Thanks for reading!

Ui watches as Akira's eyes bug out reading the newspaper. She quickly slams it down.

"What happened now?" Amon asks.

"Nothing," Akira says—too quickly. Hairu lifts her head from Ui's shoulder. The baby sits on his lap, cooing and drooling all over Ui's shirt.

"Tell me," Hairu demands, grabbing her coffee to sip.

Akira hesitates, and then unfolds the paper. The headline reads New Wife of CCG Investigator Sentenced to Death for Aiding a Ghoul. And underneath is a picture of Kuroiwa Takeomi and a beaming Kosaka Yoriko, a veil flowing behind Yoriko as she and Takeomi stand on the steps of a church, the day bright around them and all of Ui's old friends laughing in the background.

Hairu spits her drink across Ui's face. He yelps.

"Sorry."

"It's—fine," Ui wheezes. Amon grabs a towel and hands it to Ui. Masanori holds up a fistful of saliva and coffee and raises it towards his mouth. "No! No way, Masanori!" He does not want to see his child on caffeine.

"Give that to me," Hairu demands. She reaches for the paper. It crinkles.

"I didn't even know they were dating," Ui says. I've lost so much.

But he has Hairu. Masanori wails in dismay as Ui cleans the coffee away before he can taste it.

"What kind of justice is this?" Amon shakes his head. "Not even your father would be okay with this—all those heads—Akira—"

Akira pales.

"Mutsuki arrested her?" Hairu's jaw drops. "It says Kuroiwa—Takeomi, that is—punched him and is in jail too!"

Ui shakes his head.

"Mutsuki's not bloodthirsty!" Hairu wrings her hands. "Saiko—she'll be so devastated—Yoriko's her friend, she baked me melon buns that helped grow Masanori!"

Ui definitely remembers trekking to Yoriko's bakery more than a few nights. "I wonder how Iwao is handling this."

"I should talk to Mutsuki," Hairu says. "It's Kirishima Touka, Koori. The ghoul."

"She knows Yoriko?" gasps Akira.

Hairu bites her lip. "When I first—met Touka—she tried to cook for me and mentioned that she had a friend who loved to cook in high school—it says here Kirishima was a high school friend—it has to be her." Hairu's voice catches. "She still cared about this friend, I know she did."

"Then let her do something," Akira says.

Hairu looks to Ui, green eyes pleading. "What's the right thing to do?"

He gulps. Don't ask me that.

I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

"Saiko wouldn't hurt me," Hairu insists.

"Urie might. And Mutsuki—if he went after Yoriko for knowing a ghoul in high school do you really think he won't go after you?" demands Akira. "He went after me!"

"We were friends!"

"Were!"

Masanori bursts into tears. Ui leaps to his feet and stalks out of the room. Hairu follows. "Koori…"

"We won't be safe," he cuts in, turning to face her with his eyes wide. "We'll—you know—it'll be a risk."

"Not if you help me think of how," Hairu says. "I trust you."

Ui swallows. "We have to come up with a plan. And safety is paramount. Masanori needs his mother."

"Because I'm his food machine," Hairu says, unbuttoning her blouse.

"And because you're you."

She presses Masanori against her breast and he quiets. Her gaze meets Ui's, and she smiles.

"You have one hour," Ui hisses, hand gripping her arm. "If you're late, or if she doesn't come, I swear to God I am going to come and drag you out of there."

Hairu nods. She wanted to bring Masanori, but Ui put his foot down, and Hairu supposes that's for the best. She sent Saiko a letter last week telling her she'd love to meet in a coffee shop, and signed it Masanori. Because Saiko knows the name. She'll know whom it's from.

Hairu kisses Ui on his cheek and sweeps past. She looks back to see his face reddening, Masanori alert and content in his arms. People pass all around them, men with briefcases and women wearing heels and smelling of perfume. Ui turns to head back to their apartment. Hairu slips down the street and takes her left. She spots the café and enters, adjusting the hat covering her pink hair.

A clatter echoes from across the room. Hairu looks up to see Saiko leaping to her feet, sending the coffee cups in front of her tumbling to the ground with a crash. Saiko yelps.

The manager swears, heading over. Saiko kneels to help pick up the broken pieces. Hairu orders two more coffees and two melon buns. She appears before Saiko, who grabs her in a bone-crushing hug. Hairu caves, hugging her back.

"You're okay," whispers Saiko. "I was—were you kidnapped again, or—Maman—"

"He's okay, they're all okay," Hairu says. "Saiko, it's not what you think."

Saiko pokes her abdomen. "You had the baby."

