EDIT: I'm SO SORRY the chapter turned out weird. Thanks to the reviewers for telling me!

Heyo! Author here with a rewrite of one of my stories. I hope you all enjoy!


When Kaneki opens his eyes, he blinks almost curiously at the vast expanse of white in his field of vision. Casually getting to his feet, the man stretches briefly, testing his limbs for any traces of the injuries that had finally brought about his end. Phantom pain sears at his nerves as he remembers how they had been firebombed, the CCG and ghouls struggling to survive as buildings crumbled around them, still locked in combat even as the timer counting down to their collective deaths edges even closer to zero. With Tokyo evacuated, the governments of the world had decided to cut their losses. Just like how regions ripe with infection in a plague would be purged, they had decided that the best course of action was a baptization in fire. Destroy everything and start anew. Still, they had pressed on, refusing to give up. Not after everything they had sacrificed. Not after everyone who had perished to ensure they got that far. He paused, scrubbing furiously at his eyes as the slack, dead face of Touka-chan was drawn out from his mind by his act of reminiscence. He had thought that there was nothing else, no one else for him to lose. His mom was long dead and gone. Anteiku had been burned to the ground, ashes scattered to the wind. Hide had gone missing after their encounter, leaving behind a faint taste of blood(sweet, with a hint of an energy drink that his friend would constantly consume during finals). The Quinx, and by proxy, the CCG had turned on him once Haise Sasaki had been discarded in favour of his true identity. Arima, the closest thing he had to a father was dead.

He had lost everything. Still, it appeared that his everything wasn't enough for the world. Kaneki tried not to be bitter about that. The man had already made his peace with the fact that the world was wrong, cruel even, an almost sentient entity that delighted in breaking the strongest of people and making sure that evil never rested. Absentmindedly, he wondered if he was in the afterlife, a small thrum of anticipation at seeing his family again coursing through his veins as he shook the dark thoughts from his mind and walked forward briskly. Kaneki followed the trail of spider lilies, those behind him wilting away and turning to dust even as fresh ones bloomed. It was odd even if you considered that this was the afterlife, but there was also the chance that this was one last hallucination before his brain gave up the fight. His skin prickled and the finely honed danger sense that he had developed began to warn him about multiple things lurking, waiting for the time to strike. Concerning, especially when there wasn't a shadow in sight. Nevertheless, his fingers glossed over the blade at his side, the urge to put on the mask currently resting against his chest building the longer he walked. In the corner of his eye, he noted the vaguely beast-like things that were stalking him, a mishmash of various creatures. Chimeras. His eye ached briefly, RC cells stirring underneath his skin in response to his emotions, waiting for his command. A smile flickered across his face for the briefest of moments before it was snuffed out by the presence of a grip on his sleeve.

Pivoting on a single foot even as his hand went for his weapon, Kaneki stopped mid-draw when his eyes met those of a child. The white-haired man quickly sheathed his sword, muttering an apology even as his brain raced to catalogue the boy before him. Startling green hair and eyes. A light dusting of freckles on a face that had just begun to lose its baby fat. Frail, not in the way a coma patient was, but in the way an abused child was. Briefly, his mind brought him back to a time where he spent hours curled up on a cold floor, crying softly. He noted the faded burn scars(like someone had pressed small firecrackers to his limbs and lit them), and the way the kid held himself. Ready to fold like a piece of wet paper before a storm. His stomach churned unpleasantly as long suppressed memories threatened to break the barriers he had carefully erected and reinforced over the years. Bending down slightly so that he was able to see eye to eye with the child before him, Kaneki asked the first question to come to mind.

"What's your name kid?" the green-haired child blinked at him slowly, seemingly confused at the gentleness he was currently met with. Kaneki felt a flash of empathy mixed with cold anger and made sure to suppress the darker parts of his mind so that he wouldn't frighten the only other living being he had found in here(and as he struggled to rein them in, his mind went back to the sick feeling in his gut when Touka-chan first witnessed the monster he had become and the look of mounting horror on her face). His efforts were not in vain, for the teenager relaxed almost imperceptibly.

"Midoriya Izuku, sir." a flicker of amusement coursed through him before he let out a soft laugh, slowly reaching out to brush gently at the messy curls on top of Midoriya's head. He jerked back slightly in surprise, but after it was clear that Kaneki was doing nothing more than untangling his hair, the boy began to lean into the touch with a pleased hum. They stood like this for a minute or two, the older man carefully brushing strands of hair with nimble fingers while the younger boy closed his eyes and hummed at the sensations. They were snapped out of their brief reverie by the sound of laughter. Kaneki grimaced as the shrill noise pierced his sensitive ears, removing his hands from Midoriya's hair but not getting up. Turning his head slightly, the only physical indicator of his surprise was a single twitch of his left eye. The kid squeaked, but stayed rooted to the spot. Trembling.

Where there had just been white emptiness was two abnormally large entities. They wore hooded cloaks, but movement underneath them coupled with his hyperfocused state allowed him to catch a glimpse of what appeared to be a tentacle briefly escaping the robes of the one on the left. Mouth suddenly dry, he tried to make out any defining features, only for static to creep into the edges of his vision. Grimacing, Kaneki stopped trying, standing up and brushing off imaginary dust from his knee. His instincts had gone quiet. Either that meant that these two were not a threat to himself and Midoriya...or judging by the impending sense of doom he sensed looming over them like the scythe of the Grim Reaper itself, they were powerful enough that his baser instincts had promptly curled up into a ball and was currently hoping that they wouldn't squash him like a gnat.

"̴̨͉̜̞̯̯̝͒H̵̭͍͕̤̠͎̓̃̒͑͌̔̍̒͠ͅe̴̝̣̤̓͒ḻ̴͚͍̦̹̳̠͖́͘l̷̨͚̪̘̭̞̬͈̼͊̎̀͑̃͐̈́̚͠ŏ̶͙͍̞ ̸̢̹͖̹͉̖̠̹͗͗̋̊̈́͘͝͝ͅp̶͚̆̏ì̴͉̍̽́̀̔̋ȩ̵̧̛͚̠̱̺͎̏̊͗̓͌́͐c̷͓͎͙̦̩̩̤͇̥̺̎̈́̑̀͘ͅe̷̢̙͔̬͐̒̚̕s̵̢̡͎͍̞̘̣̲̥̀.̸̺̙̥̭̺͓̤̟̻̲͓̗͆͐̔̒͗͛͠͝͝"̵̦̩̖̩̠̲̟̮̯̮̒̕

"Pieces?" he asked, hand already reaching for the sheathed sword attached to his hip. However, with a simple wave of a hand hidden by a sleeve, his hand felt leaden and useless, as if gravity had increased abruptly. He stopped his action, mind racing for a way out of the situation and feeling dread pool in his gut when he came up empty. The right one, who had first spoken, tilted its head almost mockingly at his question.

