One thread for every battle, one stitch for every death.
He is very strict about this. It wouldn't do to make a mess of things, after all.
It starts after, when the people without black-and-red eyes take him away and tell him he's wrong, that he's bad.
He hears them—how can he not?—and while he hates them, it's an apathetic hate. There isn't any true vehemence in it.
But he does mourn. He mourns their deaths regardless, though he doesn't cry. Whether they were kind—and none of them were, only he was ever kind—or cruel, their loss aches.
He doesn't really understand it, how someone can be there, vibrant and brilliant and colorful and then be gone.
So he covers his legs in stitch after stitch, because his death wasn't just a normal death. The hole was too big, too wide, too painful.
And he swears, he's going to kill all of them. Every last motherfucker who dares breathe in his blood, who dares defile his memory.
The battle hasn't ended yet. So he enters their database, and finds the estimated number of ghouls thought to live.
Not in Tokyo.
The world.
A stitch for all of them, because he's going to take their head.
And the battle hasn't ended yet, so stitch after stitch after stitch, until his spool runs out, and he plucks another from his bedside and ties the ends together. One thread for every battle, a stitch for every death.
There isn't a stitch big enough for his.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I kinda sorta hate Tokyo Ghoul, after watching season two and the end of season one, but…yeah, this gave me hardcore feels. Like, HOLY FUCK feels. I cried.
So, prompt #9 for my 100 theme challenge goes to Tokyo Ghoul.