author's note;
01/04/15 — Happy New Year! Sorry for the radio silence during all of December, but here's chapter 10 (finally). Enjoy and, whatever you do, don't die while reading early TG√A spoilers.

Special thanks to insomniacClarinetist on AO3 for being such a fabulous beta.

It's 10:48 PM on a weekday. There are 137 pages left in her Classic Literature textbook, and she is pretty sure that she has failed to absorb the last 59. There is a full cup of coffee on top of her desk, lovelorn and untouched, and her highlighter pens are entering their death throes.

She feels like she is slowly losing her grip on reality.

Sighing, she rubs her eyes while carefully considering her choices. She could call it a night here, giving in to the temptation to slam the damn book shut and catapult herself into bed—but that would have its repercussions. Namely, that she'll know diddly-squat about their assigned reading during the discussion that their teacher will insist on having in class tomorrow. She could, however, theoretically ask Yoriko for her notes.

But that would be the same as admitting defeat.

Resigning herself to this torture, she decides to search for replacements for her highlighter pens. Pulling open her desk drawer without glancing away from her textbook, she blindly feels around for another pen. Her fingers come into contact with something smooth and rectangular.

When she glances down, The Black Goat's Egg stares back at her.

She slams the drawer shut just as quickly as she opened it.

She needs to get rid of that stupid book.

(She doesn't get rid of it.)

( death throes )

Someone is laughing.

More specifically, Kaneki's (Crush Boy's) weird friend, who is slapping his hand against one of Anteiku's tables and clutching his stomach in what she can only assume is an attempt to keep his internal organs, well—internal. Not that she would be particularly against seeing the contents of his abdomen spilled all over the floor, with how disgustingly noisy he's being at the moment.

Alas, not everyone can have their wishes fulfilled.

"No way, no way," she hears him say between gasps of breath. "Let me get this straight. You had Touka-chan — at your place?"

She hears that shitty Kaneki sniff at the same time she sprays more cleaning fluid onto the bar. She pretends she's completely focused on destroying that tough stain in the corner. She cannot believe that that idiot has the audacity to call her Touka-chan after knowing her for a little less than a month and a half.

"When you say it like that..." Kaneki sighs, and she can't help but to think he sounds a little indignant. "A-Anyway! Why does it matter?"

His friend, in turn, clicks his tongue and sighs an exaggerated sigh. "You had the lovely Touka-chan at your place, Kaneki. Any man can realize the importance of this!"

Kaneki groans.

Simultaneously, she reminds herself that she is not eavesdropping. With how loudly they're speaking, a random nobody could hear them from all the way down the street.

"You're making it sound like..." Kaneki begins, trailing off before continuing with, "We didn't do anything. I was just—helping her out."

"Helping her out?" his friend asks, sounding a little too eager for his own good.

Kaneki pauses. Or—she thinks he does. But it's a couple of seconds before he weakly adds, "With... something."

"I see," his friend says in a way that implies he sees absolutely nothing at all. "Well, how was she?"

Despite herself, she digs her nails into the cloth in her hand and rips a new hole in it. She thinks she hears Kaneki choke on nothing at all.

"—H-Huh?"

"Pffft... don't make that face, man," his friend quickly responds, laughing all over again. "I'm asking about her personality! Jeez, what a dirty mind..."

As if he didn't mean to insinuate something—he's as bad as the old men she's met in the streets at night.

"Hide!" Kaneki yelps.

"Still waiting for an answer, Kaneki."

"Ugh— I'm not— can't we just—?" he begins. He stops. Exhales. Collects what little dignity he has left, if any. "Fine, but... keep it down, alright?"

"Keeping it down," Hide wheezes, trying to control his laughter. He does not keep it down. "So—c'mon. Don't leave me hanging."

She hears Kaneki inhale. "She was unexpectedly... serious."

(Serious is a strange choice of words.)

"Serious?" Hide asks, now significantly less wheezy.

