Everything hurt so much…
This was the thought of Kaneki as he lied dazed, black eyes staring blankly at the bright ceiling light.
How did this happen…
Yeah. Of course. Shachi…
The ghoul known as Shachi was crazy—both in strength and in mind. Out of nowhere, the ghoul picked a fight with him and promptly sent him rocketing across Cochlea. The railing in front of him, bent grotesquely inward, was a result of his horrid collision. His back still ached from the unpleasant marriage against solid steel. The mask that Takatsuki gave him was long shattered from the battle against Shachi. Both of his legs were twisted uselessly underneath him.
But even with his body wracked with pain, he inched himself forward, crawling on the floor like a pathetic worm as he wriggled through the corridor. He had no destination in mind, but just knew he couldn't afford to lie around like this.
A sudden high-pitched sound tore through the chaos of the prison.
It was the retreat signal.
Then he was trampled underneath several dozens of frantic feet.
Everyone was running away.
Everyone except for him.
Why were they retreating? He was still down here.
"H-help…" He reached a hand forward. All he saw were the heels of running feet.
"Help me." He reached forward and managed a feeble grasp on a inmate's ankle. A kick in the face was what he earned for his effort.
"Let go!"
The ghoul's eyes reflected nothing but pure irritation—just simple unadulterated hatred towards something that stood in the way of his freedom. A couple of kicks to the face later, Ken's hand fell limp to the ground, and the ghoul continued his escape. There was not even an ounce of gratitude.
"Argh…" He slammed his hands to the floor, pained groans continued to leave his mouth as he tried to force his battered body up. He failed and fell to the floor again.
As he lied there, barely mobile, he managed to catch a glimpse of red from the other side of the corridor. Those were the colors of Takatsuki's hoodie.
Hopeful eyes quickly zoomed in on the rest of the bandaged author, his mouth opened slightly as he prepared to call for help.
"Eto-san!"
His hope only soared as he saw the author look at his direction.
Then as if having saw nothing of importance, she turned away and left with Shachi of all people.
He felt a part of him die and started chuckling before he could stop himself.
It was just too humorous…
...the irony was.
He came in hoping to save everyone, but ended as the one left behind.
It always ended up like this.
The people that he helped always hurt him at the end.
That time he did his cousin's homework…
That boy was always so hateful towards him…
Just like the rest of that family…
But when he did his cousin's homework for him that night, his cousin smiled at him for the first time.
He felt happy. Like he was finally making progress.
A couple of days later. His cousin got in trouble with the teacher and the blame fell onto him.
Everyone kept using him. Like he was a mere tool.
Not just him, but his mother too…
Everytime his aunt came knocking on the door it was to request money…
Then his mother died.
He always wanted to be like his mother…
He always wanted to be a upstanding citizen of society just like his mother was…
He wanted to be needed by someone. Wanted to be cherished by someone.
Did he really have no value for anyone?
The people of Anteiku never came for him.
Did he really mean nothing to the people that he tried to connect with?
Was Takatsuki-sensei the same?
Was he just being used?
Probably…
Probably…
Probably…
Maybe it was his fault.
Perhaps he let go too early and just trusted the relationships to develop on their own.
He could still hear the footsteps of inmates escaping. All of them running away without a regard for him. As another set of heels rushed in front of his field of vision, his hands sprang up again and captured them in his grip, this time he wouldn't be letting go.
...Ungrateful bastards...
*munch*
The beast was on the move immediately, its body quickly blurring out of their sight.
The investigators glanced about with panicked fanaticism, beads of sweat rolling off their face just as rapidly the phantom footsteps that surrounded them. They could hear it move, but as for sight—
"He's right above us!"
In an instant, two investigators' exploded into bloody mist, having been pierced through by crimson flesh tentacles.
The third investigator, the one equipped with Arata was the only one remaining. The tentacles that would have killed him was planted into the ground instead.
It was because his juniors looked and he didn't. Looking would have doomed him, so he let his instincts take over and hoped for the best.
As the beast stood on the other side of the hallway, back straight and head up with no regard to the lives that it had just taken, the investigator allowed himself to get a good look at his sworn enemy. The creature's face was covered entirely by the darkness of mutated kagune. There was no definite shape, just a repeatedly shifting mass. The only constant was a single shiny kakugan fixated in the center. Floating out of the murderer's waist were four sinister tentacles, two of them still stained with the blood of his fallen comrades.
"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!" The senior investigator screamed away his own fears, the muscles on his face expanding, his eyes bulging, threads of saliva dangling from the two halves of his mouth and his legs taking him forward to his enemy. The image of his comrade's corpse flashed briefly in his mind as he slashed wildly with his mechanical claws.
Each jabs and swipes of his claws were quickly deflected. It was four against four as armored limbs clashed against mutated kagune. Both of their weapons whipped in the air wildly against each other, but soon the investigator found himself losing ground. The joints of his claws felt clunkier, tiny fractures started to materialize and compound on his claw's shiny black surface. Until finally, his opponent's kagune merged into one and destroyed all four of his Arata limbs in a single circular sweep.
As he stared dazedly while broken pieces of machinery rained around him, the merged kagune lunged forward. And just as quickly as it had formed into one, it split into four again, each one stabbing and whipping furiously at his Arata.
The investigator was quick to bring his arms up to shield his head. His bulky arms promptly shook violently against the onslaught of whips, saved only from utter destruction by the armor of his Arata—an armor that was being slowly but steadily chipped away under the overwhelming force. Things didn't look good for him, but as long as he stood his ground, he was sure that an opportunity to strike would present itself again.
But even he was forcefully sent skidding back as the creature leapt up and delivered a flying kick square to his chest.
It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but the kick had created the distance that he needed. The investigator reached his hands behind his back and pulled out two quinque from the storage space installed in his Arata. One quinque was a longsword with a purple blade and white hilt, the other, a pitch black spear.
The investigator rushed forward, narrowly avoiding death as a speeding kagune grazed the side of his face. His sword was put into use as he hacked off the kagune tendrils that followed. Once he was close enough, he threw his spear forward, striking the monster right in his chest.
As a series of regrown tentacles penetrated his armor and threw him away, two words crawled their way into his mind.
Remote Activation.
Underneath the crimson ceiling, three centipedes danced.