"You catch glimpses of mystery— sadness, anger, and emptiness— behind her subtle expressions and refined style. She seems to have lost hope in everything; she expects nothing from anybody… Maybe that's why she wants to destroy it all…"

— Haise Sasaki, on Sen Takatsuki

Kaneki was ten minutes early, Eto noticed, and Takatsuki was ten minutes late.

His solving of the puzzle was a given, yet a part of her decided to show up late regardless— the part that believed Eto was the one he was going to be seeing, not the famous Sen Takatsuki, his favorite author. Fortunately, the way he shot up from his seat— a bundle of nerves, relief, and excitement— when he saw her through the window served as a good reminder.

Not to mention his outfit. Goodness. The Gourmet spared no expense, it seemed. A black collar shirt to effectively hide bloodstains, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to give him tighter control over his punches. Business casual pants a size larger to allow him ease of movement with a belt to secure them. To top it off, a fresh black eyepatch, a small messenger bag, and a clean pair of dark derby shoes.

Looking down at herself— a white blouse tucked into a long floral pattern skirt, paired with a cream pea coat and flats— she felt a little underdressed for the occasion. Then again, Takatsuki wasn't exactly a fashion icon. But those thoughts were for another time; right now, she had an examination to get to.

"So, so sorry!" she said to him as she approached, palms pressed together in apology. "I sneak in a puzzle for you to solve, and I'm not even there on time!"

Kaneki vigorously shook his head. "No, no worries!" he responded reassuringly, meeting her halfway. "At first, I thought one of my… acquaintances had tampered with my copy, but then I saw your business card, and then I checked the folded page, and… yeah."

He went back and pulled her chair out for her, and she giggled. "My, what a gentleman," she teased, taking the gesture gracefully.

"Th-Thank you." He went and took his own seat.

She glanced about. "I see you didn't bring little Hina with you. Pity; I wanted to see her."

"I wasn't exactly sure what to expect, so… I decided to play it safe," he admitted.

What a noble self-sacrifice, Eto thought. Sen was only 'human', but you never really knew with these sorts of things. "Well, what's done is done," she said. "That aside, what did you think of my little message?"

"It was clever," he answered, and she took note of how his posture straightened and his mannerisms relaxed. "The date on the page was accurate, but the location almost got me. I knew The Hanged Man's MacGuffin took place in Tokyo, but I didn't recognize any of the specific locations besides the wards." He actually took out the book, amusing her. He flipped to the page she'd folded. "But then I got to wondering: what if they were anagrams or puns or references? So I played around with the kanji, consulted some other works—"

She listened to him explain himself with fascination and something almost resembling rapture. He truly was a remarkable species, she thought. Intelligent, kind, and, most importantly, strong. She could watch him for ages.

He suddenly turned bashful, restraining himself once again. "I-I'm sorry, Ms. Takatsuki; I sort of rambled on there, didn't I?"

Eto tilted her head and smiled. "Oh, don't be sorry. To be honest, I'm completely enthralled by your thought process."

He blushed and looked down, drinking her praise like a thirsty man in a desert. Of course he did; he was the type to have been alone for so long, to the point he took whatever love he could get. Plus, he clearly thought Sen to be attractive, for all Eto was not. Her recognition of him no doubt did wonders for his ego.

A waiter came up to them and asked for their orders. Black coffee and iced coffee. She asked for a small serving of takoyaki.

"At big signings, even though I meet a lot of people, it's surprisingly rare to find someone like you, Kaneki," she continued, fingers laced in her lap. "Lots of people read my work, sure, but do they really read it, you know? And then there's the people who are only fans of Sen Takatsuki, author extraordinaire, who read even less."

"Huh…" Kaneki blinked, then he just… kept staring at her. A moment passed, then two. When she examined him closer, she thought she saw a hint of her own fascination looking back at her.

"Cat got your tongue?" Sen asked, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Oh, no, nothing, really, just… I said something similar to Hinami," he admitted, scratching his cheek. "I said to her I wished there were more people who actually engaged with your work, look beyond the words on the page and your, um," he hesitated, "persona. There'd be so many more fruitful discussions to see."

"Exactly!" She chuckled. "I'm so glad you understand, Kaneki."

Her praise seemed to lift him up even higher. What a starved soul he was, she thought, perhaps even insatiable. She liked it; a king ought to continually strive for greater heights, after all.

Their drinks arrived.

Eto held her cup out for a toast, winking. "Then, to fruitful discussions?" she offered.

It made him laugh, and he met her halfway. "To fruitful discussions," he repeated.