"̷͓͔̩͕̬̙̫̫͇̄͊̾͌̏̊̋̍͒̽̎Ẁ̵̺͍͎̭̓̒̐̀̇͛̑̇͝ḩ̴͔͕̣̮͍͙̟̭̮̄͛͌͂̄̈́̓͊a̸͎̳̥̖͔͇̝̦͙͇̻̼͗̊̓t̷̡̺̮̰̻͉͚͖͓̘͑͐̉͛̈́͐͝ ̸̰̣͈̥̈̉e̷̝͂̂̑͊̏͝l̸̨̲͖̞͈̠̊̈́̽̈̈́̚s̶̨̥̫̼̪̣͆̉ę̶̨̛̛͕̩̜̩͇̘͛̾̀̎̇͝ͅ ̵̧̛̛̭̟̖̜̥̣̳͍͑̐̍̀͊̓͛͒̏̕w̵̨̛̯̳̰̝͔͎̤̲͍̘̔͗o̷̢̢͈̘̙̯̦͎͛̒͂͐́̓̈́͝͠͠u̸͈͖͚̯̎͌ḽ̸̡̙̜̟̙̠̤̤̪̼̫͂̃́̿͝d̴̩̗̫̄̊̅̂̀̅̾ ̷̡͐͑͆͝w̷̢̧̛͈͓̳̜͕͈̞͂̄͒͐̆̃̏̚̚͠͝é̷̼̝̜̯̞̖̝̮̦̕ ̵̻̓̀͐͑̃̿͠͠c̷̣̀̊̓̒͛̈͛̿͘͘͜ͅa̶̢̧̱̱̩̪̻͈̙̳̯̝̐̈̉̿̈́̃̽͌̔̓͘̕ḽ̵̟͖̼̻͓͕̱̥̻͕̏̚l̴͓̄̒̊̌͂̋͊̓̒̚ ̸̢̛̲̻̺̙̘̰̈́̋̾͐̊̈́̈̚̚y̸̡͓̫̺͕̮̠͍͊̓͛̆̀ͅͅơ̵̞̥͑̀́̍̄̿̈́̈́͝͝ǘ̷̧̡͇͓̥̻͉͂̈́̽̐̀̀̍͝͝͝?̸̝̯͔̮͉̥̩̄͒͊ ̴̨̛̫̼̲̘̦͚̣͖̝̀́̄͛́͐̔̈́͝Ẅ̵͈͛̉͊̓̽͛̈́͑̀̚ě̴̡͎̘̩͔̫̉̃̏͝͝ ̵̨̟̘̜̯͚̏̒̇̈̈́̏̃̚̕ͅȁ̶̭̯̼̖͚̈́̑̓̄̐̉̄̒̿̃̋ͅr̸͙̝̲͍͙̍̿̅̌̒̅̏͐̕͘͠͠e̵̝̔̒ ̴̳̤̃̀͌͗̔̏̊͛̊̏͘̕t̴̘̲̩̫̜̟̉̀̕h̵͔̊͌̿̃̓̋ê̶̥͚͎̯̪͈͓͚̤͖̗͚͐̄͊̎̔̈́ ̴̡̨̩͚̥͎̙͐̆̃̈́̈́͒͋̕ǫ̴̣͙͖̖̥͂ņ̶̡͈̖͈̜͚͕͚̖́̄̔̒͂̊̔ͅę̵̯̼̺̽̌̃̃s̵̢̳̟͎͈͙̟̝̀ ̵̨̠̜̰̖͔͔͚̲͈̔͒̅̌͑̉̾͐̏͘͠͠w̸͉̯͕̪͙̬̩͇͒h̴̪͖͓͔̀̋͋̔̀͛́͜ǫ̷͆̆̈́͗̈́̑̌̎̀̃͘ ̷̩̫̖͌͒̏́͊̈̄̕̕͠ͅc̷̝̗̻̻̘̬̉͗ä̴̡̭̭̫͉͉m̸̜̜͖̠̹͆͋͗͜e̴̢̛̱̖̹̗̗̙̫̻̜͉͗̇̇̍̅̊́ ̵͕̫͔̼͉̞̺͎̭̜͇̓̒̀̈́͝͠ḃ̶̩̟̲̀̑͝e̵̢̮̪̬͚̻̝̙̪͈̺̅̀͜ḟ̷͔̬̥̃͗̅ȍ̶̡̡̖̲̼̣̫͚͎͓̯͛͒͘̕ŗ̴̘͍̲̰͕̫̻̗̈́͌̓̀̊̇̉̂̐̕͝e̸̫̻̔̐̾͠.̴̜̗̻̟̗͕̰̺͂́͊̄̆̑̇͋̄͆́̽͜ ̸̛̦̼̰̠̬̯̮̠̄̾̓͆̇̑̏̈̉́͝ͅͅW̵̗͍̮̣̫̮̙͔͒͜ͅẻ̵̫̘͙̤̜̬́̀̕ ̵̝̻̍̿͂̓̓͐̿̇͒̆̇̕ă̴̺͎͓̻̗̫̓́̽̍ŗ̵̛̩͎̺͚̰͒͗͗̅͛̒̓͗͘͠͝e̸̪̝̗͓̘͕̰̥̺͖̅̓̃̅̾̇ ̵̧͙̱̯͚͌͋̔̓̃̄͒́̕͠y̴͚̻͓͠o̸̢̢̧͇̟̣͎̺͓̒̇̏̊̇̎̊̕͝͠u̵̝͔͕̳͉͇͔̰̦̼̞͂̉̋͛̇r̷͎̥͓̯̣̜͑̽ ̴̧͚͕̞̞͔͇̬̓ͅf̴͎̯̺̈́̆͜a̵͎͍͖͚͐̏̓͛̑t̶̨̗̹̞̞̦̘̯̥͖̎̍̽̑̈́̊͂͂͐̚̚͠ͅe̸̙͊͝,̸̭̭̗͈̝̞̅͋̌̋̀̃͘ ̶̲̥̥͙̠̠̳̺͉̔̃̏̚͜y̴̬̓̕ô̵̧̨̩͉̫͈͍̘̥̻̠͜ṵ̶̞̦̼̲͈̱̉̋͋̓̽̓͐̿̀r̵̨̝̻̬̝̠̮̈́ ̴͇̼̬̟̜͈̥̎̋̃͂̂̾͘͝d̷̢̡̲̲͕̠͎̯̞̃̀̾͜ȅ̴̬̬̟͓̞̤͎̯̼͛̈͋̏̍s̴͙̪̅̓̿͂̌̒͆̾͘t̷̡͍̯̮̱̉̄̽̏͌̔̏̽͘͝i̵̡̧͎̰͓̩̲̭̠͔͑̾̇̽̐͊̏̓̕͠ǹ̵̛͕͉͐̈́̒̋͒͐̈̍̌͝ỹ̵̤͚̟͓̭̜̳̎̀̓́͘.̸̣̹̳̮͙̮͗̿̇͂̀ ̸̛̳̠̯̖͚̗͙̭̃͐̊͊̂͂͑̽͝W̴̧̙͔̞̖̯͍̯͖̖̞̽̄̐̏͗̓̈́̾̉̽̑͠ͅe̶̥͓͉̖͗̒̀̊̊̇̑̿́͆̔ ̴͙̰̣̙̰̝͊a̶̢͙͓͉̩̲̬͚͎̠͍͙͛̎͂̉̍̾͌͋͘͝͠ŗ̷̡̪͚͕̮̝̜̓́̒e̴̢͓̹͙͚̮̱̾̌̓̈́͒́̿̕̚ ̵͈̫̥̫̗̟̩͎͎̑͗̃͊͜ǐ̵̮̰̺̳͕̱̦͉̼̈́̊̚͠ǹ̴̨̖̜̥͙̲̟͓̦̖̌̇͒͗̍́̒͝ ̵͔͖̙̰̘̘́͋̀̎̇͐̓̒̈c̴̨̨̛̗͔̣͈̲͖̘̐͗̒͋̋̈́̀̈́̐o̵͙̦̺̖͇̼̹͋̉̈̄͂̚͝͝n̴̢̖͈̗̩̭͚͚̠̺̠̂̀͘t̵̟̻̗́̌̍͊͊r̵̻͖̞̥̱̉͂̔̆̋͒͐ờ̶̰̲̈́̀̊̔̈̇̽̅͠l̵̢̛͙̪̳͕̟̺̲̰̀̄̊̑͐̑͝.̵̡̢̛̲̺̜͕̳̟͌̍̆̅̔͂͛͊"̵̯̞͚̺̝̩͚͚̯̲̞̏́̋̇̇

