You were a puppet,
finally cut free,
yet you
clung
to
the
s
t
r
i
n
g
s
.
— Unknown
"Sit in the throne, destroy it, it's up to you now…" Eto's eyes were already dimming. "Ken Kaneki…"
Everything had been leading up to this. All the years, the plans, the killing, the words, the books, the intrigue— Everything. When this disgusting, messed-up fucking world was destroyed and remade into something new, something better, she would not be there to see it, for she was a part of the world: the membrane, the shell, the cage it had encased itself in.
The One-Eyed Owl, a real life demon from the 24th ward's hell, stained in the blood of investigators and their families. The only known active SSS rate in Tokyo.
The founder of Aogiri Tree, a militarized organization of ghouls that killed hundreds of investigators and got thousands of ghouls killed.
Eto Yoshimura, a daughter whose blood belonged to a cowardly imitator, a bystander and a bootlicker who let strangers kill and be killed so long while they were out of his sight. And that was worse than participating in the carnage.
She was a devil dragged into the depths of hell by the skeletons she herself made, thus another piece of the unbroken egg. This part of her knew it was necessary to break, to die.
Her senses were dull, but she knew Kaneki was staring at her.
Another part of her, the part that should have already died, strangled by her own two hands, wanted to watch the first crack. Wanted to witness the moment the puppets' strings were severed, and behold the unpredictable burst that would follow. First, she imagined, the albumen would break through, widening the break, then the yolk would spill out in full, ripe and raw and waiting to be made into something.
And once that was done, what would Kaneki do with it? Would he scramble the egg? Make an omelet of it? Pair it with morning pancakes? So many possibilities, but if she died, she wouldn't know which one.
Eto stared up at Kaneki's face in an attempt to divine his choice. He was one of the few who could turn her head, and even on the cusp of death, that did not change. The knowledge she would gain from looking would make for a fine parting gift when this farce of a life was finally over.
However, when she stared, his expression was blurry. She literally couldn't read him, the one person who might be troubled by her passing. The one person who might mourn her, if she were to let herself believe she even could be mourned. Come to think of it, everything was blurry, like staring at words on a page without her glasses.
Was the world always so hazy?
Her eyes fluttered shut.
No.
(yes)
Not always.
She imagined it was quite nice at one point. But it wasn't that now; V had made sure of that. To shape the narrative and play both humans and ghouls for fools, they muddied the river and polluted it with corpses. Looking at the mess made, you couldn't tell the difference between ghoul and human. However, V told you there was a difference.
"Ghouls are just wolves in sheep's clothing: savage animals that imitate humans, with no regard for their prey."
(there were tears on my first kill)
"The strong devour the weak, and humans are cowards. Are you weaker than a coward?"
(my mother cannibalized for me work)
Eto's breathing was short. It was almost time.
(finally)
The stage was set, the lights were dimmed, and the actors were finally in position. With her and Arima, the pinnacles of their "kinds" gone, the overture was finished; the audience now waited with bated breath for the curtains to open. When the first lines were spoken, they would prove Eto was right— that this world was wrong and fucked up and terrible and deserved to be broken, because ghouls were considered villains and that supposedly meant they didn't deserve to exist. The day she realized that, now years ago, she swore to change that unbendable narrative.
"What cannot change can only be broken."
And Eto knew she could not change. Not now, not ever. So instead she would break, and from the inside of her guts, the new One Eyed King would rise.
It was the least she could do after everything.
Her consciousness stared over the edge of death, just before the leap. She wondered if there was anything waiting for her over there. She doubted it; the concept of gods and religion deprived people of their own choices more often than not. Crusades, lobbying, cults, et cetera. The weak and stupid turned to such terrible things to feel strong, even when such strength was an illusion and they would never obtain real power. It made them the perfect victims of V: people who thought they could control the world.
Sigh.
It didn't matter, anyway.
Against Eto's better judgment, she looked behind her. At her novels, at Aogiri, at Kaneki, at so many things she'd done and experienced.
… All were better off without her. The new world had no need for devils.
(exactly)
She sighed.
She was tired. Her hands were cramped from all the writing, and her mind was fatigued from all the planning. Even if she were to watch the results of her work, she'd probably just fall asleep halfway through.