Kaneki pauses yet again. She tries to focus on leaving this corner spotless instead of listening in to this moronic excuse for a conversation.

"...Horrible," Kaneki finally elaborates.

Trying not to listen to a conversation about herself is easier said than done.

Hide hums, and when she unconsciously glances up from the spot she's been furiously rubbing for the last few minutes, she finds him scratching his cheek. "So Touka-chan is a surprising tsuntsun type, huh?"

She still wishes his insides had spilled out, earlier.

Kaneki is quick to hush him, apparently, a strangled noise coming out of his mouth. "Don't say it like that," he seethes, and she catches a glimpse of him putting a finger to his mouth and a hand on his best friend's face. "She could hear you."

Hide, on the other hand, does not seem to be deterred by the undoubtedly sweaty palm on his face. He continues speaking, uttering nonsense that she can't quite catch but Kaneki is fully capable of understanding. That idiot Kaneki opens his mouth, face set in some expression she can't make out through her bangs, and then—

"Oi, oi. Touka-chan, what are you up to?"

—she doesn't get to hear what he says.

She looks (away from them) up from the cloth in her hand, vaguely taking note of the fact the spot on the bar is nonexistent by now, and finds Koma standing right next to her. She thinks that her surprise and confusion must be plainly visible on her face, because he wastes no time before following her previous line of sight, chuckling and looking very much like he's about to impart some wisdom upon her. That—or another story about his days as the Demon Ape or whatever.

"Distracted, huh?" he says, incomprehensibly. "I remember back when I was—"

"Koma-san," she cuts him off, propping one of her hands on her hip and trying her best to pretend she doesn't feel disappointed about not hearing the rest of that conversation. Which, actually, she isn't. So there's no pretending to do. "What are you up to?"

Of course, her co-worker looks somewhat dejected. Of course, she doesn't care. She would rather chew on styrofoam than listen to another riveting tale from Koma.

"Doing my job. I'm behind the bar today," he says, "But you know, there are two costumers we haven't taken orders from."

The implication is obvious. She knows exactly which table he's talking about. That doesn't stop her from staring, though.

"How... strange," she says, slowly. "Where's Irimi-san?"

"Oh, she comes in later," he replies, much too lightly for her tastes. He then gives her a look that makes her feel just a teeny bit transparent. "My, you're surprisingly unfocused today."

She glares at him, scrunching up her nose and hoping his skin would melt off his face. "Mind your own business, Koma-san," she tells him, "Or I'll rip that ugly bow tie off your neck."

Without sticking around to hear his protests, she pushes the cloth she had been cleaning the bar with into his hands. She wipes her hands on the side of her skirt, locates her notepad, and takes out her pen. When she hears the metallic clicking within her pocket as she moves towards the floor of the shop, she's reminded of her shitty decision making skills.

She should have gotten rid of that book, really.

"Oh, Touka-chan!" Hide says, a toothy grin on his face as he spots her approaching their table. "We were just talking about—" Something mortifying, so it seems, judging by the kick Kaneki swiftly delivers to his friend's shin.

She pretends not to notice.

"—A-About," Kaneki quickly takes over, laughing weakly and touching his chin with his hand. "About our orders! Isn't that right, Hide?"

Hide shoots him what can only be described as a look of complete and utter disbelief, but she's all too happy to pretend she sees nothing. This isn't her problem. She is not a counselor, be it for friendships or strange marriages. "Right," he says, "This delusional guy and I were talking... about our orders."

He could not sound more obvious if he tried.

"Is that a fact?" she asks, a smile on her lips. The manager should raise her pay for making her put up with this. "What will you be having, then?"

"We'll have..." Hide begins—and stops just as quickly, giving his companion a pointed look. "Hey, Kaneki, tell her what we'll have."

"Uh..." Kaneki eloquently responds, looking more or less like someone just pushed him into the middle of a busy intersection. "We'll have—two americanos?"

She jots it down. Makes note to make the water to espresso ratio wildly unequal in his cup. "Anything else?"

"Um... No," comes the answer.