"While that's nice and all, why am I here? Why is this kid here?" Kaneki almost slapped himself when the words escaped from his mouth, mentally cursing his inability to remain docile and submissive. The other figure chuckled, a sound that reminded him of computer glitches and torn throats, made from the screams of those lost on the battlefield. A snap of abnormally long and crooked fingers lead to images flashing before his eyes, ones containing the child he held and his story. Midoriya Izuku. From another world. Abused. Shunned. His possible future was overturned by the death of his mother in a villain attack. Died alone and at peace, bleeding out in an alleyway where no one would find him, even if it had taken him three minutes to finally pass on. The apprehension in his system was quickly replaced by rage, mounting rage that only continued to build as the one on the left spoke.

"̴͇̎̏̽̍̽̆͗͊͒̚̚͝M̴̡̞̻̣͖̬̽͆̅͝ï̸̡̫̱͈̮̲̭̮̱͔̕̕ͅd̸̛̫͊̓̉̑͒̀o̴̤̥͛̈́̈́̀͗͐͒r̴̡̢̝̞̝̖̩͖͉͗̈̕i̶̠̹̭͔̣̲̩͖͋̎͂͝y̶͖̹̳͓͐̾͂̒͠͝a̸̜̹̟̟̟͙̙͒̈͜ ̶̘̂̾̊͒̏̂͗̏̒̒̽͘I̵͇̗̰̭̺̮̦̱̼͍̋z̷̧̤̺̩̼̥̻̓͛ų̵͔̺̣͚̥̙̘̆̆̆͝k̶̩͚̳̆̈̓̈́͜ư̸̡̧̦̠̻͋̓̑̌͊̎̕͝.̴͕̫̦̤̏̋͛́͑͊̋͆̀͛̚̕ͅ ̵̲̟̋̔͆͒̐̕̕W̶̖͈͗̾̀͊̽̏͆̕e̴̗̮͇̘̻̠̝͕̲̺̻͛̉͋͘̚ ̷̡̡̛̟̙̱͖͆́̀̑͌͜͝h̷̛̝̠̘̰͚͂̋̾̓̌̈́̽̉̓̚͠a̵̳̮̍̐̏d̸̨̧̯̻̼̮̻́̋ ̴͉̻̟̺͓͈̳̲̣̥̮̝̋͌m̷̼͕̥̤̓̊͜ä̴͙̙̘́́̈́͐͒̉͒͋̚͠n̷̥̯͇̲̳͕͓̚ẏ̴̫̬͇́̉̋̈́͜ ̸̱̦̤͝p̵̛̹͉̗̓͑͒͆̈́ļ̶̦̙̘̩̭̜̖̝̟͌̎̓͆̓̾͋̃͆̍̚ͅå̷̲̉̓n̵̫̭̖̳͙̮̩̝͎̰̕s̷̻̩̯̩̰̗̑̽̀̀̋͌̕ ̸̪̋̽̇̆͘ḟ̷͍̜̗͖̞̤̲̱͔̪̬̂̅̄̂̀̈́͂̚̚ͅo̴͉̼̳͓͚̠͍̗̰̜͗̽̈́̔͐̑̚̕r̷̢̢̥͓̣͗̃̈́̿͐̿̕̕̚͝ ̴̧̡̮̬̮͇̮̣͈͗͗͛̔̑̅͒̋̚͜͠h̴̢̫̮͕͓̜̟͓͌̿̍̀̋̄į̴̡̞̲̺͚͈͎̈́̈́̊̐̑̓̿̄̿̀̀̚m̷̳̖̫͉̥͔̝͈̐̂͋̒͝.̴̧̝̮̣̄̇̀̌̇̓̊̆ͅ ̸̨͕͍̲̼̺̺̌́̏̐͜ͅḄ̵̡̗̬̆̓̍̈́u̵͕̳̒́̍͐̑̓͛͌͊͝t̷̥͔͖͈͌͑̃͑̃͒̔̑̈́͑̀͠ ̴̌ͅh̵̨̨̫̦̦͇̜̲̹̼̓̈̂͌͠e̷͓̙̟͇̳̝͚̣̮̘͙͆͒͝ ̴̛͕̯̫̳͂̓̆̉̋̒̀̉͠͝ì̸͍̻̼̞̃̋͗̂̆͌͆̀͂͝s̶͖͈̥͝͠ ̶͇͔͇̻̥̪̦͓̟̝̒͌̄͗̏̈́̃͂̉͘t̷͕̥͈̟̟͕͚̭̖̺̯͎͌̃͗̃̇̿͠o̶̦̠͔̜͌̌͑̕̚̕õ̸̧̜̤̪̺̭̯̙̣̇͗͒̐̾̌̇̏̌ ̵̻͉̠̌̍̋͐̽͂̍̀͌̓̑̚w̶̢̡̗̩̣͎̳͐́̕ę̴̳͕̜̠̂̀̽̽̑̈́a̴̧̬͖̲̻̥̮͙̩̹͎̅́̆̌͜k̴̢͇͙̻̘̺̠̅̕͜.