The glassy sky had just wept over desolate streets, leaving the air still and heavy. Tricklets of water continue to hit the ground, an indirect result of a strong breeze causing damp trees to sway from side to side. With the passing storm, it's like the aftermath is daring anyone to peer outside. There's even a percussion of chirping birds, joined by the barking of stray dogs in the distance.
However, in the heart of Musutafu, the darkest is never just before the dawn. Water that had been built up within the street's various potholes shimmer under the glow of bright yellow street lamps. Traffic lights indecisively switch between the colors of green, yellow, and red; the mechanism seemingly operating like a laggard disco ball. Among apartment windows that have their blinds drawn down, there's the occasional orange or white hue that illuminate both sides.
In the particular window of a convenience store on that street corner, the glass glimmers with the faint tint of a television's reflection. It's an older model, the cheap box set only capable of broadcasting whatever channels its wiry antenna can pick up. If you squint hard enough at the smudged screen, you might be able to make out the grainy news station though.
The reporter's voice barely carries over the static, "-Currently approaching the two year anniversary in which the Waterhose duo made their heroic sacrifice.", a brief pause follows as an image is brought up beside him.
A man and a woman share proud smiles in the photo, both wearing bright red life vests and white helmets that are equally radiant. They each have visors and snorkels attached, tailored to their water themed costume design. The heartbreaking part of the memorium is the young child in between them. The small boy gazes up at his parents, a wide smile on his face as he holds one hand each of his mother and father. The same hue of red as his parent's life vests, he wears a hat with two golden spikes protruding from it, the cap covering naturally pointed black hair. Unlike his parents, he isn't wearing any life vest or hero costume, just a white collared shirt and dark blue jean shorts.
The newscaster adjusts his pair of square shaped spectacles, the glasses having slid down the bridge of his nose when he hung his head in solemn respect. A small curl drops in front of his forehead, ruining the slicked back style of his straw colored hair. The man's most prominent feature though, is the horn that's protruding from the left side of his head; the right side looks to be filed down. The reporter has noticeable facial wrinkles that broaden when he frowns, "Let us all share a moment of silence.", it's a small murmur only heard if you were to raise the audio's volume.
It's rather fitting that he wears a suit and tie, as if he's attending a funeral service. The outfit consists of a dark blue blazer and a pale pink shirt that's buttoned to his neckline. He tugs on the brown tie as he clears his throat, moving on to the next part of the Waterhose tribute. "Each anniversary, civilians that were saved share a few words about the honorable duo which saved their lives that fateful day. This year, however, we reached out to comrades of the Waterhose team. Speaking on behalf of people everywhere, is the symbol of peace himself.. All Might.", the broadcast then transitions to footage of the number one hero.
All Might stands in front of a pier located just outside of Musutafu, but the camera is solely focused on him. Per usual, the hero has his blonde hair swept backwards, with the exception of two distinct tufts sticking up from his head that lean slightly to either side. Currently, he's wearing his Golden Age uniform, one that resembles a typical western comic styled superhero while showing off his muscular physique. The bodysuit is decorated with a color scheme that varies from red & blue to yellow and white; it ultimately ends up sharing a design reminiscent to that of America's flag. The red portion mostly covers his chest, creating a symbol that resembles the letter Y. A white diamond is at its center, with white lines stemming from it that trace all the way to his back shoulders. Other than a pair of winged gloves and golden boots with a matching belt, the rest is as vastly blue as the ocean.
The symbol of peace is never seen without a broad smile, yet, this one appears much more subdued. The poignant look in his eyes is impossible to see on such a low quality monitor, but it's there looking directly into the camera. He starts by saying, "I didn't personally know the Waterhose duo."
"However, I can proudly commemorate their actions. If I had been in the same position as them, I would have done exactly the same thing.", his eyes divert from the camera as he mulls over his next words. "Being a hero isn't always about beating the villain.", the blonde raises a fist so that he can clench it on screen, "It's also about saving as many lives as possible! That's what the Waterhoses did that day; they earned the right to be called heroes. What they did was admirable. They died honorably."
The video feed then switches back to the studio as the reporter runs a hand over his head, smoothing back the hair that had started to crimp. "Additionally, we arranged for the symbol of peace to share his condolences with the Waterhose's next of kin. Unfortunately, their child denied our proposition and we were only capable of speaking to his current guardian. The studio was requested to maintain discretion when it comes to the matter, but we were fortunately granted permission to share the following clip from the conducted interview.", new footage takes hold of the screen on cue.
A woman stands beside All Might in what appears to be a forest of some sort, the distinct difference from a normal woodland location being how the trees look to be tall & wide as city structures themselves. She's instantly recognizable as a pro hero too, being the lead member of a team called The Wild Wild Pussycats. Her costume stays true to the name, consisting of gloves that resemble cat paws and red markings beneath her eyes that mimic whiskers. She has maroon colored hair that's styled into three bangs going across her face; her large ruffled skirt and tail share a similar hue of red, along with the sleeveless top that's decorated by several straps and a bell.
The heroine bows deeply to the symbol of peace, "On behalf of my nephew, I'd like to say sorry for his ill mannerisms in refusing to speak with you. I'd like you to know that I don't believe it's anything personal, he just doesn't wish to be associated with ANY heroes as of late, myself and my teammates included.."
"No need to apologize! It's quite understandable!", All Might places an assuring hand on her shoulder that looks comically oversized in comparison to the woman. Then, the buoyant tone becomes much more subdued, better matching his sanguine smile. "The young lad must still be going through a lot. Losing his parents at such an age.. It's a good thing that he has his aunt to take care of him.", All Might tenderly pats her shoulder as a form of reassurance.
The pixelated image of All Might gets covered by the glare of headlights. A group of four stop their vehicle right outside the store so that they can watch and listen to the broadcast. The television is often left running even after closing, the general idea being to draw in potential customers. However, it can also catch the attention of people less accustomed to civilized methods. The glass window shatters under a single strike, exposing everything inside. Two plump hands reach through the gap, grabbing the television and lifting it from its stand.
"I just wish I could punch em in his perfect teeth.", a rotund goliath grumbles in regards to All Might. The massive man resembles an ogre with his odd shape, causing him to hit the top of the store's awning. He stops to shake any shards stuck in the harness that's strapped to his head; a small spire pokes out from where his nose should be, giving him some resemblance to a rhinoceros.
"There's not enough pennies or fountains for that one to come true.", one of his partners scoff as they step forward to grab a radio left on the same display; their orange mohawk clips the tip on what remains of the window. Both thieves wear matching jackets that leave the chest exposed, the only difference being the ogre's is purple and the other's is blue. His face is also covered, but this mask is more of a muzzle with a green stripe down the center.
"Let's be real. Even if you did manage to land a blow, it probably wouldn't even phase the guy.", a messy haired blonde hops off the tailgate of a white truck. Unlike the other two, this thief is wearing an equally white tank top. He does share a mask though, albeit his covers only the top half of his face and has three red horns protruding from the forehead part. Another distinct difference from his partners in crime is how much darker his skin tone is.
"Hurry up so we don't gotta worry about having the chance to find out!", a fourth criminal with nothing but sunglasses to serve as their mask urges the other crooks from his driver's seat. The blue headband that he's wearing does a lousy job of absorbing all the nervous sweat running down his face. The getaway driver's quirk gives him elongated ears that stretch just above a tower of brown hair; they twitch as they listen out for any police, heroes, or witnesses. He buries his chin into the collar of a black turtleneck that has its sleeves cut off, "Grab the shit and let's go!"
The biggest of the bunch tosses the stolen television into the loading bed with a huff, "I'm pretty sure All Might only patrols during the day, so don't go getting your panties in a bunch over nothin."
"What are ya? Superstitious? You got more of a chance to win Lotto 7 than run into him!", the one with a mohawk packs the radio he took while reaffirming his partner's statement.
"I just got a bad feeling about tonight..", the getaway driver anxiously tugs at the band around his head. Sweat buildup gets on his fingers during the process, which he proceeds to dry off by using the collar of his turtleneck. Judging by the way his ears constantly twitch at every sound and the way he turns his gaze towards anything that creates a gleam over his sunglasses, he definitely has a severe case of paranoia.
