Disclaimer: I do not own Tokyo Ghoul. It belongs to its rightful owners.
CHAPTER TWO: INCLUSIVENESS
NANA
"You could approach someone worlds apart from you by offering them, like, a handshake, a simple truth from their own lives."
— Danielle Bennet
MY FATHER WAS the one who'd picked out my name. That alone was enough to shock the entire family.
He showed no interest in being there when my mother gave birth to me. She had done it alone, terrified, and wondering where her husband was. It was the worse case scenario for every wife in labor. No one recalled where he had fled to, and he didn't dare show his face the next day, or the day after that, or the following week. It was then did everyone realize how selfish of a man he was.
He was in his last months of eighteen-years-old when I was born. He was still a child; no one could blame him for his choices. After all, I had been an accident, sadly. My newborn life wasn't enough to make him want to stay.
He was the kind of man who never stayed in one place for too long. He was always bouncing—jumping back and forth between activities as if it were his sole purpose in life. His high school years had been filled with multiple clubs, sports, good grades, tons of friends, and even community service work when he had the time. He was the true ace of the Akamine family. My paternal grandparents prided themselves on creating such a strong man. So much so that they didn't bat an eyelash when he met my mother.
My mother was no one special, she often told me. She wasn't in many clubs, didn't have many friends, and didn't stand out among the other teenagers. She was too small, she supposed, for her tiny stature was always washed out in the sea of bodies in the hallways.
Their meeting had been a case of being in the right place at the right time. They had met by chance in their early years of fifteen. She claimed that my father never saw her as a social outcast, or a strange girl who was hard of hearing. He saw her as a person who had something amazing to offer the world in her own right. In return, she treated him like he wasn't the superman everyone made him out to be. They had fell in love by chance in their early years of sixteen.
I came around not too soon after their high school graduation. My father had been very upset by that—not enough to be obvious, but enough for my mother to tell. Having a child so young was taboo. They were still teenagers. My mother dreamed of going to college; she had a whole life ahead of her. My father had been presented with scholarships all over Japan. His life had just started. I supposed, at that time, he felt like I had ruined everything.
They had a shotgun wedding several months before I was born. It was entirely forced. 'If you get her pregnant, you have to marry her,' was the way of thinking back then. It only made the situation harder for my mother. A newlywed with a child on the way and a husband soon to leave for the CCG Academy, her world was shifted into overdrive. She was so stressed, so worried, and those feelings seemed to double once my father left for the Academy two weeks before my due date. She hadn't even bothered to pick my name.
My mother's side of the family was big on the aspect of luck. They were superstitious people by nature. Everything they did was to appease the gods for good fortune. They avoided bad decisions like it were the devil himself. That being said, they all considered my mother's situation very unlucky.
My father came home to visit two weeks after my birth. My mother said that while he may not have been enthusiastic throughout the pregnancy, his demeanor seemed to change when he saw me for the first time. The narcissistic young man was startled to see his nameless child was the splitting image of him. It gave him a sense of pride, I guessed, since he only cared for himself. Oh, what happiness did the man who loved himself more than anything feel when he saw his features reflected in his child.
Eighteen-years-old, young, smart, a future CCG investigator, and now a father, he thought his life was finally going in the direction he wanted. Meeting his daughter, a phenomenon that happened by a case of being in the right place at the right time, was truly a good fortune.
"Nana," he had told my mother. "That's what her name should be. Nana . . . my lucky number seven."
My mother thought that they were so in love after that. She'd expected me to mend their already failing marriage. Unfortunately for her, my father stopped coming around more and more. His attention to both of us became less and less as he devoted himself to his job. And right after my fourth birthday, I saw my mother cry for the first time, clutching her finalized divorce papers.
Once I turned five, my father packed up his bags, and moved to China for a promotion offered to him by the CCG. Some good luck charm I turned out to be . . .
My entire existence was themed upon chance, coincidence, and luck. My mother told me that I was living proof of such things. Regardless, I didn't believe in it. How could I? In a world where so many things seemed to go wrong at once, luck should have been the last thing people clutched onto. Coincidence, however, was a completely different story. I was born by coincidence, I lived because of it, and now I was surrounded by it.
Because, strangely enough, Ken Kaneki was in my English class.
Granted, I didn't attend it on the first day of school, or the second, since the interpreter wasn't there to translate anything, he hadn't been what I planned to see when I came on the third day. Yet, at the same time, it should have been expected. My first class was with Yumiko, my second class was with the boy named Nishiki, and now my third class was with my incredibly polite neighbor. Coincidences sure seemed to run thick on this campus.
It was early, as usual, when I decided to show my face in class. Hardly any students lingered inside, and those who did were engaged in deep conversations with their peers. It had been a strange sight to witness. Nearly every other classroom I went to had been empty during the earlier hours of the day. It was the contagious attitude of the first-years, I assumed. They were more strict on themselves and more driven than the second-years in my other classes. They prided themselves on being able to get into Kamii University at all. The older people were accustomed to this place at this point.
It shocked me how many people were interested in the subject of Japanese Literature. Most students chose to take these sort of classes during the break or in their second and third years, having been fed up with it throughout high school. That wasn't the case here. There were several categories of teenagers loitering around the classroom, ranging from athletes, fashionista gyarus types, bookworms, and the seemingly popular types. It didn't look like future authors, or psychologists, or doctors, or lawyers were just in the room. They looked like they were content with learning more about the language rather than being forced in here because of their future jobs.
And thankfully, among the people in the room was none other than Mrs. Mitsukuri. Her blonde hair pinned up in a bun so tight that it looked like it hurt, she was dressed as a professional as the other times I'd seen her. Yet, I couldn't figure out why she was here. They usually had different interpreters for different classes. She was in my first class, now she was in my second.
Perhaps it was because the real interpreter for this one was out for a while. It would make sense—it wasn't fair for some students to miss out on classwork because they couldn't understand what was going on. I highly doubted that I was the only one who was hard of hearing.
She sent me a smile, and I returned it as politely as I could. Over the course of a few days, she and I had established a sort of . . . friendly aura. She greeted me in the hallways whenever we passed each other. She asked me how I was doing from time to time, to which I always replied that I was doing okay. She was kind of like that administrator every student was on good terms with. It was a good thing for me. There was no such thing as having too many connections.
The professor had yet to make an appearance. My best bet was that he had ran off to take care of something at the last minute. He was the same professor that Yumiko had took me to on my first day—the professor that had been fidgety ever since then. It wasn't anything to raise suspicion. So, hiking my bag further up my shoulder, I began my search for a vacant seat.
I didn't know why I was so surprised to see him in the first place. He always graced the room with his presence when he was least expected. It made more sense to predict him coming than to not. Still, I felt myself grow stiff at the sight of him stationed in the front row, his notebook in front of him, and eyes trained on the notes he had previously wrote down.
The world was not something that was black and white. There were tons of grays that made up the tiny spaces that people couldn't see. There was no right or wrong, only maybes and possibilities. There was no luck, only coincidences and chances. There was no such thing as having a day go exactly how it was planned to. The world decided everything, from how you lived your morning, how you got to school that day, or how you grew old. Even if you got the chance to grow old.
In my younger years, I had never been a firm believer in anything having to do with the world. A pessimist clinging onto what little family I had left, the world was never something I saw as necessary of valuable, for that matter. It was around these years did I realize that no matter what you did, the world made everything fall into balance. It gave you things. It took away things.