̴̣̰̰̤̥͉̼͕̩̍̐͂͋͌̈́̃̀̈́͝ ̸̡̢̟̭̣̻̻̫̻̣́͜W̷̗̞̰̣͖͓̋̾̄̔̔͋̑̅̽̈͆͘e̵̛̜̳͙̦̓́̀͋̅̐̐̏͝͠ ̴̰̣̞̳̲̰̃̆̆̓͗̔̊̒́͝͝l̴̞̩̱͑͂̍̄͒̓͌̚͠o̴̢̲͙̝͈̠͕͗̆̉̃ơ̶̞͓̥̮͓͐̈́́̉̂͗̾̉̕͝k̴͚͍̰͍̞̳͇̆͊͆͗͜e̴͈̻͖̜͇͕͉͔̲̼̅̂͒͋̀̂̏̈́̆̄̐d̶̝͌́͝͠ ̵̢̨̝͔̯͍̟̦̩̘̙̽̈̊̔̏̋͛͜͝f̶̧̟̖͇̭̐̎̌̿̾̋̐ͅo̶̯̦̻̼̓̈́̀̾̀ŗ̴̱̱͉̟̞̤̋́̾͒ ̴͓͇͔̩̟̝̮̺̇̃͜͝s̷͔̼̤̐͌́̊̈͛ọ̴́͐͛̓̇̔͗̕͝m̴̛̤̯̭͐͊e̵̢̖̲̙̜̽̈́̾̏̿̓͊̽͐̆̿͘o̵̢̢̥̤̲̱̝͇̜͙͖̥͋͂̓̂̾͝n̶̡̡̡̡͓͖̙̲̟̖̯̤͊̋̒̈̈́͆̈́́e̶̹̓͑̃͗̚͜ ̷̧̡̹͎̈́̽͛͌̅̓̿̆̌͘͝s̶̥̬̤͍̖̭̋̎̓̒́̾t̷̡̛̤̯̘͙̒͋̋̽̓͂͌̅̓̈́̈r̸̢̨͈̗͉̝̝͈̟̣̳͉̓͊̋̿̑̇ǒ̷̯͍̯̤͒ņ̷̳̼̪̞̹̠͈͔͖̭̓̚͜͠g̷̢̨̰͎͕̮̼̙͒ę̴̨̰̬̗̫̻̩̠̉͑̄̐͆͝͝͝ͅr̵̡̟̝̱͚̤̀̈ͅ.̶̟̺̘̐̈́͝ ̷̱̬̹̈̈̊͆̈́̕W̸̲̣͙̖̖̪͓̤̳̔̐̔̐̅͋̆̚͠͝e̴̺̤̭͔̘̻̰͉̓͋́͝ ̵̰͔̹̙͖̀͋f̵͔̈͊̍̍ǫ̶̘̫̖͉̦̱̞̞̥̊͝ủ̴̧͉̗̖̪̙͔̱̾̑̒͌̔̑̃́n̶̨̟̖͈̾̀̾̌͊̒͐̊̂͐̕d̵̨̩̦͈͖̅͗̈́͠͝ ̷̥̤̬̮̣̣̖͈̲͋̈̏̅̔̋̐y̸͈͔͎̋͋͑͊́͋́̂͆̈́͝͠o̷̡̰̱̼̬͓̜̳̞̚ű̴̬̹̝̩̯͕͔́͆̀̈̔͒̄͆̿͋͝.̴̤̙͇̭̘̥̱̲͍̜̬̣̈̄̌͐̅̐̈̚͠ ̸̛̤͉͙̫̖̳̞͈̻̲͕̉̊͊́̏͌̈́͋̈́̾̚Y̷̭͇̻̰͉̪͒̇̃͐͒̾͑̕̕͠ŏ̸̢̯̹͕̟̟̘͍̭̪͔ú̸͖̯̍͌̀͛̇̒ ̶̼̼͎̦̬͎̜̙́̄̃̂͝ͅẘ̶͉̳̩i̶̛̹̯͖̪̻̹̖̒̀̈́̋̒̇̇̓̈́̓͠ͅl̷͖͔̲̬̥͌̋͋l̴̢͓͎̩͚̤͈̮͕̜̈́̆͌͗̉̊͌͌̋̀̐̚͜ ̷̛̺̫̙͙͔̎̓̋ț̶̥̾̄̂͌́͘͜ȁ̴̘͇̝̺̼̇̿̃̈̅̎k̵̨̡̥͈̬͕̝̯̞̦̗̗̀͂̅̈̇̂̈́̌̾̀̅͘e̶̛͍͕̗̬̻͋̿̈̀͘͠ ̵̹̞̹̮͖̩̮̮̑̈́͌̈́̎̿̕͜ͅh̷͓͍͗̈́͛̿̓͂̂̃̀̍̈́͜͠i̷̡̨̖̯̩̳̳̋̍̆͋͋̿̿̌̒̌ͅs̷̡̥̗̞̳͛̒̀̆̌̅̆̅͋͊̚ ̴̯͐͋̈̌͘p̵̢͎͔̖̭͇̰̜̈́̀̓̒́͑̋͑̚͜͝l̶̨͉̲̟̭̦͒́͜a̴̡͔̮̝̭̥̻̒͛̓́̐̎͆̃͐͝͠ͅc̷͍̮̰̗͆͋͗͌è̵̡̜̞̣̘̮̤͓̻̞̓̒̽́͆̔̉͒̍̾͘͜.̵̘̼̗̝̫̈́͐̓͂́̏̕͘"̸̯̖͉͉̟̹̜̫͐͜

"Take his place you say. You subject a child to torture, ever since he turned four, watched him be beaten down and stand up over and over and say that he is too weak?" he felt his survival instincts screaming for him to stop opening his mouth, but Kaneki did what he had always done whenever the primal part of him tucked its tail between its legs and urged him to do the same. Ignore it.

