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Touka Kirishima/Image Gallery. Touka at work. Touka and Yoriko Kosaka going home. Touka coming to stop Nishiki Nishio. Touka. Sep 1, I know we're all students, but can Kaneki not afford to take you out or something?" . It's not until Touka meets up with everyone else after she, Akira, and looks at his blank walls, the carpet-less floor, the spartan furniture. For this video I have 10 facts for a manga called Tokyo Ghoul: Re Which is a sequel for a manga called Tokyo Ghoul. By the way there are tons of spoiler so.
What was once a dreaded chore that unfailingly dragged down his overall grade average has become a refuge, a mindless activity he can lose himself in whenever the reality of what he's been turned into becomes too much to face. Touka-chan's Spartan training sessions, though, unfailingly remain something to be feared. They always begin with a single order: She hollers at him to stop being a wimp and fight back already, but, being an ukaku type, Touka-chan is inevitably faster than his still inexperienced self; even when he does dredge up the guts to try, he never actually manages to hit her.
By the time she deems the first phase of the training over, he's almost always black and blue and sporting a handful of broken bones. After that, she tosses him a can of iced coffee seasoned with one of the Manager's special sugar cubes, and has him drink it while lightly jogging around the underground chamber until the worst of his wounds have started to heal; then, once he's well and truly warmed up and any fractures in his skeleton have knitted themselves back together, it's time for evasion training.
In other words, Touka-chan releases her kagune and chases him around the room with them, shooting razor-sharp shards of crystallized RC cells after him while he runs like hell. Lastly, once he's more than half-dead on his feet—about three-quarters or maybe even four-fifths, he'd say—she has him drop to the floor and begin the most agonizing exercises of them all: Touka-chan, having been born a ghoul and raised accordingly, has been doing those since she was a toddler and must have looser skin than a cat, because she can contort her body into poses that Kaneki has never seen outside of expert-level yoga instruction manuals or Hide's seedier girlie mags.
Kaneki, for his part, only managed his first split a few weeks ago, and dislocated a hip in the process. He's made some progress since then, but he still maintains that it's impossible to do a full backbend when I only started training a few months ago ah Touka-chan you're going to snap my spine I give I give ah ah ah!
This torturous stretching routine is actually Kaneki's favorite part of their training sessions, though, because it typically means that said sessions will soon be at their end; but pain is pain and, sure, his whole body will feel right as rain by tomorrow morning, but it still hurts now, Kaneki mentally grumbles as he heaves himself back to his feet with a small grimace.
She's standing behind him, so Kaneki takes advantage of this rare opportunity to roll his eyes at her without any risk of being maimed for it, and absentmindedly pulls up the hem of his damp shirt to wipe away the worst of the sweat that's dripping off his chin. A loud choking sound rends through the peaceful silence of the basement, startling Kaneki out of his exhausted, endorphin-saturated daze. Whirling on his heels, he's met with the sight of Touka-chan bent in half at the waist as she struggles to cough out the mouthful of water that just, by the sound of it, shot straight down her trachea.
He hurries over to her, fluttering about uselessly for a moment as he tries to figure out if the Heimlich maneuver will be necessary; but, just as he decides that maybe a few firm pats to the back would do the trick, she straightens her spine so suddenly that she all but surges upward like a jack-in-the-box.
Upon finding him standing so close to her, she immediately reddens with fury. She actually staggers a couple of steps forward before regaining her balance, as if she had been leaning into him before he scrambled away, and he shudders to imagine what kind of horrible punishment she would've inflicted on him if he had been just a second slower to retreat.
Touka-chan, oddly enough, looks as disoriented as he feels. For a few moments, they just stand there staring at each other—him, aiming a perplexed look at the half-puzzled, half-frustrated look on her face, and her alternating between glancing at his own flummoxed expression and at his middle, just about level with the dip of his waist, for some odd reason.
Then a light of comprehension sparks in her eyes, and the flush on her cheeks darkens as forebodingly as her scowl. Kaneki is completely stumped as to what he might have done to piss her off so much this time. Is it because he saw her choke? Because he now knows that she can sometimes show instances of human-like weakness? Because he wasn't quick enough in coming to her aid?
He has no idea, but he has a feeling he's about to pay for it. And indeed a bare moment later, Touka-chan, kakugan glowing with all the bloodthirst of a snarling tiger, growls out a new order, the contents of which nearly bring him to tears: You're getting a double helping of dodging practice today!
Now, just for the record, Kaneki has become much less body-shy in recent times. There's just something about having one's toes and fingers ripped off over and over again and a twenty-centimeter-long centipede shoved in one's ear that can make a guy feel a lot less hung-up about things like modesty; besides, Kaneki thinks that most of his dignity went out the window the first time he salivated himself up a veritable puddle upon catching the smell of fresh human meat.
