Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying light. -Dylan Thomas

When Shinohara hauled him into the coffee shop, his mind had been cluttered with all of the tasty sweets he would get to eat along with his cup of hot chocolate. This case did not interest him; platitudes and insipid interrogations were for people with much more time and patience than himself.

His point was proven when a quivering little mouse skittered to their table and took their order. When she came back out, it was a miracle she didn't spill his drink or break a glass with the way she was stumbling along. She really needed to learn to be a better lady. His Mama would not have been impressed.

"He's just a geek that's read a lot about ghouls. Not even a proper scientist," Shinohara's grousing broke through Juuzou's ruminations. His mentor was frowning pointedly at a wimpy man on the television going on about the Binge Eater.

A strong but quiet voice suddenly dissolved his mentor's grumbling, "Can I get anything else for you two?"

Shinohara's attitude instantly brightened as he smiled at the new waitress. He ordered sandwiches and another round of drinks, probably trying to put the girl at ease. Before she could turn tail and run, Shinohara made a motion for the waitress to pause. Knowing what was coming next, he stretched back in his chair, already bored out of his mind. What was the point of a long-winded interrogation to discover information they already knew?

But as his mentor launched into his first question, Juuzou discovered an intriguing scent coming from the girl- an incriminating one. He cocked his head as he deliberately sniffed the air. "Did you," he giggled with anticipation, already envisioning how he could decorate her with a necklace of her own entrails, "throw up?"

Shinohara cast Juuzou a warning glance before continuing with his initial line of questioning. Juuzou's one point of interest- one chance at killing- became a dull blur as they kept talking and talking and talking about Kaneki Ken. The waitress might be a ghoul- a potential target- and Shinohara hadn't even acknowledged it.

He ate his sandwich almost sullenly, waiting for the moment they could do real hunting. When Shinohara stood up and paid, Juuzou was right on his heels.

But a curious sound- a sound that brought back dark cages and the taste of blood- caused Juuzou to pause as his mentor continued out the door.

Juuzou turned and nearly fell over for joy.

It was her- the one they had been pursuing early this morning. No one had decided on a name for her, but he personally thought it should be the White Dove.

He would have recognized her anywhere, even under the clever disguise she had decided to don. He couldn't deny that she made the perfect boy. Although, Juuzou had to admit that he was a little disappointed that the White Dove had cut her long beautiful hair.

But that was okay. If she wanted to be his brother rather than his sister she could. She was still a beautiful doll. Now she just had to prove that she could be a proper sibling and not die like all the others.

"Juuzou?" Shinohara ducked back into the shop and Juuzou snapped from his thoughts, quickly slipping out of the shop with his mentor. It wouldn't do to give her away because then the CCG wouldn't let them play.

But could he really let her live if she proved strong enough not to die? He was a ghoul investigator after all. And ghoul investigators killed ghouls.

But maybe, just maybe, he could make an exception for her.


He hadn't recognized her. The relief was weighted with a little disappointment.

The boy hadn't recognized her.

And by some small miracle she hadn't had a confrontation with the coffee shop crew. Not that she didn't think she could take them. Their smell wasn't so strong as to convince her they were undefeatable. But fighting them might set her back, make it harder to find her brother.

As things once again settled in the coffee shop, Light decided to take a sip of the now-lukewarm coffee- and almost fell out of her chair. It was good.

Not sickly sweet as sugar usually was when it tainted coffee, but rich, deep, and soothing. A filling experience that made her want more.

To spite the Old Man, she deliberately flicked to the next page of her book, continuing to 'read' upside down. She waited a long while after she had finished her coffee before finally signaling for the check. She needed everything to be calm, relations to be smooth, for her next step.

It was the ditzy waitress who stumbled over; the one who couldn't properly hold a tray. Excellent. "I heard them talking about a guy named Kaneki Ken," Light ventured as she counted yen from a nondescript leather wallet. "Did he really just disappear?"

"I don't know," she replied with a confused shrug.

"How much would information on him be worth?" Light continued to press.

The waitress seemed to waver for a moment, before reemphasizing, "I don't know anything."

But they both knew that was a lie.

Light gave a huff, packing away her book. "Maybe I could hack a system? Might trigger the hunters- lead them back here- but I mean he's not dead, right? So I should be able to find him."

The girl laughed, although Light hadn't said anything funny. Light would do whatever it took to find Ken- even if she had to bring the little shop down with her.

"Maybe…" the waitress bit her lip, but the gleam in her eye told Light that the hesitance was an act. It through her for a loop. It was far too cunning for the ditzy waitress act that the girl had been wearing. "Well, I know a person who deals in information. She might be willing to trade if you have something worthwhile. Go to Helter Skelter. Tell her what you want to know and what you have to give."