"You worry too much. I mean, just look at how we pulled off this heist! It was a cinch!", the heavy weighted member plops himself in the back with the stolen goods. A slight creak escapes the truck as it shudders under his mass. He waits for the ginger and the blonde to hop in as well before shouting, "I can't believe it either, but we did it!"
"Hell yeah! Let's hit up another place!", a grin stretches across the tanned blonde's face as he slaps the side of the truck for emphasis.
Their celebration is short lived though; the rambunctious crew all turn as still as stone once they see someone drop down from above. The shadowed figure lands in a crouch, blocking the direction of the road that they intended to go. "Wh- Who the fuck is that?!", the blonde is the first to recover from their collective stupor.
Taking in the short figure's appearance, it only appears to be some punk off the streets. A black sweat jacket with the hood drawn up and matching cargo pants makes them seem like a casual civilian. "They don't look like any kinda hero that I know..", the driver strains his eyes as he tries to peer through the dark.
"Dammit, Hierro! You jinxed it!", the one with the ginger mohawk slaps his chubby criminal partner upside the head before motioning for the driver to go anyways, "FLOOR IT!"
"Fuck you, roadkill!", the tan thief flicks his middle finger forward so that he can shoot their target a bird. The three in the back let out a collective cackle as the driver guns the gas, "You're dead if you think you can take on-"
A blurred flash of red is all they see before the truck is flipped backwards in one fluent motion. The hooded being never moved a muscle; crimson appendages acted like a predatory organ, striking out from the base of their back. Streams of blood flick back & forth like a collection of tails, mimicking the behavior of something animalistic.
Smoke begins to waft from the wreckage. Oil slowly leaks out of the crashed vehicle too, eventually creating a puddle that'll only continue to get bigger. An arm reaches out of the truck's shattered windshield, grasping for something that isn't there. Blood streaks down the limb, soaking the hand until it's scarlet and dripping off of twitching fingers.
The hooded figure begins to trudge along the pavement at a sedate pace. There should be a sound of shoes scraping against asphalt, but only an echo of gentle footsteps radiate from its presence. They sway from side to side with each footfall, casually approaching the crashed vehicle.
A groan escapes from one of the crash victims, the tanned blonde, as he tries to regather his bearings. Still disoriented by the constant ringing in his ears, he hardly registers the hooded figure crouching down right beside him. Suddenly, the third digit that had so carelessly flipped off the hooded figure bends and snaps under the pressure of what may as well be a set of fangs. That pained moan from earlier morphs into a shrill shriek as the blonde's finger gets severed from his hand.
All of a sudden, the truck is turned over yet again; the thief with a mutation quirk used his strength and size to flip it off of his crew. The hooded individual instinctively leaps backwards, soaring through the air and landing on a nearby street post. A wet gag escapes the lumbering goliath; his injuries leave him scarred and bruised, shrapnel sticking out of his flesh and bleeding wounds alike. He makes an attempt to wipe away some of the blood leaking out from a cut above his right eye, only to smear it across his forehead.
The hooded assailant hums from their perch, eyeing the brute rather inquisitively. A long black bang hangs down from the hood's opening once they tilt their head to the side. Just staring at the chubby criminal is enough to make the hooded predator's mouth water. Blubber is worn like an extra coat on the crook, creating the enticing promise of meat. Saliva begins seeping from each corner of the carnivore's mouth once hunger starts to flood their system like adrenaline.
Like a liquid muscle, one of the tails protruding out of the predator's lower back whips down with an effort akin to flexing. However, the force is enough to completely obliterate the streetlight, leaving behind a tapered post and a shattered bulb. This simple move is enough to propel the hooded figure forwards so that they may clear the gap between themself and the goliath. It takes one aerial maneuver from the predator to twist its body around, allowing itself to vault over the criminal's head with relative ease. Then, the hooded hunter lands in a poised position from behind their prey.
One of the liquid appendages cocks itself back before striking like a cobra, piercing the criminal's right arm and threading it like a sewing needle. Joints in the limb are snapped in half while other ligaments get severed, resulting in a high pitched squeal from what looks so ironically like a pig. Similar to that of an octopus ensnaring its quarry, another tentacle wraps around the burglar's left leg before constricting like a python. These liquid limbs remain resilient as their victim struggles to escape, regardless of how they flow in a fashion relatable to water.
Effortlessly, the tentacles hoist the criminal upward so that he may be suspended over the hooded predator's head. Like a set of additional claws, the remaining liquid limbs tear into the victim's flesh. Wails of agony fill the ambience of Musutafu while tissue is torn open and meat is ripped apart. Intestines spill out and blood flows from the corpse like a waterfall, pouring straight into the hooded predator's mouth. There's a moan of ecstasy from the ghoulish being, regardless of how much gore overflows to the point that it splashes outside their lips.
A short distance away, still stirring from their car crash, the tan thief attempts to prop themself up on one elbow. The forced movement is so jarring that they instantly slump back to the ground. Next time he tries to move, it's much more sluggish and only something as simple as rolling over so that he can lay flat on his back. A sharp pain shoots through his side and up into his chest, the side effect of three broken ribs. Instinctively, he reaches with his hand to apply pressure, which leads him to discover that it's missing a finger. There's a small tremor that runs along his body as his quivering lips convey the pain into one single word, "F- Fuck.."
The blonde burglar buries his hand into the fabric of his tank top, not caring about how the white material gets soaked in red by blood. Other colors such as orange or yellow appear as splotches in his vision, indicating that he's already lost a lot of the bodily fluid. Momentarily, he clenches his eyes shut the same way he does with the shirt in his fist. Those iridescent spots remain for a short while, shrinking in size until they completely dissipate. When his eyes reopen, the dazed state of mind finally concedes and he's able to draw his attention forward. The first thing that he sees are his friend's remains being cannibalized. He repeats himself at a louder frequency this time, "F- ..FUCK!"
This outburst doesn't go unnoticed; the hooded predator whips its head towards the source of sound with a feral noise of its own. A startled gasp escapes the blonde's mouth when their eyes meet. It's like a drop of blood landed in the eternal abyss that you're told not to stare into, the veins that stem from it mirroring the reflection of a cracked conscious. As blank as the black void, this ghoulish gaze holds no emotion; it's the kind of look that you'd give an insect under a microscope, the prolonged glance that's never anything more than just that. It's that precise moment that a distinction is made clear between looking into a common criminal's eyes and a killer's.
With a wet quelch, liquid talons detach from the mangled meat of their victim; whatever remains of the corpse splatters against the ground as soon as it gets dropped. These fluid appendages slowly coil around their owner before redirecting themselves so that they're aimed towards the tanned thief next. It's a brisk laceration across the neck and stomach that ends the blonde bandit's life almost instantaneously. Blood drains from the gash in their throat, followed by a dead collapse.
With no further interruptions, the ghoul goes back to feasting on its quarry. There is no chewing though, only the gnashing of teeth as flesh gets devoured. Fingernails dig under skin like something that has to be peeled off before clawing at the same spot again to expose tissue. There's a handful of pancreas and another one of muscle fiber, both of which drenched in blood for consumption. As soon as any of the meat is swallowed, more gets stuffed into the predator's mouth. Its a rather noisy eater too, slurping on the intestines and inhaling everything else like a vacuum.
From corpse to corpse, the ghoul feasts until nothing remains. Even the bone fragments get gnawed on, ossein oozing out as munching subsides. A sigh of content carries condensation, the exhale drawing their shoulders into a despondent slouch. Suddenly, the dark chasm called an eye widens as though its seeing for the first time. The crevices made up of veins retreat into a fluctuating iris. Like a reptile basking in the sun, they remain still under a pale moonlight.
The ghoul then draws their hood down, allowing a maelstrom of tangled black hair to fall out. A doleful expression crosses their now visible face, not that it matters when no survivors nor witnesses can identify it as Akatani Mikumo's. He uses the back of his hand to wipe away all the gore covering his lips. No longer severely starved, he doesn't bother with licking it off. Another sigh, this one much more subdued, and then he's on his way.
