A/N: Yo. I'm winging it.
Hook—Line—& Sinking
If God were real, I don't like to imagine that any of us were created in his image.
There has to be a point that sets us apart from Him. Something different than just us having the ability to die and be at the mercy of His inspection. If anything, it can't be that we are cruel and He is not. After all, there is no such existence to be called kind when it is my existence that has been created from it.
Thou shalt not kill—the words echo in my ears with the sound of deceit.
What sort of short-sighted god ever could conceive such a demand?
Perhaps it was one of the many things mistranslated over the many years since the creation of the book.
"Thou must kill," I correct, watching the meat sizzle on the pan. The scent wafts closer to my nose and I inhale deeply. In the moment, I don't think of where it has come from. I can only await eagerly for it to fry as I keep a careful watch on it.
I smile and try not to salivate.
How I must look to others...
I sigh at the pointlessly self-conscious thought.
If I am to be judged by others as I have judged them, I'm sure my rating would be low enough to sink six feet under soft overturned dirt.
"Risa-chan, have fun at school," Mama calls to me and I press a kiss to my palm before blowing it at her. Her expression softens as she raises her hand to catch it before placing it to her lips. "Mwuah!"
"Bye bye," I call to her, waving as I slip on my shoes and out the door.
Outside, I breathe in and exhale slowly. Pressing my fingertips to the sign of my pulse on my wrist, I center on calming my thoughts without making it obvious that I might as well be having a panic attack.
I hate first days of school, especially in new places.
Attempting to hum a gentle tune to check for a shake in my voice, I set off towards the place I know will be a form of hell.
I can already feel the eyes of curious classmates, can already hear the whispers in their attempt to speculate my history. They'll notice first that I'm not entirely Japanese—being taller than the average girl and for the shape of my eyes taking more after my Scandinavian father.
Then, beyond that, they'll talk about how eerily quiet I am.
After all, I won't be talking with any of them—while Father is strong enough to form attachments and bonds with humans, I have never been. How scary, how tedious, how disgusting it would be for me. It's something so difficult; having love for what you know won't last long.
In other words, I can never be friends with pigs on a farm.
"Ahh."
Not for the first time that morning, I find myself sending a prayer to the cloudy skies.
I wish you were here, Papa.
It smells like it will rain today.
When introductions have passed and I'm seated in my chair, I find that the center of my calm has returned. I'm in familiar territory—in the back of the class with only a spare few able to sneak glances my way. I still hear the whispers but I'm thankful to be sat in the corner with a window to gaze outward.
Something to take my mind off it.
"Kirishima-kun, please look after the new student," the teacher says and I can't help the impulse to glance to my right—the desk in front of me. A girl turns to look at me and nods in acknowledgement, her gaze shadowed by a long fringe.
I feel a twinge inside me and it's not of hunger.
Could it be? I wonder, now looking more closely at the back of Kirishima's head. It has a nice shape but it doesn't give me any answers.
I decide, after the second time she shifts slightly to look back at me, that I will have to get her alone later and ask.
Later comes in the form of lunchtime and from the looks we've been exchanging, I'm almost certain she's of the same kind as me.
A ghoul.
It's not all the time that I'm so lucky as to have one as a classmate.
Most ghouls, especially in Japan, don't pursue anything beyond the mandatory minimum of middle school. Some, because their parents are rich with connections and resources, and others because it's easier to go right to work.
Joji is like that—he'd much rather work labor jobs than sit inside all day surrounded by a feast one could not dare touch. Never minding, of course, that Mama makes enough money with her job as a prosecutor that he didn't need to bother. She might even like it more, actually, for her children to forever rely on her.
A reason to keep living.
I wonder what it is that motivates Touka—a name I'd overheard a human girl calling her—to stick with her studies.
I think a rare thought; that it'd be nice if we could be friends.
She meets my gaze and tilts her chin towards the door, raising a brow. No one notices when she does it and I take it as a sign to be just as subtle. I give a slow nod, playing it off as if I were feeling just a bit sleepy. Out of the corner of my eye, she flashes three fingers by her thigh and rises with excuses directed at the human girl from earlier.
Three minutes, I assume it means.
In the space of time, I can't help but pay closer attention to the girl who continues to happily eat her boxed lunch. There's a second one that appears half eaten and I raise a brow. At this point, I'm already convinced Touka is a ghoul but more than that, I know where she will be when I go to look for her.
The bathroom.
"Did no one follow you?" Touka asks, visibly ill as she wipes at her mouth with a paper towel. I feel awful just looking at her.
"You must really like that girl," I comment and watch as she tenses. "I'm sure she was happy you were eating with her. I'm honestly impressed. I've never been very good at hiding my revulsion."
"After a while, you get used to it," she says and meets my gaze for once. Still tense, but not completely shutting me out.
I smile. "Very nice to meet you. I'm Risana Haugen—and before you ask, while my mother is Japanese, my father is from Norway."
"Touka Kirishima," she says, cracking a bit of a grin that I nearly miss before it's gone. Like the flight of a bird. "I guess that explains why you're so damn tall."
I fake a laugh and feel my grin broaden. "I hope the both of us can be very good friends."
Touka hums and for a moment, I think she'll say no and that I've made a bad first impression. But seconds later, she nods. I'm not entirely sure how to make of it but I figure it's not too bad. While she isn't smiling, she isn't as tense as she was before. That's worth something.
Of course I know it'll be difficult getting much more out of a ghoul I've only just met. By nature, we were all at our core suspicious of each other.
After all, ghouls don't always make the best friends.
There's something to it that you're always eating, consuming meat that once looked just like you.
