a half. The weighty pain rose, lightened, and then crashed down again like a war bomb. Outcome a soft sob, but he gasped and shut in the brimming tears.
"Damnit," he murmured shakily under his breath. "D-Damnit." He slumpd to the ground and curled upon himself against the cold, rigid brick wall.
It hurt. It hurt, badly, so, so badly.
"…Kane…Kaneki, where-are you…?"
A/N: Hello! I'm back with another story, one which I'm heavily interested and been just pretty damn invested in. I know I still have my other TG fanfiction, which I haven't updated in a while (I apologize to my faithful readers for that one! A new chapter should be up soon). I cannot promise regular updates, but I'll try to achieve a balanced schedule.
I think everyone has the gist here? Hide is a half ghoul, and now Sassan has to go hunt him. Lovely. Don't know if that's already a thing on here, actually. Well, tell me if you're interested in this, should I continue it, any thoughts or kind criticism.
Thank you so much for reading! 3