Akatani's leisurely stroll through Musutafu isn't the ideal midnight excursion, not when the only thing to see around him are eyesores. Dagobah Municipal Beach, what used to be a beautiful public spot is now reduced to a junkyard, years of rampant pollution turned the coastline into something revolting. Ramen shops and stores that sell fine china were once meant for high class customers, but months of vandalism leave them in a state of disarray. Graffiti cover the walls like a coat of paint, heaps of trash litter the sidewalks, and tires run over potholes in the streets.
The skyline is a much better sight to behold. Building structures fill the inked atmosphere with their silhouettes, only occasionally joined by tufts of equally stygian clouds. The pale moon that hangs like an unpolished pearl makes it all seem so monochrome, not a sliver of fluorescent chalk gleams through.
A bitter breeze blows through the fabric of Akatani's clothes, making him seethe through his teeth while trying to suppress a shiver. Relentlessly, the cold continues to nip at his fingers, regardless of its withdrawn effect under how numb they've already become. Even so, Akatani stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as a futile attempt to ease it somewhat.
Frigid feet make it a long journey to Uta's store, each step as though it's being taken into a shallow pool of water. Cold seeps into his toes and rises like a small tide to cover his feet, making them feel rather bare regardless of the red sneakers that he's completely worn out.
It's a freezing fog that he breathes in, something that ices the marrow of his bones like wet concrete. Akatani's teeth begin to chatter behind his blue tinged lips, making him miss the warmth of a victim's blood glossing over them. Almost immediately, that urge is expelled from his mind; it's as if it got flung out by the violent shaking of his head. Settling for lukewarm saliva, he sucks on his own lips to keep them from chapping.
It's rather shocking when Akatani finds Himiko wearing nothing but her usual attire in such weather. A short skirt and a cardigan is hardly enough to keep her warm, the petite blonde's thin frame shivers every two seconds. Before he can ask her why she's outside rather than inside Uta's shop, "Akatani-Kun! I've been waiting!", she provides an answer without question.
"You're gonna catch a cold standing out here.", he shakes his head in exasperation while tugging at the bottom of his hoodie. "Here. Wear this before you get sick.", Akatani then pulls it off so he can offer it to the bunned blonde. The boy was already freezing when he had the extra layer on, but now he's downright chilling to the core in nothing but a white t-shirt.
The bilabial trill of a dismissive 'pfft' is synced with Himiko's eyeroll. "It's still summer time, Akatani-Kun!", she's quick to riposte but ends up taking the hoodie regardless.
"Certainly doesn't feel like it..", Akatani shudders when another breeze rolls through. The gust of wind is enough to finish convincing Himiko that she should wear Akatani's hoodie. It's oversized on her, but that's probably why it'll do a better job of keeping her warm rather than its original owner.
Uta's entrance is accompanied by the telltale jingle of a bell. "Let's get inside already.", Akatani takes a step so there's enough room for Himiko to squeeze by, but never once takes his hand off the door so it can swing shut.
The blonde flashes one of her signature grins at him, a tiny giggle bound to come out of it. "I guess The Tokyo Ghoul kills everything except for chivalry.", she gets in a good wisecrack as she skips by before allowing the cheeky titter to escape.
Akatani's groan overshadows the slam of the door closing shut. "Look.. Uh..", Akatani rubs the temples of his forehead while struggling to come up with the right words, "I know we're here to literally pick up a mask for my.. 'alter ego'.. but could you try not to say things like that outloud?"
"If you don't want it to be obvious, then you shouldn't wear clothes that reek of blood.", the blond shrugs with raised palms as though it were public knowledge. "Seriously..", she says while pinching the fabric of her borrowed hoodie, "this thing smells like a brand new car.. if it were used to run over an entire family."
Akatani drags the hand he was using down his face, giving up on the small massage that was meant to prevent any headaches. "Sorry. I was hungry and.. You know the rest.", he murmurs it loud enough for her to hear but mumbled enough that she'll know better than to drag it out into a conversational topic.
"No need to apologize!", she assures him with frantic hands that go to gripping the material immeditally after. "It's so fresh and cozy!", she then lets out a girlish squeal while hugging the cloth closer, "It feels like I'm wearing someone else's skin! I love it!"
Akatani is so shocked by her response that he nearly stumbles backwards. There's words that he wants to say, but none of them manage to climb up his throat; the black haired boy swallows them down instead. He faces away from her, unable to trust himself with any involuntary expression he may give. "Um.. L- Let's see if we can find Uta.", there's no sign of the mask designer anywhere as Akatani scours the store with his eyes. "He must've heard us come in..", he shoots a glimpse over his shoulder back towards Himiko so she knows that he's still conversing with her.
"Uta-Saannn!", Himiko follows his lead as she calls out in a sing song manner for the shop owner. A light skip remains ever present in her stride as the two venture deeper into the store.
"Do you think he's hiding someplace so he can try scaring me again?", Akatani pauses to check under a pair of drapes. He doesn't find anything other than a stack of boxes, all sharpied with kanji that reads 'plastics'.
Himiko begins tapping her index finger against the corner of her chin, as though she's pondering the question that's been presented. After a brief moment, she lets her hand drop and shakes her head. "Nah, Uta-San usually tries not to use the same trick twice.", but she contradicts herself by checking behind a chair anyways.
Akatani bobs his head a little before realizing that she has her back to him; he stops nodding and clears his throat, "I don't think he went anywhere if the door was unlocked. If he's not out here, then he must be in the back. Right?"
Himiko gives him a noncommittal shrug, "Let's check for ourselves.", and heads towards a door that reads 'employees only' in bolded yellow kanji.
"Uh, I don't think we're allowed back there..", Akatani warily follows her while glancing behind himself as though he missed something.
"Relax, Uta-San won't mind!", Himiko brushes off his concerns with a literal wave of her hand. The way that the bunned blonde bounces through the back space shows a lot of confidence behind her statement. "Especially once he sees that it's only us.", her grin is a tad too mischievous to be reassuring though.
Akatani's responsive hum is laced with uncertainty but he continues to trail behind the blonde regardless. He searches the back space with skeptical eyes, noting that it looks to be primarily used as a supply station if all the tool cabinets are anything to go by. Equipment ranges from things such as small screwdrivers to a lathe and a blowtorch.
Eventually, the duo find Uta hunched over a small desk, staring intently through the microscopic lens of a magnifying glass. Unlike the colorful flavor of all his neon light fixtures, a fluorescent bulb shines down on the desk instead. The designer delicately weaves a string through what looks like a crow shaped cowl. Fingers that would normally tremble remain still, operating on the mask more carefully than a doctor would during surgery.
"Hiii Uta-Saann!", the artist doesn't even flinch over Himiko's boisterous shout. There's no response from him either, it's as though Uta hadn't heard her at all. "Akatani-Kun and I are here to pick up his mask.", she carries on with her frisky attitude anyways.
The designer hums in acknowledgement, his ability to speak currently limited by the pin that's held firmly between his lips. Uta extends his other arm, holding out a black fabric that must be the finished product for Akatani.
Uncertain as to what he should say or do, Akatani stutters out a solid, "Th- Thanks..". When he takes it from Uta, his thumb grazes the rough lining of a zipper. Curious as to what the front of the mask looks like after feeling something so coarse, Akatani turns the mesh of leather over.
The cold zipper that he felt is etched in between an array of what looks like artificial teeth. The design carries a set of exposed gums on it too, adding to the graphically ghoulish motif. Pulling the tab at the end of the mouth lining, Akatani slides the zipper open. He assumes the feature is there to allow increased efficiency for when he's preying on meals. It should allow for him to consume the meat while simultaneously protecting his identity without the need to remove the entire mask.
A brow arches when he takes notice of the small filters on either side. The protruding objects don't look big enough nor operable to be a breathing assistant. The metallic bolts don't twist or budge when he tries to turn or pull on them either. Assuming the additional pieces must be mainly for aesthetic, he glosses over it.
The mask looks like it'll cover a majority of his face, with the exception of his left eye. Where he'd normally let his hair hang over, leather is morphed into a makeshift eyepatch. To say the least, he's happy with the turnout. "How much yen do I owe you?", Akatani switches the mask in his hand for the wallet in his back pants pocket.
