author's note;
06/27/15 — Oh, boy. Hello, everyone! Guess who's back from the dead? If your answer was either "you" or "this fic", then you're right on both accounts, because college is a killer and I am still recovering from having all my free time annihilated by it.

That said, thank you all for your feedback on the last chapter. I was pretty surprised by it, since I didn't expect so many positive reactions. I had fun writing that intermission, too, so chapters from Kaneki's side of things may happen every once in a while. Maybe every 13 chapters, for symmetry.

I'm rambling now, though, so onward we go! I have nothing to say about this chapter at the moment, except "be prepared". :)

She barely remembers her mother's face. Pictures and the occasional blurry memory are all she has to go on.

Her father, however, is a different story.

("Remember, Touka," her father once told her, when he was happy and alive and not gone forever. "As the big sister, it's your job to teach Ayato new things every day."

"I will.")

She stares at her bedroom ceiling and wonders what her father would think of her now.

( blurry )

Despite her late night musings, the first school day of December starts out normally enough.

(Of course, that wholly depends on the definition of normal that is being used.)

For some reason or another, most of her classmates stick around in the classroom during lunch hour, pushing together desks and chairs and pulling out carefully wrapped lunches of all varieties. Yoriko, being Yoriko, is all too eager to join in on this, uniting her desk with the others and dragging Touka along for the ride. Soon enough, everyone's talking and laughing and smiling far too brightly for high school students who are soon to be a year away from embarking on the uncertain journey known as adulthood. Touka finds she can tolerate the conversation as they drift from inconsequential subject to inconsequential subject—but things become uncomfortable quickly enough.

"Do you all know what my sister told me?" one of her classmates pipes up, a dainty little pastry inches away from her mouth. When no one responds to her obviously rhetorical question, she continues. "She told me a friend of a friend saw something scary the other night... A monster, actually, all big and horrible with black eyes and something coming out of its back!"

Ah, comes the extremely eloquent realization to Touka's mind, a ghoul.

"Yeah, right," one of the boys scoffs, skepticism clear in his tone as he replaces the lid on his bento box, carelessly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and leans back into his chair. "And next, Inoue-chan will claim she saw a yurei as well. This is real life, not a scary film."

Well, it sounds simple enough when said like that. If the scary things in life are ignored long enough, then they become fiction. If a blind eye is turned towards the things that go bump in the night, then it's easy enough to write them off as silly superstition; the ramblings of a far too imaginative mind. With that type of logic, there is nothing to see but humanity and its ingenuity.

But Touka has never been able to do that. The predatory organ located between her shoulders is proof enough of that. The memories of doves invading her childhood home (her first kill), too.

Yoriko smiles, gently bumping shoulders with her as their classmates continue to bicker on about some questionably mythical creature or whatever. "Oh," she begins, laughter in her voice. "Inoue-san and Tanaka-san are very energetic, aren't they?"

Touka glances at the windows across the classroom. Picks at the crust of her sandwich. Shrugs. "They're going to give our class a bad reputation," she responds, "Too damn noisy."

Like she cares about something as shallow as her class's reputation.

The last bell rings during the evening,. Having no club activities to speak of, Touka finds herself with no choice but to loiter around school grounds long enough that her underclassmen start giving her strange looks. Thankfully, the wait for Yoriko isn't eternal so much as it is frustratingly long, and they're on their way to the shoe boxes once Yoriko has exchanged quick farewells and overenthusiastic pleasantries with her kouhai, senpai, and fellow second-year students.

"Your captain seems... nice," Touka absentmindedly comments, searching for ways to fill the silence as she exchanges her indoor slippers for her outside shoes.

"Oh...? She is," Yoriko responds, just as absentmindedly, while placing her own slippers back into their respective shoe box. She pauses for a moment, glancing towards the front doors of their school, and without looking up, Touka doesn't need to have Hinami's or Irimi's level of hearing in order to know it's raining. The fact that Yoriko immediately goes look for her umbrella also helps to guide her towards that conclusion, but—details. "I still think you should have joined a club, too, Touka-chan. You would have enjoyed it."