"̷̛͓̐̾̈̎͌̔̋̀̈́̽͠Ȋ̵̦̠̰͚̮̬̘̽͂̾ņ̵̟͍͖̭̞̗̾͘ ̴͍̭̆a̵͈̭͔͎͓̗̹̙͊̔̓̅́̇́̾̉͝ń̵̻͉̼͎̺̈́o̴̪̺̍͌̾̄̉̏̍͒͘͝ͅt̴̲͒̂͒͗̈̐̋h̵͈̍̿̋̂̒̆̎͝ȩ̵͎̺̼̦̼̩̥̖̭̍͒̌̇̐̓̌̂̒͒̕͜͜͝r̵̨̛͖̽̍͆̅̍̋͒̀̉ ̴͔̜̤̝͗ţ̵̯͎͕̖̳̬͙͂́̐́͝ī̴̻m̸̦̥̭̮̱͍͂͋̀͜ͅe̸̢͚̠̼͔̹̭̗͇̖͗̚,̶̤͚͍̩̟̰̩͎̈́̾͒͂̂͘͜͝ ̸͇͖̫͍̥̆͌̌͠h̷̫̮̑̂̀͛͋͑͆̕e̸̛͍̱͑̀̓͘̕ ̴̣̙̗̥͕̲̝̮͚̫̖̂̏̂̂́̈́͌̇͘͝w̴̛̙̥̱̎͆͑̃̀͛̓́̈̒̕ơ̸̤̖͒̔̂̈́̑̆͂ú̸̮̱͔͓̼̼̠̬̿̇͗̑̽̀̂̏̚l̸̥̥̥͠d̴̫̬̎̌̍͑͆͋͋̃̏̽͝ ̸̛̖͉͎̟̜͎̻̞͔̹̩̄́͒̏h̶̼̺̦͎̳̝̫̍̐̉͆̀̆͂͠ạ̷̦͕̮̞̱̞͍͔͂͑̐̏͂͗̋̍̃̉̋͠v̵̦̝͉̱̙͈͈̯̉́͌̆͘e̵͍̺̒́̎͒̕͠ ̴̖̟̰̹̖̮̣̫̌ͅs̴̪̹̺͍͒͒̿ȕ̶̠̫̀̂̾̄r̷̡̬̝̹̞͇͚͗̂̆̐͠v̸̧̧̥͚̭̹͇̹̏̓̐̒̉̀̑͂̉̅̆̚i̸̛̜̊́̔͊͊͆͌͗͘v̷̛͎͎̹̣̙̝͕͕̞̊̓͑͂ͅẽ̸̠̲̮̰͇̹͖̱̻̈̅̒͗͂̚d̸̨͍̜̭̭͈̳̤̙̰͗̊̃̀̾͗̀̊̒.̶͕͔͙̭̩̚ ̴̢̢̼͍̰̺̞͙͖̊̀̊̈́͐͊̒͌̔͘H̴̨͉͎͎̯̞̫͕̟͕͋̔́̇̈́̃͌̽̕ͅi̸͔̳̰͍͇̣͗̉̂̓̕ͅͅs̴̯̯͙̺̣̼͕͂̈́̐̄͝ ̴͚̤̗̞̯͇̊͑́͂̄͆̃͑͜͝ş̷̲̣̫̠̞̰͈̬̈t̷̺̣̯̪͝o̸̧̡̹̱̯̟̙͖̼̫͐͆̋̆̐͜͝r̶͙̈y̴̛̫̪̺̻̍̃ ̸̱̯̺̫͍͈̻̰̫͚̙̽̑͠ͅw̶͕̩͎͓̩̲͐̈̆͊̾͛͐̏̃ö̶̢̪̫̥̬̦̠̲͕̗̙́͒̔͘͝ù̸̧̫͕͓͔̯̩̙̞̖̲̅̈́̏̓̄͒͂̈́͌͠l̸̢̼̭̫̦̤̠̠̻̦̺̞͐̈̀̾͝d̷̘̤͕̊͊͆̾̈̈͌͒̌͂̑ ̵̦̙͋̔̐̇̚h̸̦̻͖̽͛͛͛͘a̸͓̩̬̥͒̒̑̚͠v̴̛͎̘̰̫͈͙̝͚͈͔̠͗͜e̵̬̞̮̲̺̞̅̈́͠͝ ̵̠͎̯̯̠͕̩̭̥͇̳̯̊̂͒̃̆́̀̉̃̾͑s̴̡̨̡̛̪͎̟͈̖͇̓̈̐̓̐̈́͋a̸̺̦̦̗͈̱̓̋̅t̷̡̞̄̀̅̇i̸̳̣̪͐̅ͅs̸̳̞̹͔͉̙̎̍̔̇f̵̛̱̜̥̝̘̺̘̻̰̱̾͐̋̄̔̒̌͑͝ͅi̶͎̦̱̤̊͂́̓̓̈́̾́͑̏ȩ̷͕͙͙̞̘̯̹̤͛̓̿͌̃̆͋͊͘d̴̡͕̩͐̈ ̵̤̖̓̉̏͠ȕ̶̧̖͙̱̰͙̼̦̜͓̤̠̔s̶̨̙̬̱̞̜͇̲̪̱̱̈́̀̈́̂͌̐̎͘.