Uta doesn't blink until he's finished stitching the fabric of what's in front of him, all his tense muscles go slack in relaxation as though he's fallen asleep only after it's done. Spitting the pin in his mouth out and into a small silver tray, he's finally free to let a breath out with it that he had also been holding in. "First one is free.", Uta gives Akatani a carefree wave that's just short of being dismissive.
"Eh?", Akatani's face shoots up with a perturbed expression.
"EEHHH?!", Himiko mimics Akatani better than a parrot ever could; the only distinct difference being how much of a higher pitch it is and how her body language turns into that of a childish pout. "That's NO FAIR, Uta-San! How come you never gave ME anything for free?!", she whines with two exaggerated stomps of her feet.
Uta gives her a deadpanned expression as he responds, "You never ordered a mask from me.. How is it MY fault that you never got anything?"
"Still!", Himiko huffs with a twist of her heel to face the opposite direction, "Not even a piece of gum or anything!"
Ignoring Himiko's antics, Uta turns to address Akatani again. "Look.. I have another client coming in pretty shortly, one that particuarly doesn't appreciate other customers in their presence. So, if you really wish to pay, then come back another time. Otherwise, the mask is yours to take for free.", he speaks while flagging his hand in a shooing manner.
"Oh.. Okay. So, like, a tab? Thanks Uta-San.", Akatani glances between the mask in his hands and the man who created it before bowing deep enough to show his appreciation.
The ding of the front door's bell is enough to make both Uta and Akatani stand straight. "You'd better go..", the usually stoic tone in Uta's voice suddenly sounds extremely urgent. Feeling how tense the atmosphere has become, one would think that they're expecting the boogieman himself to step through the door. Akatani allows his instincts to take control of the steering wheel, stepping in front of Himiko in order to protect her if need be.
"Right. Let's go, Himiko.", the blonde is startled by how strong of a grip he has when taking her hand in his own. She lets out a small squeak when she's tugged in the direction of the exit, which results in his firm hold loosening a bit as not to harm her.
However, it's too late for them to slip away unnoticed. Their path is intercepted by a group of four people. Each eye that catches the other widens in initial shock, uncertain of what to say or do. After a brief pause, the brown haired man that's in between two other men steps forward. Akatani instantly takes notice of how the center man is wearing a black surgical mask and white surgical gloves, a sign that the stranger could be ill or a doctor if their wealthy attire is anything to go by. A unique green bomber jacket with a collar lining completely composed out of purple fur hangs from the man as loose as the white tie around their neck. Black dress pants and an equally dark dress shirt are all he wears underneath.
Akatani's eyes flick to the small girl hiding behind this odd man. She has her head down, avoiding eye contact completely and making her lengthy flow of white hair hang over her face. What makes his gaze linger longer and wariness wager are the bandages covering the child's arms and legs. She only wears a plain short sleeved dress that's as pale as she is, making it rather evident that she's malnoruished. Akatani's free hand impulsively clenches into a fist as he frets over her health, his gaze switching to the two men on either side of her in order to size them up.
One of them fits the role of a goon perfectly, their height and muscularity extremely apparent. Just like his boss, this guy wears formal clothing in the form of suspenders and pinstriped pants. Akatani takes notice of the man's visibly pointed facial features, their face appears to be stretched into a square shaped chin that's covered by a goatee. Much like the goon's pointed nose, their hair is also spiked up.
The other henchman looks much thinner, their true frame hidden by a baggy raincoat that's oddly white instead of yellow. The coat's hood does a poor job of covering the man's chin length hair, its odd style of clock needles suggesting that it has something to do with their quirk.
Completely disregarding Himiko & Akatani, the supposed leader of this group glares daggers into Uta's eyes while asking, "Is my custom commission finished yet?"
Uta does a hard swallow, nodding before giving his customer a verbal answer. "I just completed the last one of the batch. If you would follow me, they're all in the back..", he turns with an outstretched arm that gestures in the opposite direction Akatani & Himiko were headed.
Uta's eyes flick from the man's to Akatani's for what must be a millisecond, acting as a silent cue for the two teens to leave while they still can. The man with the surgical mask glances in the same direction, taking notice of the directed communication. The gaze doesn't linger for very long though, his eyes turn back towards Uta and he nods. "Lead the way.", it feels like a permission has been granted as the cronies move forward to follow.
"Uta-San..", Himiko opens her mouth to say something but Akatani pulls her towards the exit with just enough force to cut the sentence off before it can even begin. It's not a rough tug, but the guidance is affirmed by how tight of a grip Akatani has on her. The bunned blonde considers yanking away, but there's something about how he holds her hand, it's almost like he's afraid she'll be taken away if they're not completely connected. Himiko may be a blonde, but she isn't dumb, she knows when to take a hint and manages to have some self control just this once.
The group of men continue forward at the leisure of Uta's guidance, forcing Akatani and Himiko to go around them. Nobody says a word and any eye contact that was present before now avoids eachother like the plague. The teenage duo pass by the three men completely, almost in the clear. Akatani carries the same pace as not to raise any more attention to themselves than they already have; he and Himiko are nearly at the exit.
Then, something small latches onto Akatani's leg, preventing it from moving any further. The extra weight isn't enough to stop him entirely if he were to really apply effort into lifting his foot again, but it does cause him to pause in his stride. The boy tilts his head down to see what he may have accidentally bumped into, only to find the white haired girl who had been accompanying the group of men. With her gaze aimed upwards, he now notices the small horn that's protruding from a corner of her forehead, something he couldn't have seen earlier when she had her head down. He would have probably been able to pry her off if he hadn't made the mistake of locking his eyes with her own that are a bright red so vibrant he can only describe them as purely innocent.
Himiko audibly gasps in what must be the same amount of surprise that Akatani has written across his face. Before either of them can get a word out though, somebody else beats them to the punch. Around the time that they had stopped moving, so did the group of men being led by Uta. At the head of the pack, the man with the surgical mask, turns his head ever so slightly. Without even fully glancing behind himself, the guy barks an incredibly stern order. "Come back, Eri.", their eerie tone triggers all sorts of danger warnings in Akatani's mind but he isn't capable of leaving behind such a terrified child.
When her tiny hands clench the fabric of his pants leg even tighter, he crouches down so he can show her that there's no intention of going just yet. This reaction must be enough to give her a boost of courage in order to stay put, her head cradling into his stomach with her eyes closed as though it were an affirmation. Since neither boy nor girl makes a move otherwise that indicates she's going to obey her given command, the man in a surgical mask is forced to fully face them now. Akatani feels himself tense up as the man's lackeys turn around as well. "Excuse me, sir. Your .. daughter? She seems pretty scared.", he tries to act oblivious to the matter even though the child is holding onto him as if her life depends on it.
The way that the man's eyes narrow serves as an unspoken threat, regardless of the excuse that one of his subordinates makes. "Sorry that she's causing you such trouble. She probably just wants to be held since she tends to fall over.. a lot.", the one in the raincoat is who makes an attempt to reason with Akatani first. It comes out sounding so improvised that the teenage boy can't help but take another weary glance at what must be the leader.
The brown haired man's squint becomes further tapered, presenting his annoyance in a fashion differential to how one would normally just sigh or balatanly huff. Even so, he graces everyone in the room with what little patience he has left, by going along with the subordinate's story. "Yes.. Eri is constantly horsing around, getting herself all scraped up..", however, his voice doesn't shift in the slightest from that same eerie tone; it's the kind that urges whoever hears it to obey. There's no doubt that this man is absolutely dangerous.
Yet, "Pardon my saying.. but these look to be a bigger amount of bandages than what you would get from only 'horsing around'. Aside from that, she hasn't uttered a single word for herself and hasn't loosened her grip at all.", Akatani knows that he's going to tread over the line that Uta had so desperately tried to put between them. "What are you REALLY doing to her?", he fixes the man with an intimidating glare of his own now that he's fully committed.
The goon with a goatee chimes in now, completely infuriated by Akatani's accusation. "YOU DARE TALK BACK TO THE BOSS?! ARE YOU CALLING HIM A LIAR?!", veins bulge from his forehead with each exaggerated shout. The thug takes two hefty stomps forward, only to be blocked by Uta who's waving his hands in a haphazard manner.
