AMON

His arms regrew before his eyes. The flesh extended from the stumps of his shoulders, tiny hands and fingers sprouting on the ends. Akira stared at the floor of the armored van they rode in. A pair 3rd Class Investigators in body armor took glances at Amon every minute, darting their eyes away when his gaze would meet theirs. He tried to make conversation, lighten the mood, but everyone kept to themselves. To make matters worse, whenever he spoke Amon felt the need to throw up.

The lack of windows on the van disoriented Amon. He figured they would head back to the CCG main office, if he recalled correctly where Kanou's secret facility was located. He forced himself to speak, "What happens now?"

Akira hesitated. The men at the other end of the van gave each other wide-eyed looks. "I don't know…" Akira admitted. "Odds are you'll be brought to the Chairman for testimonials. And you might be held captive until we can tell if you're a threat or not."

"A threat?" Amon breathed. "Akira, I don't know exactly what he did to me, but I'm not a threat. Never have been, never will be."

"I…" Akira let out a deep sigh. "I just don't know."

The pair kept silent for the rest of the ride. As the van came to a stop, Amon had one more question: "How long was I gone?"

"Three months."

His head sunk in defeat and anger. The doors on the back of the vehicle swung open. An armed investigator gestured for Amon to come out first. "Hands where we can see them."

He saw no reason to comply, but had no real intention not to. He raised his almost completely formed hands over his head and exited the vehicle.

"The Chairman Washuu has already been informed of your arrival. He will be waiting inside." The investigator who was no doubt a subordinate by rank gave him the order to enter the building in front of them – the CCG main office in the 1st Ward. The tower cast a long shadow over the surrounding buildings and the people out front. Amon followed orders and trudged up the front steps, into the entryway. Sure enough, Tsuneyoshi Washuu waited inside.

"Amon Koutarou," he said. "You have been gone a long time."

"So I've heard, Mr. Chairman." Amon kept his face stern. He could not show how broken he was.

The man in front of the investigator looked to be at least twice Amon's age, and no doubt had three times the wisdom. His hair and beard reached to his lower and chest respectively. He turned and gestured to Amon. "Come with me. We have much to discuss."

Upstairs by fifty floors, Amon and Tsuneyoshi sat across from each other in the chairman's private office. With only a desk between them, Amon could not help but wonder if the chairman felt vulnerable. He had to already know what Amon had become. "So, I heard you got yourself in a bit of trouble." The chairman sipped a cup of tea, his eyes never leaving the young man across from him.

Amon hesitated. "Yes, sir. I… have hear I have been gone for a few months."

"That would be correct," Washuu told him frankly. "And assuming from your appearance, you have been tortured – changed, even."

The young man grimaced. He could say nothing.

"I cannot say I have experienced the changing of a man to a ghoul before. What do you remember from the last three months?"

Amon strained to recall as much as he could. "I… I remember being on patrol in the thirteenth ward before I went dark. I was with 2nd Class Bajikku at the time, wasn't I?"

Tsuneyoshi simply nodded. "And afterwards? When you awoke?"

"I have no idea how long afterwards that was, but what I can remember…" Images flashed through Amon's mind. The monitors, the surgical tape keeping his eyes open…

The kakuhou.

"I was operated on. I would conclude Akihiro Kanou was hoping to turn me into a ghoul and I'm still not entirely sure if he succeeded. He implanted a kakuhou in my back and performed experiments on me." Amon visibly shuddered. He hated to recall those memories. If for no other reason than the disgust they fostered in him for himself.

The chairman took another sip of tea. "I see. So then, you are no longer human?"

"I don't know, Mr. Chairman."

"You don't know? Have you not looked in the mirror since yesterday? Your eye, young man. It has not returned to normal."

Amon reached up to his face, feeling the skin around his left eye. It pulsated and bulged in vein-shaped lines. His eyes opened wide and he hunched over himself, staring at the ground. "He did it…" Panic flooded the young man's thoughts, all the possibilities of what could be done to him now shooting terrified adrenaline into his bloodstream.

"I am truly sorry, Koutarou. But you must leave. You have no place here. You are hereby discharged from the Commission of Counter-Ghoul. You have two days to remove your things from you home office and leave. If you comply, we will not take action to detain you."

"And what if I can't control myself? What then?"

"Then it is only necessary we detain you. You of all people would understand, would you not? With a mentor like Kureo Mado…"

"I am not Kureo Mado. I never have been, and I never will be." Amon stood from his chair. "If you want me to go, then I'll go. But let me leave with honor and respect."

The chairman too stood from his chair. "I suppose it would be the least we can do. I will follow you out."

The two men returned to the main floor. Members of the press and fellow CCG investigators waited at the elevator doors. As soon as they opened, the people bombarded Amon and Chairman Tsuneyoshi with all the questions in the world. Amon kept his head up, his posture straight. A few people backed away at seeing the investigator's eye. The rest crowded in closer.