Well, there's no denying she might have enjoyed it. Yoriko sure looks like she's enjoying participating in club activities, at least. But the more Touka thinks about it, the more reasons she comes up with to avoid extracurricular activities altogether. The risks outweigh the positive aspects by far.

"Jeez... And risk becoming an overachiever like you?" she deflects, her tone that of a joke as she locks her shoe locker. "I'm doing well enough in the Go Home club, Yoriko."

And Yoriko laughs, rolling her eyes and taking a step towards the exit. "Well, think about it for next year?" she asks, patiently waiting as Touka tries to locate her own umbrella. "It'll be your last chance, before... university, you know?"

She knows. She knows very well, because the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach never lets her forget about that. A couple of months and one year more, and she'll be graduating and heading towards higher education. Well—assuming she gets in at all, that is. But Touka doesn't have any large goals besides surviving, so unless she suddenly decides to aim for some amazingly prestigious institution, it shouldn't be as hard as she's heard. It's not like she's aiming for Kamii, or anything along those lines.

She's a realist, after all.

They step outside into the rain after opening their umbrellas. Their scarves are neatly wrapped around their necks, as their knee length socks and long-sleeved uniforms do little to keep out the cold. Yoriko shivers, stifling a sneeze once or twice, before pointing out the obvious.

"It's so cold, so cold," she says, and Touka cannot agree quickly enough.

They walk their usual route side-by-side, crossing streets, going over bridges, and occasionally gazing at the colorful decorations displayed on every other shop. With certain holidays coming up, she supposes store owners are looking to boost their sales by catering to those who submit to the whole craze—but Touka has never been interested in that sort of thing, so she listens to Yoriko's excited chattering and moves on once her best friend is done talking about new ideas for winter themed recipes. For a while, Touka feels ridiculously normal. It's very nice.

It doesn't last very long at all, though.

"Oh," Yoriko says, after they've finished admiring a light display. "That reminds me... Do you have any plans for winter break? I know your dad is still working overseas, and Ayato-kun hasn't..."

Touka blinks (once, twice, thrice), and the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach wastes no time in coming back. She tries to smile, because the alternative is allowing her true feelings to seep through, but she knows it doesn't come off as well as she intended it to. The fact that Yoriko is way too perceptive for her own good doesn't help, but, well. Touka has become pretty good at ignoring things she doesn't like. "What are you suggesting?" she asks, a hint of laughter in her voice. It may or may not be an attempt at covering up her sudden hysteria, provoked by a lonely pair of shoes in the genkan and an empty bedroom across her own. "You have plans with your family, Yoriko."

The family that Yoriko, blessed as she is, has. Touka has no right to interrupt them with whatever Yoriko is about to suggest.

"I know that," her best friend replies, huffing just a little bit and furrowing her brows together. Concern. Yoriko is concerned about her, which is heartwarming but also very, very bad. "But I asked my parents about it, and... Maybe you would like to come with us, Touka-chan? I know the resort is outside of Tokyo, but it'll be just for three days."

Yes, she wants to say, because there's this stupid little part of her (which she viciously stabs, crushes and suffocates, but can never truly be rid of) that doesn't want to be alone for the upteenth time. But there are so many, many reasons for which she needs to say no, and the fact that she might screw up and reveal her secret is just one of many. She doesn't want to think about what she'll have to do, if Yoriko ever finds out about her. She can only hope she never does.

"Ah... I'm sorry, Yoriko," she says, the lie forming on the tip of her tongue. "The boss already told me I have to work those days. Lousy old man doesn't know how to give someone a vacation."

The way Yoriko's face seems to fall almost makes her want to take it back, but she can't. She can't put Yoriko at risk like that, so she'll just have to deal with it.

"That's okay," Yoriko tells her after a moment's pause, obviously disappointed. "I understand, Touka-chan. I'll just make sure to take you out somewhere really, really special once I'm back. Let's make it a date, okay?"

