If you have left me a message lately and I haven't gotten back to you, I'm really sorry! I'm in my final year at Uni and I'm up to my neck in papers and presentations, but I really appreciate every message I get even if I don't answer!
In Otsuichi's "In a Falling Airplane," there are three people who meet by chance in a plane headed for Haneda. One is a Tokyo University hopeful who failed the entrance exam one too many times who intends to commit suicide by taking the whole plane down with him. Another is a woman looking for revenge in Haneda on the man who raped her in high school. The third is a failed salesman who illegally purchased euthanasia from a senile doctor and tries to make one last sales pitch. It's one of the short stories in Zoo, although Ken has always thought it didn't really belong with the others. The rest of the collection is more reminiscent of Edogawa Ranpo's works, and though there are some others with a similar tone, they're all about inexplicable strangeness. "In a Falling Airplane" isn't like that, though. It's about vengeance and mourning dead dreams and trying to decide what matters most, and maybe that hits too close to home.
He feels like he heard something about a scandal lately, something about Eika's novel that was quickly swept under the rug almost as soon as it came up, but he didn't pay much attention at the time because he isn't the sort to care about or buy into rumors. It's another thing he wishes he could talk to the others about, but he's been keeping Eika something of a dirty secret.
After a long day of politicking with the higher powers of the 6th ward and sparring with Banjou or Tsukiyama, he always excuses himself after sunset on "personal errands" that he'd rather take care of alone. At first, he nearly had to beat the others off of him with a stick to get them to leave him alone for a few minutes, and he still isn't sure why he was ever so defensive about it. Of course, going off by himself every night for several months had the entire group speculating where he was going whenever they didn't think he was in earshot.
Surprisingly—or perhaps not, given her observational skills—Hinami is the first to figure it out.
"He's going to see his girlfriend," he hears her proclaim one evening after he's retired for the night. Ordinarily, he doesn't leave his room again after he comes back from visiting the 20th ward, but he came home and couldn't find Zoo anywhere, and he now has a pretty good idea of where it went. He peeks around the doorway of the living room and finds Hinami, Banjou and Tsukiyama seated around the coffee table, heads close together as they whisper almost conspiratorially over the book Hinami has clutched to her chest.
"Girlfriend?" Banjou echoes, sounding surprised, "You mean Touka?"
"No, not Touka, it's," Hinami pauses, confidence wavering, "Um...Yoshika, I think."
"Hinami," Ken says stiffly from the doorway, and the three of them jump in surprise, "I'm glad you're reading, but you should really ask me if you're going to borrow one of my books." He holds out a hand expectantly and, eyes pointed at the floor in guilt, she trots over and hands him Zoo. He opens the cover and looks down at where Eika's name is scrawled inside. "The first kanji is read as 'Ei,' by the way, not 'Yoshi.'"
"Ei?" Hinami repeats, eyes brightening. "So it's Eika. Her name is Eika!"
"Kaneki, is this true?" Tsukiyama asks, sounding almost scandalized at Ken keeping secrets, "You really have a secret lover?"
Ken closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. "No, she's not—!"
"It makes perfect sense!"
"See, I told you!"
Banjou glances between them, feeling left out. "But how did you know?"
"I saw Eika before," Hinami says proudly, "At Anteiku. So I remember what she smells like. And then, Ken brought back that book, which also smells like her, and it has her name written in it." She glances at him as if for confirmation. "So I'm right, aren't I?"
Ken looks at Hinami's expectant, hopeful face, and shakes his head. "You shouldn't jump to conclusions," he says simply, glancing down at the book and running a hand over the cover. He can feel their eyes on him still and knows he's just opened a can of worms. He hesitates a moment before continuing, "There is a person named Eika who I am in contact with, but we haven't been speaking."
"But why not?" Hinami asks.
Because I almost strangled her and impaled her on my kagune a few days ago.
"Because I'm trying to protect her from a distance," he answers, "Just like the people at Anteiku."