Their cups bumped together, the liquid inside lurching from the impact.

It was quiet when Eto drifted into the room that Ayato's sister— Touka, as Hinami had let slip once— gave her. There was a dresser and mirror in the corner, and a makeshift rack for leftover clothes, not that she had any. The windows were tinted, making them function like one-way mirrors. She stared out of them, a dull expression on her face.

(trash trash and more trash)
(as far as the eye can see)
(like a gray mirror.)

What was she even doing here? She had nothing. She gave up Takatsuki, Aogiri— everything that she'd done up until now she gave up for the sake of the king and to flip the genre of tragedy on its head. She gave and gave and gave until there was nothing left to give except—

(like an empty cup)
(my life should be discarded)
(but i failed there too.)

She looked at the city below, at the unchanging scenery of cars and humans and ghouls and stoplights and streets and the green-haired girl in burgundy rags running out there right now where some beautiful, terrible driver could easily—

The door creaked open, and she recognized little Hina's footsteps as they stepped all over the fantasy. The girl was staying at :re as well, separate from Kaneki, who was off scouting out safe houses with Squad 0.

"Um, Eto?" Her voice was small.

Eto turned to her, putting on a smile. "Yes?"

"I wanted to thank you." Her smile was like a warm flame amidst damp firewood. "For saving us."

Eto blinked.

She remembered when she first met Hinami. Cute little thing at fourteen, clearly surrounded by people who cared for her. Everything Eto wasn't at that age. She remembered not being jealous, but strangely glad when she realized. V's false world, in all its twisted tendencies, had seen fit to grant at least one ghoul girl the privilege of not being like Eto.

(trash)

However, there was a small thing about Hinami she learned during their second encounter. The girl confessed once that she wanted to do something for Kaneki, since "he was going through hard times". And that was when it hit:

Hinami was cared for and loved, but she did not love back.

Eto applied her own experiences with love. Ukina's journal indicated she had consumed human flesh to give birth; a brilliant ploy to get to Kuzen and V, and something Eto later drew inspiration from for The Dropped Box . Noroi, who raised her until a fateful whack-a-mole operation, and then she found herself living penny to penny in a 15th ward orphanage. Shiono, who made her into a writer and concealed the contents of King Bileygr until it was time for release, and then he was murdered, turned into a subpar pâté.

All people who loved Eto in the most concise way possible: they suffered.

Hinami had not suffered. Therefore, she had not loved. She was weak and starving, and Eto would give her the nourishment she needed to grow strong. So, with an invisible promise made, she gave Hinami Takatsuki's card and answered the call that came after the Anteiku raid. She would make the girl strong and teach her how to love.

Oh, right, that girl, still somehow so warm, thanked her. Eto nodded and smiled. "Mhm."

("You haven't done anything," Eto said, chin tucked into her hands. "You are the reason the people important to you are no longer with you. It's because you're weak."
Hinami stared down at her hands, clean and smooth. Eto licked her own, still covered in the blood of her latest kill.
"Eat," she said, gesturing to the meal between them. "It'll taste awful at first— like fish guts on the verge of spoiling— but it will solve your problems, and you'll get used to it."
The girl swallowed, and reached out.)

"I'm glad, you know." Hinami again, refusing to leave her be. "Glad that you made it out."

Eto chuckled again and smiled again. "How kind of you, Hina."

The girl was now next to her, taking in their wrong world together. When had she gotten taller than Eto? They used to be the same height. Roughly… Okay, Hinami had always been taller, but never this much taller.

"Do you… do that a lot?" Hinami put her fingers on the corners of her mouth and smiled. "Smile or laugh when you're sad. It's something I, um, caught."

Eto's grin faded once Hinami looked out the window again.

"I heard that you were Mr. Yoshimura's daughter, and I—" she pinched the hem of her shirt between her fingers, "I wanted to apologize. I didn't know, back then, that his coffee was—"

A sharp laugh from Eto cut her off. "You've spent too much time with me, little Hina!" she chided, wishing she could vomit Shiono out or have a heart attack or something just to change the subject. "Using my own tactics against me, hm? I'm such a bad influence."