She was tired of living.
(exactly!)
She lifted her foot, hovering it over the abyss, ready to fall—
(FINALLY)
It was supposed to be just another book signing for Sen Takatsuki, just another day in a fake person's shoes to convince real people that she was one of them. Nothing crazy, therefore nothing interesting. Perhaps a rare specimen might pop up from the crowd and catch her interest, but Sen was meant as a mask and a hobby, not an Aogiri recruiter (for now).
She wasn't expecting him to show up, but the day suddenly became very interesting. She'd caught his scent— Rize's initially, now layered with other ghouls' to create something all his own— as soon as she stumbled out of the elevator, playing the part of embarrassment to perfection. She dashed to the allotted location, sweeping past that enticing white hair for the first time, and until it was his turn, she was, for lack of a better word, distracted.
"I especially loved the Black Goat's Egg …"
Uh huh.
"I've been a fan since your first book!"
Why, thank you.
"Ohta was so cruel; he was my favorite!"
Oh, yeah, he's terrible.
"C-Can I take a picture?"
Sure thing.
Blah, blah, blah. Eto cared little for appetizers when the main course was just out of reach. There was a simmering anticipation just beneath her ditzy smile as her eyes, whenever others' were turned away, zeroed in on a head of snowy hair that got closer and closer.
He brought a little friend. Hinami. Cute as a button, and innocent. Wonderful. She was his "sister". Even more adorable. Eto signed it carefully, wanting to make this a good memory for the girl. Her mother used to read Takatsuki's works, and the past tense did not escape Eto. If she could lighten Hinami's load even a little bit with the swish of a pen, she did it without a second thought.
She also saw Kaneki's expression shift at the mention of Hinami's mother. That hint of controlled compassion, the root of the reason he sought strength in the first place. It was fascinating, how his sins were born of his good intentions.
With Hinami's book signed, she finally popped the question. "And punky guy, what's your name?"
He took it well and cleared his throat. "Oh, uh... Kaneki. 'Kane' as in Friday and 'ki' as in Thursday."
Well, well… He certainly didn't lack for elegance. "To... Kane… ki…" Sen scribbled the two kanji on the blank page, humming while signing below with her own name. "There we go…!" Eto stared at the characters for a moment, then decided to prod his brain some more. "Say, Osamu Dazai's from Kanagi, with the same characters, huh?"
"Mhm."
So he derived knowledge from beyond her work. She inferred he was well-read, considering how easily he figured out the kanji trick. "How interesting… And your hair— is it dyed?"
"No, it's natural."
Yamori was strong, but a cruel bastard that Eto personally cared little for; he was reckless, he was wasteful, and he killed children. Wholly unforgivable, wholly uncontrollable, and wholly useless in the end. Plus, she hardly saw the entertainment found in torture for torture's sake. The act was wholly and truly pointless, even more so than the ephemeral lives led by every creature on the planet. Torture was meant to turn the internal into the external— expose the truth to the environment it tried so hard to hide from. That was what she thought, at any rate.
"Natural?!" she exclaimed in shock. "Oh my…"
However, the man had a philosophy she respected and even followed: "All disadvantages in this world are due to incompetence." As it stood now, ghouls were certainly 'incompetent' by allowing the CCG— therefore 'humans'— walk all over them, ignoring the fact the Washuu were huge fucking hypocrites.
Regardless, Jason was dead now, his kakuhou consumed by his last victim, who forged purpose out of the pain. What beautiful irony.
That victim now touched his hair, almost self-conscious. "Yeah, it's, uh—"
"How long've you been reading my work?" She was leaning forward now, almost eager.
"Since Dear Kafka. I've read everything. Your short stories, your novels…" He trailed off. "Oh, the warden, Kimio Ohta, in The Hanged Man's Macguffin— Isn't he the uncle of Detective Tanizaki in Salt and Opium?"
And right there, for the first time in a long time, Eto truly paused and blinked. Only for a moment, though, as a real grin spread across her face. "Ooh…" she cooed, opening his signed copy again to a certain page. "So you caught that. Not bad."
He smiled under her praise as she creased the corner with her thumb. "Yeah, when I was reading, I thought, 'Wait a minute.' And then, after checking back in both works and their conversations, I realized their timelines matched up."