Hairu nods. "Masanori."

"Knew it was a boy," Saiko declares, munching the melon bun. Sugar and crumbs stick to her upper lip. And then tears fill her eyes again. "It's been a disaster since you—left—Mucchan's lost himself—he smells like—and Urie's—he framed out—"

"What?" Hairu sets her cup down. The coffee tastes good, rich, better than the stuff Ui's been getting, but then again, it's not like they have a ton of money.

"I've lost everyone," Saiko sobs into her palms. "Aura's—with Mucchan—Hige's focused like Urie—Hsiao's with me, though, and she's cool. She kissed me."

She did? Hairu remembers Hsiao. "We went to the Sunlit Garden together. She cleaned my ears and it felt so good!"

"Right?" Saiko shouts. Everyone turns to stare and Saiko lowers her voice. "It does! She's so talented. And she's sexy."

Hairu laughs. "Are you dating?"

Saiko nods and tears off another piece of melon bun. Her lips poke out. "Why did you go, Hairu-san?"

Hairu's heart aches. "Because everyone who grew up in the Sunlit Garden is a failed half-ghoul."

Saiko drops her melon bun. "What?"

"We're all half—one of our parents was a ghoul, probably a Washuu—Arima, Hsiao, Furuta, me—we're all—"

"Hsiao's a Quinx though, not a—"

"She's a half-ghoul—well, half-human is what they call us. Because our humanity won out in our mother's womb." The words fail to reassure Hairu like they usually do. She thinks of her adorable little baby. "You're all—there's no point in fighting; Furuta doesn't want peace. Sasaki wants to protect you—that's why he hasn't—"

"And you're working with him?" Saiko demands.

Hairu shakes her head. "I have a son to think about."

"Special Class Bowl Cut is now Traitor Bowl Cut and he's really working with ghouls?"

Hairu shakes her head again. "He's working with me."

"But you're a ghoul." A chair scrapes in the background. Dishes clack.

"I'm a human."

"If you're a half-human then what's the other half?" Saiko eats another bite of melon bun. "Maybe—what makes you a ghoul—is a choice. Sasaki wasn't a ghoul—"

"He's the ghoul king now," Hairu interrupts. Why am I arguing? Don't I want to believe what she says? That I'm no monster?

Her ghoul heritage saved her in Cochlea.

I don't care what I am.

I'm alive and so is Masanori, and I want to keep it that way.

Saiko gulps, tears in her eyes. "I don't—want anyone else to die."

Hairu blinks. The smell of burned coffee meets her nostrils. "I want to live, too." And so does Touka. So do Akira and Amon. We all just want to live.

"Why won't you come back?" Saiko asks, looking like a lost child.

Hairu hates herself. "I should go."

Saiko nods, her lips trembling. She gets to her feet, head downcast. Her hair droops, limp. "Is he happy? Without us?"

Hairu hesitates. "I don't know—I'm not working with him, remember?"

"I can't believe it. I won't until he tells us himself," Saiko declares. "I can't lose anyone else, and now Yoriko's going to—Yoriko—and Mutsuki—I don't understand why."

"Have you asked him?" Hairu questions as they exit. The thawing spring air caresses her face. Sunlight breaks through the clouds. And more clouds swoop in to lap it away. Saiko shakes her head. A raindrop lands at Hairu's feet.

"Urie says he'll do something," Saiko says quietly. "He doesn't know what yet. But he will." She looks up at Hairu. "Hairu-chan, are you a terrorist?"

Hairu's jaw drops as they head down the street together, hat pulled over her head. "No!"

"Well, I want to be. I don't care. Saiko doesn't want to be a part of the CCG anymore." Saiko swallows. "Urie said we might be. If it doesn't work. Whatever he's planning to save Yoriko."

Hairu nods. At least Saiko and Urie are doing something for Yoriko. Saiko said so.

"If we become terrorists, can we join you and Ui and Masanori?"

"What about Hsiao?"

Saiko looks up at Hairu. "Don't you want to save her, too? If you grew up in the same place—isn't she like a little sister?" Her voice shakes. "Come talk to all of us. Mutsuki would listen to you, Hairu, I know it—you could tell them about the Washuus—we can all go, we can join you, we can join Maman—you're still you even if you're a ghoul—"

I have a son. Hairu opens her mouth.

Saiko's face suddenly freezes. She grabs Hairu's forearm, yanking her close. "Get your head down!"

Hairu obeys. Her heart hammers in her ribs. The last thing she wants is to get Saiko in trouble.