Touka finds herself nodding, a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes on her face. "Yeah," she says, "Yeah... I'd like that."

And before they know it, they've reached the point where they usually go their separate ways. Under normal circumstances, this involves a few pleasant words, a smile, and a wave as Yoriko crosses the street and heads on home. Today seems to be a little bit different, though, with Yoriko hesitating for a moment—and leading Touka to do the same. She watches her best friend idly twirl her umbrella around, sending droplets of water flying everywhere, and tapping the heel of her shoe against the wet pavement. Touka doesn't quite have it in her to interrupt. Not after the conversation they had a couple of minutes ago.

"The zoo," Yoriko says, so abruptly Touka almost jolts in surprise. She's about to ask what the hell she's talking about, but her best friend beats her to the punch. "When I get back, we should go to the zoo."

The zoo sounds—pleasant. Maybe. Maybe not. Honestly, Touka isn't really sure what condition the animals will be in during the very end of December. Probably cold and miserable, but that could just be her projecting what she expects of her future. She can't bring herself to voice that thought, either, with the way Yoriko is looking at her expectantly. It helps that it's a stupid thought, too. It would have to be a pretty cruddy zoo, if the employees didn't take some measures to ensure the animals were all nice and comfortable during the coldest days of the month.

"If that's where you want to go... I don't mind," she says, not entirely sure of what Yoriko's train of thought must be at the moment. "It's not like I have any better ideas."

At that, Touka watches her best friend nod. "Okay," she says, head bobbing up and down, a small smile on her face. "Then it's settled. We'll go to the zoo."

They get right back to their usual routine after that. Yoriko smiles at her, bright as the sun, and looks both ways before crossing the street. The puddles of water that have accumulated at the edges of the road soak through her socks, but Touka doesn't think Yoriko minds all that much. Mostly, because she waves and calls out to her as soon as she's on the other side, a grin on her face.

"Goodbye, Touka-chan!"

And being the (questionably) excellent best friend she is, Touka waves right back.

The walk home is much more colder after parting ways with Yoriko.

This is probably why she ends up making a pit stop halfway there, her hands pale and numb from the winter breeze. The rain seems to have settled into a stop-and-go sort of drizzle, but that does little to raise the temperature. She thinks, vaguely, that it shouldn't be this cold so early into the month, but nature seems to do whatever it pleases. The needs of those who live in the troposphere seem to matter little in the grand scheme of things. Nature is nature, after all—she thinks it will do whatever it damn well pleases, without making exceptions for anyone. That sort of thing strikes her as kind of quaint, really, in the same way that her desire to punch the annoying asshole in line in front of her is kind of quaint.

Maybe if the coffee shop thing doesn't work out in the long-run (it won't, not really), she should study some sort of science once she's graduates. That, or invest in a promising future where she pretends she's not as short-tempered as she really is, and that people who speak so loudly on their phones are charming.

Maybe she should also cut back on the internal monologue and decide on what type of coffee she's going to guzzle down before she inevitably braves the cold once again.

Sighing and rubbing her eyes in exasperation, she switches her schoolbag from her left shoulder to her right and valiantly attempts to tune out the guy in front of her. It would probably be easier if she had something else to occupy herself with while waiting, but as it is, she's kind of stuck unintentionally eavesdropping on the conversation this dumbass is having over the phone. Something unpleasant about a female coworker, from what she can gather. A Karube-san or something, a passing mention of the coffee shop she's seen near the station, and then the guy goes off and starts talking about an emergency hospitalization. If she focused, she could probably make out what the person on the other end of the line is saying, but she doesn't actually care enough to do so.

She's not desperate enough. The less she knows, the better.

After what seems like an eternity, though, the guy hangs up as he makes it to the cash register and places his order. A minute and a half more, and she's the one having her order taken. There's not a lot of room for options, obvious reasons aside, but she settles on a shot of espresso—hold the cream, sugar, and anything else that isn't coffee and water. The cashier gives her a funny look as she specifies that, pointing out something about the price being the same regardless of what she subtracts from her order, and Touka considers it a personal victory when she doesn't give into the slight urge to subtract her foot from the floor and add it to his face.