̷̡̝͔͔̩̞̘̲͇̘̞̩̋̃͊̇͐̽͐̐̚ ̶̨̳̦̱̖̺͓̔̎̔̐̋̿͌̇͆͂͆͜T̵̝͋̌́́̆͂̿̐̊̆̕ḩ̸̞̹͕̹̻͎̙͉̼̙̇̎̋͒̑͂̔̇͗̓͝ì̵̡̫͍̩̪͎̥̦͈̳̝̋̆̃̎̋̆̆̕͝͠ş̸̢̲̰̞̠̞̞̟̞̺̉͗̅̒̇͘̚͜͝͠͠ ̴̰̥́̀͛̓̓̅̈́í̸̧͖̹̻̹̮͋͆͜ş̸̡͇̳̦͔̪̔̅̄̕͜͜ ̶̳̬̪̞̫̏͋͊̓͠ṉ̸̨̡̗͍̻̻̰̻͚͕̻́̍̈́̇͋̂̉̑ŏ̴͙͓̬̖̬͈̪̱̲̆̊̆̊̇͜ͅţ̷͕̗̀̊̈̏ͅ ̶̧̨͉̬̥̼͚̭̈́̏̀̈́̌̄͒͘̚t̵̡͖̝̥̬̤̥͇̎̈̈́̒̅͘͠͝͠h̵͕̜̳̯̦̯͚̖̦͚̮̤̓̎a̶̢̦̩̰̤̪̾̉̈́̈̌͂̋͝t̴̙̞̗̱͆̈́́̈́̽̕ ̴̢̛̫̞̗͖͇̘͎͇́̂̌͆̓͋ͅt̷̨̪̭̤̰̭͈͖̓̐̇̊̎̋̏͑̈́i̷̧̺̖̜̖̳̭͆̆̾̾̅̄ͅm̸̨̢̛̛̲̪̗̗͔̜͕̲͆͐̈́̈́͋̈́͝ͅě̷̥͉̞̺̀̎̅͌́͋̿̒̚͠.̷̱̪̗̰̙̩͇̻̺̅̿̀̈́͂̕͜ ̸̢̨̩͎̞̻̠̩͆̽̑͘W̷̡̙͔̦̠͈̰̿̑ę̴̩̠̜̣̦̠͙̇ ̸̳̘̻̯̠̼̼͔̰̻͛̎͑̿̈͆̚ͅc̵̡̫̞̱̣̞̻̥͍̰͊̄̏̅̕͝ͅh̵̨̜̮̼͇̪̖̺͙̊͆͛͗͆̎͑̉͒̍͘̚ͅͅͅo̸̢̲͉̲͈̬͚̱̎͝ô̸̮̩͈̪̭͓͍͙͗̑̒̔̀ş̸͎̘̣̀̈́̈́̓̓͛̓̀ẽ̶̢̈́̈̒̚̕ ̵̢̖̝̜̬͖̫̹́̑̽̎̅̿͝w̶͇̲͖͑͑h̸̟̲̰͈̝̥͈̦͚̋͑̈͌̒̓̇̚͠ͅa̵̗̘͌́͋͛̑̌̽͂̑̏͜͝t̵͇͒̈́̈́̃͆ ̴̟̭͚͉͌̀̂̾̀́̈̕̕͝͠͝į̷̖̼̙̘̟̭̦̲̓̀͒̉͝s̸̖͒̈́ ̵̰͎̲̩͉͈͈͍͎̠̇̃̃̇̈́̐̕a̶̢̠̲͚̫͓̫̅̄̌͑͂̂͐̒̃n̸̠̣̪̥̮̮̊͜ḋ̸̼ ̶̡̯̠̲͉͉̹̙͑̍͊̊̉̽̈͝ẁ̷̞̩̣̥̫̹̯͕̪́̄̉̓̊̈́̈ḩ̶̢̢̜̩̫̮̹̬̟̱̦͆̉̈́͊̏̉̕a̶̮̓́́̈͛̔͝t̴̞͆̊͘ ̷͔̜̗͖͚͉̑͐̈́̅́̈i̴̡̘͈̬̻͇̳͖̓͊̓̌̓̆͒̋͝s̸͖͌͂̂̕͝n̵͖̤̪̄͒̅̂̑͐̒͐͌̃̀̕'̸̨͖̣̼̭̼̝͍̮͉̹̔́̾͂͌͐͐́͠t̸̢͕̟̰̰͉͕̅̊.̴̛̤̠̟͇͍̜̰͓͉̠̓̓̎͒̑͆͒͜͠ ̶̢̥͓̜̥̼̏̀̌Y̵̧̪̪̭͚̱̞̞̌̅̃̿ô̶̡̯̗͙̹̆́̾u̵̢̖̠̖̜͙͙̝͒̐͊̊̋̓̌̿́̑͘̕ ̶̡̨͙͈͎̣̠̤̈́̂̈́̃͊̆̀̃̚̚͠w̶̮̥̎͗̈́̎̀͒̚ï̶͓̗̗͙͉̊͑̋͑̅l̶̛̜̹͎̳̫̮̭̝̰͑̓͂͂̽̍̈͊̃̕͜͠ͅĺ̴̖̣̼͖̙͆̄̅̅͠ ̴̭̪̱̲͇͒̓͗͝ẗ̷̯͔̻́̀̚͝ͅä̶̧̱͎̥͓͍̤͔͚̮́̽̆̈̄̔̄̆̆̌͜k̵̡̡̪̲̱̻̤̭̦̇͗̓͠ę̴̤͇̜͎̦̩̬́͑̅̿͗̀̋̎́̿̚͝ ̸̛͎̺͚̬͎̝͚̇̒̐h̵̬̝̺̍ỉ̷͓̱͕̪͊̆̀̐́̇͋̀͌̚s̴̳͌̈́̿͋͆̈̔̔͠ͅ ̴̬͔̬̹̝̤̤̱͉͙̾̑̏̌͊͊͝ͅp̵̨̹̾ļ̴͇̰̜͖̗͎̗̖̑̈́̋̾̎͝ͅa̴͙̮͐̉̏̋́ͅc̸̢̫̝̯͇̖̬͐͒̽̀͆̈́̃͝ė̷̡̟̩̹̗̜̟͇͍͋̑͊̍̏͊͑͗͠.̶̰͉̄͂̎̾̋̅̈̔̚͝͠͝"̸̤̬̤̮͈̦͚̗̓̃̉̓̆̿̎́͠͠ͅ