(Eto jumped down from where she was and stared at the coffee cup in Hinami's hands. It was his style, a remnant from the girl's days in the 20th ward. No, no, no; that wouldn't do. Anteiku was a den for weaklings, headed by a coward who was drowning in RC suppressants right about now.
Hinami swallowed, but didn't move. "I-I made it… for you," she managed.
Eto took it and held it between her fingertips, staring at the brown liquid within. Poor, ignorant girl. Still looking back at the rose-colored water, at days where safety was her world. But it was safety that killed her mother, safety that kept her from saving dear Kaneki. Being safe meant barring yourself from reality and love.
Eto turned the cup upside down, spilling its contents on the cold ground between them. Hinami gasped, but did little more than watch the stream thin. Then, Eto dropped the cup, shattering it into pieces and making the girl flinch.
"Good work," Eto said, then skipped away in laughter.)

Despite that, Hinami shook her head with confidence. "No, you weren't! You taught me so much about my kagune, about kanji— I know I'm still weak, but I'd be even weaker without your guidance."

("'Usu'… 'rai'…" Hinami mumbled, writing out the two kanji on her notepad.
Eto peeked at the writing from across the small table. "That a memorization trick?"
Hinami did some kind of small shrug. "I-I learned it a long time ago."
"Huh…" She sat back. "I suppose I prefer reading it as 'hakuhyo.' That's how it's supposed to be read in that context anyway."
Hinami's head lifted, the slightest hint of a frown on her face.
"Is something the matter, Hina?"
"N-Nothing…" she mumbled, looking back down. "It's just such a… cold reading…"
"Ooh, good pun!" Eto chuckled.
The girl merely hummed, the fond memory now stained.)

She touched the window and looked at the city at night. "And after you saved us, I realized something else."

Eto pursed her lips. "And what's that, little Hina?"

"You're… deep down, a good person."

(poor, ignorant girl.)

Kanae.

Kanae, Kanae, Kanae.

Pitiful creature, selfish to the end, desiring love from the one who wouldn't look her way. Always holding it in and hiding it from the world, even going so far as to masquerade her entire body to do so.

Eto despised it.

And what do you do to despicable things? What do you do to mirrors that you don't want to stare in?

You break them.

Eto's fingers had been delicate, precise— a crooked perfection of the art. When she imagined Kanae's eyes to be wide and green, and her hair a verdant mess, it made her flesh even softer. It made Eto pierce harder.

The end result forced the eyes to remain open, constantly bleeding the ugly truth, and the mouth to strain closed, helpless to deny what could plainly be seen.

The isolated room was littered with ticking and ringing alarm clocks. Kanae would not sleep, and neither would Eto. Not until she was done.

The woman shed Eto's tears for her.

The woman turned Eto's thoughts into muffled sobs.

The woman became Eto's mouthpiece for the room and the clocks to hear, so that some part of the world could know the agony of her existence.

Yes, this was it, she thought. The true purpose of torture: to externalize, to bring the torturer's pain to life, to expose what ugliness lay beneath them and paint on the tortured until the colors of the canvas were completely black.

Plus, it was not torture unless it was mutual.

"Table."

"Plates of food…"

This is wrong.

"Sea."

"Warnemünde."

"Hunger."

"Fate."

Wrong wrong wrong.

"Illness."

"Mother…"

"Sin."

"Lies."

You shouldn't be doing this.
Why are you doing this?

"Pride."

"Master Shuu…"

Leave him alone; he didn't do anything to you.
All he wanted was to be loved.

"Contempt."

"Humans."

You saw that, and you wanted—

"Death."

"Inevitable."

It didn't matter. It hadn't mattered for years. So long as things proceeded smoothly (and they were proceeding very smoothly), she would die birthing a king from her equal, a footnote in his story at best. Her history would ultimately fade into the background, never to surface again in the new world, instead suffocating in the silent past forever.

As she wanted.

As she should.

("Lie.")

("Liar…")

Eto sat upon the stool, admiring her grotesque "bone" lodged between Kanae's shoulder blades. It slowly worked its way into her body, an ophiocordyceps sinensis of RC cells: an outside invader that tore open the victim's shell and germinated from within.

Kanae the mask was an insect, completely at the mercy of Eto's spores. Kanae the person, the fleshy thing inside the carapace, spilled out over her skin in exchange, while her guts and the rest of her were devoured by the eyes of the world, leaving the inside empty, bottomless, unable to be filled.

Eto, spinning lightly in the stool, thought of her own "pride", of those gray eyes that longed to smile like his mouth did. The events at the auction, disappointingly, didn't seem to trigger a full recovery.

"Kanae," she drawled, voice mingling with the incessant ringing of the clocks. "To become precious to someone, all you have to do is take away what matters most to them."

She'd take away his innocence, she thought. Innocence born of amnesia, which he then clung to as an excuse to run from himself. That wouldn't do. To run from tragedy at all corners, choosing only to see and dream of the clean water— that was not wisdom; it was indolence, only performed by the wretched.