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Yes, he's aware that he's being more than a little morbid in his sarcasm, but there are some days when it's either sass up a storm or curl into a tiny ball and cry. Kaneki tends to opt for the former. But despite his recent decrease in interest in such trivial concerns as prudery, the fact remains that, over the course of his nineteen years of life, he's never been all that bold in his choice of clothing.
In the past, he always stuck with simple, admittedly rather dowdy semi-formal clothing that left little exposed save for his wrists, head, and part of his neck; sometimes, if it got very hot, he would ditch the knitted sweaters Hide's always ribbing him for and throw on some neatly pressed cargo shorts to replace his slacks, but that was the extent of his adventurousness when it came to fashion.
So it should come as no surprise to anyone that, at the first sight of the so-called "battle suit" Tsukiyama-san proudly presents him with, he almost screams and defenestrates the Gourmet out of sheer reflexive mortification. It's a bodysuit, made of some kind of leather-spandex hybrid that looks just clingy and shiny enough to hint at everything and hide absolutely nothing.
It's black, with some kind of odd white pattern on either side of the torso that looks almost like the outline of ribs—who does Tsukiyama-san think Kaneki is, Jack Skellington? It is a backless black pleather bodysuit. Kaneki cannot stress this enough. He slaps his apathetic mask back on as quickly as he can manage once he gets over his shock, but he's fairly sure it's a wasted effort, seeing as he spent a full five seconds just gaping at Tsukiyama-san in appalled affront beforehand.
Tsukiyama-san can't actually expect Kaneki to go out in public wearing that, can he? Forget being a ghoul, he'd be arrested for public indecency in five seconds flat! Just traipsing about on the streets while stark naked would be less embarrassing than this…this thing; if he wears his mask and manifests his kagune while wearing that, he'll end up looking like some kind of ghoulish male dominatrix straight out of a sleazy tentacle porno!
Kaneki opens his mouth to tell Tsukiyama-san just where the Gourmet can shove this disturbing piece of fetish wear, but Banjou-san, surprisingly enough, beats him to it. Get the hell out of here before I rip you to shreds! Sure, Banjou-san's been a bit overprotective of Kaneki since they escaped from Aogiri's clutches together, but this isn't like the short-tempered man's usual blustering—Banjou-san is genuinely very angry.
Surely the older ghoul is overreacting? The suit's design is…disconcerting, sure, but it's also just practical enough that Kaneki's pretty sure Tsukiyama-san isn't trying to make trouble just for the sake of it, for once. Kaneki glances around at the other members of his "gang", as Ichimi-kun has taken to calling their informal group, and is surprised to find that they all look almost as outraged as Banjou-san.
Ichimi-kun, Jiro-san and Sante-kun, with their ever-present gasmasks, are unreadable as always, but they're clustered together and watching Tsukiyama-san with a tight, tense body language that speaks of indignation and disgust. Even sweet, forgiving Hinami-chan looks disappointed in her "Flower Man", regarding him with an expression of motherly disapproval that she probably, Kaneki thinks with a stab of pain in his heart, learned at the late Ryouko-san's knee.
Kaneki doesn't like seeing such tension and strife between people he considers friends however loosely, in Tsukiyama-san's caseso he bites his lip as he begins to rethink his previous stance on the Gourmet's choice of battle gear for him.
It's…not all that bad, really. Kaneki has seen—as far as he could tell—perfectly normal human teens dressed in even more outrageous outfits during his rare visits to the 13th and 1st Wards. If Kaneki's really that uneasy at the thought of being seen in such tight clothing, he could just throw on a pair of shorts over the suit in order to cover the more, ahem, crucial areas of his lower half and maybe some kind of top as well, because your average passer-by might simply think of the hole in the battle suit's back as a provocative fashion statement, but any ghoul investigator worth their salt would be a lot more suspicious.
In a way, he's lucky that ghouls have no need for the kind of sustenance that can be found in your average convenience store, because, ever since he first learned to release his kagune, the money that used to be his weekly grocery shopping funds has almost completely been going towards purchasing new shirts, sweaters and coats, instead.
Now that Kaneki has left Anteiku, he no longer has a stable source of income; he's now depending on Tsukiyama-san for everything from his new lodgings to running water and electricity, so he's not about to ask for even more from the wealthy and eccentric ghoul by creating a constant need for new clothing.