A group of children, dressed all in black, pass by. One of them waves at Saiko, who waves back.

"Good thing you don't smell like a ghoul," Saiko says darkly. "Get on back to your boy. Both of them."

Ui is not going to be able to wait at the apartment for Hairu. Masanori seems to be enjoying being out among lots of people. He's a little extrovert already. Ui can't relate. He takes Masanori to a nearby park and sits on the swing, holding his son on his lap. He gently rocks back and forth. Masanori giggles.

I love you so much. Ui keeps the swinging gentle, more of rocking than swinging. A raindrop lands on Masanori's hand, and the baby squeals.

First time he's felt rain, Ui realizes. He smells cigarette smoke and wrinkles his nose. He misses them, but he promised Hairu. And Masanori is enough to make him want to keep that promise.

Hairu will need an umbrella. Ui carried one just in case. He gets to his feet, shifting Masanori. The baby reaches his hands up at the raindrops.

Cute. Ui decides to wait until they see Hairu or it starts pouring to pull out the umbrella. They exit the park and head back out onto the street. A woman with plump cheeks smiles at Masanori, who giggles again.

"I take it this is your favorite weather," Ui says to his son. Masanori presses a palm, wet with either drool or rain or both, against Ui's cheek. "And pranks are your game. God help me, between you and your mother."

The baby blinks. His eyes are shaped like Hairu's, but they're Ui's dark irises. Ui has to remind himself to check the crosswalk before crossing the street.

Something strikes his leg. Ui stumbles, barely keeping on his feet. "Dammit!"

His leg throbs, burns. He turns around.

Screams erupt around him.

A squad of about a dozen children, dressed in black and with a familiar kagune, surrounds Ui. Red, pulsing, the kagunes seethe at him. Ui steps back. Masanori lets out another laugh, as if it's funny.

God no!

He fumbles for his umbrella—it's all he has—you found me, how, how, how—Hairu—if they got her too—

God fucking dammit, I don't have my quinque!

It's hopeless. No! Rain splatters him. A downpour. Masanori starts to cry. Around him civilians scream and run, pointing.

"Traitor!" taunts one of the Quinx—are they Quinx?

It can't be hopeless, not here, not yet, he has his son with him—he's a special class—he was a special class—Ui stumbles. Another kagune whips towards him. He's literally encircled.

If it were just me—

But it's not.

He can't give up. Rain runs cold through his hair. I have to save him.

Masanori's screaming now, and Ui can't sing to calm him down. He can't reassure him. He can only dive out of the way. Another kagune slaps his arm. Blood runs down. It smarts. It smells like salt and bitterness.

Hairu—

Hairu—I'm sorry—

Hairu—

Arima—Hirako—

Ui leaps back. A kagune surges towards Masanori's face, and Ui whirls around, letting it stab his shoulder. One goes for his leg, and it's no use—he's surrounded—

Never give up. Even if you lose your arms or your legs. Keep fighting. Mado Kureo told Amon that once.

It's not my life here.

Ui dodges, but he slips. He crashes onto the pavement. Knees raw. He remembers Fueguchi. Her mother. He heard about it. Kagunes hover over him, a wall of red. He curls his body around his son. "Don't!" A plea. He hates this.

He has no options. No hope. Ui's breaths come sharp, scraping his chest. Fuck! Fuck. Not Masanori. He tenses, waiting for another blow. His arm throbs.

"Brought to your knees?" scoffs one of the kids. "I thought you were supposed to be some great investigator."

"He didn't even fight back."

"Pathetic."

"Coward."

"What do you expect from a traitor?"

Rain soaks through Ui's clothing. His heart hammers. Masanori bawls.

"You're under arrest," proclaims one of the kids. A kagune hovers next to Ui's throat. "And if you put up any sort of fight, we'll take your brat's head off."

You won't kill me right here? Ui looks up. A boot slams into his face. Ui struggles, but they rip Masanori away from his arms. Ui screams. One of them hits Ui on the head as they handcuff him, and Ui's just trying desperately to follow what they're doing with Masanori.

"He'll be fine," says the one with the heavy eyebrows. "Your brat, that is. So long as you cooperate, Judas."

Fuck. Ui stops struggling. Is this my only hope? The Oggai yank him to his feet, shoving him forward. Ui keeps his head low, eyes trained on his son.

Hairu, I'm sorry. Hairu, forgive me. Hairu.

He enters the CCG as a prisoner.

"Koori!" Hairu hollers when she bursts into the apartment, teeth chattering from the rain. "Koori, I—"

Akira screams, dropping a bowl.

Why does that keep happening today?