She grinned, sickened by the sight of her little creation; she couldn't wait to unleash it upon him.

"You will be loved this time," she murmured amidst the discord. "You'll see."

(You horrible, pathetic wretch.)

Time passed.

Eto turned Hinami's words in her mind, over and over and over, contrasting it with her sins, the truth , refuting it at every turn. If she was a good person, then good people killed, good people were always alone, good people were always abandoned, and good people were weak little shits who couldn't even bring themselves to condemn their own actions and instead lashed out and cut anyone stupid enough to get close.

It was a simple conclusion: the girl didn't know what she was talking about.

"Good person."

(maybe in a nightmare)

Every now and then, in the morning, Hinami, for whatever reason, would shake her shoulder to try and wake her. Sometimes Eto would hear her name. Not that she'd respond; she'd dragged herself to this café for a single reason, and it turned out he was busy dodging the CCG. Just her luck.

One day, however, the covers were ripped off of her, and she whirled around to face the perpetrator:

Not Hinami, but Touka.

"Get up," she commanded. "You look like a ghost. Also, you smell like shit."

She threw open the blinds, and in a different lifetime, Eto would have hissed.

"Bath's ready for you, just down the hall, next to Hinami's room. Freshen up, and meet me downstairs."

Eto's nose scrunched up. She could snap this woman like a toothpick if she—

A pile of foreign fabric was thrown in her face, cutting off the coming monologue.

"Clothes," Touka explained.

Two objects thumped on the bed next to Eto. The clothes fell onto her lap, and she saw—

"Shampoo and conditioner. Everything else is in the bath. It has a shower setting too, if you prefer."

She reached out slowly and piled the bottles atop the clothes, brow furrowed. Touka stayed where she was, hands on her hips.

"Go on; I gotta wash the sheets," she explained, gesturing to the door.

With some effort, Eto dragged herself over.

"Thanks for helping us, by the way," Touka said, already tugging the sheets from the mattress. "We'd be dead without you."

Eto left without a word, and the One-Eyed Owl, a shadowy mass cutting through the morning light, trudged down the hall. Like lead, it took enormous effort just to put one foot in front of the other, as though her strength had been sapped while bearing the weight of her kakuja— a mass of RC cells fashioned from the corpses she made herself.

(She knew if she looked behind her, she'd see them: ghouls whose names she never bothered to learn.)

The bathroom was easy enough to find; it was small, but contained a mirror, a sink, and a curtained tub with a shower extension. Shutting the door and locking it, Eto set aside the new clothes and had to force herself to peel off the old ones.

She caught a glimpse of her figure in the mirror, covered in old grime and dried blood. Cochlea really starved its prisoners; she looked a little gaunt, and her self-imposed exile hadn't helped matters. Her legs had regenerated fully due to the density of Donato's RC cells and her own, once again hiding what was beneath.

("you are presumptuous for someone so ugly.")

She looked away and turned the bathtub faucet to cold water.

The perks of short hair, Eto knew, was the convenience of using less shampoo. On top of scrubbing out dirt between her nails and washing blood off her skin, it was like she was fourteen again, dodging the Doves and V while planning her next attack. Except, the water was never this clean, and the shampoo didn't smell this nice. She stared down at the tub, the liquid so translucent she could see her legs soiling it from within.

(what a waste)

She sighed and got out. When she was done drying herself, she threw on the clothes Touka had given her.

They were big: one of Touka's crewneck shirts, a pair of gray sweats that draped over her heels, and a dark fur sweater that completely concealed her form. It really was just like the orphanage; it was just missing the floral pattern. She stared at the mirror: short hair, baggy clothes, and nothing to offer to anyone— just a bit too vulnerable wherever she looked.

She went downstairs.

:re had a nice selection of books, to Eto's surprise. She perused them for the first time, noticing just how many of them lined the shelves. Most of them she'd read, but there were a surprising amount that she hadn't.

"Do you like them?" Touka came up behind her. "The books."

("Tatara, do you know Hakushuu Kitahara?" she asked, holding up the book. "He's a poet, and today's his birthday. I could lend you one of his books if you want—"
"Sorry," he interrupted. "Kanji gives me a headache whenever I try."
Oh. She shrugged, and went around asking the other executives. Ignored, ignored, ignored. All she got was Naki, and he didn't count.
Later, she sat down, alone and next to her personal collection of Hakushuu.
We need more readers around here, she thought to herself.)