Amon could pick out each individual person's scent – something he could never do before. He tried to plug his nose, all the different aromas overpowering his senses. Some of them were revolting, like body odor and cheap perfume. Others were… delicious. He darted his gaze to each person whose smell enticed him. They looked like cattle, ready for slaughter. He clenched his eyes shut, forcing himself to focus on escaping the building. Tsuneyoshi directed the investigator outside. The scents passed into his mouth. He could almost taste the flavors which came with each scent. Something shifted in his back. He panicked. He picked up his pace and ran into the street, opening his eyes. Nobody was nearby now, except for the chairman. He followed the young man close behind.

"Koutarou, are you alright?" His scent was the most enticing. Amon's blood red eye flared. From within his back, a wing of crystal shards burst free. They shone deep reds, purples, and oranges. Tsuneyoshi gasped, but he did not falter. He pulled a short blade of ancient Japanese design from his belt – a tanto, as it was known. The chairman took a defensive stance.

In Amon's mind, two parts of him warred for control. One part wanted to kill, wanted to eat. The other wanted to leave, to be alone. The former won over the latter.

Before anyone – Amon, the chairman, the bystanders – had time to react, Amon's kagune shot forward and stabbed precisely through the old man's head. No gasp or shout escaped his lips. He was already dead before the action could be processed.

In an instant, Amon hunched over the old man's corpse and sunk his teeth into the flesh of its shoulder. He pulled free a chunk of muscle and swallowed it whole. His insides flared and he cackled. The flavor exploded in his mouth. He shuddered.

Investigators marched toward the two bodies. They readied their quinques. Amon lurched toward them. He shot shards of glass in their direction and pinned them to the ground. The men and women shrieked. A pair of them broke free of the kagune fragments. They leapt to their feet. Dashing toward Amon, they swung their giant weapons for his legs. The investigator-tuned-ghoul lunged back. He barely escaped their swings. Like with the chairman, Amon thrust his kagune through their heads. Spatters of blood shot from the openings. He threw the limp figures at a trio of approaching soldiers. They crumpled to the ground. Amon regained some sanity and stared at his work. The corpses of already twelve investigators lay at his feet. He shook his head. Could he really be responsible for so much? He let go of the thought and turned on his heels. He bolted away from the scene, his new ghoul limbs carrying him further. The sirens wailed behind him. He did not stop or turn to look. Civilians around him ran in terror, in the direction of the CCG. The red and blue lights from pursuing vehicles intensified.

Lead screamed by his head. He dove to avoid several shots. Q-bullets. They must be getting desperate. Amon came to a halt, turning on a dime and continuing down a pitch-dark alley. Officers shouted commands at each other behind him. Car doors flung open and slammed shut. Their boots hammered the ground. Amon continued running. I need to find somewhere to go, he reasoned. Who did he know? Who would take him in? Nobody. He considered taking to the rooftops. A helicopter's rotors thumping above him broke that thought.

Amon dipped in and out of alleys and narrow back streets. He shoved through passersby and leapt over cars. I can't keep this up forever, he thought. Maybe the underground… The 24th Ward would offer him safety for a time, something he never would have considered if not for his ghoul nature. He had no idea where to find it, but he would if it meant safety. For now he would see if he could make it to a neighboring ward and break the pursuit. His stamina began to betray him. His breathing became forced and his legs slowed. If nothing else, he would duck into an apartment building. If he was closer to home, he would escape there. Luck was clearly not on his side tonight.

He would make his own luck. Amon spun around and turned into a tunnel leading into the Metro. Reports on the nearby 4th Ward spoke of a mask shop, known to supply ghouls with their masks. I just hope it's open, and the owner will take me in. Amon slipped between the closing doors on a train headed for the 4th Ward. As far as he could tell, nobody had followed him. Maybe luck is on my side after all.

The train came to a stop within the 4th Ward, only three blocks from the supposed location of the mask shop. Civilians gave Amon strange looks as he returned to the surface. Was it his eye, the rip in his clothes, or the fact that he only wore a hospital gown? He shook the idea from his head. Keeping his gaze low, he lurked his way to HySy. CCG investigators had already begun forming roadblocks at main intersections and patrolling the streets. Amon dodged any investigators he came across. He kept in the shadows and back alleys until he reached HySy. The logo prints on the walls told him the store was closed. He knocked on the door anyway. For two minutes, the only response Amon got was the sirens around him. He kept knocking.

While he finished rapping on the door, a groggy voice from inside called out to him. "Alright! I'm coming…" The door creaked open. On the other side stood a ghoul, his black eyes barely standing out in the dim light. His hair swept to one side and shaved on the other, he stared in suspense at Amon. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Do you know who I am?" Amon stepped back from the door, just in case.

"Of course I do. Amon Koutarou, the investigator who had the 20th Ward burnt down?"

The former investigator shook his head. "I'd hardly call it all my fault. Anyway, I don't care what you think of me. I need to hide."

"What makes me think I should trust you?"

Amon stepped forward, exposing his left eye. It continued to pulsate. The young ghoul behind the door gasped. "Holy… Come inside."