They reached out in unison to point equally decayed fingers at the two of them. Something akin to the feeling of increased gravity resurfaced, and Kaneki grunted when his bones creaked in protest. Midoriya whimpered softly, a sound full of pain and fear that made the last shred of humanity that hadn't died alongside his family roar with fury. A slight tug at his sleeve drew his attention back to the green-haired child.

"It's alright sir. I don't know who you are but you seem like a nice person. I don't know how you died, but everyone deserves a second chance." Midoriya Izuku looked up at him with a wobbly smile, kindness and self-depreciation in his eyes. He felt his heart clench.

"Kid, this is your life. You sure you want to throw it away for a stranger?"

"What life did I have? I was bullied by my childhood friend. Mom died. Dad didn't even show up for her funeral. You're the one person apart from her that I've met who treated me with kindness. Dying doesn't seem so bad." Midoriya Izuku continued smiling, though it frayed at the edges, tears welling up in his eyes. Kaneki felt his lips curve into a snarl, something he quickly concealed by tugging up the collar of his outfit.

"̷̡̖̫̝̘̻̻̟̉Y̵̫̭͚̪̪̫̲̝̾̽̏́̕̕ȍ̵̧̘̹͔̟͔̗̭͆̀͒̊̇͗͘ū̷̯̲̮̹͚̝͍̯͈͖͊̓͒̏ ̵̡͓̲͉͕͉̪̐͒̽̐̒͌͒͐͘̕͝d̶̞̩̬̟͎̱͔̀̆͑̌͋̈́̍̔o̵͉̯̎̾͐̿̀͌͛͊̑ͅn̵̢̳͔͇͙̟͕̳̖͖̂̓̿̊̈́́́̐̎͠'̷̡͕̍̆t̵̡̛͚̤̣͕̙̰̰̭ ̷̧̘͙̥̰̻̣̘̭̄͒́̊̌h̴̢̞͉̣̖̳̣͖̰̻̠̍̀̈́͐̑́͌̓͝à̷̺̺̤̝̽̆͋̀͊v̵̳͕̟̉̾̾̓͛̂̌̇̔̕̚ę̵̜̼̠͕̩͕̞̟̖̊̓ ̶̗͙̞̥̲͗͋̄̆͆̂͜͜͝ą̷̠̞̻̮̝̘͆̿̓̈́̋̆͌ ̶̞̬̻͙̹̮͓͈̭̞͇̽̅̇͋͂̌̀͘̚͜c̶̭͖̲͖̹̱̈́̉̆́̐̈́͝ḩ̸̟͚̟̩̺̪͓̟̭͠õ̵̺̯̠͓͖̺̪͜i̵̘̰͇̗̣̥͌̓̂̏̌͆̑̊̉͂̅̚c̵̝̻̥͖̉͛̓̅͛͘͠ȅ̵̬̫̻̮̜̖̻́͑̓̀̊̐̍͌̏̚͜.̵̢̢̨̛̪̝͕̙̩̝͈̚͝ ̶͎͇̠̦̩̟̇̓̽͆͌͐̊̋̚͝W̸̡̠̏͑̐̿̎̓̈́̇ḛ̵̲̱͔̞͚͒̏ ̴̛̛͓͕͕͒́̐̈́͛ẅ̷̛̳̤̰͍̘̙͈̥̘̪͇͎́̓͑̐̄̓̚i̷͕͎̓̋̊͛͂̈́l̴̡̢̢̺̬̝͚̺̪̇̋͛̋̍l̵̢̺̤̙̦͉̭̜̪̈́̒̌͆̚ ̶̢̗̪̓̏p̸̥̪͓̪̟̹̾͐̔̓̃̅̚͜͜r̸̜͖̪̳̥̼̪̩̖͒̆̊͆͘e̴̤̐́̃̽̀̈̅̾̀̍͂p̸̥̑̏̔́͘ă̶̡̨̼̙̗͚̰͔̠̊̃͊͂r̶͈͙̪̬̝̤̈́̒͑͐̎̏̓̈́̕̕̚͝ę̸͈͎͉̫̮̏͂̃̄̕͜͝͠ ̶͈̻͍͔̃̉́͑͌͌̉͘ä̵̛͔̱͚̙̫̮͈̿͗̋͒̆̓̔͂̔ņ̵̢͎̱͖̤͖̪̙̙͚̉͠ḋ̸͍͕̳͇̭̻̄͘͜ͅ ̶̧̡̡̢̰̻̲̩̘͎͗y̶̩̯̮̹̹̮̜͈̮̞͎̋̔̌͗̀̾͝ő̶͉̿̐̄̐̓͠ù̷͉̜͇̄̔̋̏̆́̍͘͝ͅ ̴̺̦̮̫̭̺̟̫̉͑̈̓̄͜w̶̡̙̠̟̭̝̺̟̦̠̋́̆̅̅͒̈́̐̀̀͝i̶̥̹̠̺̬̐̓͝ͅͅl̵̨̼̹͈͋̂̚ͅl̴̛̲͉͙̮̬͒̒͊͊͌̋̌̀͘ ̷̨̫̃̈́̒̌͘ŵ̸̡̨̧̛̛̱̞̥̠̹͔̻͖͓̿͐̕͘͝â̷͓̝͙̰̔̈́̇̍̎̇̈̎͝͠k̴̘̲̥͋̇̄̃̊͗̐̚̕̚ė̷̟̪͇͇̗͗̒̍͒̂̀̿̆̈̓̇ ̴̬̣͕̼̈́̽̉̑̏̈͒́͘u̷̗͐̄̓͊̀̉̓̐͑͘̚͝p̴̢̻̞̉̈́̇̈̂̀͗͐̎̽͝ ̶̹̭̚i̸̹̬̼̼̋́̓̒̚͘͠n̵̠̜̰̬̊̆̐̿͒̓ͅ ̴̭̱͔͕̮̙̟̣̉̎ḩ̸̼̗̙̳̭̦̦̥͕̳̭͐́͂͊̚͝i̴̡̺̠̯͒͗́̊͠s̸̡̢̡͉̯̲̭̤̙͋͛͛̈̂̐̉̔̓͘͝ ̶̢͕̎̾̾͛̒̾̂̑̑̾͠b̶̧͖̮͝ͅo̴̘͇̿͘ͅḑ̶̳͉̍̏̀̑̀̒̈͛̒̏̑y̴̛̫̺͕͇̣̬̖̜̰̬͗̍̄͜.̴̢̰͔̝̣̀͂̽́̆͠."̷̯̞̄̽͂

He couldn't suppress the guttural sound that escaped his throat at the dismissive, callous way these supposed gods were willing to discard a child like he was a broken toy just because he wasn't of any use to them. Once again, a memory surfaced in his mind, one of a pair of twins who he had fought against and then alongside. Of the doctor who had played with countless lives in order to achieve his goals. How he had laughed when one of his "daughters" begged him to save her counterpart. Something in him snapped. Distantly, he deduced that it was the last remaining fragment of self-preservation he had. Kaneki got to his feet, ignoring the way his muscles screamed.

"Do you know what happens to gods kid?" Kaneki asked while gently nudging the green-haired boy behind him. Mutely, Midoriya shakes his head, eyes still trained on the things towering over them. Kaneki laughs, a sharp sound that cuts through the silence and static.

"They get forgotten. Fade away. And sometimes, once in a while, when the stars are aligned and the wind blows true…" he draws a blade from beneath his coat and holds it loosely in his right hand, "someone kills them."

His words draw a sudden surge of pressure, and the white-haired man barely flinches even as his bones creak in protest.