Eto shrugged. "I was an author; old habits die hard."

"Well, help yourself." She moved behind the counter. "Hinami told me you like iced coffee?"

Another shrug while Eto picked ones out at random. The sound of coffee beans clacking together indicated Touka had taken it as a yes. She almost pinched her nose reflexively, ready to smell Kuzen's stench anew, but it never came. It was a new smell— a familiar smell.

She suddenly recalled her favorite coffee shop, tucked away at the border between the 20th and 14th wards. She hadn't been there in some time, not since before her arrest. The manager of that place had a pleasant aura about them, the kind that didn't pry for any information except for what you were going to order.

With her arrest, she imagined they'd been questioned as well, though her reveal at her press conference had likely done infinitely more damage.

Eto made a weary grin at the thought, dropping her first pile on the nearest table. The shop and its reputation were probably in shambles by now thanks to her. Another piece of evidence in the pattern: wherever she went, she left nothing but destruction.

(this place will be ruined too)

She created two more jumbled piles before she sat down and started reading. Touka brought the drink over. "On the house," she joked, placing it on one of the only empty spaces. "Fugitives drink free."

Eto didn't smile, but the gesture was cheeky enough to be amusing. Folding the corner of the page she was on, she picked it up gingerly with both hands, as if any extra pressure would shatter it. She raised it to her lips and took a slow sip.

(it's… the same.)

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"I know, I'm amazing," Touka replied confidently. "Yomo and I went from ward to ward, picking up odd jobs before we could really open this place up. I learned how to brew this style from one of them."

Eto took another sip, silent, then went back to reading her book. Touka looked outside, and her expression shifted in recognition.

"Oh, looks like they found a place," she said.

The bell at the entrance chimed, making Eto glance up to see a chatty Squad 0 step in. She ran the members' names through her head: Shio Ihei (the cause of chatter), Yusa Arima (a rebuker), Rikai Souzu (quiet), Take Hirako (quieter)…

Her gaze, as it always seemed to do, lingered on the last one to walk through, snowy white hair swaying slightly with each step he took. Since inheriting the throne, there was a new softness to the cold edge she enjoyed so much— the kind of softness neither she nor Arima had, nor could they ever have.

"Coffee?" Touka asked him, and he nodded.

"Please." Kaneki smiled.

The softness of a true king.

Yet, despite the cushiness of his expression, Eto knew what he could do, what Kaneki had already done. The power of a wretched monster was buried beneath that face, and his kindness for his fellows would guide that power to the edge of the egg and shatter it. The only question was how.

Touka went to work boiling water, leaving him to wander the small shop. His gaze, predictably, went to the books, but when he saw that many of them were missing from their shelves, he wandered to their new spot at a crowded table.

He looked surprised to see her; that was a given, seeing how they parted. Still, it was cute how he stepped back as though a weight had gently swung against him.

"I said I'd help you," she said before he could really approach, putting him at arm's length.

He stayed where he was. "How did you—"

He was cut off by the sound of Hinami coming downstairs. The girl beamed when she caught sight of him. "Kaneki!" she said, running over.

The two got caught up in conversation with each other, leaving Eto to pick up her book where she left off. Out of the corner of her eye, Kaneki glanced back at her, but he relented to Hinami, and they were separated again.

Eventually, the scent of Eto's iced coffee was overpowered by the stench of Kuzen's style, and she wrinkled her nose anew, paying closer attention to the text in a meager attempt to distract herself.

Someone sat across from her, and it wasn't who she wanted expected.

"Sorry," Touka said, brushing aside the mess. "You probably hate the smell."

It didn't matter what she thought; there were more important things to consider than the unbearable stench of a father who hated his daughter. That being said, she answered anyway. "It reeks of his weakness," she said casually, turning a page.

Eto expected Kuzen's legacy to scowl, to argue back. " He's your father! " she expected. "Show some respect! " Something along those lines and perhaps not in that order. After all, the statement spat in the face of his "good deeds". As if pacifying the Devil Ape and the Black Dober and securing a single ward (with V's approval, no less) while the others devoured and collapsed in on themselves could be considered "good" considering what he could do. All that power as a kakuja, all the directions it could go, and he decided to go nowhere, staying where he was and wasting away in a coffee shop.

And the name of that place.

Anteiku.

Ukina Et(o).

Peaceful ward.

How disgusting, how self-serving. Like his own consolation prize to himself. So he felt sorry, did he? Mourned the loss of the very family he tore apart, did he? Yet, instead of searching for the very much alive child he abandoned, he deigned to fill his heart with substitutes— as though a bird, a dog, an ape, and a couple of rabbits in aprons could make up for a single person.