"He's probably just concerned, is all! Please forgive him on my behalf!", Uta attempts to bow while still keeping his arms outstretched, as though that'll be enough to stop the muscular man from plowing through. Uta then shoots what's meant to be his own glare in the direction of Akatani, the only contradiction being how worried his expression looks. "He's just a stupid teenager that doesn't know any better.", there's no real bitterness in his comment though.
The goon looks ready to pounce regardless of Uta's pleading, that is, until his boss interjects with a small exhale. "Kids are so difficult nowadays..", nobody knows if he's referring to Akatani or the small girl named Eri. "Having to put up with them.. it honestly makes me believe that I could turn into a very different kind of person..", he acts far too casual as he begins peeling back the wrist on one of the surgical gloves.
Eri seems to notice the man's gesture, her tear brimmed eyes widening as the instinct to run back kicks in. However, when she lurches away from her spot against Akatani's chest, she's blocked by a pair of arms. The way that they curl around her, it's like they're creating a protective shell that nobody can get through. Even so, she worries that it won't be enough, her desperate gaze returns to the boy's face.
"If you take that glove off..", Eri's mouth opens in awe when she sees the boy's emerald eye has now shattered with a crimson color far darker than her own irises, "..I'll kill you."
The bad tempered goon with a goatee stomps forward as though he had been the one to get provoked, "You.. Why, you little-". Once again, his assault is interrupted by a sound from the leader. However, unlike the annoyed huff from last time, it's a soft chuckle coming from the masked man.
The elastic fabric of his surgical glove snaps back into place, the hand coming up to signal his henchman not to retaliate instead. After the light laughter subsides, the brown haired man shakes his head in amused disbelief. "Very well.. Allow me to educate a high school dropout such as yourself on what you'll need to be aware of if you hope to ever reach your elder years.", his golden gaze fixates on the scarlet stare coming from Akatani. "I am the Capo of the Eightfold Cleansers, or in other words, a 'gangster'.", he pauses briefly in order to gage what sort of reaction Akatani may have. When he sees no change in the boy's expression and how that darkened glare only glowers even more, he continues, "Oh, I'm sure that means nothing to you. You're so young that you'd probably consider what's called 'villains' as true criminals. Well, you would be wrong in your assumption."
"Are you aware of what's called an underworld? What about an empire?", these rhetorical questions get answered instantly, "THAT'S where the real crime gets operated and that's exactly where you are right now.", the rundown location of Uta's shop now makes more sense to Akatani. "So.. Who do you think runs such an operation? I'll save you the trouble of guessing. It's me; the head of the Yakuza.", his golden glare shimmers under the store's lighting, "Now that you've been properly educated.. Do you still believe that you should speak to me in such an informal manner? ..Or would you like to take back what you said?".
Akatani tilts his chin down, but not once does he take his eyes off of the dangerous man or his lackeys. He hadn't expected Uta to be working with a powerful criminal organization such as the Yakuza. There's no telling how many branches of the villain group exist and what they're all capable of. However, Akatani can only see three members currently present, and that makes him like his chances a little more than he should. He isn't as good at rebuttals like Himiko is, so he says the first thing that comes to mind.
"..Okay, boomer.", he hadn't meant for it to come out sounding so monotone though. Himiko had been lost as to what she should say or do throughout this entire situation, but that manages to ease the tension enough for her to recover. The bunned blonde stifles a laugh as Uta clutches the area that his heart is located.
The Yakuza leader doesn't find it very funny though, his glare narrows into a squint again as his eyes switch from Akatani to Himiko to Uta. The gaze returns to Akatani, "You don't scare so easily..", there's a contemplative hum from him before he continues, "You're either a foolish boy that appropriates their childish nature .. or .. you have a quirk so vile that you actually believe you hold the capability to kill me."
Before Akatani can make a retort, Himiko finally decides to chime in with her own. "You actually thought you could flaunt your status in the bad boy league when you have The Tokyo Ghoul to compete with?", her own question is as rhetorical as the ones earlier given by the Yakuza leader. With a shrug of her shoulders, "Weird flex, but okay.", she makes her own meme reference.
Uta gawps over the revelation whereas the trio of Yakuza only react with what looks like mild prudence. The goons step closer to their boss, taking Himiko's announcement to heart more than the actual leader. "You expect me to believe a mere child is The Tokyo Ghoul?", though the Capo shows some piqued interest where their squint widens with raised eyebrows.
Akatani bares his teeth like the wild animal that he has the reputation of being, but not for any reason other than being openly outed about his persona. Himiko doesn't appear to be phased by whatever angered expression that he gives her if the cheshire grin on her own face is anything to go by. When Akatani glances back down at that girl in his arms though, his fury readjusts to its original target. Seething air through his gritted teeth, the ghoul accepts whatever fight is about to go down. Kakugan already active, all that's left is for his Kagune to make themselves present, the cochineal tentacles flowing out from his back like steady streams of blood.
Sensing Akatani's hostility, the Yakuza leader holds his hands up to make a placating gesture. "In the event that you truly are who you're acclaimed to be.. I believe it would be in everybody's best interest to resolve this without any bloodshed.", he carefully chooses his words and makes sure to keep his hands up as verification that they're sincere.
"Huh?", the spikey haired goon turns towards his boss with a perturbed expression, "But.. Overhaul, even if he is The Tokyo Ghoul, why should we give the brat a chance? We can take him!". The other thug does too, but without the need to vocalize their confusion.
It's only the fraction of a complete turn, but the Yakuza leader called Overhaul tilts his head just enough to send a golden glare in his subordinate's direction. "Mimic.. Are you questioning my command?", his voice would have been more than enough to scorn the thug when used with that kind of tone.
The man called Mimic cowers instantly, bowing his head and pleading for forgiveness. "Of course not! Your decisions are absolute! I would never dare to question them! Please, forgive me!", there's a crack at the end before he begins weeping over the mistake he had made.
"Quit groveling.", Overhaul motions for Mimic to raise his head back up, "I'll overlook your insolence just this once. Next time, you'll be exposed of."
"Thank you for your leniency, Overhaul. I won't disappoint you again.", Mimic wipes the tears from his eyes with a finger before he flicks them away. Once that doleful moment subsides, the muscular man returns to giving Akatani a darkly expression.
Overhaul ignores his subordinate, redirecting his attention back to Akatani. One of the hands that are raised comes down to point towards the young girl that's trembling within the boy's arms. "You've taken an interest in her.", he says it matter-of-factly, "You wish to take her from me, but we both know that I'm not so willing to let that happen."
"And yet, you claim that you want to settle this dispute peacefully.", Akatani warily watches the other two Yakuza that don't appear to share the same settlement. The one with the white raincoat slowly slides a hand into their pocket, attempting to stealthily grab whatever is inside. Overhaul follows the line of sight from Akatani to notice it too, beating the boy to the punch in saying something.
"Chrono.. Do not draw your weapon unless directly ordered to.", though that reprimanding isn't as harsh as the prior one. The henchman called 'Chrono' doesn't make any attempt toward trying to explain himself; he merely nods in submission before slipping his hand back out into the open to show that it's completely devoid of any knives or guns. "I understand the desire to take precautions, especially when facing someone with an unidentifiable quirk.. but that's a two way street; we're both in the same boat.. so to speak.", Overhaul glances between his own men and Akatani's side to let them know that it's directed towards all of them.
A few strands of blond hair drop loose when Himiko tilts her head in a cute pout, "I'm bored with all this talking! Can you get to the point already?", the whine is accompanied by an impatient wiggle, "Cause' I'm gonna start stabbing if not!"
Uta quickly slaps a hand over the blonde's mouth to keep her from saying anything else. "She doesn't mean that!", he nervously stammers out a forced laugh as if it were just a prank.
Whatever part of Overhaul's expression isn't covered up by the surgical mask shows that his patience is starting to run out. Regardless, he continues to hide his hostility by waving a dismissive hand towards Uta & Himiko. "She doesn't speak for The Tokyo Ghoul and neither do you.", and that's all he has to offer those two before pointing a finger towards Akatani once more, "My business is with HIM."
If it weren't grim enough already, Akatani's expression becomes even more steeled. The blood tails behind him go from whipping side to side to rising above him in an intimidating manner that's similar to that of a snake taking an upright posture. Gritted teeth look like they're bared when his lips curl into a ferocious snarl.