I had always thought the world was cruel for taking my father away from me. Things just never seemed to work in my favor. It took away things that I cared about, and replaced it with things that couldn't compare in the slightest. That was how things worked, though. Everything that was thrown your way was predetermined upon a whim. I guessed, for some reason, the world just seemed so set on me engaging in awkward conversation with Ken Kaneki.
There were tons of seats in the class. There was a kind-looking girl with glasses in the front row not too far from the professor's podium. However, my legs marched right on over to Kaneki, and plopped down in one of the empty seats beside him. Might as well give the world what it wants.
He glanced over at me with wide eyes, no doubt surprised by the sudden company. Instead of encouraging the awkwardness that was sure to follow, I made work of retrieving my belongings from my bag. Notebook, pens, pencils, everything else I could have needed . . . all to avoid the confused stare trained on the side of my head.
I could understand his reaction. We had known of each other for over a week and only had two conversations. Both of those conversations were incredibly brief and, unfortunately, through means of a sheet of paper. We weren't exactly even on acquaintance terms. We were neighbors—that was about it. But, if coincidence seemed so adamant on him popping up wherever I was, who was I to stand in its way?
His brows were furrowed so hard that wrinkles were beginning to gather in between them. I glanced at him once I had everything all set up in front of me. I didn't need to search all through his features to know what he was thinking. He thought that it was strange that I was there, too. I hadn't been the only one questioning why the other was around so much. In fact, he seemed way more confused about it than I was, his gray eyes blinking a few times to double check that I was really there.
I let out a silent chuckle and raised my hand for a wave. My lips moved to mouth a silent hello, not fully trusting my voice since I couldn't hear it myself. He hesitantly returned the wave after a couple beats. The stiffness in his wrist told me that he was nervous. For what, I didn't know, but it could have been his lack of interaction with the opposite gender.
Since my hearing wasn't the best, I had to learn to rely on my sight. My sense of perception was uncanny in that sense. I couldn't hear the malice in people's tones, hear the sarcasm or happiness that I otherwise wouldn't have picked up on. So, I fell back on my vision as a safety cushion. I used body language to gauge how people were feeling. You could learn a lot about a person by the way they acted. And right now, Kaneki was proving that girls—or people in general—weren't exactly his strong suit.
His gaze trailed over to the room's exit as his hands scratched behind his head. They were all the tell tale signs of nervousness. His nerves were closer to high alert than mine were. If I thought I felt weird about seeing him so often, he was feeling absolutely crazy.
In an attempt to clear the atmosphere, I wrote a message on a piece of paper before sliding it over so he could see. 'Wow, you're here early, Ken-san.'
He read the message once . . . twice . . . three times until he blinked a corresponding amount of times. He clicked open his own ballpoint pen, writing his own response into the page. Then, once he was done, he slid it back over. Black ink next to my blue, his was easy to make out.
'All of the good seats would've been taken if I didn't.'
I let out a laugh at the neat words. It wasn't because it was particularly funny, but because that was the exact reason why I was in class early. He must have also noticed how vicious the students became when it got closer to the starting time. Everyone would scramble around to get a good spot faster than the others. Of course, a seat in the front would be like trying to be a winning lottery ticket. The chances were few and far between.
His lips twitched up slightly in the corners due to me laughing. It wasn't all the way there yet, but the nervousness he had initially felt was starting to chip away—if even the tiniest bit. That was the end goal, after all. If we were going to be bumping into each other so often as we were, he at least shouldn't have a reason to feel on edge.
He took it upon himself to write the next note. 'Did you switch into this class, Akamine-san?'
I tilted my head guiltily, and wrote him back, 'No, I just haven't been coming since the interpreter hasn't been in. If they don't translate the lesson into sign language I can't really understand.'
He nodded to show that he understood. The fact that I was hard of hearing was becoming a normal subject to him now, it seemed. Not that it was something extravagant in the first place; it had definitely been an uneasy thing to mention for him when we had just met. That was what came along with not being able to relate to someone. You simply just couldn't sympathize with things that you couldn't understand. But, I could tell that he had a good sense of empathy, and my handicap wasn't something that was going to throw him off too much.
I smiled at my new message for him. 'It's all right. It gave me an excuse to skip out of class for a few days.'
'Well, aren't you lucky,' he had wrote back, his lips parting to release what I thought to be a sigh.
He was communicating with me. Or, rather, I was communicating with him. It was nice. I had friends growing up, but as I got older, the chances of people willing to communicate through handwriting was very slim. There were a lot of people who got frustrated not being able to speak to me. There was always that language barrier that complicated things. Thankfully, this dark-haired boy seemed to understand that it was one of the only ways that we could talk. It was either this, or he took up sign language.
It wasn't too long later did people start filing into the classroom. People slugging around their bags—both schoolbags and bags under their eyes—slid into seats wherever they could find it. And sure enough, the first row was one of the easiest to fill out.
The professor came in a few minutes later than the set time. He was more on the clumsy side of the spectrum than all of my other teachers. His short, black hair was styled up messily. His dark eyes were squinted behind his glasses. He was dressed more casually, too, a buttoned-up shirt and a pair of dark slacks being his choice of clothing for the day. He carried his briefcase over to his desk, where he rushed around to get the class started.
He exchanged a few words with the class. A quick look in Mrs. Mitsukuri's direction told me that he was apologizing for being late. He told of how he had lost track of time during his break in his office. I wasn't surprised since he was late when Yumiko and I came to pick up papers a few days ago.
He seemed a lot younger than my other professors, and generally more laid back. I hoped that was the case, for I had missed too many days to show up to class with a strict teacher. Hopefully, he didn't mind it.
He went on to explain the topics we were going to cover today. They didn't appear all too hard. In fact, he said that it was only a recap of yesterday's lessons. I couldn't have been anymore grateful. The last thing I needed was a random pop quiz when I hadn't been to class. My mother would be upset to hear I left my hometown to fail school already, and my speech about me being able to live on my own now would've been for nothing.
The teacher wrote a couple names of famous literature works on the board. Mrs. Mitsukuri rushed to sign that they were good references to help with the upcoming quiz next week. It was going to be on the topic of misfortune, and how classic writers used it to project their feelings about the rural economy. It was something that I probably would've understood had I been in class the last few days. At that, I let out a heavy sigh.
My hands rushed the pencil against the paper, trying to write down the notes that would help on the test. The girl next to me was jolting things down, too. By the way her face looked, small but scrunched up in what looked like confusion, she hadn't really paid attention to the professor, either. Perhaps I wasn't the only one who missed the lessons.
One glance in Kaneki's direction told me everything that I needed to know. His writing wasn't as sporadic as everyone else's. He was relaxed, even-paced, and thoroughly interested. He must have been the learning type—the type that focused on school and enjoyed it all at the same time. Another glance at his notebook let me know that I was correct. The entire page was filled with notes . . . just from today. There was no telling what was written in the pages from yesterday and beyond.
He caught me looking at his hands. Our eyes had met, mine doubling in size, before we instantly looked back to the board to avoid another awkward confrontation. I had been fascinated by his amount of notes. No doubt he thought I was some weird kid with a staring problem now, though. Great. My social were improving day by day, weren't they?
In an attempt to show him that I wasn't trying to be strange, I wrote another note on our previous sheet of paper. He hadn't been paying attention until I slid it over to him. The edge of the paper had brushed against his finger, and he looked down at it with confused eyes.