Kaneki was raised better than that. And, from a strategic standpoint, it's not a bad choice, either. An edge of even a millisecond can make all the difference in battle—those countless training sessions with an ukaku-type ghoul as fast as Touka-chan have certainly taught him that—so the faster he can release his kagune, the better. Considering the kind of opponents he's likely to run into during his search for Rize-san and Doctor Kanou, Kaneki has a feeling he'll need all the advantages he can get.
In conclusion, no matter how mortified he'll no doubt feel the first time he dons this so-called "battle suit", he can't honestly think of any good reason, save for his own shyness, to opt for more modest garments. And, frankly, it'll take a lot more than a little embarrassment to stop him from grabbing with both hands onto anything and anyone that might help him on the way to his goal. So, setting his jaw and rolling his shoulders back even as he forcefully wills away the blood struggling to rise to his cheeks, Kaneki cuts through Banjou-san's still-ongoing tirade and Tsukiyama-san's silkily mocking replies, and declares, "It's fine, Banjou-san.
Look at that thing! You'd seriously be willing to be seen in that?! This suit is really…" She trails off and scrunches up her face in a look of acute disgust which he's never seen her wear before, but somehow looks just as adorable as the rest of her expressions yes, Kaneki's well aware that he's got a bit of a sister-complex going on.
Still, in spite of his companions' reservations and even his own, Kaneki has thought his decision through and is quite certain that, until he's proven wrong, he won't budge on this matter. So he reaches out to gently ruffle Hinami-chan's hair and smiles at the room at large with far more confidence than he actually feels. I doubt I'll ever be comfortable wearing such a thing, but if it means I won't have to constantly buy new shirts that'll just get in the way while I fight, then it's worth the embarrassment.
Stopping Kanou is more important than bowing to my own inhibitions," he explains awkwardly, closing his eyes around a weary sigh. When he opens them again, he almost does a visible double-take upon seeing the variety of looks he's on the receiving end of.
Banjou-san and his followers have actual tears in their eyes how Kaneki is able to see that through said followers' masks, he will never know as they gaze at him with mingled admiration and pity, as one might look at a man ready to die for his own convictions as he walks towards his executioner with grim dignity. We'll…we'll definitely help you find that bastard!
We won't let you down! I'll do my best too, Onii-chan! Kaneki is patting her hair before he even realizes he's moved. Then he turns to the last member of their little group, feeling somewhat puzzled by the flamboyant ghoul's uncommon silence so far—and blinks in surprise. From the very first time Kaneki had met Banjou Kazuichi, he has felt a connection to the man. Like Kaneki, the man was once thoroughly ensnared by Kamishiro Rize unlike him, Banjou-san hasn't quite managed to fully disentangle himself from her web.
Like Kaneki, the man wears a mask, an invisible suit of armor to protect his softest spots or better yet, hide them all away unlike him, Banjou-san hides behind fake strength rather than false guilelessness. Like Kaneki, the man prizes the lives of the people under his protection above all else unlike him, Banjou-san has the resolve needed to keep his loved ones happy and not just safe.
Kaneki trusts Banjou-san, likes Banjou-san a lot; Kaneki could say that he loves him, even. Not in the way he might love a paramour, a family member or even a pet, but in the way a lord might care for his most devoted knight—a comparison that had Banjou-san wiping a way a few tears of joy the first and only time Kaneki spoke it aloud, but which never fails to make Kaneki feel uncomfortable over the disparity in statuses that this implies between them.
Banjou-san isn't Kaneki's servant or underling, the man is one of his very closest friends. Kaneki survived for so long with only Hide's sunny presence motivating him to keep clinging to the edge of the abyss known as depression that he treasures every new friend he makes, wants to guard them jealously, wrap himself around them and hiss at any ill-intentioned interloper who dares come near like a dragon defending its hoard. All of Anteiku and its associates, Banjou-san and his group, Hinami-chan, and even Tsukiyama-san, he cares for them all dearly.
He'll do just about anything to keep them alive—they're all so good to him, so wonderful, they deserve to live as happily as any human and more. Kaneki knows for a fact that he wouldn't survive losing them all, not now that he's already lost Hide to his own selfishness and fears. He loves them so, all of these still new bright spots in his life that make it worth living, that allow him to look at high buildings and scarcely populated bridges without feeling a tug of exhausted longing for the first time in forever.
But that doesn't mean he isn't struck with an urge to wrap his hands around their necks and throttle them from time to time. Today, the irritant in question happens to be—you guessed it—Banjou-san. Given that it's a Sunday, no one can be called in to repair it until tomorrow, and Kaneki is pretty sure that this is what being roasted alive feels like. It didn't take him long, after he was turned into a half-ghoul all those months ago, to notice that his body had started running at a slightly higher temperature than it ever had when he was human, especially in the area around his kakuhou.