"I meant what I said.. Blood is so unsanitary; I would like to avoid creating a mess. As would Uta, I'd assume, since this is his establishment.", Overhaul briefly tries to pacify the cornered animal that he's been presented with before elaborating on the alternative to brawling over Eri, "Which is why I'm going to offer you a solution. I propose that we make a wager over something other than our lives; I suggest we take a gamble over something far more sensible than violence."
Akatani raises an eyebrow as he listens to the Yakuza's offer, slightly intrigued with where it's going, but doesn't dare lower his guard just yet. "Join me in a game that's resolved many Yakuza disputes ever since the dawn of the Zhou dynasty.. Battle me in a game of Go.", Overhaul gestures towards the bandaged girl that hasn't stopped trembling ever since she ran into Akatani's arms, "If you win.. I'll allow you to leave with Eri. It'll be completely free of charge. There'll be no arguments. There'll be no death. It'll be fair. I'll keep my word."
Akatani's dour face falters over his bewilderment, but it recovers immeditally when he gives Overhaul a skeptical scowl. The Yakuza would never make an offer this generous, especially after being threatened. However, they're a group that's known to be quite honorable. Akatani mulls over the suggestion and finally realizes what's been left unsaid. He has to ask, "And what'll happen if I lose?"
The pointed finger curls over with the rest of Overhaul's hand as it clenches into a fist. That golden glint in the Yakuza leader's eye glistens after he answers, "Then YOU will belong to me just as much as Eri does."
Akatani instinctively opens his mouth to make a retort, but another tremor from the terrified girl in his arms makes him close it. Whatever words sat on the tip of his tongue slide back down his throat with a hard swallow. The cold stare stays fixated on Overhaul, but it's much more contemplative than threatening. Himiko opens her mouth next, taking Akatani's silence as a segway to chime back in. Before the blonde can say anything that'll be regetted later, the ghoul speaks in a volume that he knows will boom over her own. "I accept your challenge and its rules.", Akatani answers Overhaul while simultaneously retracting his Kagune.
The ghoul knows that all eyes are now on him, ranging from Uta & Himiko to each Yakuza and Eri. There's no taking back his response; he has now made a pact with someone who may be equally evil as the devil themself. The whimpering from Eri has lessened, but she still looks horrified, whatever worries she has are now staring up at him in tear brimmed eyes. Himiko has always hidden her emotions behind a wide grin, but that smile is nowhere to be found currently. Uta has been distressed throughout the entire encounter, but he looks so pale now that Akatani worries the mask designer may have dropped dead and become a corpse.
Overhaul appears to be quite the opposite of disturbed, his cheeks are pulled up enough for Akatani to know that there's a smile beneath that surgical mask. The Yakuza leader gestures for them to come away from the exit and return to the inner part of the shop. "Then let us begin.", his head flicks towards his subordinates in order to give them a command, "Grab us a board to play on."
Akatani keeps an eye on the Yakuza as they move to grab what's needed for his Go game with Overhaul. The ghoul can't help but wonder what such a notorious criminal organization will do to Musutafu. The police were already stretched thin with his activities as a vigilante, he has no doubt things will only escalate if Overhaul makes his gang more prominently presented. With extra attention to the underworld and its inhabitants, The Tokyo Ghoul will be put at jeopardy and so will everybody around him. Akatani thinks of Anteiku and his co-workers; he also worries about how it will affect Himiko or Uta who's already so involved with the conflict. The police investigation may gain more traction and receive help from the FBI if Yakuza population draws attention to his own nightly endeavors. If Akatani MIkumo is to continue misdirecting authorities, he must win this Go game. Otherwise, the lead detective may get heroes involved with his case for some assistance in the arrest.
Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi just so happens to be on the phone with Japan's top ranked hero right now. One hand holding a mug of lukewarm coffee that'd been brewed by Officer Sansa Tamakawa stays steady to ensure that it doesn't spill while another hand holds the cellphone. A spread of papers and case folders lay littered across his desk, each one containing confidential information about The Tokyo Ghoul. He keeps a close watch on his office door from the corner of blackened eyes, careful as not to allow anybody to overhear his conversation with the pro.
"Sorry that I'm unable to stop by the precinct tonight; I hope that I haven't let you down.", All Might's disempowered voice comes from the other end of the line. The contrast in deepness doesn't ever change when Toshinori stops using his muscle form, but it's much more subdued in terms of exuberance. Whether it's to conserve whatever energy he has left or if the time limit has already been exceeded, it comes as no surprise for the detective to hear this truer version of All Might.
"Not at all, Toshinori! I understand!", Naomasa is thankful that the hero can only hear his response and not see the distressed pinching of his forehead. At this rate, the detective will develop wrinkles before he even turns forty. Without the aid of his friend for tonight's work load, Naomasa can barely resist the urge to let out a hefty sigh, nearly choking on the attempt. Clearing his throat to properly cover it up, the detective carries on with a much more hopeful tone. "I- Is there any chance that you can come in t- tomorrow?", he accidentally stumbles over the words as he tries to casually make this request.
It's only mildly worrying that there's no immediate response from the hero; it'd be silly to assume something happened to one of the most powerful men in, quite possibly, the world; but Naomasa has known Toshinori long enough to expect an instantaneous answer. The ambience that occupies the same speaker as the phone's electronic hum is enough to nearly become unsettling. Finally, Toshinori replies, albeit with a voice full of uncertainty, "I've never worked this closely with the police before.. I'm not sure that I'm cut out for all this crime scene stuff. I usually just punch villains really hard and leave the rest to REAL pros like yourself."
If All Might weren't so damned righteous, Naomasa would have considered that comment about police being the 'real pros' a derogative jab, but he doesn't need a lie detection quirk to know Toshinori is being one hundred percent sincere. It's almost funny how different of an outlook that the symbol of peace has about policemen. In this modern age, with quirks and literal superheroes, the authorities are often looked down on and more commonly get mocked about how useless they are in comparison. Nobody takes police seriously anymore; cops and detectives have become a bit of a dying breed. Yet, here's the number one hero of all people, calling what's considered the bare blunt of a bad joke an admirable profession instead. It's for reasons such as this one that Naomasa is proud to call Toshinori a friend; it's for reasons such as this that he so badly wants to work with this particular hero on this particular case.
"I'm not going to ask you to do anything outside of your comfort zone if you don't want to. You're already doing enough for this investigation by simply BEING HERE; your patrols have already warded off more small fry than the ghoul managed to and I think it's alright to assume you might even be enough to scare away The Tokyo Ghoul themself. ESPECIALLY if Eraserhead's theory about their age turns out to be correct.", Naomasa knows that All Might doesn't care about having his ego stroked but the reassurance feels necessary in order to prevent the hero from feeling bad in case he were to opt out of the investigation. The detective tacks on a few excuses on behalf of Toshinori just to be on the safe side, "Besides.. I know that you have your hands full with preparation for this year's semester at U.A. Finding a successor and all that will probably occupy enough time as it is."
"Th- Thank you, N- Naomasa!", it's easy to tell how flustered Toshinori has become over the compliments when all he can manage as a reply are clamored 'thanks' and noises of the phone fumbling in his hands. The detective resists the urge to laugh and waits for his friend to recover. "It's just.. I want to help. I really do. But you're right; there's a lot that I have to take care of right now and I'm not sure that I have enough time left in me per day to get it all accomplished.", the mood is killed by another grim reminder of All Might's reign nearing its end. "That doesn't mean that I won't help whenever the opportunity arises! But.. I can't promise you that'll it be every day that I'm here.", Toshinori is quick to reiterate his justifiable reasoning.
"That's more than enough, Toshinori. Feel free to stop by whenever you can.", Naomasa reaffirms his prior statement while allowing his head to droop a bit. He hopes that Toshinori can't hear the disappointment in his tone, but the hero had never been observant enough before to notice something like that now. However, there's a first for everything, and the detective would really prefer to prevent it getting pointed out.
Fortunately, the detective is granted an excuse to hang up when his cellphone vibrates with the notification that there's another call coming in. "I hate to cut this short, but I've got to speak with somebody on the other line. I'll see you later, Toshinori.", he quickly spouts his reason for ending the call before clicking over to see who's next to speak with.
