First of all, thank you for taking the time to check out my story. It deeply pains me that there aren't more Takizawa/OC fics (or just Takizawa fics, period) out there to be enjoyed. I hope I can do his character some sort of justice with this story, though the primary focus will be on my own characters.
More than anything, I am seeking feedback. I'm always trying to improve my writing, and since I have had most of this chapter written up for almost a year now, I would really like a fresh set of eyes to help give me that spark and get the creative juices flowing.
Apologies for the length as well - I tried to paint a detailed picture of the characters that are introduced, so hopefully this will only be a one time thing.
20th Ward
Wednesday
14 Nov 2012
7:06 AM
The streets of Tokyo were in constant motion. Men and women moved hastily down the busy streets, bustling on and off trains between wards, in and out of coffee shops and restaurants in bleak uniformity. It was as depressing as it was fascinating, how so many people could follow the exact same routine in such mundane harmony. For one young woman, it was utterly unnerving. Everything was moving, but nothing was changing. She knew that tomorrow she would see the same vacant faces and empty stares pass by the same street corner, each one as uninterested in her presence as she was in theirs, only concerned with reaching their destination in a timely manner.
It was a shame, really. The young investigator always had a peculiar interest and a keen eye for the minute intricacies of human behavior, and if there was one thing she was sure of, it was that people were exceptionally predictable. Unlike mankind's prehistoric ancestors whose sharpened senses were a necessary means of survival, humans of today's generation seemed to be stuck in a perpetual state of obliviousness and one-track mindedness, making for easier prey than ever before.
Initially, it was humans who adapted to the existence of ghouls with the founding of the CCG and subsequent creation of anti-ghoul weaponry. But it became truly terrifying to realize that the threat was unperceivable - that not only did ghouls walk among humans, but they watched them, learned them, and led them unknowingly to their own deaths much like a farmer herding his cattle to the slaughterhouse.
It was sick, but it was reality all the same.
The 20th Ward's branch office stood out against the rest of the city due to its sheer size and unique architectural design. When the sun was high in the sky, it's massive shadow cloaked the smaller structures and streets below in an intimidating darkness. The gentleman approaching the building came to a pause outside the glass double doors, reaching inside his suite jacket for the pack of cigarettes stashed in the pocket. The woman at his side rolled her stormy eyes as he lit the cigarette with a swift flick of his silver plated lighter and brought it to his lips.
"You sure you have time for one of those?" she posed, quirking an eyebrow upwards in a manner that suggested she didn't quite believe he did. The man took a long drag and flicked the ashes to the concrete before fixing her with a cold stare, one that she met with equal indifference.
He ran a hand through his hair and leaned his back against the building to let her know he didn't plan on moving any time soon. She frowned deeply. "I've always got time for a smoke," he gruffly replied, his voice deep and gravelly; he refused to argue with his hard-nosed subordinate whose cold, calculating eyes cut straight through him. She wore the same sour look that seemed permanently etched into his own face though her features were much softer and more feminine, her full lips and angled cheekbones a sharp contrast to his chiseled jawline and broad, aquiline nose.
"Don't let me keep you," he told her after several seconds of silence as she stared silently down the street with her arms crossed over her chest in a solemn pout. "I have to meet with Houji and Shinohara beforehand. You may as well go on up to the meeting room." He blew out another puff of smoke and she watched it billow upwards and dissipate in the air.
He seemed to be in no rush to finish his cigarette and her patience was already wearing thin, so the young investigator decided to go on ahead without her partner, assuring him she would see him later despite his apparent lack of concern. She had to pause to admire the interior of the massive building as soon as she stepped through the door, awed by the architecture of the magnificent foyer. The CCG emblem was displayed upon the wall behind the front desk in all its glory, illuminated by fluorescent lights that were angled from the ceiling to convey its great importance. A lounge area complete with plush furniture and clean wooden coffee tables sat on a large rug that complimented the pristine white tile floors, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air.