"Okay. Then..." she says, lowering her notebook and clipping her pen to the front of her vest—but not walking away. "Here." And when they give her perplexed looks, she reaches into her pocket and holds out nearly two thousand yen to him.

Kaneki's eyes could not be wider even if he tried. "Kirishima-san?" he hesitantly asks, tone dripping with confusion. "What is this for...?"

"You left something for me the other day, didn't you?" she replies without missing a beat. "I'm paying you back. So take it."

He blinks. "Uhm... I can't accept—"

"—Take it," she insists with more force, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"But—" he tries again, shaking his head as if that would do anything to change her mind. "I can't—"

Too bad for him she's having none of it. Before she even realizes what she's doing, she takes a hold of his hand and shoves the money into his open palm. She thinks he looks shocked, but at this point, she could not care less if she tried. Forcing his fist to close around the yen, she forgoes all work ethic and fixes him a glare. If he thought she was horrible enough before, she must seem absolutely horrifying now. "Take it," she hisses, squeezing his fist with both of her hands. "Or I'll shove it up your ass, shithead. You promised we were done."

Much to her relief, he nods, looking absolutely gobsmacked.

It's then that she notices two important details. First, that the costumers around them are giving her quite the look. Second, that she's still holding his hand.

She quickly pulls away from him and excuses herself.

His americano contains more water than coffee.

Her shift ends when nighttime comes and it's time to close Anteiku down for the day. She takes out the trash with Irimi, insults Koma's bow tie again as they both finish up cleaning the kitchen, and makes her way to the staff room in order to change back into her casual clothes. When she picks up her bag, the weight of it gives her a pause.

Hinami still hasn't received her gift.

(She should have returned the book.

Should have bought a new one.)

Buttoning her sweater and slipping on her shoes, she pulls the strap of her bag over her shoulder and makes her way upstairs. One, two, three strides down the hall—and she gently knocks on the door of the room Hinami has been staying in. She waits a couple of seconds, wonders if she's finally managed to fall asleep after several restless nights, and quietly opens the door to take a peek inside.

She finds Hinami in the shape of a person-sized lump on the couch.

Without knowing why, Touka lets out a breath she has been holding.

"Hinami?" she says, making her way over to the couch and setting her bag down on the floor. She crouches down next to her and gently places a hand on her shoulder, shaking her ever-so-slightly. Part of her feels guilty for trying to wake her up, but she feels like this might be a now or never type of thing.

Either way, Hinami groans after a moment or two, mumbling something Touka can't quite pick up and curling up even further. Touka sighs, smiles, and squeezes her shoulder.

"Hina," she says, tone full of a warmth that reminds her of times long gone. Times full of skinned knees and worms. "Wake up. I have something for you."

"Touka-... onee-chan?" Hinami finally says, and it sounds like her mouth is heavy and numb. Momentarily, Touka regrets not bringing a glass of water with her, but the water might still running downstairs and there's no reason why she can't take a water bottle from the fridge later if it isn't.

"Yep, that's right," she replies, hand moving away from Hinami's shoulder to ruffle her hair affectionately. "So... how about you sit up? It's not good to receive a gift while you're lying down."

Hinami groans again, but this time she rubs her eyes and gives Touka a half-hearted nod. Pushing herself up to a sitting position and letting her sheets pool around her legs, she glances at Touka with heavy lidded eyes. She looks small and lost; almost younger than her real age.

But Touka doesn't let that rip the smile off her face. Hinami needs love and support, and if nobody else is capable of providing it, then she will. It's the least she can do for Ryouko, after she—

(—couldn't keep her from being killed.)

She can't change the past.

"Feeling okay?" she asks, despite knowing the answer to that question already.

Still, Hinami nods. Her lips are parted and her gaze is unsteady. She looks the opposite of okay, but Touka still wants to believe her with all her heart. She wants to believe that Hinami can be okay in a world where ghouls are hunted down for the mere crime of existing. She wants to believe that there's justice for kindhearted ghouls like Hinami. She wants to believe a lie.