Naomasa doesn't even have the chance to get out a proper greeting. As soon as he hits the answer button, he hears a familiar voice filling him in on classified information. "The Yakuza have resurfaced right here in Musutafu.", that's only the first sentence in this new conversation and it's already too much to unload. For starters, a case regarding Japan's massive criminal organization is just going to be another heavy thing to stack right with The Hero Killer of Hosu and Tokyo Ghoul of Musutafu. Secondly, for an underground hero that claims to be so rational, calling someone and not even beginning with a simple 'hello' is rather irrational. Then again, Eraserhead has never been one to waste time by beating around the bush.
"Y- Yakuza? There's no way..", Naomasa is still reeling in disbelief to fully comprehend whatever Eraserhead says next; it's likely the details of how the underground hero came across this intel, but the detective only catches bits and pieces about an information broker named Giran that's old enough to already have a rap sheet in the precinct's archive. Naomasa isn't aware of whether or not he's interrupting the underground hero, but he doesn't care since it's proprietary information that he NEEDS to know, "Do you think that they're affiliated with The Tokyo Ghoul?!"
"..I'm not sure.", the answer gives Naomasa an unsettling feeling in his stomach. Eraserhead skips the details deemed unnecessary at this point and finalizes his summary instead, "All I know is that they're more active than they've ever been. I've been following a group around and it led me to a mask shop, which leads me to the believe that this is the buildup for whatever scheme is starting to unravel."
Naomasa doesn't need to ask why the underground hero bothered to call, "That isn't enough for me to make an arrest, Aizawa. There's no evidence to justify-"
"I know.", Eraserhead interrupts with a firm response. The line goes quiet for a brief moment before the underground hero continues, "However, you're still able to get a search warrant for me. THEN.. we may be able to gather enough evidence to make an arrest."
Naomasa rubs the bags beneath his eyes, the very existence of them elict some kind of a cross between a yawn and a sigh. "We both know that by the time I get that search warrant in order, the Yakuza will be long gone from the store.", the detective holds firm with his voice as well as to not allow another interruption, "You're not the type of person that does wishful thinking. What's your angle, Aizawa?"
Eraserhead's breathing becomes stilted, indicating that he may be suppressing a sigh that's more than likely to be the cause if Naomasa knows the underground hero well enough. Soon, the inhales and exhales level out. There's the return of silence, only background ambience to let Naomasa know that the call hasn't ended. Then, "..Fine. Meet me at my apartment and I'll show you.", which is followed by the telltale click of Aizawa hanging up.
Naomasa lets his arm dramatically drop, almost like the phone in his hand weighs more than he can handle. The detective draws in a deep breath, holding it in for only a slight second, before exhaling completely in a satisfying sensation that no sigh could ever produce. After he slides the mobile phone into his pants pocket, he runs the free hand through his hair to make sure none of it has fallen out due to his stress overload. He's far too young to be developing grey strands, but he knows that they're there. Yet, if there's anything to drown one's woes with, it's coffee. The detective takes a quick swing of the lukewarm substance, convinced that it's more of a liquid courage than alcohol. Once he's had his fill, Naomasa swings open the door to his office so that he may finally face the world's problems head on.
He knows his fellow officer won't be at their desk, so he calls out for them instead. "Tamakawa!", the bell latched to his co-worker's collar jingles when they whirl around to see who called their name. It's not so far fetched to see the cop with a cat quirk fraternizing with other slackers by the water cooler. Naomasa ignores the urge to scold them all and motions for Tamakawa to follow behind him instead, "Something's come up on the other end of town and you're driving."
"Ah, man..", Tamakawa's triangular ears flatten against his downtrodden head. Falling into submission, the officer digs into his pocket to find a set of car keys.
Naomasa pays no mind to how Tamakawa mourns the loss of a carefree night. Instead, the detective directs his attention to the next officer that he needs to speak with. "Tanjiro, while we're gone, I need you to pull up any records we may have about an information broker named Giran.", a young man with burgundy hair and hanafuda earrings gives an affirmative nod from their cubicle before quickly tapping at the keyboard of a computer monitor.
After a few more clicks, he begins to read back the information that loads, "Right.. C-Ranker named Kagero Okuta A.K.A Giran-"
"I said while we're gone!", Naomasa shouts as a reminder. The detective grabs his trademark overcoat off the precinct clothes hanger before whipping it on. "Have it printed out for me by the time that we get back and I'll read it for myself.", he speaks over his shoulder while heading for the exit. Then, pauses mid stride upon suddenly remembering something else, forcing himself to turn back around on the heel. "One other thing! Reach out to Sir Nighteye's agency and see if they'd be willing to cooperate on an investigation pertaining to the Yakuza.", he notices the cat-like cop on standby just in case there's anything else to add, "Tamakawa! Let's go!"
Realizing that they're definitely leaving this time, Tamakawa quickens his pace in pursuit of Naomasa. "Where are we going?", he figures he should ask since he'll be the one who's driving.
"We're meeting Eraserhead at his apartment.", Naomasa gives a curt response without so much as glancing in Tamakawa's direction, " ..and then we're going to investigate a mask shop."
Meanwhile, residing within that very mask shop, are two of the precinct's most wanted. The Tokyo Ghoul sits directly across from the young head of the Yakuza, with only a game board in between them. White and black stones are stored in a pair of wooden bowls, both of which have their lids removed so the players can decide what colors they'll be given. As expected of the Yakuza, Overhaul follows the traditional method of selection called Nigiri. The eldest takes a handful of white stones and the youngest places either one or two black stones on the board. Akatani chooses an odd number of stones to lay out and Overhaul begins counting the number of stones in his hand to determine whether the turnout is odd or even in terms of matching or deferring from Akatani's count. The result is an even number of white stones and that's the color that the ghoul is given. Overhaul takes the bowl of black game pieces, seemingly thrilled by the prospect of getting to play the first move.
Akatani releases an audible gasp, unable to conceal the initial shock over what his opponent's first move is. Overhaul played Tengen; a singular black stone glimmers from its spot at the board's center. Most players begin by capturing lower star points and work their way towards the middle later into the game. For whatever reason Overhaul chose this move, it's more than enough to make somebody wary. One could mirror their opponent's moves this way, resulting in a draw nonetheless, but still using their own strength against them. There's only one way to rid of this likelihood and prevent his enemy from receiving an advantage; Akatani places his own stone right next to the center point. There's no exhale or stilted breath from the young Yakuza, but Overhaul's golden glare hardens with an equally piqued curiosity.
The next couple of moves is an exchange that both sides predicted immeditally after their first set of placed stones. A bumpy shape reminiscent to that of a circle is formed, mitch matching their black & white colors all around. What Akatani set out to accomplish has been achieved; Overhaul won't be capable of mirroring any moves without giving himself a handicap. However, the center of the board has been filled and compromised, the short lived battle has done nothing but limit their space and waste time. Akatani takes a moment to glance up from the board, searching for an expression behind his opponent's black medical mask, looking for any sign that this might have been their plan from the very beginning of the game. Overhaul gives nothing away, his 'poker face' as they would call it reveals zero hidden intentions.
The only way to properly test his opponent is for Akatani to play a move that is neither the best nor the worst. On the opposite side, projected towards the middle but leaving enough space to conquer one side over the other. Stones that don't serve the purpose of capturing other stones or gathering territory are often deemed pointless, but the rare occasion of an exception can be made by players far more skilled beyond the average player. Yet, these moves can prove fatal mistakes for weaker Go players.
Behind Overhaul, the Yakuza called Mimic begins to chuckle while he spectates the Go match. Mimic must be overly confident in his leader's capabilities; he doesn't deem the move as a difficult test and neither would an arrogant ruler with acolytes that feeds their ego.
However, for a novice, they wouldn't know any better themselves. Not understanding the game of Go and how tactfully in depth it can be, the little girl named Eri can only read everyone else's reactions. Seeing her tormentors overly confident and the other side unsure of themselves, her hope begins to leak out in the form of tears. Soft sniffles and quiet whimpers don't go unheard; Eri lowers her head to hide behind a lengthy flow of hair.