Banjou looks like he's willing to drop the topic out of respect, but neither of the other two look willing to let it go. "This person wouldn't happen to be your 'personal errand,' would they?" Tsukiyama asks curiously, "It seemed to me that something happened a few days ago. You came back earlier than usual and holed yourself up in your room. Did she upset you…?"
"It wasn't her fault," Ken says immediately, almost defensively. He takes a deep breath. "I overstepped the limits I set for myself, that's all."
"But you like Eika, right?" Hinami asks, "So why do you have to be so far away from her?"
"For the same reason I have to stay far away from Anteiku. I want to keep her safe, and the best way to do that is from a distance."
Hinami frowns. "You don't want her to get hurt," she says, "But she'll get hurt anyway, won't she? Just not the same kind of hurt."
"What do you mean?"
"Not the kind where you fall and bruise your knee," Hinami says softly, "But the kind where someone important to you isn't there anymore."
"That's…" Ken hesitates. He wants to tell her that it isn't like that, but he can't quite bring the words out.
"You kind of remind me of Mom and Dad," she says cheerfully, "When I was really little, I remember sometimes they'd both be quiet for a long time, and they'd just stare at each other. I didn't really understand it, but I think that's how they said they loved each other without even talking. You did that with Eika at Anteiku." She grins. "You should bring her here! Then Mr. Banjou and Flower Man can meet her, too."
"No," Ken says, with a little more bite than he intended. Hinami looks up at him with her big eyes and sticks out her lower lip, trying to get him to change his mind, but he holds his ground.
"It's alright, Hinami," Banjou intervenes, "Ken doesn't have to do that if he doesn't feel comfortable with it."
"But Eika was nice. I don't think she would mind."
"Yeah, but you have to think about how Ken feels, too…."
Ken starts heading for the door, bending to put his shoes on. He hears Hinami's light footsteps hurry to him. "I'm sorry!" she cries, "I didn't mean to make you mad, I just-!"
"It's alright, Hinami," he says, and turns to give her a reassuring smile and ruffle her hair affectionately. "I'm not mad. You said some really insightful things."
She brightens immediately. "Are you going to talk to Eika now?"
He sighs. "Yes."
Against my better judgement.
After all of the times he's followed her home, he knows exactly where Eika lives.
When she started at Kamii, she moved into an apartment not far from campus. He remembers seeing a woman with a similar scent who must have been her mother help her move—and Ken doesn't dwell on what it means that he went by scent rather than how similar their faces were. Under the cover of night, he leaps up to her balcony on the third floor. Through the glass doors, he can see her at her desk, focused on homework. Half of him is content to just stay there and enjoy the sight of her relaxed, but that won't fix anything. Hesitantly, he knocks twice on the glass, watching her jump and look over at him, nearly falling out of her chair.
She walks to the balcony doors slowly, looking torn about whether or not she should really open them. Ken holds her gaze as she comes closer, within arm's reach if not for the thin glass separating them.
He could break it. He could break it, and it would be so easy, it would hardly take the flick of his wrist, and then there would be nothing between them.
"Can I come in?" he asks.
She stares silently for a moment. The question he expects is, "How did you get up here?" or maybe, "Why should I let you in?" Instead, she asks, "Why are you using the balcony door?"
"It would've been easier for someone to see me if I used the regular one."
Eika chews on her lip. "If I let you in," she says, "Will you stay this time? Or will you run away again?"
"I'll stay," he promises, "Just...don't touch me, please."
She nods, unlocking the door and stepping away to let him in. Ken shuts it behind him, going to sit on the edge of her bed, and she maintains a respectful distance, sitting across from him at her desk again. Ken glances around the room and tries to think of how to start, but Eika breaks the silence first.
"Ken," she says quietly, "What were those...things that came out of your back?" He flinches, immediately on the defensive, and notices Eika look sheepish, aware of the conversational misstep.
"It was my kagune," he says stiffly.
"Oh. Okay." Apparently, he's saved from one conversation he'd hoped to never have; he supposes it's obvious by now that he isn't completely human. There's a tense silence. He hopes she'll change the subject. "Can...can I see it?"