If he was truly sorry— if he truly wanted to be with her— then he would have. Simple as that. In that impossible timeline, maybe she'd be as much of a pacifist coward as he was. But this was not that timeline. Kuzen did not want her, did not want anything to do with her. He abandoned her for V, and he lived a very full life until she swallowed him under the rain.

He hardly suffered for her. He hardly loved her.

She watched Touka with expectant eyes. Go on, dance the dance Kuzen taught you, little rabbit. It'd be a wholly wretched display, but there would be an ironic amusement to it.

But instead of dancing, Touka smiled, almost sheepish. "You're right," she said. "My bad."

Another pause. With nowhere to put them, Eto nearly cut her tongue on her knives for words.

Touka shrugged in the silence and answered the unspoken question. "The manager did a lot for me and the others at Anteiku, but he was also pretty messed up in his own way."

Eto stopped reading to see Touka look at Hinami, who was browsing the remaining books with Kaneki. The two started talking about one of them— Kafka's short story collection Contemplation— that piqued both their interests. Eto was briefly drawn to the conversation until Touka continued.

"When Hinami first started staying at Anteiku, he considered making preparations to send her to the 24th Ward," she said, watching the scene herself. "It was after her mother was killed by Doves. She was thirteen."

(that piece of shit)

Eto sucked in a breath, her mind instantly illustrating Hinami being devoured alive. Barring that undeserving image, the CCG liked to send Doves down there anyway in their ridiculously regular "whack-a-mole" operations. In truth, it was a thinly veiled excuse for V to go and flush out any ghouls— and investigators— that disrupted their narrative. She would know.

Now seated at a table with their own mess, Hinami stumbled on pronouncing a kanji, and Kaneki corrected her with a laugh. She slapped him lightly with the book, pouting that cute little pout of hers.

"Could you imagine her there? A girl like that?" Touka folded her arms, and one of her hands bunched up the fabric on her shirt. "She could barely feed herself, let alone use her kagune. I couldn't stand the thought."

Eto remembered Hinami's kagune. A beautiful thing brimming with potential, crossed between a koukaku and rinkaku, and the only real proof, besides quinques, that her parents had existed. That was the fate of a lot of ghouls; their children became their legacy, a mark on the world that they'd never see.

Kaneki quizzed Hinami on a third kanji, and she got it confidently right. He playfully surrendered to her newfound greatness, dipping his head in acknowledgment and mock reverie. It earned him another tap on the shoulder.

"Then, back when Tsukiyama was hunting Kaneki— before he got used to his powers— the manager told Yomo to not be 'overprotective of him'. Like getting yourself killed was a good lesson in self-defense!" Touka clicked her tongue, the taste of the memory clearly a bitter one. She looked like her brother for a second. "It hadn't even been a year since Kaneki stumbled through our doors… How could he take on the stupid Gourmet alone?"

Eto imagined a weak Ken Kaneki getting his ass beaten by Shuu Tsukiyama, the groaning mess atop Luna Eclipse, and she had to admit, it was an entertaining thought. The idea of the one who scratched Kishou Arima's cheek and broke his quinque getting eaten by an S-rate ghoul was almost laughable.

"The manager helped me out a lot, but whenever I went against his wishes, it had a weird way of working out better." Touka leaned back in her chair. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… I get it. And I think you're right to hate him."

Eto was silent, not used to being validated in such a way. The world often succeeded in fooling people into thinking their parents were like gods: infallible, indestructible, and innately deserving of respect. Children were to defer to their parents even when the parents' judgment was wrong. Children were supposed to blame themselves, internalize that they weren't good enough— that they would never be good enough— when their parents were displeased with them, even if they had done their best. The parents were always right; they always knew best. A pathetic lie spread by a pathetic world.

Then again, she supposed the daughter of the Corpse Collector wouldn't exactly think that. Abandonment was the ultimate sin, the ultimate selfish act. To abandon was to flee, to submit to fear, to submit to V. To abandon was to shatter the illusion of godhood granted by parentage, and to show children that you were just another person like them, squirming and struggling in the mud.

Touka had been abandoned, and she was not afraid.

"That being said…" Touka leaned closer, and a shadow crossed her face. Her voice lowered. "Hatred only gets you so far."

Eto smiled, and she put her book down for real this time.

"It's because of your Aogiri that Kaneki never came back to Anteiku. What's more, you took Hinami away from us when she would have been perfectly safe—"

"Hinami came to Aogiri of her own free will," she corrected, lacing her fingers together. "She came because she was weak, and I gave her the chance to become strong. No more, no less."