Unable to meet her gaze with her eyes covered, Akatani must resort to other methods of assurance. Now reminded of why he's playing this game, motivation sparks his next move. Almost hastily, the stone gets slapped down. Overhaul calmly places his own stone, but as soon as his fingers slip away from it, Akatani slams down his next piece without hesitation. The Yakuza look amongst themselves, seemingly startled & mildly concerned, especially when this happens a third time.
'Speed Go' is the term for these almost instantaneous moves. Overhaul would presume it's an intimidation tactic at first, some players tend to use this trick as a means to make their opponent unconsciously play faster in order to keep up; the idea is that they'd eventually slip up by making a mistake. However, Akatani stares intently at the board between each move. The time it would usually take to mull over a counter is spent during Overhaul's brief pauses. The Yakuza shakes his head, ignoring the ghoul's faster technique; ultimately, taking his time will prove more beneficial.
The two go back & forth, each side capturing an equal amount of stones. None of the missing pieces prove crucial until a while later. Suddenly, Overhaul realizes that move from earlier truly wasn't a mistake. Now, this mocking piece on the cluttered gameboard gives Akatani a momentous opportunity. Overhaul briefly glances up, his golden gaze shimmering under the light as he wonders whether or not the ghoul was truly capable of reading that much further into the game than himself.
Overhaul slowly lifts up the next stone from his bowl, contemplating what move he should make in order to counter attack. However, his line of sight never leaves Akatani and he can clearly see the boy mimicking his movement. The young Yakuza drops the stone back into his bowl, as does Akatani. Now irritated by his opponent, Overhaul snatches the piece that he dropped and roughly slams it into position on the Go board. Once again, the Yakuza is surprised by his opponent when Akatani simultaneously places his own stone right beside it.
The Yakuza are speechless, all of them amazed at how someone can play so quickly and yet so solidly. Overhaul would be sweating if he didn't find it revolting; the ghoul has captured the lower corner and the crimelord is behind now. If Akatani doesn't slow down, then Overhaul will be resorted to playing a game deciding move. It's a risky play, but one that leaves room for mistakes.
Overhaul places his stone. Akatani instantly reads through it, only a brief scowl on his face to let the Yakuza know how mild of a hindrance that it is. Without hesitation, the ghoul responds correctly. Now.. Overhaul is bound to lose.
With a shaky hand, the Yakuza leader reaches for his next chip to place. Just short of picking one up, his fingers twitch with an instinctive flinch due to Akatani's voice carrying over the board. "Oh? You wish to play it through rather than resign?", the tone holds genuine curiosity but the Yakuza hear a taunt.
Overhaul keeps his hand hovering over the bowl of Go stones, intent on taking one of them when he eventually spots a solution to his predicament. Golden orbs scan the gameboard that's littered with black & white pieces, searching for a way to recover from his supposed loss. No opportunity presents itself openly, but he feels hopeful enough to create one just short of the match finishing. At the very least, Overhaul wishes to draw the game so that they can play a rematch where he won't underestimate the ghoul a second time.
Reluctantly, Overhaul allows himself to grab another stone so that he may place it amidst the battlefield that he has created with his opponent. Checking the location of his placement a final time, the fingers slip away so that Akatani may respond with his own move.
The instant reply of a stone tapping the board lets Overhaul know that it's his turn again. Yet, he sees no stone countering the one that he just placed. Whatever spot that the ghoul played will cost him the victory and give the Yakuza a chance to come back.
"You lose.", The Tokyo Ghoul's voice snaps Overhaul from his concentration.
"Eh..?", Overhaul looks upwards to see his opponent is still holding a Go stone. The Yakuza begins to realize what happened. Overhaul had been so focused on the board that he didn't see an actual stone placement, he only heard the sound of a stone being tapped against the side of it. Akatani never actually made a responsive move. It's against the rules of Go to play twice in a row, which is exactly what Overhaul did, thus granting Akatani an automatic win.
"Why, you little - SUCH DIRTY UNDERHANDED TRICKS!", the muscles that make up Mimic's body flex as he cocks a fist back. The Yakuza minion looks as though he's buffing up in preparation for battle. Akatani raises his own guard, fists and crimson tendrils readying for a fight.
But, an outstretched arm prevents the two from clashing with one another. "We had a deal.", Overhaul speaks for himself and the other Yakuza, "I will honor that deal.. The Yakuza is bounded by a code of honor afterall."
Mimic's ever present scowl remains, but his huff is all that's allowed to be released from the rage pent up inside of him. Chronostasis takes his finger off the trigger of a handgun, one that must have been drawn when the conflict started to brew.
"Perhaps we'll play again some day.", Overhaul bids the ghoul a wave of farewell before ushering the previously captive girl towards the winner, "Run along now, Eri."
Uta flinches when Overhaul's golden glare pierces right through him, "I have other business to conduct.", the Yakuza leader refers to the masks that he had originally come for.
It's a dry swallow, but it's enough to clear his throat. "Right.. You kids best be going..", Uta gestures towards the door with a pleading expression. Akatani and Himiko nod in understanding before they bow and turn to leave.
"Would you like to hold my hand?", Akatani holds it out for the frightened child so she can intertwine it with his own. The ghoul notices that she has an instinct to withdraw, and curls his fingers back up when she shakes her head. The thought of what Overhaul and his acolytes may have done to make this child so afraid of being touched crosses his mind for a brief moment, and in that moment, he ponders lashing out like he had originally planned to do in order to rescue her. However, he has to take Uta and Himiko into consideration as well, which is why he settles for having her follow him out of the mask shop.
A harsh breeze hits the young trio as soon as they step outside. Akatani checks on Eri to see that she's shivering, but not bothering to whine or complain. It's a long walk from the store back to his home and he doesn't want her catching a cold or the flu regardless of whether she's quiet about it or not. He doesn't particuarly regret giving his hoodie to Himiko, but he knows that the little girl will need it more since she'll have a lower tolerance for the colder climate. Fortunately, Himiko also takes notice of this problem and removes the hoodie herself, "I needed to give it back anyways, right?"
"Thanks, Himiko.", Akatani flashes her an appreciative smile before handing the hoodie to Eri. "You should probably get someplace warm.", he knows that it'll be impossible for Himiko to avoid acknowledging how cute the child looks in such an oversized article of clothing and that she doesn't have that time to be exposed in the cold.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you tomorrow then. Good luck with the kid; let me know if you need anything.", she somehow manages to casually wave it off and begins to trot towards what Akatani assumes is the direction of her own house.
"Alright, Eri.. Looks like it's just you and me now.", Akatani checks on the child again and sees that there's no change in her uncomfortable disposition. Admittingly, it may be weird for a while, but he knows that she'll be better off with him than Overhaul. "Let's get you to your new home.", he waits for a response but isn't all that surprised to get none. Then, he leads the way.
Eventually, the two of them step through an ivory door. From within the hood that's enclosed around her tiny head, Eri's expression becomes one of awe. Akatani's living space is so cluttered with stacks of books that it may as well be an unshelved library. The boy flicks his lightswitch, illuminating the dim atmosphere just a tad more and showcasing the cluttered boxes that were hidden amidst now retracted shadows. Not even a slob or a hoarder would let the mess get this out of hand; anybody would presume that he just moved in. Yet, these books are EVERYWHERE.
Akatani becomes bashful, as if he had forgotten what his own apartment looks like. Rubbing the nape of his neck to sooth the red blush with a chilly hand, the boy tries to level out the awkwardness with a joke and a technical presumption. "I hope you like to read.. Cause I've got plenty..", he then begins to wonder if the girl is even old enough to read yet, "I can teach you if not.. I mean, if you'd like.."
Eri continues to scope out the bizarre layout, still overflowing with childish wonder. For the first time since she ran into his arms back at the mask shop, she acknowledges him with speech. "D- Do you live here? A- All alone?", she nervously wrings her hands and keeps her eyes diverted as she asks him this question. There's the body language of an expected flinch, as if his answer will be something to shy away from.
Akatani doesn't want her to be scared of him, so he crouches down to her level with a smile much warmer than the weather outside. That wonderful expression of awe returns to her face when he replies, "Not anymore."