A/N: My goodness, it's been a while hasn't it?
I'd stopped writing this story because I just couldn't bring myself to engage with Tokyo Ghoul after a few episodes of Root A. If my unannounced hiatus disappointed anyone, I'm really sorry orz.
The reason I'm continuing this fanfic is because every few months or so, I'd get the occasional reviewer asking me to update. When that happens, I'd always remember how much fun I had writing this fanfic. I want to continue writing chapters, but keep in mind NOTHING HERE WILL REFLECT THE CURRENT REALITIES OF THE TOKYO GHOUL STORYLINE.
All that being said, I had this chapter completed a month ago, but didn't want to post it. Why? Because I'm not sure when I'll be updating again after this. I just can't seem to find the time necessary to write this fanfic. I also don't want to rush it and put out chapters of subpar quality. So, fair warning: UPDATES WILL NOT COME REGULARLY, IF AT ALL.
I'm sorry if that comes as a disappointment, but I hope you take this chapter as it is and enjoy it! :)
Chapter 10 — Mika
Mika woke up that night, starving. The distant traffic noises were muddled in her ears. Her eyes drew in nothing but floating images of the bedroom with Tatara sleeping next to her. All her senses were deadened, everything except a burning hunger.
It started as a pang in her stomach, then sharpened into something deep and cutting. The hunger throbbed like a physical wound and ached like an emotional wound, and it was powerful, seeping into her psyche like poison leeching into blood.
Mika swung her legs out of bed. She didn't remember moving, but moments later, she found herself pulling open the refrigerator door.
I have some strawberries I washed last night. They should be in a plastic container somewhere…, Mika thought. As she searched the shelves, she vaguely noted her heightened sense of smell. It helped her hone in on what she wanted. Even though her eyes weren't really seeing right now, she trusted her nose enough to pull out a container, pop it open, and grab a handful of strawberries to shove into her mouth. Her jaws worked up and down furiously. In an instant, she'd swallowed and grabbed another handful, burying her face into it.
Delicious strawberries. Scrumptious. That sweet, juicy, tangy… savory… meaty…
Meaty?
Mika looked down. Her hunger dissipated like an apparition when she saw what she was eating. The slabs of raw flesh in the container was cold and oozing.
She swallowed the burgeoning scream in her throat. Her nerveless hands dropped the container. It struck the wooden floorboards with a solid thunk, bouncing a foot away.
The noise woke Tatara instantly, and he came padding silently out of the room in time to hear Mika whimper a helpless "no," her eyes fixed blankly on her hands.
Tatara picked up the dropped container and resealed it. "Mika," he said, quietly, leading her to the sink.
She followed him, and let him wash her hands for her. The blood had run down her forearm in rivulets, terminating in small, ruby beads. The horror was ebbing away. Disgust filled its place.
When he was done with her hands and arms, Tatara took some paper towels, wet them, and gently cleaned the red stains off her lips, jaws, and cheeks. When he was through, there was no evidence of what she'd done, but Mika could still taste the rawness in her mouth. Her eyebrows knitted together and she kept down a gag rolling up from her stomach.
Tatara led her back into the bedroom and sat her down on his side of the bed, then he stepped away, as if trying to evaluate the situation. He looked as confused as Mika felt.
She was the first to speak. "I woke up hungry."
"So you decided to eat my leftovers from lunch?"
"It smelled… good." She looked dazedly at her hands. There was still a string of raw human flesh stuck between her back molars. A wave of nausea hit when it occurred to her that she had bits of someone stuck between her teeth.
Who did she eat? Who? A father of two in District Four? A teenager playing hooky from school?
"I need my toothbrush."
She went to the bathroom and was glad Tatara didn't follow her. As she tore off a piece of floss, Mika heard Tatara calling someone on his phone. Her attention was only partially tuned into him. The majority of it was fixated on scrubbing the spaces between her teeth clean.
Mika tossed the floss and was about to start with the toothbrush when Tatara walked into the bathroom, his expression strained. He placed his hand over hers when she reached for the toothpaste. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Why didn't I tell you… what?"
"I called Dr. Hagesawa. He told me the craving for human flesh could be a side effect from your pregnancy, and that you were probably not nourishing the child inside you enough during the day."
"I'm pregnant?"
"Dr. Hagesawa said he called to tell you about it a few weeks ago. You'd hung up on him, apparently."