She found the elevator and rode it up several floors as she gazed out upon the streets below with mild interest. The 20th Ward was all too familiar to the self-possessed young woman seeing as she had called it home since she was a child. She and her younger sister had a relatively calm and peaceful childhood growing up in an upper middle class suburban neighborhood outside of all the hustle and bustle of the city, and their mother was always home to take care of them while their father was away at work. A remarkably kind and nurturing woman, their mother was constantly battling issues with her health that kept her bed ridden or otherwise confined to their home. She spent this time with her girls the best that she could, but she passed away in her sleep when she was only thirty years old. The somber woman liked to think that her mother's death had given her a better sense of reality. She and her father had spent the last few months working tirelessly to quell the chaos in the 11th Ward and to no avail as the ghouls in the ward had begun targeting investigators, rendering the branch office completely powerless. There was little they could do once their comrades had been wiped out, and so it was decided that she and Makio were to be transferred to the 20th Ward.
She paused outside the designated meeting room to knock respectfully before letting herself in. She was immediately aware of how bright and spacious the room was with the large conference table taking up a large chunk of space in the center of the room. The entire back wall was lined by windows allowing natural light to pour into the room and enhance the brightness of the bland white walls and tile floor, but what caught her eye was the impish young man seated at the very back of the room. He looked upon her with wide, curious crimson red eyes and a mouth full of potato chips. He seemed to be wearing a loose fitting button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black capri pants with patterned suspenders in blatant disregard of the CCG's strict in-office dress code. Not only that, but he had a vast array of junk food spread out before him as if he were in the middle of eating it all by himself; she was almost positive that was against some sort of policy.
He looked quite familiar. Her eyes went from the candy in front of him to the strange stitches decorating the flesh of his right arm and suddenly it all came together in her head, a small smile curving the corners of her lips. "Good morning, Suzuya-san."
The androgynous young man blinked in response, eyes following as she moved from the doorway. "G' mornin'…" he wearily replied through a mouth full of junk food, though he seemed rather unsure of himself. He grabbed a two-liter bottle of soda and guzzled half of its contents, and when he was done, he sighed contentedly and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Who are you?" he bluntly inquired, his head tilted just slightly to the side in a way that made him seem rather childish.
The dark headed girl smiled good-naturedly as she plopped down in one of the chairs nearest the snowy haired boy. "Figures you would forget me," she teased, "I did break your nose, after all. I guess that really was unforgivable." She bopped him on the nose as she spoke and he flinched at the gesture.
There was a short moment of silence before his eyes went wide in a distinct look of recognition. An exuberant smile split across his face as he slapped the palms of his hands on the table and jumped out of his seat in a sudden burst of excitement. "Haruhi-chan!" he gasped, ruby hues sparkling. "Of course I forgave you, stupid! I didn't feel it anyways!" She giggled at his enthusiastic reaction, reaching across the table to give his stitched hand a reassuring pat. It warmed the girl's heart to see Juuzou so happy to see her after such a long time, but it was obvious he was still struggling to understand his emotions. In the moment, he was so excited he was shaking, but he couldn't quite decipher what it meant or what he should do about it; was he supposed to hug her? Should he tell her that he had missed her or something like that? He wasn't sure, so he just stared at her and grinned blissfully.
Haruhi was one of the few people Juuzou felt he could call a friend. Shinohara introduced him to her and her family when he was younger and still attending the junior academy, and he ended up spending a considerable amount of time with them in an effort on his concerned mentor's part to improve the troubled boy's poor social skills. They were different to him, he remembered, because they didn't look at him with the same looks of mistrust and contempt that he was so familiar with receiving from the students and instructors at the academy who accused him of killing small, innocent animals like some heartless savage — Haruhi and her family always treated him like a person, never questioning why he was the way that he was. They, much like Shinohara, accepted him as best as they could.
Haruhi and her sister taught him how to ride a bike. Initially, it was hard for him to grasp the concept of just being able to stay upright. Then it became overwhelming as he struggled to balance on two wheels while spinning the pedals at his feet and cautiously steering the handlebars down a safe, obstacle-free path. He wanted to quit just as soon as he had begun, but the two girls forced him into trying again, over and over until he finally got the hang of it. He fell a lot, but it was fun.
Shinohara told him once that riding a bike is something that can't be forgotten no matter how long you go without doing it. Juuzou wanted to teach Haruhi something she would always remember, too.