'What are you majoring in?'
Realization slowly settled onto his features. I hadn't necessarily been staring at his hands, but rather the amount of notes he had crammed into his notebook.
He finished writing the rest of the professor's notes before pulling the paper in front of him, writing in elegant strokes, 'Japanese Literature.'
My mouth fitted into an 'O' as I passed my response back to him. 'Ah, so you must like to read, then?'
He scratched his cheek with his free hand. His eyes shrunk half-lidded, glancing down at the desk in front of us in almost embarrassment. He felt self-conscious about me discovering about his love for books. His expression was one of someone who had been caught doing something totally out of the social norm—way past acceptation.
I couldn't figure out why, for the life of me, he felt that way. There was nothing wrong with reading. I, myself, was an avid reader. There was something about books that allowed me to escape reality. When I read books, I heard voices again. Albeit imaginary and in my head, they still revealed worlds to be far beyond my one of silence.
Perhaps it was the same for him. Perhaps reading gave him the chance to experience things he otherwise never would have. Everyone was different. It was no reason for him to be embarrassed about it.
I shook my head at him, quickly jolting down, 'It's not a bad thing. I like reading, too.'
That seemed to calm him down a bit. He offered me a shy smile, eyes twinkling because of our newfound shared interest. At least we had one thing in common . . . something we could both relate to. Well, besides living in the same apartment building and taking the same class.
'What's your favorite author?' he wrote.
I tapped my pen against my chin as I thought, responding, 'Yamaoka Ietsuna.'
'Isn't that the man who wrote the Kuro Ketsueki series?'
'So you know about him, huh? I usually read suspense. Keeps me on my toes,' I answered, writing again when he nodded. 'What about you? Who's your favorite?'
He finished adding a few more notes to his notebook before scribbling, 'Takatsuki Sen.'
It was an author that I had heard about several times. Of course, you had to have very refined taste to enjoy their work. They didn't write the type of books you could dive into out of nowhere. It took people who were very open to everything, people who thought about the possibilities rather than the facts, to read them. Their books were for people who's emotions were deeper than the average person. With them being Kaneki's favorite, that told me a lot.
He must have been a very poetic person, then. One of those smart boys with giant hearts and love for the common tragedy. But, one should never read a book by its cover. Just because he liked to read those books didn't mean he liked to live them out.
I wrote a quick message. 'Hmm . . . I've heard of them, but I've never really gotten around to reading anything by them.'
He opened his mouth, lips tilting upwards in the corners, and released a soft sound. It was incredibly quiet. So much so that I strained to at least catch a bit of it. There was nothing, though. I couldn't hear it, but the shake of his chest told me that it must have been a chuckle.
His response was lighthearted. 'I'm guessing your major has something to do with English?'
I shook my head again, communicating the only ways I knew how. 'Nope. Psychology. I'm aiming to be a psychologist.'
'Woah, that's a lot of schooling.'
I let out a tired sigh. 'You're telling me . . .'
He let out the same noise he did earlier. Though it was silent to me, I still felt its vibrations. He found me amusing, and that brought a smile to my own face. Laughter was always the easiest way to lighten the air; I had finally got him to peek out from his shell. His nervousness was beginning to chip away at the center. All that was left behind was the possibility of a new friend.
I went back to taking notes. Apparently, the environment in which the scripture was written does have a huge effect on the quality of the writing. Those who wrote in places of depression and darkness tended to write more disturbing stories, even if they didn't mean to. Those who wrote in bubbly places, like a coffee shop, for instance, tended to have more luck in romance novels. Even the tiniest thing impacted something large. Then, there were even more book recommendations.
He had to have given at least ten of them by then. A majority of them were old. Some of them were new for the sake of compare and contrast. If we were to read any of them, though, he recommended the old ones—the ones that I would need to go to several bookstores looking for. The ones that didn't look right unless the pages were yellowing around the edges. The harder the books were to find, the higher our grade on the quiz would turn out.
He told of the minds of different famous Japanese authors. Most of what he told went in one of my ears and out through the other. It was a continuation of the lessons he went over two days ago . . . the lessons that I had missed. While everyone wrote instructions down in clear understanding, I was confused. So confused that I found myself frowning as I wrote.
It wasn't until the class ended did Kaneki and I dare to speak again. I had been so engrossed in trying to understand something. I had completely forgotten that he was there. The same must have gone for him. While I was still on the first page of my notebook, struggling to get any ideas, he was already on his third.
I stuffed my belongings back into my bag, more discouraged than I was when I came in. I didn't know I'd miss this much in the short amount of days I hadn't came. A lot of what the professor talked about sounded like gibberish—or looked, since I was paying attention to Mrs. Mitsukuri. But, this was university, not high school. I shouldn't have been too surprised.
As I made a move to stand out of my chair, a black notebook slid in front of me on the desk. My eyes trailed up to find the owner, meeting a pair of bright gray ones. It was none other than Kaneki's notebook. I stared at him in shock, my brows furrowing in both confusion and surprise. His notebook was, without a doubt, worth gold when it came to this class. Why was he placing it in front of me when we had a quiz next week?
He opened to a random page. Fingers gripping his pen, he wrote down in handwriting so neat that it rivaled the professor's own.
'You can copy my notes.'
My eyes went even wider. He was going to give me his notebook. Looking back up at him, I tilted my head, silently asking if he was sure about doing this. He answered by waving the imaginary question off with his hand. He was sure that this was what he wanted to do. Perhaps he saw me struggling during the lesson. Perhaps this was his way of opening up, entertaining the thought of us becoming pals one day. Perhaps he was simply a good person who thought he could help. Either way it went, he was definitely saving me from a failing grade.
He wrote down another message. 'We're neighbors. You can just drop it off when you're done. Besides, we always seem to run into each other, anyways. You'll find me sooner or later.'
I smiled, and gave him a nod. It was the truth. There was always a way for me to reach him if I did take his notebook. We shared a wall, after all. And even he had acknowledged that coincidence had us meeting each other far more than normal. We were around each other regardless of if we meant to or not. So, his offer was justified.
My hands slid his notebook into my bag, signing him a thank you when it was safely inside. I made sure to mouth the words along with my actions so he could comprehend it. He simply smiled at me. "You're welcome," it seemed to say, and I didn't need hearing to understand that.
It was the last few moments I spent in the class. My bag over my shoulder, and a newfound sense of motivation, I marched to the doorway into the mass of student bodies. A lot of them were lingering around waiting for their friends. Some of them were rushing out of the door in search of their next classes. And one of the students, blending in with the ones loitering around the halls, was my new red-haired friend.
Kaneki and I had left the room at the same time. Splitting into different directions without so much as a goodbye, we made our way to our own friends, our own lives, our own paths. We were just neighbors, nothing more and nothing less. Other than classes and building maintenance alerts, there was no other reason for us to communicate.
Yumiko had a bright smile on her face when I approached. Her eyes twinkled and her lips shined with previously applied lip gloss. She paid no attention to the masses of students making their ways around her. She waited patiently as I walked over. In fact, it seemed like she had been waiting for me for quite some time.
I shook my head and wrote a message for her. My hands held the notebook up so that she could read it. Instantly, she shot me an incredulous expression.
'What are you doing spying out here?'
She took the notebook for herself, responding, 'I wasn't spying! You told me you have this class, remember?'