Mika searched his face, trying to decipher how Tatara was taking the news of her pregnancy. If she looked close enough, she could see dread and apprehension. "You don't need to take care of this child," she said, quietly. "You can be as involved as you want. Or not at all." Mika took a step away from him and placed a hand protectively over her stomach. "But I'm keeping it."
Silence unfolded between them. Tatara broke into a faint smile and pulled Mika gently into his arms. "I'd be heartbroken if you decided not to keep it."
They left for Dr. Hagesawa's clinic immediately. Mika found it ridiculous that Tatara was helping her with her jacket and overcoat. He even made her sit so he could put on her boots for her. He'd always been careful with Mika, but this was on an entirely different level. Mika fastened the final button on her overcoat and said, "Tatara, I'm pregnant, not disabled."
But he didn't say anything. She'd expected a half smile from her remark, or some dry reply, but Mika found that same dread and apprehension instead when she searched his face.
"What's wrong?" she asked when they were a few steps into their journey to Dr. Hagesawa's clinic three blocks away. "You say you're okay with it, but you don't look okay."
"There's nothing wrong."
Mika could see a dispassionate mask hardening over his face, and the slight set in his jaw. Usually, when he closed himself off like that, she backed off and gave him some breathing room. Sometimes, it would take minutes for him to open up about whatever was troubling him. Other times, it would take weeks. But the trick, Mika had learned, was to make no further mention of it, not even inconspicuous attempts to tease his troubles out. Tatara was especially shrewd and sensitive to plays like that. It was probably what made him great as a leader and frustrating, at times, as a lover.
She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. They were ten feet away from the clinic when Mika heard him sigh, a sound mixed with exasperation and defeat. She looked up at him expectantly.
"I'm afraid…" he began, looking like a nervous transfer student introducing himself to his new classmates. Mika couldn't remember when he'd ever looked so insecure. Tatara cleared his throat and tried again. "I'm afraid I won't know how to… parent our kid."
"Luckily for you," Mika said, one hand going akimbo, "I babysat my younger cousin when I was in middle school all the way to my high school years. I've got all the parenting fundamentals down pat." She saw that his apprehension wasn't subsiding.
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about being a role model. What kind of person can someone like me possibly raise?"
Mika grasped him by the arms and fixed him with eyes lit with determination, the same kind she saw in Tatara all the time. "A great one," she said. "The child we raise will know compassion from me and formidability from you. He'll have the best from both of us."
He scoffed. "You? Compassionate? Where is that compassion when we have a Go board between us?" But Tatara gave her his half smile, and Mika was relieved to see the apprehension creeping away.
She led the way into the clinic. Inside, Dr. Hasegawa was filling out something on a memo pad, but he looked up when Mika greeted him.
"How are you feeling, Mika?" the doctor said without returning her greeting.
"A little shaken. And nervous."
Mika had thought that if she ever she got pregnant, she would exude a motherly glow of joy and excitement. Right now, glancing at her reflection in a spotty mirror, she saw herself with wide, dazed eyes, hair in a lopsided bun, face pale.
"Your feelings are understandable," Dr. Hagesawa said with a curt nod. "I'm not sure how to explain why your child is still alive. Denying a hybrid embryo the proper nutrients for more than seven weeks is a death sentence." He gestured at one of three misappropriated hospital beds against the wall. "I'll have to do an ultrasound to see what's going on."
Mika nodded and peeled away her overcoat, then laid back on the bed, lifting up three layers of clothing. The gel went on. Seconds later, she felt the cold steel of the ultrasound wand roving over her skin.
Dr. Hagesawa did his hm-ing and haw-ing. He squinted at the ultrasound screen and several times repositioned the glasses on his nose. Then he did more hm-ing and haw-ing.
"Interesting," he finally said, setting the wand down. He studied the screen and jotted a few things on his memo pad. "It would appear we have a case of fetal absorption." He reached for some tissue and helped Mika wipe the gel away. "This is sad news for most parents, but in your case, I'd say it was a one-in-a-million stroke of luck."
Tatara's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"You were supposed to have twins, Mika," Dr. Hagesawa explained. "One of the two died somewhere along the way and the surviving twin absorbed it into itself. That's where it was getting its nutrients from, and that's how it was keeping itself alive. Without that twin, this one would have died weeks ago. This is very lucky indeed."
"But we lost one," Mika wanted to say, and immediately felt greedy. She looked at the screen, feeling emotions warring on opposite ends of the spectrum. On the one hand, she was overjoyed. Dr. Hagesawa was right — they had been lucky. But on the other hand, they were supposed to have had two children to tuck in at night.