"You're okay!" cries out Amon, rushing towards her.

"Huh?" Hairu blinks. "Where's—"

Amon shoves his phone at her face. The headline screams at her.

CCG Traitor Arrested

And there's a grainy photo of Ui, holding Masanori, surrounded by the kids who passed Hairu and Saiko earlier.

He went back for me.

Koori, you fucking idiot! I'm going to kill you!

Masanori—

Hairu spins on her heel and races towards the door. Amon lunges, grabbing her. Akira blocks the door. "Let me go!" she screams. "Let go of me!" She tries to bite Amon.

"Ow!"

"Hairu, you can't!" yells Akira. "You—"

"They have my baby!" Hairu feels as if her throat's ripping, she's yelling so loud. "And my fiancé!"

Akira's eyes widen. "Hairu—"

"I have to save them!"

"You'll just get yourself killed!"

"They'll both be killed! I don't want to live without them!" She fights, but Amon's arms are too strong. Still she kicks him in the knees, again and again and again, but his grip won't even loosen. A sob breaks from her lips. "I don't live a long life—I need them—to make it—worthwhile—Masanori!" She wonders if her mother screamed like this when she was taken from her. She wonders if it felt like a knife stabbing and lacerating her chest, like her screams were coming from inside a coffin, like everyone could hear but no one cared, like the world was her coffin and she was rotting even though she shouldn't be, she shouldn't be in this place. "Koori!" Hairu throws her head back and screams.

"Hairu!"

"It's my baby; you wouldn't understand!" Hairu shouts. Tears stream down her cheeks, thick and salty. "Or Amon—" She squeezes her eyes shut. "I want to die—if by dying—I get to see them—I need to—don't make me—"

Live.

Why?

God, why?

Arima, where are you?

Hands press against her face. Hairu pries her eyes open. Akira's eyes, purple and watering, meet hers. "We'll go to Kaneki. And Goat. We'll—they'll figure out a plan, Touka knows Yoriko—they'll save them."

They. Not we. "You're a cowardly bitch," Hairu snaps. "You were supposed to—keep fighting—no matter what—no matter what it costs you—"

Akira recoils. "What would you have me do, Hairu? My father was a—"

"Was he?"

Akira's jaw drops. "He—"

"I'd have you take the good, and fuck the bad," says Hairu, thinking of Arima. You're not a god.

You never were. You're a person.

"Aren't you able to make decisions for yourself?" Hairu demands. "Fueguchi—" She stops.

Akira's shaking. She looks at Amon.

"I'm going," Hairu says.

I'm in jail.

Never in Ui's life did he imagine he'd end up in here. It's cold. Ui shivers. At the very least they gave him a dry blanket that he used to wrap around Masanori. But I'm in jail.

And his son's in here with him. Ui remembers when he was born. He promised to protect him. No one will hurt you.

I lied.

Tears slide down Ui's cheeks as he clings to his son. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He failed as an investigator. He failed as a father. He failed Hairu, too. He promised he would save her, and Masanori too, and he can't even save himself. Hairu... you'll never forgive me for this, will you? He'll never forgive himself, that's for sure. So much for justice.

I'm just a coward, you see.

He sees it now. A teardrop lands on his son's sleeping face, and Ui wipes it away. "I'm sorry," he chokes out.

The sound of clapping breaks through the darkness.

Ui lifts his head and peers through the bars, a cruel reminder of just where he is.

"Oh, my, my, my," says Furuta with a grin. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Ui glares at him. Masanori stirs and whimpers.

"A rat, and its spawn," Furuta says. "Too bad Ihei wasn't around. Or is she dead already? We do die young, don't you know?"

Ui just stares at him. He shouldn't hope for a trial.

"I heard about your performance on the street there, Ui. It was really… befitting a special class." Furuta snickers. The light crackles above his head. Ui holds his son tighter, even though the baby squirms.

Hairu.

I'm so sorry.

Will you know what happened to me?

He'll give them whatever they want, if it means keeping his son alive. That might be one just thing he can still do.

"But you chose not to be one anymore, didn't you? All for that pink bitch. Did she leave you already? Run off with dear Kishou? Bet she's already knocked up by another man."

That does it. If Ui wasn't holding Masanori he would punch him through the bars. "Shut the fuck up, you—"

"Women are all like that," Furuta says, clutching the bars as he leers at Ui.

"So you're adding misogyny to your already long list of wonderful attributes?"

Furuta crosses his arms. A small smile spreads across his face.

"Why are you here?" Ui demands.

"Because," Furuta says. "I have a proposal for you."