I waved her off. It was a good excuse, I had to admit. In my time knowing her, she had revealed a lot of her personality to me. One of those traits of hers was that she was a terrible liar. She told the truth whenever she could because she was a fumbling mess when she didn't. Even through her handwriting, one could tell that she was hiding the truth. The way she slanted her words were a dead giveaway.
It wasn't like I was surprised. She had been pretty willing to hang around me ever since we met, shockingly enough. We had a few classes together; sticking together was easier than not. But, that's all that it was. We were campus friends. We stuck together because we were stuck together. Yumiko was the one who made school more tolerable . . . especially in classes where the interpreter wasn't planning on showing up.
She tapped her chin with my pen a few times, eyes surveying the lingering student body. A few feet away, a boy was smiling with a girl. He was attractive, I supposed, with curly blond hair and brown eyes, but he wasn't exactly what she was looking at. She was staring at the bag of takeout food he was bringing to the girl.
'Do you want to go grab lunch with me?' she had wrote down suddenly. 'I know this restaurant that serves the best udon. You'll love it.'
She handed the notebook back to me, and I answered, 'I'm not really in the mood for udon.'
Before I could show her my writing, she started her march through the school halls. My brows furrowed at the sight. My jaw dropped, too. She hadn't bothered to hear out my opinion. I guessed the boy's takeout had really stirred up her taste buds because she was already in full speed toward the exit. I could do nothing but clutch my notebook to my chest, and scramble past students to get to the redhead.
I had opened my mouth to call out to her a few times, but ultimately decided against it. It would be too embarrassing. My voice worked just fine. Still, that didn't mean that I could utilize it well. I couldn't hear what I was saying. It could be correct, it could be slurred, either or, and I wouldn't know. I couldn't exactly hear myself that much to determine that. So, I kept my mouth shut, chasing after my new companion.
She finally stopped outside of the building's double doors. A few people were sitting on the stone steps ahead, conversing about topics that must have been interesting. White clouds wisped across the bright, blue sky, warding off any ideas that it would rain today. It looked like any other campus day. But, I wasn't paying attention to that. I was focused on getting to Yumiko before she left me behind.
My footsteps were probably loud as I walked up to her. She turned around, smiling, and said something. I couldn't make out what it was. Thankfully, though, she had exaggerated her vowels enough for me to read her lips. She was telling me to come along with her. Not that I had much choice in the first place.
Be it because she was older, or because she was a resident to this part of Tokyo, Yumiko knew more than I did. She had experienced more than I ever had. Every shortcut in life, every cheat, every easy way out, she seemed to know. She was smarter than me in that sense. Street smart was what she called it. She learned by living and not through books. She had lived her life doing what I had set out to do just this year.
So, I guessed I allowed her to get away with things like this. Cutting corners around school was how it started out. Now, since this was our first time being together outside of Kamii University's campus, I was allowing her to show me the little hidden luxuries she knew. Yumiko was the kind of person people like me aspired to be. What was a better way to learn than from the master themselves?
She led me out of the school's entrance and along the sidewalks of the bustling city. Cars drove about in a haste, trying to beat the traffic that was nearly inevitable. There were more of them than people walking. Perhaps that was why there was so much traffic around here.
The streets were lined with shops and apartment buildings. Trees were planted every so and then. Whether it was to improve air flow, or for decoration, I couldn't tell. Birds flocked to their branches either way, obviously happy for a place to call their home. I had watched as a bird brought her chicks food she has stolen from a street vendor.
Some kids had decided to ditch school for the day. Teens adorning the local high school's uniform strutted through the sidewalks in search of entertainment. They didn't look too scholarly, anyways. Each boy had spiked up hair and brows permanently tilted in scowls. The girls' shirts were buttoned low enough to show insane amounts of cleavage, hair chopped in layers, and makeup bordering edgy. I looked away as to not draw too much attention to myself.
One of the shops had been a pet supply store. It was ran by an elderly woman, graying hair pulled up into a bun, and a knitted sweater around her thin frame. She greeted customers with her cat. The cat, who didn't look too excited to be there, swayed its orange tail at her leg as it it were bored. It didn't bother the lady, though, for she would simply reach down to scratch underneath its chin whenever it got too frumpy. I made a mental note to stop by one day to greet the grumpy pet.
Yumiko saw that I had been paying more attention to the environment around me rather than where we were going. Her hand wrapped around my elbow to pull me out of the way of a businessman. He'd been clad in a brown suit, staring at his watch with a frown, and undoubtedly would've gotten upset if we were to collide. Thankfully, he hadn't noticed me, and she had pulled me aside in time. I had received a shake of her head for my mindless observing.
She pointed to a building a few doors down. It was nothing special. Dark brick exterior, high windows, and a wide range of bright flowers lining its entrance, it could've easily gotten lost among the competition. I hardly knew it was a restaurant until I saw the sign hanging above. It had a sort of . . . family-owned atmosphere to it. Which wasn't a bad thing. Those usually tended to be the best places to dine.
I followed her inside. The smell of food quickly filled my senses. Brown was the scheme of the interior. The color coated the walls, and likewise shades intertwined in the wooden tables. People were seated both with friends and by themselves. Waiters and waitresses wearing white uniforms bounced from table to table in attempt to fill out orders. That combined with the light atmosphere proved that this place was really a hidden gem.
As expected from Yumiko.
A boy wearing a white, long-sleeved, buttoned-up shirt, black slacks, and a black apron greeted us upon our entrance. With green eyes narrowed in boredom, and messily-styled, short, brown hair, he blended in right with the other employees. The first thing I noticed was how thin he was. Along with the slight bags under his eyes, I assumed that he was our age. He sure did fit the role of a college student living without his parents.
He said something before bowing to us. Beside me, Yumiko waved him off, smirking as she responded. For a brief moment, I could've sworn I saw his left eye twitch at her comment. He turned on the heels of his black shoes to walk further into the quaint restaurant. Yumiko motioned in his direction with her head, signalizing for me to follow. He must have been escorting us to our table.
He led us to a booth by a window out-looking the city streets. I had scooted into one of the brown seats, and Yumiko happily took the one across the table. She exchanged a few other pleasantries with the waiter while he placed two menus in front of us. With that, he was gone, and we were left to our own devices.
I quickly wrote in my notebook. 'Do you know him?'
The two of them appeared like they had met far too many times to just be customer-waiter. To be honest, I would've thought they were friends by the small sparks of irritation that had settled in the boy's thick brows. It wasn't a look someone would give to even a reoccurring customer.
I passed her the book, and she opened her menu before writing, 'Sure do. That's Hiroto Anzai. He went to the same high school as me up until he suddenly found an interest in getting a job. He graduated three years early because he's supposed to be some kind of genius or something. He took a year off from school. He's a fourth-year at Kamii.'
Woah. He was the same age as Yumiko, a year older than me, but was far more advanced than anyone could dream of becoming. He had graduated high school at the age of fifteen. The bags under his eyes weren't from working. They were probably from studying.
It interested me to hear about Yumiko's past. She hardly spoke about it, claiming that she had the same past as every other average high school student. However, I believed there wasn't such a thing as 'average.' Everyone had something special. Now, she was starting to reveal some of it, even if that was just an old friend.