Her vision clouded, and the tears came, but as she felt Tatara's arm around her shoulders, Mika was still trying to figure out if she was crying out of joy or grief.
Dr. Hagesawa didn't seem to notice her tears. He was already turned back to his laptop, fingers clattering over the keyboard. "This is unprecedented. Technically, it's cannibalism within the womb. Think of what this could mean! Innately higher RC levels. A natural-born kakuja, perhaps! And a hybrid at that!"
"Enough," Tatara said quietly, steel in his voice. His hand tightened protectively around Mika's shoulder.
Dr. Hagesawa straightened up, adjusting his glasses nervously. "My apologies. I get carried away sometimes." He turned his attention back to Mika. "I can't imagine the grief you're going through, Mika, but I think you'll feel better knowing that the first twin's death had nothing to do with a lack of nourishment. Twin miscarriages are not uncommon."
She grasped Tatara's hand and nodded, passing a sleeve resolutely across her eyes.
"Now we need to talk about nourishing it properly. At least two portions of human flesh per day, preferably raw. Cooking it takes many of the important nutrients away."
Dr. Hagesawa gave her more instructions. In the end, he typed up a list of to-dos and not-to-dos, promising to email it to her once it was complete. Mika and Tatara left the clinic as soon as they could.
Snow was beginning to fall again outside, big white flakes that drifted lazily through the air. "I didn't hang up on him," Mika said, more to herself than to Tatara as they made the trek back to their apartment. She felt his eyes regarding her questioningly. She looked up at him and said again, "I didn't hang up on Dr. Hagesawa. He never called me. Any conversation I had with him was always in person at his clinic."
She pulled out her cellphone and examined the call logs. Her brows furrowed when they proved her wrong — there was indeed a call from Dr. Hagesawa two weeks ago, and it'd been a three minute conversation. A three minute conversation she couldn't remember? Impossible.
"I remember that day," Tatara said, studying the time stamp. "I had a run-in with a group of CCG special investigators."
Mika remembered that day as well, traumatizing as it was. She'd come home to Tatara's apartment that night, expecting him to be there, but finding Noro sitting silently on the kitchen counter instead. He'd said nothing, of course, and led her to some kind of hidden laboratory, where she saw Tatara lying unconscious, a gaping hole in his stomach and chest, his jaw crushed, a great chunk of his shoulder missing, and his left leg hanging by a tendon. She'd looked away, eyes unblinking and wide with horror.
A boy she knew as Ayato had been sitting bedside, looking a little sullen and shaken. "He'll recover," he said to her. "But we thought it'd be better if he knew you were by his side."
So she'd stayed there in the cold laboratory for two nights, watching tubes pump RC cells into Tatara, watching his body gradually knit itself back together. Ayato had come by and thrown a wool blanket over her head like he was hanging something on a coat rack. He said gruffly, "You humans seem to get cold easily."
"What happened?" Mika had asked.
"CCG special investigators," he explained. "Pulled in from Osaka, Kyoto, Kobe, and Tokyo branches. They sent their best after him. We got there in time to see Tatara about to take on Arima. By then, he'd already lost his shoulder and gotten that hole in his chest. Arima gave him another in his stomach and nearly took his leg off." Ayato's hand clenched, upper lip raised in a snarl. "Fucking coward, taking on an opponent who could barely stand. That's what all CCG investigators are. Cowards and weaklings."
Mika shook that terrible memory from her mind like an arachnophobe shaking a spider off his sleeve. Their apartment was in sight. She looked contemplatively at her cellphone to study the call log again.
"I had a run-in with a group of CCG special investigators during that time," Tatara repeated, reaching into his own memories. "And you were eating dinner with Amon."
Mika's grip tightened over her phone when realization struck. A seventy ton tank colliding into her could not have been more jarring. "He intercepted the call when I left for the restroom."
The words hung between them, ringing in the dead silence of night. When she looked up at Tatara again, Mika saw there was murder in his eyes.
Hope you liked it! Remember to leave a review if you can. Readers who've done so revived this story and brought it back. I might not be updating regularly, but I still do read what you all have to say! :)
Edited: I realized a lot of reviewers thought Tatara might be mad at Mika, and I see how that could be misconstrued from the way I'd written it before. Just to clarify: nope, he's not mad at her. I don't think he'd have any reason to be, especially since he knew about her dinner with Amon (he okay-ed it, after all). The end was badly written on my part, so I had to tweak it a little. Muh bad.