Light took the name, tucking it carefully into her memory, and sauntered out the door, only realizing afterwards that she didn't have a clue where Helter Skelter might be. The likelihood that she would get anything from the dim waitress was zilch, so she resolved to find another ghoul, one whose tongue she could loosen through other means…

A cold hand grabbed her wrist and hauled her down an alley. It was attached to the kid with white hair, the one who had pretended not to recognize her. Very sly, she grudgingly admitted. Good thing she could be sly too. Taking a deep breath, she used his steel grip to flip over him and land in a crouched position.

As she looked up, short hair falling into her eyes, they seemed to darken, and then a wide, haunting smile stretched across her face.

They needed to get further back into the alley if they were actually going to play.

She took off running at full-tilt, casting a glance over her shoulder to make sure the kid was following.

"~Wanna play?!~" she invited him with a giggle when it seemed he wasn't going to take the bait.

A knife whizzed past her face, several feet from her head.

Was that a yes? Another gift? The last still lay at the bottom of her backpack, stinking of dead ghoul. She didn't really want another one.

Another knife came flying, this one closer, and the sound of pursuit sang in her ears. She harrumphed as she spotted a fire escape in the distance. He wasn't even trying.

Deciding she was far enough back, she slowed her running to a lackadaisical skip. The next knife she anticipated, retrieving it from midair, the blade slicing through the flesh of her palm and coating the hilt with sticky hot blood.

The kid giggled and then screamed indiscernibly.

"We aren't playing that," she turned to him with a stern frown. "We're playing ninja."

"I don't like that game. I like playing cook, but we can't play that because you can't be the pig anymore." His disappointment was tangible, but no more than her own.

She cocked her head to the side and then sent the knife back at him. It hit his shoulder, red blossoming like some wicked flower. "~You're not very good at ninja.~"

The boy smiled then, a wicked demonic stretch of the face that put her own to shame. "Neither are you."

The blades came out of nowhere, all at once striking her like a pincushion.

Yet she managed to remain standing, despite the blinding pain, despite the desire to fall to her knees. She did not bother to yank any of them out. That would be bad, very bad. She was not going to bleed out in a forsaken alley because of one bad playmate.

"Maybe," she shrugged painfully, distinctly aware that she did not want to play anymore.

"What? You don't want to play anymore?" the boy giggled.

"Your games hurt too much."

"It was your game," he muttered almost sullenly, but skipped closer to her. "But you didn't scream. Everyone always screams."

She gave him almost an affronted look, "Screaming makes it worse. 'Sides, ninjas are supposed to be quiet."

She finally landed hard on her butt, unable to handle the dizziness any longer.

The boy got up into her face, almost curiously, and asked, "Are you dying?"

She grimaced, all hints of playfulness leached from her. "No. Even if I were, isn't that what you want? Hunters kill ghouls."

The boy chewed his lip, kneeling on the wet gravel as he thought. "Well, yeah, but I can't play that game with you. Here," he stabbed something sharp through one of the many lacerations on her arm, something small, but it somehow hurt worse than all of the knives combined. He dropped something else, red as blood, in her lap before abruptly leaping to his feet.

"~Thanks for playing! Let's do it again, little bro!~"

Light stared after him with cottony confusion before reaching for her arm to see what gift he had supposedly given her. A needle, long and thin and wickedly sharp.

It took several tries to string the thread, what with her shaking hands and the fogginess erupting around her.

But when she did, she dropped the needle, cursing. A familiar, burning pain had blossomed under her eyepatch, the skin there almost vibrating. Not now.

She practically ripped the backpack from her shoulders, knocking one of the knives from her arms in the process. That brought a startling blackness that was very slow to fade.

When her vision was clear, she pulled a syringe from her backpack and forced the needle in her arm. The RC suppressant flooded her system in a rush of breathless weakness. As helpless as a mewling kitten now. But her trembling diminished and the pain faded.

With careful movements, she weaved the thread over her open wound before then addressing the knives that had yet to be dragged from her skin. They weren't embedded very deep, not as badly as they could have been. He went easy on her; the aggravation at that was stronger than the relief at being alive.

When she was patched up, she rose on shaking legs only to fall back down as a shadowed figured appeared in the entrance of the alley. Today was just not her day.

So I haven't gotten anymore comments since the first chapter. Is my writing style okay? Is it scrambled, inconsistent, in need of improvement? I'd love to just hear what you guys think. I really enjoy constructive criticism because I want to be a writer one day, and the only way to get better is to have others me what they think. Thank you all.