She skimmed over the menu, having said enough. I opened mine to do the same. There were many assortments of udon, ramen, and other foods. A lot of them were hearty. No doubt they would make me sluggish if I ate too much. At that, I let out a sigh. That was why I didn't want udon.
Not too long later, our waiter, Anzai, came back from assisting other customers. I hadn't noticed he came until he placed a cup of water in front of me. Eyes wide, I gazed up at him like a deer in headlights. I didn't order water. He had brought both Yumiko and I a cup with block-y ice. It made me feel bad to know he went through the trouble of bringing something we hadn't ordered.
Yumiko passed my notebook to me before I could intervene. She had wrote something new on it. And immediately, once I read it, my tension eased up.
'Don't worry about it. He always gives me free things when I stop by. It's his weird way of trying to be nice.'
Anzai retrieved a pocketbook and pen from his apron. His mouth moved in suggestion that he was asking Yumiko something. More than likely he was asking her what she wanted to eat. That was, yet again, another problem. Would it be awkward to have to tell him what I wanted through paper?
She explained her own order to him before glancing at me. She pointed in my direction, then pointed to her ear, shaking her head to let him know that I couldn't hear. Realization seemed to fit across Anzai's face. Then, what he did next shocked me to the core.
"Don't worry. I can understand you," he had signed to me, easily and effortlessly. "I can take your order. It's no problem."
Trying to contain my shock, I ordered a simple bowl of ramen. He bowed to us once more and left to go place our orders. Once he was gone, I glanced at Yumiko, silently asking her how the hell her friend knew sign language. Interpreters were hard to come across, let alone random citizens who were fluent.
She smirked as she wrote down, 'See? Told you he's a genius . . . a genius working a shitty minimum wage job.'
At that, I chuckled. It didn't matter how smart or talented you were. Everyone was a slave to the economy. Especially the day-to-day college student. Money was a critical factor during these times, and I didn't know Anzai for it not one bit.
Yumiko made work of initiating the conversation while we waited for our food. She was the better socialite. Whereas I would have trouble coming up with things to talk about, she asked questions that branched off into other topics. When I asked her about it, she said that she learned to make connections for the sake of getting through school. Apparently, Yumiko wasn't all too great with studying, but making friends brought her good school allies—moreover genius ones like Anzai.
She told me that there was to be construction on campus starting Thursday, and the way I took to get to my Japanese Literature class would be blocked off. They were installing a new line of trees. Cherry blossoms were quite popular these days, and the administration thought it'd add to the curb appeal of the university, so they were planting a walkway of them. It'd sure be a sight to see since it was springtime.
'How's your class with Nishiki going? Is he rubbing you the wrong way, yet?' she wrote me after talking about the trees.
Nishio Nishiki, who I only knew of because of her pointing him out to me, was a boy that was in my biochemistry class. He sat off to the side with people he constantly surrounded himself with. He was more like the cool guy, if I were to guess off of body language. He didn't seem to care much about anything. Because of that, I hadn't worked up the courage to introduce myself to him. The way Yumiko described him made me not want to, anyways.
I shook my head, writing down, 'I haven't met Nishio-san, but the class is all right. It doesn't look like it's going to be too hard.'
She smiled. 'That's great. Make sure it stays that way. It's easy to get overworked in your first year of university.'
I wanted to laugh. It was only college. What was the worst that could happen in the span of one year?
She told me that I was lucky I hadn't ran into Nishiki yet. I asked her why she wasn't too fond of him, to which she replied his attitude got on her nerves during their first year. He was sort of arrogant and refused to let her do much work whenever they were in group projects. Though she understood why—she didn't believe in her knowledge abilities that much—she wished he would've let her down gently before calling her out entirely.
All that did was make me want to avoid him even more. He looked like a nice person in class. He smiled the brightest out of everyone in his small circle of club members. But, I guessed knowing a person was more accurate than looking at them. It was the advantage that Yumiko had over me with almost everyone.
I wasn't much of a talker . . . for obvious reasons. It was easier to not say much at all rather than making myself stand out too much. Thankfully, this year, I decided that I would step out of my comfort zone. Sitting with her in a restaurant was one of the first steps.
Anzai came back moments later with a tray of food. Yumiko had ordered udon. I stuck with ramen for the sake of being here at all. He neatly placed the bowls in front of us with the same stoic expression on his face. He didn't exactly appear thrilled about his job, yet he was trying his best.
He said something to Yumiko before he left. She instantly frowned up, waving her fist at his retreating back. It made me smile. Perhaps stepping out of my comfort zone wouldn't be such a strange thing. How things went from now on all depended on who I spent my time with. If it was spent with such kind people, it was sure to be a great experience.
I ALWAYS KEPT my hair tied back when I studied, or cleaned, for that matter. My grandmother said it helped with productivity. It was definitely a placebo effect. It didn't really work, but it did in my head. That was all that mattered. Especially since studying right now was such a crucial part of my night.
My hair had long since been secured back with a scrunchie, and a white headband to hold my bangs. It didn't dare move as I sat hunched over my notes from Japanese Literature. My hands scribbled words onto the lines sheets of paper in my notebook. Glancing back and forth between my white one and the black one borrowed, I did my best to get everything done as efficiently and quickly as possible. They were not my notes to keep, after all. Their owner needed them just as much as I did.
It had been a full day ever since I'd received them. We had sat next to each other in class this morning, but I was too busy working to get his notes down to really speak to him. We exchanged simple hellos, at the very least. Other that that, he stuck to his work, and I stuck to mine. That was how it should have been. College was a time for studying, not for talking in class.
My fingers were cramping at the joints and my back was aching. All of the words were starting to jumble together into one large mass. It was the side effects of being tired. I could've killed then and there for a cup of coffee to wake myself back up, but I had yet to buy a coffee maker, and finishing the notes were my number one priority. It was a bad situation all because the interpreter decided to skip out on class for two days.
Finally, after another twenty minutes of slaving over pen and paper, I wrote down the last bullet point. Everything was done. With that said, I stood up from where I sat on my rug to stretch my limbs. My back cracked, my elbows popped, and my lips parted to release a yawn.
My clock flashed eight o'clock. It was getting late. I had to hurry things along.
I had all intentions of returning his notes the moment I was done with them. It didn't matter that my hair was pulled back, or that I was still dressed in what I went to school in that day. I slid on a pair of discarded black sandals and left the apartment.
Like Kaneki said, it wouldn't be too hard for me to find him. Three steps into the hallway landed me directly in front of his door . . . the door that belonged to my dark-haired classmate.
I sucked in a heavy breath before knocking at the door His notebook was safely tucked into my hands. Strands of my ponytail blew around in the cool spring air, cascading in random shades of black and purple. And in my other hand was my communication notebook in case he tried to initiate a conversation. He shouldn't have to, but at least, by now, he had no problem talking to me without things being weird.
Then, the door opened.
I wasn't met with a pair of big, gray eyes. Instead, brown ones, cool and bright, stared down at me, widening at the same time mine did. The blond-orange hair still black at the roots and thick, dark, bushy brows were a dead giveaway as to who it was. So were the headphones around his neck. I took a step back to take in Hideyoshi's face in its entirety. He looked about as shocked to see me standing there as I was to see him opening the door.
He was vibrant as ever. A dark green hoodie containing some logo was pulled over his torso, and with jeans that had been washed one too many times, he played the bright character quite well. The red headphones matched his red sneakers. In fact, it made me wonder when red and green had become such a good combination in days other than Christmas. I was thoroughly convinced that Hideyoshi could wear anything and get away with it.