"No."
"I was just—!"
"Eika, I said no," he snaps, but his expression softens when she leans away. Recoiling from him.
"I'm sorry," she says.
"No, it's…." He sighs, putting his face in his hands. "I'm sorry. I don't want to be like this." He glances at her. "You need to understand. Kagune are predatory organs. They're what I use to hunt and protect myself. I…."
I've killed people with these.
Eika lifts an arm like she means to reach for him but thinks better of it, and it falls into her lap. "I understand," she says, "I won't ask again if you don't want to show me. I only did in the first place because I want you to be able to trust again."
"I do trust you," he says firmly, More than anyone.
"Not me. Yourself. That's why you ran away, right? Because you don't trust yourself?"
Ken looks down at himself, shaking his head. "I can't. Not yet."
Eika's expression shifts to disappointment for a moment before she becomes determined again. "Then talk to me," she pleads, "Tell me...tell me anything you feel comfortable telling."
Tell me what happened to you, she's trying to say, because ghoul or not, Ken knows it's obvious that he's different from before. He could say that he doesn't want to scare her, doesn't want her to worry, but he feels guilty as he remembers what Hinami told him.
The kind of pain when someone important to you isn't there anymore.
At least Touka and the others were there—they know most of the story and why he had to leave because he was able to tell them.
But the humans—because that's how he thinks of Eika and Hide now, as the humans, as soft-bodied, vulnerable prey animals—never got any explanation, and he at least owes them that.
"It's a horribly story," he warns, "And I've never told it from start to finish before."
Last chance to back out.
"Just talk," Eika says, "And stop when you need to."
Ken holds her gaze for a silent moment, both relieved and disappointed that she still wants to know. But if there had to be someone who knew everything that happened, anyone who could understand him and the way he thinks and the way he is….
"This all started for me during my first year at Kamii, with a woman named Rize."
He's glad it's her.
A year ago, Ken never would have considered himself the protagonist of any story.
Protagonists are strong and perseverant and relatable; he was just a shy wallflower, a tagalong, the best friend or the background character. Being a protagonist was more Hide's thing, or Touka's. Rize made him realize that he is, in fact, a protagonist—the main character, even. If he wasn't, surely he would have died that night. He would have been eaten alive by Rize or the operation that made him into a one-eyed ghoul would have failed. But he didn't die; he lived, and his story—his tragedy, his chronicle of the postwar—continued.
Despite his reluctance to abandon everything he thought he knew about the world, it continued.
Despite all of the pain and the fear, it continued.
Despite everything that had tries to break him down or swallow him whole, it continued.
No matter how much he sometimes wanted it to stop.
Ken talks, and the words seem to be endless, the things he wants to say pouring out in a rush of relief. He stumbles but he doesn't stop, not even when he tells her about the emptiness he felt when he tried to carve out his own organs only to discover he couldn't pierce his own skin with a knife or the terrible hunger he suffered when he refused to eat for those first few days. His words, his story, flood the silent air between them, and he watches Eika's eyes, sees her take it all in.
When he tells her about Yamori, she covers her mouth and he thinks she might cry, but she never does. She must know that if she did, he might stop, and he can't stop now, now when he's come so far, spoken things aloud that he's only ever thought about, put into words all of the things he's felt. She continues to listen, wide eyes full of empathetic pain, and Ken continues to speak, until he feels he has nothing left to say.
"So I came here to apologize for leaving without a word," he finishes, and they're back where they started, except this time, she knows everything. Ken feels exposed somehow.
"That's…." Eika swallows, hesitates. Ken sees a million words flash through her eyes and knows she's struggling to pick just a few. "That's horrible. I can't even explain to you what I feel now that you've told me all that." She shakes her head. "I wish that never happened to you."