The warm moment between the two old friends was suddenly disrupted by the click of the doorknob as the robust figure of none other than Amon Koutarou quietly entered the room, a broody expression on his face. His eyes moved from the floor to meet Haruhi's apathetic gunmetal blue hues and a look of surprise flashed across his face for a moment.
"Goooood morning~!" Juuzou greeted him enthusiastically, spreading his arms out wide in a welcoming gesture.
The large man's eyes swept over him distastefully as he entered the room. "Good morning, Suzuya-san…" he politely replied, though his face betrayed his dissatisfaction with the young man's appearance. He turned to Haruhi and visibly relaxed, offering his hand for her to shake. "Good morning, Kamenashi-san."
"Good morning," she replied, standing from her seat to give his hand a quick shake. "I haven't seen you in a while. Though I've heard all about your admirable feats." A gracious smile spread across his face, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I was just about to say the same to you," he said. Amon and Haruhi began working with the CCG around the same time and became familiar with one another during their time at the Main Office. Amon came in under the intense scrutiny of his superiors as he had graduated from the academy at the top of his class and was expected to excel under the mentorship of the honorable Mado Kureo while Haruhi was something of a "special case" snatched up from the junior academy at only sixteen years old. She starkly stood out from the rest of her classmates due to her extraordinary physical ability and sharp-wittedness, but many of her superiors believed her father's status as a high ranking and well established ghoul investigator was the sole reason for her early admission into the CCG. Much like her father, her coworkers came to see her as rather severe and tactlessly indifferent; her imposing nature commanded respect, but also inspired an unwarranted feeling of trepidation and inferiority amongst her colleagues.
"I was the first to arrive," Juuzou proudly announced, cutting his eyes toward the ebony haired woman spitefully as he munched on a candy bar.
Amon sighed deeply at the mischievous investigator, a pronounced frown tugging the corners of his mouth downwards. "Well… Your morning greeting is good…" he supplied. Haruhi smiled sympathetically at the dignified young man. "But… what's with your clothes? You're so slovenly." Juuzou seemed genuinely caught off guard by his accusatory question, confusion swimming in his big, crimson eyes.
He scrunched his eyebrows together and looked to Amon with a muddled expression, crumbs decorating the corners of his mouth. "Is there something wrong with my clothes somewhere?" he asked innocently, which only seemed to frustrate Amon even further. He scoffed at Juuzou's apparent cluelessness.
"It'd be harder for me to find any places that weren't wrong," he harshly mocked causing Juuzou to flinch. Haruhi shrunk back in her seat as the bulky investigator pointed accusingly at his outfit. "Your shirt should be buttoned all the way to the top. And where's your neck tie? And put some pants on that go all the way to your ankles. And no eating in the meeting room!" Juuzou scrambled to gather up his junk food and pack it away in his bag.
"Besides all of that," Amon said, "what's with those stitch marks? I thought they might have been for closing wounds, but I see now that's not the case."
"It's called 'body stitch'," he explained, turning over his stitched arm for Amon to see. He grimaced in disgust. "I learned about it from my friend who's a body modification aficionado. Would you like me to show you?" He was grabbing the thread and needle out of his bag before Amon had the chance to respond.
Haruhi waved her hands dismissively toward Juuzou. "Ah, Suzuya-kun, I'm sure that's not necessary," she politely urged, but he brushed her off and proceeded to show the Rank 1 investigator how it was done. Amon's disgust turned to horror before Haruhi's eyes as Juuzou began stitching the skin of his wrist with the sterile needle all the while giving a crude explanation of the process. She could only watch passively from the side.
Juuzou finished his masterpiece and proudly held it up for Amon to see. "It's finished, see? It's a flower."
Amon moved away from the stitched boy. "That's disgusting," he grumbled, but Juuzou didn't acknowledge his words. Instead he grabbed the end of the thread that was stitched through his skin and yanked it free with a sickening swip!