I waved to him, clearing my throat before asking the boy if Kaneki was home. I was sure my words were slurred beyond comprehension, but it was still worth a shot. Especially since saying it would be faster than getting my notebook and writing it down. However, it was apparent in the way Hideyoshi's eyes went even wider that I had caught him off guard by actually talking.
He nodded and glanced back into the apartment behind him. His mouth moved to speak words to someone I couldn't see. I had a good speculation who it was, though, considering where I was. Sure enough, moments later, he stepped aside to make room for a second person, and Kaneki stood in the doorway with a smile.
I was glad that he was there. It would have taken a while to explain to Hideyoshi that I came to drop off his notes. He didn't seem like the type to let things go without asking questions, either. It saved me a few pages in my communication notebook.
I bowed, holding out the borrowed book. His pale hands—so pale it didn't look like he got out much—grabbed hold of it, waving my gesture off to let me know that I could stand straight. He wanted me to know there wasn't a problem. He mouthed words that looked an awful lot like a thank you while he raided a hand to scratch the back of his head.
I had turned to leave, yet never got the chance to. Hideyoshi held out a hand to stop me from going. I had stopped in my tracks, turning to look up at the boy with furrowed brows, both wondering what he wanted and what he was doing. He didn't respond. Rather, Kaneki and I watched as he retreated into the apartment by himself.
He came out again holding a sheet of white paper. Though the words were messy, I was able to read the kindhearted question that he had wrote on it.
'We were about to head out for coffee. Do you want to come with us?'
What a coincidence. I was just thinking about needing coffee earlier to help me stay up to study.
I glanced between the two a couple times. Kaneki sent me a nod to show that he agreed with his friend's proposition. They were both inviting me out with them for whatever reason. Probably because I happened to be there when they were about to go, but it would have been nice to take a break for some much needed caffeine. So, I nodded, using my voice to say that I wanted to change before we headed out. Or at leas, that what I thought I said.
They understood that much. Two nods from each of them let me know that they'd wait for me.
I jogged back into the apartment. It wasn't too cold. Still, the spring breezes were beginning to pick up lately around nighttime. Summer was not long away; the weather must not have known that. To avoid facing the blunt end of the wind, I exchanged my shirt for a long-sleeved one. I decided to keep my hair in my ponytail, just taking the headband out to let my bangs back down. It was good enough. After sliding one a pair of flats, I grabbed my house keys to meet the boys outside.
They were standing outside my door, talking about who knew what. Two pairs of eyes watched while I locked the door behind me. Then, I nodded to them and gave them a thumbs up. We were all ready to go. Now all that was left was to face the town in search of hot coffee. Such was the life of university students.
We walked down the stairs of the apartment in a groggy stupor. Hideyoshi used my notebook to inform me that he'd been craving coffee for a while now and was in desperate need of a break. They had been holed up in Kaneki's apartment studying since school ended. Apparently, Kaneki wasn't a big fan of instant coffee, so going out was their only way of getting an energy fix. During his story, I found myself smiling at the boy's displays of dramatic gestures.
He explained that he was planning on studying for a couple more hours until he went home tonight. He studied better when he was with Kaneki, he claimed. However, when he held up that page for me to read, Kaneki sent him a look as if he were calling bullshit. That was what made me laugh. I guessed Hideyoshi wasn't that big of a study person after all.
No matter how late it got, it was never too later for Tokyo. Everything was bustling with lights and so much action. Everyone was at a faster pace. It sort of got overwhelming sometimes, but it was more and more fascinating each time. Especially regarding all of the buildings. Even though I had never been much of a fan for architecture, high rises were slowly becoming a favorite of mine.
Cars zoomed by due to the lessening amount of traffic. Younger people were out more now that the sun was away. High school students filled the sidewalks as they walked home from their cram schools. I supposed now was a good time for them to get into studying. Though it was still the beginning of the year, it was never too early to train to get into university.
I didn't know where we were going. Hideyoshi led the way through the many turns and corners of the city. I simply followed behind him whenever the green light signalized for us to go. Then, there was Kaneki, who appeared to pick up on the directions the further we got. Unlike me, he must have known the place we were going.
Eventually, the amount of people along the sidewalks trickled down to a manageable number. The people were growing younger and younger, ranging from teens to people in their early thirties. I paid attention to the way everyone seemed to know where they were going. No one looked lost. But, then again, it was a common side effect of living in the city. You had to remember these sort of things or you'd just end up lost.
Hideyoshi rounded one last corner and came to a stop in front of a large building. I tilted my head up to gaze at it. It reminded me a lot of the building Yumiko took me to, the one her friend worked a part-time shift in. It was two stories, plain and quaint and nothing spectacular. Leafy green vines snaked down the walls to go with the small plants placed around the front door as decoration. Through the two glass windows, I could see people laughing and talking inside around tables. The light up sign by the plants told me all that I needed to know. Anteiku, it read, and it was Hideyoshi's favorite cafe.
The inside was nice. It had a homey feel to it. Flooring a dark wood to match the dark tabling, I made sure to step on the welcome mat as to not drag in any dirt. There were two people behind the register taking orders. Judging by the smiles on their faces, today must have been a good day. Either that or they felt the easiness in the atmosphere like I did.
Hideyoshi and Kaneki walked over to the front register. I followed behind while I looked the scenery over. There were big, brown, shiny round tables by each of the two windows, brown bar stools around them. Painting of nature hung on the cream-colored walls as decoration. Brown lights hung from the ceiling, along with a wooden ceiling fan overhead that had yet to be turned on. Potted plants resting in each corner to add onto the wood effect. It was very nice; the pleasant-looking people seated at the tables with snakes and coffees only proved that further.
The two taking orders were both men dressed in white button-up shirts, red ties, and black vests. Hideyoshi smiled at the first one; he was an elderly man with hair as white as snow. Hidden beyond his many wrinkles was a kind smile. His eyes, on the other hand, were so squinted I couldn't tell what color they were. Nonetheless, Hideyoshi made work of ordering, pointing to the snacks on display every now and then.
He glanced back at Kaneki and I, to which the black-haired boy nodded toward me to say I could order first. I quickly scribbled a message in my notebook for the man. A measly caramel Americano. I didn't want anything too fancy. Kaneki ordered next, and Hideyoshi went back to pointing to the snacks.
After we paid, they picked a table against the wall opposite from the front door. It was round, brown, and shiny, like the others, though instead of bar stools, lime green chairs were pushed up against it. Hideyoshi sat by the wall, Kaneki right next to him, as I sat on the opposite side so that I could look out of the windows. Beyond them, the town was still twinkling with its hundred lights.
I placed my notebook on the table, and wrote a new note for them. 'What is this place?'
Hideyoshi tapped his chin before reaching for the notebook himself. I handed it to him along with the pen, making sure not to accidentally poke him with it as I did so. I couldn't help but notice that he was becoming less and less hesitant to write things down as a form of communication. Of course, there were still times where he almost spoke to me, but he was catching on pretty fast.
'I found it when I was out one day and I've been coming here ever since. Their coffee is amazing.'
He raised a brow in Kaneki's direction for confirmation. Jumping a bit because of the attention suddenly being on him, he nodded in agreement. The coffee really must have been good, then.
Changing the subject, Hideyoshi continued to write, 'So, Akamine-san, where are you from?'
