Juuzou had always known he wasn't a special case, regardless what Shinohara-san said. Hundreds of children were taken and used by the ghouls for food, entertainment, and pleasure every day. You heard about it in the news, saw it on the faces of grieving parents, and heard it whispered by the CCG investigators. Sometimes these children grew up to be monsters that barely resembled humans, but most times, they died. So no, Juuzou didn't view himself as a special case at all, but merely a statistic. One of the hundreds and hundreds of 'tragedies' that had crawled around Tokyo's underbelly. The only real difference between himself and the hundreds of others was that he was now without a 'Madame' or 'Master'. Though, if you sat down and thought about it, the higher ups of the CCG probably counted as those.

A chuckle left his lips as he spun in his chair, his thoughts whirling around in his brain in the same lazy spinning manner. With so little work to do that day, his thoughts were taking over. Useless and pointless thoughts, but thoughts none the less. He really needed something to do or else he'd go insane. Not that he was sane already, mind you. He would just become irritable, and an irritable Juuzou was a very troubling and inconvenient Juuzou. He glanced sideways to his partner's metal desk, it was stripped bare of everything except for a red pencil holder, the computer, and a photo of his family.

Shinohara-san had left what felt like years ago to go do something. One of the higher ups had stormed in and demanded to see him. The older man's face had become a bright red and there was a stack of papers in his hand. The only time this particular man, Imai Kyoma, got upset about anything was when Juuzou was involved. That was mostly because he had made it a point to antagonize the man. Imai-san was a man full of talk and pomp, probably one of the rudest men Juuzou had met. So of course he deserved everything Juuzou did to him, from breaking a few of his fingers, to eating his lunch from the community fridge. He wasn't sure why anyone would be upset about the last one, Imai-san's wife was a terrible cook.

The sound of heavy footsteps distracted Juuzou from his thoughts, and his gaze snapped over to the door of the small office. A bright smile spread over his lips as Shinohara-san entered the room, a stack of papers in one hand, and a cookie wrapped in plastic in the other. The tired and worn expression eased off his face upon seeing him. "Sorry for taking so long, Juuzou. Imai-san had a lot for me to go over."

Juuzou took the cookie as his mentor passed him by, and ripped open the packaging with his teeth. "Are we gonna kill ghouls today, Shinohara-san?"

"No not today." The man sat heavily in the fold up chair. Since Juuzou had taken a liking to the spinning chair, he had taken this one from storage. "Juuzou, we have something important to discuss."

Juuzou bit into his cookie, crumbs got all over his clothes, and chocolate smeared on his face. "I didn't do anything to Imai-san. He's just paranoid, as he should be, but I didn't do anything. Not yet."

Shinohara sighed, a sound Juuzou was so used to, he often heard it even when Shinohara wasn't around. "Imai-san isn't the only person you have problems with. Frankly, there's plenty of people within the Eleventh Ward office who would rather have you-"

"Kicked out?"

The man shook his head. "Not exactly the right word." He sat the paperwork on the desk and pushed it towards Juuzou. The boy gave it a glance as she shoved the rest of his cookie in his mouth, but didn't even touch the sheets of paper. He hated reading and paperwork, both things left him bored more often than not. "Those are papers for a very special program, Juuzou. It's called Continuum, a program meant to help CCG investigators acclimate to a civilian life."

"So I am being kicked out."

"No, no!" Shinohara snatched the first sheet off the pile and held it up to him. "Thanks to your special circumstances, it was unanimously decided to enter you into the program in order for you to try and become..."

Juuzou watched Shinohara struggle for a better word than the obvious one. Normal. Back in the academy everyone asked why he couldn't be normal. It had spread to his doctors, his many therapists, and his teachers. Now it had followed him to his workplace, poisoning his most favorite person. He twirled in his chair, and stood up, his back popping thanks to being in the irregular position for the better part of three hours. "No thanks."

"Juuzou-"

"No thanks." His words never lost their cheery tone. "I'm a ghoul investigator and won't retire. I'll never be normal and assimilated with most humans. I'm a freak and people see me as a monster." He turned back to Shinohara. "It's not good to just get rid of monsters, Shinohara-san. Left alone and bored they do terrible things."

Shinohara opened his mouth, but stopped and shut his eyes. After a deep breath he opened them again and set the paper down. "I know that this will be hard for you, Juuzou. Your special circumstances have turned your perspective of things very differently to most people, but I think this is for the best. If you do this, you'll be one step closer to becoming a well respected investigator."

"Without a quinque."

"Juuzou."

The boy glanced back to the paper again. They weren't kicking him out, they were just trying to make him normal. One would think that after ten therapist, six psychiatrists, and a parade of doctors they would quit. A smirk curled on his lips. If there was anything in this world that Juuzou liked, it would be a challenge. "Alright, I'll do it, Shinohara-san."

The man gave a smile, the tension rolling off his body and making him less haggard. "That's great Juuzou, I'm glad you're complying." Shinohara stood up and grabbed his coat. "So why don't we go get some lunch."

"Yeah!"

Because Juuzou was merely a statistic. He was one of the hundreds of 'victims' who's life was twisted by the ghouls. There were no special circumstances, terrible tragedies, or unfortunate situations. Juuzou was just Juuzou, and he was going to prove it to them all.