Amon seemed deeply disturbed by the display as he took his seat at the far end of the table. Haruhi couldn't blame him for judging the strange young man; he went back to eating his candy when he thought Amon wasn't looking. Given his precarious mental state due to his harsh background and his uniquely adept ghoul slaying abilities, Juuzou was almost completely immune to the CCG's most basic policies. He had Shinohara to bail him out of most trouble if he couldn't keep him out of it in the first place.
Haruhi turned toward the door as another young man entered the room. He was unfamiliar to her, leanly built and muscled with a childishly round face and big brown eyes that betrayed his innocent naivety. He met her curious stare and seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Good morning," he said.
"Good morning," Haruhi replied, standing from her seat to shake his hand as he approached her. "Kamenashi Haruhi, Rank 2. I look forward to working with you…" She trailed off intending for him to give his name, but he seemed at a loss for words as he stared upon her with a look of wonder and slowly shook her hand.
When he registered she was waiting for a response, he managed to recover from his awestruck trance. "Oh, I-I'm Takizawa Seidou, Rank 2," he said, offering a nervous smile as he anxiously fidgeted with his tie. Seidou had never formally met the infamous female investigator, but he had seen her in passing and admired her from afar. It was incredibly rare that a woman be instated into the CCG without first receiving formal training at the academy, and even rarer that she be instated at such a young age. Not to mention she was one of the most gorgeous girls he had ever laid eyes on and the daughter of one of the most fearsome investigators in the bureau. He was sure he had once heard Houji praise her for her excellent quinque skills, likening her hard hitting, fast paced fighting style to that of her father's.
Haruhi's daunting reputation was what had always kept Seidou from trying to approach her, afraid of being mocked or blatantly ignored, so he was a bit caught off guard by her rather warm introduction. Of course he already knew who she was, but he wasn't going to make that comment; not like he had with Amon, when he got so nervous he wound up stumbling over his introduction and made himself look like a fool.
Haruhi smiled amicably. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Takizawa-san."
A light blush rose to his cheeks and an exuberant grin stretched across his face. "It's nice to meet you as well," he said. The childlike excitement that sparkled in his eyes with shameless clarity put the impassive young woman in mind of her naive little sister. The girl was a sharp contrast to her mature and much more reserved older sibling. She wore her heart on her sleeve and had a tendency to act upon her earnest convictions, the genuineness of her actions often obscured by her temperamental nature. Seidou wore the same sincere albeit naive look of admiration Haruhi sometimes saw on her sister's face when she caught the teen staring from the corner of her eye.
"G'mornin'," Juuzou greeted Seidou, not bothering to mask his indifference as he continued to stuff his face. The young man's smile instantly faded as his gaze shifted to the white haired delinquent.
"Juuzou, put that candy away," he directed, brown eyes narrowing contemptuously. "This is the meeting room!" There was a short pause as Juuzou looked pointedly at the brunette before taking another big bite of the sugary treat in his hand. Seidou visibly bristled when he hummed in exaggerated delight and Haruhi sighed deeply as an overwhelming sense of foreboding filled her chest.
Seidou marched forward and promptly snatch the candy from him. "Ignoring me, huh?" he scoffed at Juuzou's incredulous face, "You're younger than me aren't you?!"
Seidou had barely gotten the words out before a stitched fist was coming down on his nose, and Haruhi was out of her seat just a second too late. Seidou cried out as he stumbled back from the impact, relinquishing the candy bar as his hands instinctively went to his injured nose. The equable woman reflexively snagged the troublemaker by the ear, having done so many times in the past, pinching a pressure point that made his whole body go rigid. "Ah—! What'd you do that for, Haruhi-chan?" Juuzou whined, squirming around in her ruthless iron grip. She yanked him harshly back in his seat and he yelped out — more out of annoyance than actual pain — as she glared down at him with scathing disapproval.
"Because you know better than to act in such a way," she chided, though her voice lacked its usual assertiveness. He swatted at her hand until she released him and then turned to glare at her with a sullen pout on his face as he gingerly rubbed his sore ear. She arched an eyebrow at him challengingly, but he wasn't in the mood to push her any further. Amon remained seated at the opposite end of the table looking anxious and fidgety but otherwise unmoved by the exchange even as Seidou proceeded to bleed all over the meeting room.