She takes out her phone while waiting for her order to be ready, frowning when she notices she only has less than fifty percent charge left. She wonders whether she should splurge on a newer model once the school term is over and she has no immediate expenses to take care of. That is something to think about later, though, so she busies herself by browsing through the photographs she has on her phone and deleting the ones that are either too blurry, too dark, or way too unflattering. The number of pictures she has of herself are pretty depressing next to the number of pictures she has of other things (mostly, Yoriko or assignments she was allowed to photograph in order to copy later), but it's necessary.

After all, if she ever needs to disappear, it's better to have less photographic evidence than more. It'll be easier to take on a new identity if no one can compare her appearance to that of a previous identity. Hinami's ability to evade the CCG until now is proof of that, she thinks. Maybe.

Shit.

Her order is taking a while, she realizes, but it probably has to do more with the three customers waiting before her than actual incompetence on the employees' part. She wishes they would hurry up, though, because she can only wait for so long before she gets the urge to walk out of here and forget the fact that she's paid for her order. She's tapping her foot already, which is a bad sign where her ability to be patient is concerned, but she reminds herself of how numb her fingers still are, and how nice it'll feel to hold a warm cup of coffee for a couple of minutes before going back out there.

Two of the customers waiting before her are served in quick succession after that, for which she is relieved, but it doesn't quite stop her from drumming her fingers against the counter as she waits. The guy who was talking over the phone gives her a sidelong look, which she promptly returns, and, honestly—that's the least he deserves for speaking loudly about co-workers in a public space. He can take his sidelong look and shove it up his ass, for all she cares.

It's with that thought that she hears the door of the coffee shop open, the cold quickly seeping in during the few seconds it takes for two new customers to step in, and then—

"Ah, so that coffee shop was..."

"Yes."

"Good work, Amon-kun."

For a moment, she forgets how to breathe. It feels like her ears are stuffed with cotton, but that's silly, because there's nothing in them. Not that she checks by bringing a hand up to her ears, but she knows this fact just as she recognizes the sudden dryness of her throat and the way her chest suddenly aches, as if someone has struck her in the sternum.

She knows that voice. She could recognize it anywhere. Recognize it any time, too. It's one of those voices that's hard to forget; the type she could hear twenty years from now, and still recognize it in the same way she recognizes it now, even as he and his partner talk in hushed tones. She recognizes the partner's voice, too, but as unpleasant as the name Amon is, he's not the one who nearly ripped her arm off.

"Miss, here's your order."

Ah.

Spatial awareness is a wonderful thing, because it means that she's keenly aware of where she stands at this very moment. It means that she can't forget that she's in public, and that being in public means she can't afford to freak out unless she wants to be as dead as Ryouko. And that—that is a bad thought to have, because it nearly sends her in a fit of rage and hysterics, but she forces herself to swallow any type of emotion she could be having at this very moment and plasters a smile on her face.

A human smile, of course. The type of smile a person would give to kind and polite coffee shop employees who have nothing to do with the sad, stupid life she leads, dictated by the fact she was born a ghoul and not a human.

"Thank you," she says, and then adds, for good measure: "Could I have a lid, so I can take it to go? And sugar?"

She's given both within the next five seconds, and after repeating her words of gratitude, she slaps the lid on her coffee and shoves the packets of sugar into one of the pockets of her uniform, never to be unearthed again. She wants nothing more than to avoid walking past the two CCG assholes on her way out, but seeing as they're in queue and kind of in the way to the door, it's pretty unavoidable.

When she makes it past them, her cold hands fumbling as she pushes the door open, she pretends not to feel someone staring into the back of her head.

She cannot bring herself to drink her coffee as she makes her way to Anteiku.

To her pleasant surprise, she does not find the shop burned down to the ground.

She wishes she could call the rest of what she finds pleasant, however.

"Come on," she whispers, fixing the wig on Hinami's head and cupping her hand between her palms. "Let's go."

(And the rest of this story is best saved for later.)