'Please, Nana's fine. I'm from Karuizawa. I moved here for schooling,' was my immediate answer.
Karuizawa was a town at the base of Mount Asama, in the Nagano prefecture. It wasn't as busy and bustling as Tokyo by a long shot even with the amount of tourists we received. There were more trees. Ponds and waterfalls, it was the countryside compared to here. It was where my mother lived, my grandparents lived, and where my father had lived once upon a time. Though, the best thing was, it was only an hour away by bullet train.
Kaneki took the notebook for himself this time, his brows raising in surprise. 'All by yourself?'
I nodded. Hideyoshi's jaw dropped a bit in shock. It wasn't too uncommon for people to come to Tokyo to get out of their hometowns once they graduated. However, it took a lot of work and responsibility. And money. And smarts. And just about anything else out there just to get out for a few years.
With that question out of the way, the worker from before came over to the table carrying our orders. He gave us comforting smiles while he placed our drinks in front of us. Or, more like drinks and a couple snacks for Hideyoshi. Seems like he was hungry this whole time, too.
I took a sip of my Americano. It was rich, far better than the instant coffee that I was used to. Now I could understand why Hideyoshi was so big on this place. I usually got caramel added to bring down the dark taste of Americano. It was hardly ever this sweet with it, but this place had made it just right. They've made a new loyal customer.
I put down my coffee to write in the notebook. Hideyoshi had asked me a question, so it was only fair that I asked one back. We hardly knew each other, after all. If it weren't for us going to the same school, we wouldn't know a thing about each other. Though, I supposed that was why they invited me with them. We were going to have to be around each other quite a bit. It would make things easier if we at least knew who each other were.
I held up the new sign. 'What about you two?'
Hideyoshi was the one to answer, chewing a bit of his sandwich as he wrote down, 'We're childhood friends. We've grown up together since Kaneki moved and came to my elementary.'
I smiled at that. Anyone could tell that the two of them were close. Wherever Hideyoshi was, Kaneki was sure to follow not too long after, and vice versa. They had a sort of chemistry that could only be developed after years of friendship. Thus was proven in the moments of vulnerability Kaneki showed, rolling his eyes and getting pretend irritated with his friend.
'That's so sweet,' I had replied.
Hideyoshi waved off my statement. He was a lot more . . . animated than his friend. There was a certain charm and confidence that came from him. He was the happy-go-lucky type for sure. It worked well for him, seeing as how he liked to wear vibrant colors. Actually, I appreciated it, for he definitely was the sort of person you'd want to associate yourself with.
He held up a new note. 'Why don't I ever see you around campus?'
'We don't share any classes.' I held up my answer before quickly scribbling down, 'It kinda sucks because you seem like a nice guy.'
At my added comment, Hideyoshi grinned wide. He must have enjoyed my compliment. But, instead of him writing something, it was the boy beside him who took the notebook next. His face was turned up in a deadpanned expression to match the stoic way he glided the pen across the paper. And when he finally held up the book, I let out a laugh.
'Great. I'm going to have to hear about this for the rest of the night.'
In the short conversations that I've had with my neighbor, he had proven to me that he did, in fact, have a sense of humor. Sure, he had his moments of nervousness and social discomfort. Regardless, he was pleasant nonetheless. They bother were. I could immediately understand why they were friends with each other. They were so different, yet so alike. Like the sun and moon perhaps. In this case, though, Kaneki was the moon, and he was ready for his friend to go back to his own house.
When we weren't paying attention, Hideyoshi placed his coffee onto the table as softly as possible. His eyes trailed over to the painting on the wall beside us. It wasn't until I finally looked in his direction did I notice that his hands were fidgeting where they were on the table.
His thick brows were furrowing together in the middle. He was avoiding eye contact with shaky brown irises. It didn't take much to realize that he was getting uncomfortable. But, for what? Clearly, there was something going through his head all of the sudden, and he felt like he couldn't say it out loud.
Was it something that I did?
In attempt to ease his troubles, I wrote a new note for him. 'What's wrong?'
He scratched his neck as if debating something, then replied, 'Can I ask you something about a sensitive topic?'
Oh.
That.
He was curious about my hearing. It wasn't like talking about it upset me. He was trying to be considerate about it, wondering which was the best way to approach me. For that, I couldn't really hold anything against him. At least he asked if I was okay with it first. So, I nodded to let him know that I was all ears.
Ha!
'Can you hear yourself laugh, Nana?'
Oh. Was that it? It was such an easy question to answer.
I smiled while I wrote down the most detailed response I could. Even Kaneki had seemed interested in my answer. The two of them both leaned forward a bit to get a better look at what I was doing. And when I turned the paper around for them to see, they both deadpanned.
'Nope!'
Kaneki parted his lips as if to release a sigh. I guessed they had been expecting a more interesting answer. I figured that it was better to tell the absolute truth, though. It had been years since I've heard myself fully laugh. I've caught bits and pieces every now and then, but if I were asked to describe it . . . I wouldn't be able to.
Hideyoshi leaned back in his chair, holding up a new message. 'Well, how do you know if you're laughing or not?'
I tapped my chin before writing, 'I can feel the vibrations. I wasn't always deaf, so I can put two and two together.'
They both nodded in understanding. However, unlike Hideyoshi, Kaneki's cheeks were starting to dust a light shade of pink. The situation must have been making him uncomfortable. It was shown in the way he wrote an apology for his best friend's curiosity. Hideyoshi had obviously made him embarrassed about the topic.
I waved him off. 'Oh, it's okay. I'd rather you guys ask questions to try to understands than to be bothered by it all the time. It's only human, right?'
Hideyoshi nodded, excitedly. 'She's got the right attitude! You'll fit right into our little group of misfits.'
I was flattered by his words. He thought I was nice enough to be buddies with. It was all that I wanted, really. I came to Tokyo to lead a life different than the one I led in my hometown. No longer did I want to see the looks on elderly people's faces as my mother and I entered their shops. I wanted to start over, make friends, do something new, and pretend that the world didn't give a damn about my loss of hearing.
But, still, it was fun to tease people. That hadn't change no matter how far I moved. So, I wrote down another note, making sure my expression was offended while I showed it to the boy.
'What makes you think I'm a misfit? Rude much?'
Hideyoshi's brown eyes went wide. He had just assumed that I wasn't too popular. Though he was right, it was still funny to see the embarrassment on his face. He stammered on words that I couldn't hear, forgetting about the notebook in a fit of shock. He had even ditched his sandwich—which he had been concentrated on this whole time.
I felt myself let out a laugh, and Kaneki joined in soon after. Regardless, Hideyoshi kept on talking, his lips moving at a fast pace. He didn't get that I was kidding. He genuinely thought that I was offended, and that made it all the more funnier.
It was nice. This was nice. Meeting Yumiko, Kaneki, and Hideyoshi wasn't exactly what I was planning to do, but it went along the lines of it. I was glad that it had been them that I ran into. Anyone else would have felt weird at this point. Thus was the hopes of a naïve teenage girl, I supposed. I was thankful for it all, though.
There were many things that I wanted to learn now. There were many things that I wondered about in the limits of my own mind. Things such as people, how they lives, and their voices. For example, if Yumiko had a voice, I assumed that it would be strong. You could hear how brave she was just by the way she spoke. It'd be one of those feisty, excited voices. Just like she was.