"And you just let her?! She was a kid! You took advantage of her."

"Did I?" She feigned innocence. "I was helping out my fellow ghoul. That's always been Aogiri's purpose: to make a world for ghouls." Eto was enjoying this side of Touka; despite the pacifist standing, there was a real edge to her that would make most people believe it was possible. "And you and I both know that the world doesn't bend to kindness." She tilted her head slightly. "It only submits to power."

Touka's eyes narrowed. "Maybe you're right, but power only destroys things. It can't build the way kindness can."

Eto chuckled, picking up her book again. "And that's why I'm not the king."

Touka pursed her lips, then stood to leave.

"Touka," Eto said, stopping the woman. "The world isn't kind to the weak."

(i couldn't just leave her to die)

It seemed to have some effect. Eto, smirking, licked her thumb and turned the page. Touka opened her mouth to speak, but the front door opened, and Yomo Renji appeared. "Ken," he called, getting the king's attention. "Tsukiyama said they're ready."

Kaneki, poring over something with Hinami, looked up and nodded. "Alright, let's get going, then," he said. "I'll go grab Squad 0—"

There was a loud banging noise, and Hinami went stiff. "I think they broke something," she whispered. "It sounded like glass…"

Touka sighed. "I'll go," she growled, marching through the back door.

Hinami, giving Eto an apologetic smile, followed Touka, and Yomo wasn't far behind, leaving two customers on opposite ends of the room, isolated in their own island of books.

For a while, the only sounds were the hum of the lights, the turn of the two ceiling fans, and the odd page turn. Each reader's expression was carefully composed, yet their eyes greedily devoured the words on the pages.

Eventually, Eto heard Kaneki approach, his place in his book marked with a bookmark. He hated personalization, something she knew well. In turn, she bent the page and set it down.

"How did you survive?" he asked, finally vocalizing the question weighing on his mind.

She shrugged. "I woke up and saw a clown staring at me."

He pondered. "Furuta again?"

"Donato," she corrected. "There might have been plans to make me 'obey V' with his kagune. I recall he was quite the puppetmaster in his heyday."

"… How cruel."

"That's what you'll be dealing with, my king," she said matter-of-factly. "Your enemies will do anything to ensure this world continues life in the cage, continues stagnation in a tragic narrative. Are you ready?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

She smirked. "None of us do."

A laugh escaped his lips. Then, after a pause, he said, "I'm sorry. For—"

She cut him off. "You did well, making your choice. Better to leave the dead in the past, where they'll stay, so long as you learn from them."

It got a sad sort of smile out of Kaneki. It was a nice smile. "I… guess you're right." He glanced at the book she'd been reading. "Hakushuu?" he read aloud, picking it up.

"Oh, you know him!" she squealed. "Though I suppose I knew that already."

"He's one of my favorites," he admitted, flipping through some of the pages. "Though you knew that already."

She watched him for a while, admiring the miniature scene he composed, then looked away, draping her arms across her chair. "No one in Aogiri cared for him."

He looked at her again, then chuckled. "Neither did anyone at Anteiku."

She wanted to laugh. For a man that supposedly cared about her, Kuzen despised one of the few professions she'd made herself known for. "Not a lot of ghoul readers, it seems."

"Indeed." He closed the book and set it upon her little mountain. "What's your favorite? Of Hakushuu's work."

She tapped her chin, staring at the ceiling to think. "I quite enjoy The Water Surface," she said after a moment. "Or Ode to an Old Ainu. That one's— familiar."

He scratched his cheek, the tragic memory surging to the surface. "A-Ah… So he told you about it?"

She grinned at him. "He might have mentioned it once or twice."

He hummed. "That said, The Water Surface … I like that one too."

"'Suddenly one of the ripples changed its color / And showed the eyes of an imaginary ogre.' Is that why?" she guessed. "You have a new read on it based on your recent experiences, therefore a new appreciation."

"Mm. Ogres are originally depicted as man-eating monsters, and when I first became a ghoul, I would have likened myself to that alone," he said, taking a seat now. "But, reading the rest of the poem, there are layers to the girl's reflection."

"Oh?" Eto waited.

"Since the reflection transforms again, evoking a minnow, a harmonica, and an oar." Kaneki counted on his fingers. "'Togetherness', 'freedom', and 'movement' respectively."

What curious choices, and while she wanted to pick apart every single one, she only settled on one. "'Freedom'? Not music?"