Haruhi produced a handkerchief from the pocket of her pea coat and quickly approached the bloodied investigator. "Come with me," she ordered, grabbing him by his necktie and dragging him toward the door before he had the chance to protest, "you're making an awful mess."
Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he struggled to contain the blood flowing freely from his nostrils while he scrambled for something to stop the bleeding. He really didn't want to dirty up the woman's clean white handkerchief, but he couldn't quite afford to be picky. He could feel the blood seeping between his fingers and dripping down his chin, threatening to stain the collar of his shirt. The disgruntled brunette accepted the handkerchief and reluctantly allowed the solemn woman to pull him along despite his utter mortification, all the while assuring her he was alright and didn't really need any help.
She silently led him into an unoccupied bathroom at the end of the long hallway, shutting the door behind them. The anxious investigator felt his heart skip a beat in his chest when she turned to him with a softer expression on her face. "Keep your head tilted back just a bit," she instructed, placing a finger under his chin and gently coaxing him to lean his head back. He stood at least six inches taller than her, so she was forced to stand on her toes in order to properly inspect the injury to his face.
Seidou was suddenly aware of the woman's deliberate closeness, and a bright red flush rose to his cheeks. "I, w-why are you-" he sputtered nervously under her careful gaze only for her to shush him and brush his hand away. She gingerly lifted the soiled handkerchief from his face to inspect his nose and he held his breath.
He winced when she began blotting at the blood on his face. "Ah, I'm sorry," she apologized, her feather light touches sending shockwaves through his body for one reason or another. The bashful brunette could only blink in response, at a loss for words as the beautiful investigator tended to his wound. She turned from him to dampen a paper towel in the bathroom sink. "I hope you don't take this too personally, Takizawa-san. Juuzou can certainly be a bit… difficult."
He frowned. Was he just supposed to forgive the little punk for punching him in the face? What could possibly warrant such behavior be glossed over without proper repercussions? "He has no respect for anybody," Seidou grumbled irritably, glancing over to find the woman's somber gray-blue hues in the mirror, "it's infuriating…"
She wrung the towel off and turned back around to face him. "Oh, you're definitely right. He's a punk," she agreed, the faintest hint of a smile on her face, "but Juuzou doesn't just respect anybody. For him, respect is something that has to be earned."
Seidou scoffed. "So it's my fault he punched me in the face?" He could have sworn the corners of her mouth twitched as if she were struggling to hold back a laugh. He timidly averted his eyes.
"Maybe so," she quipped, "but I'm not trying to convince you to blame yourself. I'm just trying to give you a bit of advice."
"Why should I be the one trying to earn his respect?" he questioned. "He's hardly respectable in the first place, the way he acts and dresses…" A silence fell over the two and for a moment, Seidou wondered if he had offended her. It was obvious she had some sort of affinity for the androgynous teen, and he had hardly considered that before shooting off his mouth.
When the irascible young man had finally gathered up enough courage to look back at her, he saw a thoughtful expression on her face. "Then it sounds like you understand Suzuya-kun perfectly," she deadpanned, thought her eyes betrayed her amusement at his apparent frustration. It was odd, he thought, as he gazed upon the normally hard and impassive female investigator he had only ever admired from afar. Though she came across as rather cold and unfeeling, he found something rather comforting in the stormy depths of her eyes, a vague though distinct sincerity that made him want to lean in closer, look deeper for the source of such a gentle warmth so that he could have more. He wasn't sure what exactly sparked this sudden infatuation, and as the fog in his mind began to clear, he was strongly aware of how close she was to him. He felt his stomach churn and his mouth go dry.
He swallowed thickly as she carefully cleaned away the remaining blood from his face. "Does it hurt?"
"Er, a bit, but not so bad," he said. "I think it's almost stopped bleeding." He froze, heart thudding rapidly in his chest as she reached up to brush his hair out of his face. The ever present blush that colored his cheeks spread down his neck like a violent affliction, and he clenched his jaw tightly in an attempt to maintain what little composure he had left.