Poor little Hinami, off to the side, only looked more confused as he elaborated, but Eto was too focused— too fascinated— to pay it any mind. She was about to inquire further, pick his brain apart until it lay in pieces for her to snack on, when Shiono appeared to reign her in.
"Sen, there's still a long line…" he said, looking apologetic as ever. He knew her fun times were few and far between, and that species like Kaneki— clever thing— were even fewer. She appreciated that Shiono grounded her in the current reality, much as he didn't want to, because though it was a simple job, it had an ugly touch to it.
"Speaking of Ohta… Okay, just a second," she said, slipping her business card in the book when no one was looking. "Here you go, Kaneki. Lovely chat."
Kaneki, a bit flustered, scratched his cheek as he took the book. "Same here," he agreed.
"And you, lil Hina." She tapped the girl's nose, chuckling. "See you later!"
"Thank you so much." Kaneki smiled at her gently. And what a fascinating smile it was, considering the corpses he walked on.
"Thank you," she insisted, and she meant it.
Eto waved the pair goodbye, smiling just a bit wider and with a new, exciting hunger bubbling in her stomach. Shiono still had that apologetic look on his face, and she waved him off.
"Send in the next one; we're behind schedule, right?" she said; her special way of saying that it was okay.
"Hm," Donato mused.
(what?)
Eto's senses were suddenly sharp, strangled back to life by a cruel angel's noose.
(no…)
"Souta said she should have died by now…"
(NO NO NO)
Hovering above her, in the deepest level of Cochlea, was a clown's mask. Donato chuckled, and his sclera crackled beneath. "A minor inconvenience, I suppose."
Eto wanted to laugh. The world was just too cruel, refusing to let her go peacefully. Cursing her with a few more minutes of life to make sure she died at the hands of the Clowns? What a sad joke. Oh well. Donato's kagune, a creative collection of puzzle pieces fit together into a koukaku, hovered over her, ready to pierce her eyes or sever her head or whatever.
When she smiled and closed her eyes again, ready for the end to finally settle in, she haphazardly recalled something she'd read in passing, a long time ago:
"Dazai was asked to die,
Her stomach suddenly growled. She never avenged Shiono, come to think of it, and now he was nothing but waste inside her while his murderer literally skipped away with laughter, seemingly getting everything he'd ever wanted.
and he simply agreed,
Her smile faded.
… Donato was an intelligent fighter despite his many years in prison. Were it not for his affiliation with the Clowns, Eto might have targeted his cell during Aogiri's first raid. It'd be quite the challenge.
but just before his death,
She… had both her arms. She was missing both legs, and a lot of blood. Kakuja was out of the question— she had no strength for it, and she needed speed. A morsel would do. For now.
Donato's kagune swooped down.
he suddenly felt an obsession with life."
When her eyes opened next, her kakugan had crackled to life.
The rest was a blur; the combination of misguided desperation for survival and the erratic hell of a ghoul's hunger made it difficult to place herself amidst the ever marching pace of time.
(why?)
Donato was hovering over her at one point, then he was far away, missing the arm caught between her teeth. She remembered having arms for legs, then hearing the roaring sewer water as she scrambled through the passages.
(why?!)
Glass shattered. A dark mall, with cameras pierced by ukaku shards. Alarms blared, then more glass shattered, followed by the sound of cars. Yelling, maybe? Mostly humans who couldn't hope to stop her. She remembered running very far, chasing the faint scent of a group of humans, ghouls, and their king.
(WHY?!)
Then a familiar stench, the coffee of the 20th ward, mingled with those scents, and she halted before an unfamiliar cafe.
:re
CLOSED
("Remember? I said I'd help you out.")
(Remember? I said I'd die for you.)
The cruel angel pushed her to the door and rapped her knuckles upon it.
Name: Eto Yoshimura / the One-Eyed Owl (SSS)
Affiliations: Aogiri Tree (founder), the 24th Ward (former resident)
Born: June 19 (Gemini)
Occupation: None (former novelist)
Blood Type: O-
Size: 151 cm, 42kg
Feet: 22.5 cm
Likes: iced coffee, sewing
Hobby: writing
This has been cross-posted from AO3! I'll be updating it here sporadically, but you can read the rest there under the same name.