"Music is good, but the harmonica is prevalent in the blues genre," he explained. "Blues were developed after the American Civil War, primarily by the slaves, to express feeling and emotion above all. They wanted their voices to be heard; they wanted 'freedom'."

"And so, given what you know now, you think the poem can be applied to ghouls," she finished.

"Yes… exactly. We want to be free of the shadows we're forced to hide in. We all want to keep moving, and we all don't want to be alone."

He'd changed, she thought. There used to be a sort of hesitation in his eyes before, the kind where he wasn't fully sure where to direct all the power he wielded. Even during Cochlea, there was a dead look to him like a corpse that accompanied his thrillingly cold demeanor. But it seems giving him the throne was a good idea; there was now purpose in those eyes. He wouldn't be a worthless king.

"Do you think Hakushuu himself was a ghoul?" she asked.

"It's not impossible. Maybe a lot of famous figures— artists, writers, rebels— throughout history were actually ghouls, dying as humans."

"Thus changing nothing."

"Changing nothing for ghouls, yes," he redirected.

A comfortable silence settled in, save for some of Touka's shouting breaking through from the floor above them.

"You always let me do all the talking," Kaneki said after a bit. "I don't think I've ever heard you analyze something, not even when we, uh—" he cleared his throat, "met up."

A devious grin spread across Eto's face. "You were going to say 'dated', weren't you?"

His cheeks reddened and he looked away. She savored the expression. "I-It was only two weeks…" he mumbled back, cradling his head between his forearms. It made her laugh.

The back door opened again. Touka marched through with a fistful of yen bills, followed by Hinami, Yomo, and an apologetic Shio Ihei with the rest of Squad 0. She then saw the two separate messes of books and nearly groaned, but her expression suddenly changed.

"Ah, that's fine. We'll let the others pick it up," she said to Yomo.

Kaneki looked up, gathering himself again. "'Others'?" he repeated, confused.

She gestured to the door, a knowing smile on her face. "Go see."

Eto followed the growing group with her eyes, staying put until they exited the shop. There was a car parked outside, and from it emerged the Devil Ape and the Black Dober. She didn't need to see Kaneki's face to know his expression.

(so they did survive)

She continued to watch the scene unfold. With those two alive, the Anteiku staff was completed: Touka, Hinami, Yomo, Koma, and Irimi. What a picturesque image, she thought as their smiles went around as they caught up with one another. Almost like a fairy tale; one big happy family, and at the center, Kaneki.

Therein lay his special talent: his ability to draw others to him.

In Aogiri, recruits were drawn to the idea that they could exist in the world without needing to hide in the shadows. They believed in the mysterious One-Eyed King, a fictitious figurehead that would cast the light upon them like a faraway messiah might.

And while ideals were a strong platform for multiple people to stand on, they were simultaneously flimsy and terribly malleable. "A world for ghouls" meant many different things to many different people, both humans and ghouls. Even Aogiri, which did its best to torch the weeds, allowed traitors like Yamori, who were so prone to breaking their toys like spoiled brats, into their ranks.

No, attachment to someone real was far better, far simpler. People were tangible, able to be protected and loved. Devotion to people was infinitely stronger than devotion to an idea, for even ideas are born from bonds. Yes, those personal bonds between people— something Eto understood fundamentally, but not personally— that truly moved the mountains in their way.

She stared at Kaneki, her tangible fiction, surrounded by love and bonds despite everything about him that contradicted them: a testament to the quality of his character. Meanwhile, she sat behind the glass, alone and out of frame, a mere observer that wouldn't belong elsewhere.

Her gaze shifted to Hinami. Girl who sought strength, who sought suffering, who sought love. Despite all that Eto put her through, she could still smile sweetly and laugh happily like she did when she was young. Perhaps her smiles were a bit more subdued, her laughter a little softer— a side effect of maturity and experience— but at least they were real.

Eto could not laugh like that; she could not smile like that.

She never could.

She never would.

(you never should)

There was only one thing she could do:

Fight.

(Die.)

Name: Hinami Fueguchi / Yotsume (SS)
Affiliations: Anteiku (former), Kaneki's group (former), Aogiri Tree (member)
Born: May 21 (Gemini)
Occupation: None (former Aogiri scout)
Blood Type: AB
Size: 162cm, 49kg
Feet: 23.0cm
Likes: studying, her older siblings
Hobby: reading in public

This site doesn't support right-justified material (which is what most of Eto's thoughts in parentheses were in the original formatting), which is disappointing.

Thanks for reading!