"̶͍͂̈́͗I̶̢̡̧̥̣̻̱͊̈́ͅs̶̡͈̜̦̙̹̍̓̇̄̅̀͠ ̴̹̋̑͐͗̿̅̇̔̾̎̋̋̚t̸̨̧̰̺̠̰̗͒͐̓h̴̲̤̣̓̊͑̈́̔͜å̶̭̈́t̶̙̓͆̎̾̓͂ ̴͚̺͈̮͇͙̞͖̓̂̒̒͂̀ä̸̜̬̗́̀͋̾͐̓̑͘̚͜͝ ̵̡̞̜̮̓̔̕͠t̶̛̛̮͓̐͗̌͂̀͒̃h̸̗̰̱̰̲͓̭̥̻͋͛̈ř̷̨̜̭̯̞͔̳̤͈͎̏͊ḛ̶͈̫̈̈́̓̄̏̀ͅą̶͇̀̍̅̎̔̈́̌͝t̷̨̨̪̱̭͎̏̐̏̈́͌̓̈́ͅ,̶̮̠̦̏̾͐̿̀̐̔̀̿̏̄͑̒͘͝ ̸͚͙͕͊̈́̅̈́̌͂̉́͑̚p̷͎̙̹̯̃̈́̑̿̒́̋͐̑̀͝ą̸̨̨̞͇̫̩̘͎̼͔̜͕̽̒́͛̀̊́̾̆͐̋̈̀̚ẇ̵̢̘͔̼̣̳̦͕͕̬̾̓̇̉͝͠n̶͈̮̙̯͎̖͉͙̠̥͎̱̘̿̐̇͊̈́͘͜ͅ?̶̣̱̝͎͔͍̒̾͐̇̿̈̉̑̀͘͠͝"̶̢̬̺̹̰͙̠̙̦͚̜̙̐͒͝ they ask in unison, amusement warring with displeasure at the way he was talking. Kaneki shakes his lowered head dismissively. Red mist blossoms and pools to form his kagune as the man who was once king tilts his head up to reveal a single kakugan burning with rage.

"It's not a threat," he states while stepping towards the entities, ignoring the way static claws at his mind and soul. He brandishes his weapon in preparation.

"It's a promise."

His blade glows red as a single thin tendril plugged itself into the hilt. Darting forward as the pressure continued to increase, he bellowed a battle cry, his kagune lashing out at the things that had surfaced from shadows that weren't previously there. He noted idly that they didn't die easily as he leaped into the air. With a thought, his additional appendages hardened, crystallizing and turning into bludgeons. They crushed everything they hit, and Kaneki enjoyed the adrenaline that was beginning to course through his veins as he slipped on his mask with practiced motions. Raising his blade even as he fell out of the sky, the white-haired man's kakugan flared once more as he swung.

A semi-solid wave of RC cells spilled from his blade, looking just like a cloud of fog. Grinning beneath his mask when the cloud enveloped his new opponents, he cracked a knuckle on his free hand before clenching it into a fist. What had probably the same consistency as fine water droplets had turned into a hail of sharpened spikes. Not giving the "gods" any time to react to the thousands of holes in them, he landed(breaking a leg that healed even as he moved once more), darting forward and toppling the giants with more kagune empowered swings as he fended off the monsters and demons attempting to get to Midoriya. Feeling more powerful than ever, he ensured that they stayed fallen, switching the thin spikes out for large pillars that sprouted from the ground, with serrated edges that caused black blood to spray across his face. Pulling down his mask, he licked at it experimentally before gagging. If ghoul flesh tasted like rotten fish, this was akin to eating something that had decomposed but was still infested with maggots. Retching slightly, he swept a hand almost lazily at the right figure, feeling a vindicative sort of pleasure in the way it was ripped into half, a solid wave of his kagune tearing the giant figure apart. Idly, he noted that the creatures had stopped their attacks almost immediately, disappearing along with the shadows. The kid watched him with an awestruck expression, bringing him back to reality. He would end this quickly.

His kagune wrapped around the one that had stopped twitching, consuming it. With each second, he felt his RC count jump by leaps and bounds. Worryingly, the veins in his wrists were beginning to turn black. Casually climbing onto the body of the thing still alive, he kicked off the hood and ignored the howling and the static. Kaneki nearly scoffed at the diseased, ruined face that met hsi eyes. It appeared to be ready to croak out something. Perhaps a warning. Perhaps a plea for mercy. He raised his blade above his head, chanelling a fraction of the power he had gotten from the consumption of the other false god and watching impassively as the thing attempted to scramble away from him. The thin blade had widened to the thickness of a door, with the length of a hallway. Despite that, Kaneki wielded it with ease. He stepped even closer to spit on the face of the being that had been so content to play with his life and that of the child behind him.

"I'll see you in hell."


Midoriya Izuku watched as the kind man who had regarded him with the warmth that only a fellow survivor could give decapitated the entity that had seemed so powerful just seconds ago. He scrubbed at his eyes furiously, images coming forth, memories of the life Kaneki-san had left behind and he averted his gaze so that he could eat his prey in peace. Here was a person who had gone through worse times than him and come out of it stronger. Here was a man who had been denied his happy ending. The green-haired teenager's hands curled into fists. It just wasn't fair. Why was the world so cruel to those that were so full of hope?

He walked forward as Kaneki-san left behind the discarded remains of what once had been gods, anticipating the man to look at him with disdain after seeing how much of a Quirkless, Worthless Deku he was. Just like how Kacchan had turned on him.

What he wasn't expecting was a soft hand to land in his hair, the white-haired man bending down to wrap his other arm around him. He stiffened, words dying in his throat before he could say them. Slowly, impossible to restrain, tears began to leak from his eyes as he broke down quietly in the embrace of a man who had defied the gods.

Was this what it was like to be accepted?


The two individuals beyond death sat on the ground, staring out into an endless white void. Seconds passed. Maybe hours. Maybe years. Time held no meaning in the realm they had been tossed into. They conversed quietly, exchanging stories that they already knew. Nothing disturbed them.

After an eternity and an instant at the same time, they got to their feet. Raising their hands in unison, the world screamed as it splintered and fell apart around them. Nevertheless, they watched on impassively, in the eye of the storm. Soon enough, the older of the pair turned to his counterpart.

"I guess this is goodbye kid." Midoriya smiled, a genuine one this time, reaching out to wrap his arms around the older man.

"Only for now Kaneki-san. I'll tell you when I've made my choice." Kaneki chuckled, returning the embrace as the final bits of the realm disintegrated before their eyes.

"This world is wrong," Kaneki states, "we will fix it. Or die trying." Midoriya declares.


He wakes up in a pool of blood, in a body far too small for him. Extending his hands, he gave them a once-over, drinking in every last starburst scar. Silently, he tugged his hood over his head and turned to walk away.

As he walked, accompanied only by the sounds of the night, Kaneki Ken spoke softly to himself.

"Now where do we begin?"

He tilts his head to one side, almost as if he was listening to something no one else could hear.

And the One-Eyed King laughs.


So...how'd I do?

Glitch Text translations:

Hello pieces.

What else would we call you? We are the ones who came before. We are your fate, your destiny. We are in control.

Midoriya Izuku. We had many plans for him. But he istoo weak. We looked for someone stronger. We found you. You will take his place.

In another time he would have survived. His story would have satisfied us. This is not that time. We choose what is and what isn't. You will take his place.

You don't have a choice. We will prepare you and you will wake up in his body.

Is that a threat, pawn?