If Hideyoshi had one, I assumed his would be pretty deep. Not too deep—just the right amount to hear the sincerity in his tone. It'd crack at times; he looked like the type of person to go through the occasional voice crack due to excitement. His laughs would be loud, obnoxious, and dangerously contagious. Just like his appearance.
If Kaneki had a voice, I thought it to be very . . . controlled. Not too loud, not too quiet. Not too deep, more on the higher side, but not too high. It'd be steady. It'd just be . . . somewhere in the middle. I pictured, unlike Hideyoshi, his voice wouldn't crack, having been soft at all times. Just like he seemed to be.
They each had their own little personalities and quirks. I wouldn't be ashamed to admit that I had been trapped inside of my own bubble for so long that I had hardly paid any attention to things beside myself. However, now that I had a growing experience with others, and examples of individuality, I was beginning to learn that things were more vibrant than they cracked up to be.
We wasted about an hour and a half in that cafe. Hideyoshi sure proved that he was an English major, writing down whole paragraphs of their childhood stories so that I could read them. Then, he'd sit patiently and gauge my laughter as I read them. He was an endearing person, and conversation came easy to him, apparently. Even if it was a conversation on paper.
Kaneki had been focused on the window. He sipped his coffee in silence, watching as people outside walked to and fro. The neon signs outside had reflected off of his gray eyes at one point; he didn't make any move to block them out. He was off in La La Land, Hideyoshi explained to me, and went on to tell me that throughout the entire time they've known each other, he'd been known to do that from time to time. I could do nothing but nod and leave the boy to his own thoughts.
Finally, when our coffees were gone, Hideyoshi's snacks were finished off, and our fingertips were growing cold due to the lateness in the night, we headed out. Not that it was any warmer outside.
The moon hung high in the sky, reflecting thousands of tiny stars for my wandering eyes. I gazed up at them in appreciation. While I may have been experiencing a ton of new things, it was sort of comforting to know that I'd always be looking up at the same sky. Maybe my mother was watching them, too, back at home. Maybe even that man . . . wherever he was these days.
The amount of people eon the streets had dwindled down to a small number. Most of them had retreated indoors for obvious reasons. Those who were left, like us, were most likely heading home. I pulled my long sleeved shirt closer around me as I watched a mother drag her two children home. They were bickering about something I couldn't make out, not paying attention to her pleading. Hopefully, the three of them would make it home all right.
Hideyoshi nodded his head toward the direction from which we'd came to get to the cafe. He was ready to get home. The insane amounts of caffeine in his system had brought him back into the studying mood. But, I shook my head, and the two of them looked down at me with furrowed brows. They were confused on why I wasn't planning on walking back with them.
I wrote down a note to clarify things. 'I'd better stop by the store before I head home. I need new school supplies.'
Kaneki reached out a hand as if asking for the notebook. I passed him the pen and paper, watching as he wrote down a message. The light from the Anteiku sign was enough for us to see the message that he held up moments later.
'Do you want us to come with you?'
Hideyoshi took the notebook from him with a nod, writing down, 'Yeah, it's not safe at night for women. For anyone, really.'
I shook my head. While I appreciated the kind gestures, I've used up enough of the two boys' time. They had studying to do, and it wasn't fair of me to hold them up any longer. Besides, there wasn't anything that could happen that I couldn't handle. I handled myself back in my little village town, I could handle myself here. Tokyo shouldn't have been any different.
Hideyoshi held up a new sign. 'Well, all right. If you're sure. Just watch out for monsters.'
My brows furrowed in the center. Monsters? What monster was he talking about?
Kaneki made a face as if to let me know that he was exaggerating. But, that didn't stop Hideyoshi from going on. He quickly wrote something else on the paper. His hands were working so fast that they were almost nothing but a blur.
'You know,' his writing read. 'Ghouls. They could be anywhere.'
Oh.
My eyes went wide. He was the only person besides my family that I've heard bring them up. The people who fed on people. The people of an entirely different species, but blended in with us as if they were us. The mention of them had caught me off guard.
Hideyoshi made an attempt at a scary face, motioning with his hands to signify claws. Beside him, Kaneki shook his head, nudging him with his elbow.
I sighed. They were only trying to look out for a woman. Wasn't that the polite thing for a man to do? Still, the thought of ghouls was sort of an extreme case, wasn't it? I haven't even heard of a ghoul attack in a while.
I waved them off with a smile. 'I'll be fine.'
Hideyoshi wrote something down, then shrugged. 'If you say so.'
We parted ways after that. With our goodbyes in orders and empty promises of seeing each other around campus in the following days, they went to the right, and I went to the left. I pulled my sleeves up so they wouldn't engulf my hands with a sigh. The faster I walked the faster I could get back home. It was also the faster I could get to studying, which only served to make me want to slow down.
Luckily for me, there was a store not too far from the cafe. About a block away, I assumed. Its sign was flashing on and off, one of the light bulbs dying, but it didn't make it appear any less friendly. A little sign on the window told me that they were thirty minutes away from closing. Just in time. I quickly walked inside and felt the warmth radiating from the indoors.
There were hardly people inside. There were a few younger people, college students by the looks of it, purchasing pens and pencils. There were a couple older people walking around on their phones. The cashier himself seemed a little older, eyes half-lidded as he waited for someone—anyone—to ring up.
I walked through the aisles until I found the notebook section. The notebook that I was using to communicate with people in was beginning to run out of pages. It was the only way to converse with people who didn't know sign language, and since I was making acquaintances, it would be a good idea to pick up a few more. I had even considered a dry erase board once, but the thought of walking through the streets carrying it seemed to scream: Hey, look at me! I'm different from everyone else!
I settled on a white spiraled notebook and a purple one. Two would've been enough for now. Besides, I didn't bring too much money with me tonight for more. Not that I wanted to admit it, but staying by yourself in college meant that my budget was a little tight around the edges.
The cashier was slow in ringing me up. He seemed beyond tired. Glasses slipping down his face and yawning every ten seconds, he dragged everything on longer than needed. Even his name tag was hanging on by a thread . . . literally. He gave me a sleepy nod when I pointed to it to let him know it was falling off.
The next stop was back to the apartment building. Thankfully, I remembered which ways Hideyoshi went to bring us here, so I shouldn't have had any trouble trying to get home. It was pretty simple. Hit three corners, walk across four streets, and hit another corner.
On the way home, though, I did run into someone. Or, to be exact, they ran into me. A man in a black trench coat had bumped into me when he tried to round a corner. Luckily, neither of us fell. His brown eyes had went wide and he tipped his black hat in an apology. I could do nothing but smile since I couldn't hear what he was saying.
He said something to me. His lips were moving too fast for me to read, so I couldn't really respond with anything. I simply nodded, bowed, and continued my journey back to the apartment. It wasn't an unusual occurrence, after all. Sometimes it was easier to let them think I understood than having to explain everything.
And there it was. The apartment complex stood high and mighty as if welcoming me back home. I let out a happy sigh, wanting to get back to my more comfortable clothing. I even had a little pep in my step as I walked up the stairs.
Like I told the two boys, nothing bad happened and nothing bad was going to happen. I had made it home safe and sound without a single concern. It didn't matter whether I was a girl, or whether ghouls existed.
But, those who think like that . . . usually end up being struck by misery, don't they?
Fun Fact of the Chapter: Nana is 162 centimeters tall.