Ken almost says, "me, too," reflexively, but he bites it back, not wanting to lie. He can't say he'd honestly go back to the way things were before. He was living the way his mother had, bending over backwards for other people, letting them walk on him, meekly watching the days pass by without really seizing his life with his own hands. His first time really taking a risk, really living, was when he had tried to get involved with Rize, and it was obvious how that had turned out.
But in a way, he's glad it happened that way. If he were the superstitious type, he might even be tempted to think that it was meant to happen. He was meant to meet Rize, and she was meant to pull the curtain back and expose the cruel world for what it really was. He was meant to get the transplant and become part-ghoul, to suffer, to grow stronger for it, and to have the power to protect everything he cared about.
"There are people I want to protect," he says, looking pointedly at her, "Sometimes, protecting them means staying far away. I thought it would be easier that way." Eika's gaze softens in understanding. "But it's not," he continues, "I tried, for a long time, to separate my memory of you from the way I felt about you, and I couldn't do it. I think you must have suffered during that time, too, and I'm sorry for that."
He pauses, giving Eika a chance to speak—a chance to deny it, maybe, to turn him down now before he gets any deeper into this, but she doesn't, and he won't admit to himself how happiness fills him at her silence.
"I need you to understand," he says firmly, "The last thing I want to do is hurt you, and that's why this is so hard. I feel like no matter what I do, I'm going to hurt you, and I'm trying to figure out which is the lesser evil."
Eika studies his expression silently, and he sees again the writer in her mulling over her words. "I want to tell you to do whatever you think is best," she says with a sad smile, "But honestly, I'd rather you didn't stay so far away from me. During those days at Anteiku, you helped me a lot, even if you didn't realize it." Tentatively, she holds out a hand, silently asking for permission. Ken stares at it, and then at her, and slowly, he raises one trembling hand and laces their fingers together.
It feels nice, he thinks, warm and soft. He can smell Eika strongly in here, where everything she interacts with daily has her scent imprinted on it, and it's comforting and familiar. He squeezes her hand and she squeezes back, gently. She's real, he thinks, warmth blooming in his chest, she's real.
"I want to return the favor and help you," Eika says.
Ken chuckles. "I'd never ask you to do something as impossible as fix me."
"I'm not going to fix you," Eika argues, "You're not broken, Ken."
He almost laughs, but he's a little distracted by the fluttering of his heart. Back on a first name basis, picking up from where they left off.
"You're not," she insists, "You've just...got a crack or two. And I...I want to help you sand them out, and fill them in."
Ken smiles. "I thought you had a way with words, Miss Published Author."
"I do," she scoffs, "When they're written down and I've had time to revise them."
They share a laugh, soft and nervous.
Eika flexes her fingers a little bit and Ken lets go, watching a familiar, small smile appear on her face. "So how is this going to work?" she asks, sounding a bit like the nervous high school senior Ken remembers from Anteiku who picked at her nails and stole glances at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Slowly," Ken says, "One step at a time."
Eika nods. "You'll come back, right? I assume you don't really want to tell me where you're living now."
He shakes his head. "You don't want to come to where I live now. But I will come back here." He stands up from the bed and heads for the balcony, and he hears Eika trailing behind him. When he reaches the glass doors, he turns around and finds her gazing up at him patiently. He realizes, with a twinge of embarrassment, that this is the part where he would kiss her, if they were dating. Are they dating? He doesn't think so. At least, not technically. Neither of them have used that word, anyway.
He hesitates a moment too long and she laughs nervously, averting her gaze and stepping back from him. Ken catches her wrist impulsively to stop her, and then just holds it, unsure of how to proceed.
"Ken?" she asks softly.
He clears his throat and looks away. "Sorry," he says, "It's late. I should go."
"Okay."
Ken has done some extremely difficult, unpleasant things since he lost his humanity, most of which he chooses not to think about so he can sleep at night. He thinks, as he's running and a cold night breeze is hitting his face, inner voice a bit derisive, that one of the most difficult things has been letting go of Eika without giving her a kiss goodnight.
Welcome to Infuriatingly Slow Romance Between Bookworms, Part 2.