"Good," she hears herself saying, heart heavy as lead. "Well, like I said, I have something for you. Think you're ready to see it?"

Hinami's silence speaks volumes. She rubs her eyes once again and picks gunk out of their corners. "... Okay."

And like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, Touka makes a show of presenting her bag to Hinami. She rummages around, pretending to search for something she found the moment she stuck her hand in, and loudly hums a tune she remembers hearing in a festival once. It's cheery and upbeat. It does nothing to cheer Hinami up.

After a moment, she stops humming and allows her smile to widen triumphantly. "Here we go," she says, slowly pulling the damned thing out. "I found it."

When she takes it out and presents it to Hinami, the effects are instantaneous. Her previously listless gaze vanishes immediately, replaced by a look full of surprise. Touka hears her sucking in a breath, eyes wide with wonder. "Ahh... it's by Takastuki..." she breathes, "Is— is it really for me?"

Naturally, Touka nods and tosses it her way, smiling as Hinami fumbles to hold on to it. "Yeah. It is," she tells her, a lie already forming on her lips. "I... saw it while I was browsing the bookstore. I thought you might like it."

"Amazing..." Hinami says, practically beaming at her. "Thank you, Touka-onee-chan! I love it!"

"I knew you would," she says, and it's the truth. She could never doubt a parent's intuition. "You're studying, aren't you? If there are any words you don't understand... it's okay if you ask me."

"I will!" Hinami responds, clutching the book to her chest and looking a little bit more like the young 14-year-old girl she knows. "I'll come to you right away."

Touka smiles, closing her bag and messing Hinami's hair up for the second time since she's entered the room. "I'm glad," she tells her, "But don't stay up reading it, alright? A growing girl needs her sleep."

Hinami pouts, but the shine in her eye remains. "I won't, onee-chan."

She won't be able to fall back asleep with that book in her hand, Touka is sure, but she takes her words at face value. "Okay," she says, getting up from the couch and heading towards the door. "I'm going to bring something for you to drink, and then I'll head home."

"Okay," Hinami tells her, and Touka smiles at her.

Once she's downstairs with a bottle of water in her hand and a knot in her stomach, she realizes she's giving Hinami borrowed happiness.

In the end, the book wasn't her idea. It was Ryouko's. And while delivering Ryouko's gift to her daughter doesn't make her feel like a cheater, knowing that she wasn't the one to obtain that gift does. She hates to admit it, but she felt like a fish out of water in that bookstore. If it hadn't been for Kaneki—

If it hadn't been for—

Shit.

She stops, staring at her own blurry reflection on the fridge's stainless steel door. She can't remember when he stopped being Crush Boy in her mind and became—well, it doesn't really matter. She's noticed it now. She can stop. It's difficult enough maintaining her friendships at school without feeling like all her secrets will be exposed in a second. She doesn't need additional stress.

Today, that bridge was burned. He'd said it himself, when he was speaking with that friend of his. He'd said she was horrible, and that's fine with her. She wants to be horrible. She wants him to stay, far, far, far away from her. That's what's best, not just for him, but for everyone.

Exhaling through her nose, she opens the fridge again and exchanges the bottle in her hand for another one. Hinami deserves the coldest water in the kitchen.

That's right. Hinami is her priority right now. Taking revenge on the Doves and diverting their attention from Hinami's existence—that's what really matters. She does not give a damn about anything else. Protecting what little she has left is her priority right now.

So she plasters a smile on her face, gives Hinami her water bottle, and tucks her in. There is already a clover themed bookmark between the first pages of Takatsuki Sen's novel and a rosy tinge on Hinami's cheeks.

"Remember," Touka tells her, her bag on her shoulder and her hands on her hips. "Don't stay up all night. You need your rest, too."

"I won't, Touka-onee-chan. I promise."

But like the hypocrite she is, that only applies to Hinami. Not to her.

Sleep eludes her for the rest of the night.

(But that's the breaks.)