She was either too engrossed in her examination or simply chose to ignore how tense he was under her touch as she coaxed him to look to the side so she could get a better look. "It's a bit swollen, but I don't believe it's broken," she concluded, releasing his face and reaching to grab another paper towel from the dispenser on the wall. She ripped a small piece off and rolled it up before handing it to him. "You may want to put this in your nose until the bleeding is completely stopped."
He graciously accepted the small piece of paper from her. "Thank you, Kamenashi-san," he thanked her. "You really didn't have to do any of this." She simply shrugged her shoulders, bringing her hands together behind her back in a way that made her seem noble and refined. She looked over at her reflection in the mirror and the contented expression on her face instantly faded, replaced by the harsh mask that was so familiar to her.
Seidou eyed her warily and allowed his idle thoughts to wander. He had always found the woman to be a bit frightening, but now he realized that something about her seemed almost melancholic. Her reputation as a skilled investigator preceded her; it wasn't just any ordinary woman that could conquer the ghouls she had conquered alongside her father, let alone from such a young age, and to be able to walk away from the chaos tearing apart the 11th Ward was an achievement in itself. She carried herself with such unremitting dignity and grace that others were off put by her, intimidated by her distinguished reputation and commanding presence. She was feared and respected, and she was only a Rank 2 investigator.
Why did she look so miserable?
Her perplexing blue-gray eyes met his and a wan smile crossed her face. "I couldn't stand to watch you bleed out," she teased, her eyes falling musingly to the floor. "It's strange. I guess I was reminded of all the bloody noses I've had to help my sister take care of."
"Oh?" Seidou smiled genuinely. "So your sister tends to get nosebleeds?"
Haruhi shook her head. "Not exactly. She's just exceptionally clumsy." He laughed out loud as he followed the forbearing woman out of the restroom.
Haruhi met eyes with her father as she and Seidou neared the conference room. He was standing outside the doorway chatting idly with Shinohara, Houji and Amon about something that seemed to be incredibly amusing as the former's booming laughter echoed down the long corridor. His steely gray eyes flickered to the young man at her side before meeting hers again, a silent query that she chose to ignore. "Oh, there you are," Houji greeted the two as they approached, though his lighthearted expression changed to one of concern when he saw the young man's bloody nose. "What happened?" he asked.
Haruhi waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing too serious, just a little, er… accident," she explained, cutting her eyes toward the stitched hoodlum who was taunting the brunette from behind the Special Class investigators' backs. Seidou must have noticed as his hands clenched into tight fists.
Haruhi was admittedly thankful that he didn't seem to have any fight left in him and smiled reassuringly as he let out a dejected sigh, the tension visibly lifting from his slender shoulders. "Don't worry, it's really not that big of a deal," he assured his broad-shouldered superior. The debonair older man smiled sympathetically.
Shinohara clapped his hands together to get everyone's attention, a broad smile on his face. Haruhi wondered what it would be like working alongside him. The large man was a beacon of positive energy, an inimitably kind and benevolent human being that radiated a comforting warmth of spirit like nothing she had ever encountered. It was he who once dragged her father from the darkness in which he spiraled deeply, a miserably angry widower on the brink of insanity following the death of his wife. Makio and his daughters were disconsolate and blaming themselves for not doing something differently, for not trying harder to save her from the end that found her so young. Though her health had been deteriorating for years, her death was like a punch in the gut that left the father and children gasping for air, devastated by the loss of someone so infinitely special.
"Well since we're all here, we may as well get this meeting started," the stout investigator announced, motioning for everybody to enter the room. Haruhi made to follow the group into the room as they shuffled out of the hallway, but Makio grabbed her arm before she could escape. She gave him an agitated look.
"What was that about?" he asked quietly so as not to get anybody's attention. "I didn't think you were the compassionate type." The raven-haired woman glared bitterly at the smirk on his face.
"I just wanted to help," she clarified, jerking her arm from his grasp and smoothing the wrinkles from her coat. "I'm capable of being kind, you know."
The cheeky grin fell from his lips as his expression returned to its usual sour mask. "Yeah, well, just don't go giving that kid any ideas." His eyes flickered to something over her shoulder as he sullenly grumbled, "he's got that dumb, hopeful wide-eyed look."