In the winter, it's quite pleasant—like having a small hot water bottle permanently attached to the skin of your back, heating you up from the inside even as icy winds flay your cheeks red and cause a bone-deep ache in your hands.
In the summer, though, it feels like a miniature sun eating away at your insides, like being stuck in a sauna of your own making with no way out. So far, Kaneki has yet to discover any way to alleviate the heat, save for frequent showers as cold as the building's lukewarm water tank can provide; and even then, he's always back to sweating like a pig not ten minutes after he's dried off.
There seems to be no end to this fiery torment, and he's pretty sure he'll be sleeping in the freezer tonight never mind the meat that'll inevitably spoil once he digs it out to carve himself a hole to burrow into—he'll cross that bridge once he gets to it.
He's craving another shower already, but he can hear Hinami-chan running herself a bath and he wouldn't be surprised if she was planning on just staying in it until the AC is repaired. If Kaneki's feeling sluggish and agitated due to the heat, it's got to be even worse for her, given that she's got two kakuhou and a much smaller body through which the heat they generate can circulate; he's not about to chase her out of the flat's only bathroom just so he can cool himself down and, despite her young appearance, she's already a teenager—far too old for him to even consider sharing a bath with her.
So he's doing his best to just tough it out. The heat would be a lot easier to bear if he didn't have this to deal with on top of it all, though. I think it's a tad…chilly in here," Banjou-san insists, sounding quite unconvinced of his own words, himself.
Kaneki stays silent, exerting herculean amounts of effort to keep his face from contorting into a vicious scowl. He can't help the way his shoulders tighten with mounting irritation, though.
Then he glances significantly at Kaneki and adds, "We really ought to bundle up a bit more, I think. Banjou-san is just concerned. Don't punch his face in, Ken. Come on, deep breaths. He's your friend, right? You'd feel awful about it later if you ripped his arms off and gagged him with them.
You might even get sunburn if you stay like this! And we don't have any sunscreen in the house, so you really should cover up before you end up all red, right? He's pretty sure that, after everything he's endured, sunburn won't be what finally does him in. He tells Banjou-san so. For three blessed minutes, the burly older ghoul is silent. Kaneki does his best to concentrate on the contents of his book, but Banjou-san, even when quiet, remains distracting—fidgeting with his hands as he huddles in a corner of the room like a scolded child, continuously throwing Kaneki anxious little glances that make the back of the half-ghoul's neck itch.
Kaneki can hear Hinami-chan happily humming and splashing about in the bathroom, enjoying her cold bath to the fullest, and Ichimi-kun, Jiro-san and Sante-kun napping on the kitchen's floor in hopes of absorbing the coolness of its tiles. Kaneki's hair is tacky with sweat, his bangs sticking to his forehead, to his cheekbones, to the bridge of his nose. His brain feels like it's cooking in his skull, and the small print on the page in front of him refuses to stay still, crawling all over the crisp white paper like a myriad centipedes.
Banjou-san has been fussing over him like a scandalized Victorian governess for over two hours now, and even Kaneki's near-legendary patience for the antics of his loved ones isn't infinite. She's too young to be exposed to such sights, you know that. Then he seriously considers slamming his head repeatedly against the nearest wall until he passes out. That way, at least, he wouldn't be bothered by the scorching heat—nor by his self-proclaimed "shield", who seems to have suddenly decided that protecting Kaneki's virtue so ferociously that one might think the younger man an unmarried maiden of high standing, is suddenly within the scope of his duties.
He knows his friend means well, but damn it, a man should be allowed to walk around topless within the boundaries of his own apartment at least, shouldn't he? Kaneki may have had Rize-san's organs transplanted into his body, but that particular fiasco only turned him into a half-ghoul—not into a woman! As soon as Kaneki had started down the path of a kakuja, he had known that he would inevitably earn himself something of a reputation for it in ghoul society.
After all, in the world of ghouls, there exists a general, unspoken understanding that one is never to refuse help to a fellow ghoul unless a preexisting grudge has the two individuals in question at odds. Loathed and demonized by the general public, hunted indiscriminately by the CCG, ghouls are forced to rely on each other for companionship, hunting and, occasionally, aid in battle—even some of the notoriously ruthless Aogiri Tree's higher-ups have been known to sometimes lend a hand to weaker ghouls they see locked in combat with CCG personnel, as long as they don't have to go too far out of their way to do so if nothing else, this makes for an excellent recruitment strategy.
It's, in large part, thanks to this "us VS. Cannibals, though, are usually excluded from the tight-knit ghoul community, for obvious reasons. Kaneki remembers that feeling with perfect clarity, that incredibly sharp sensation of betrayal he had experienced for the first time the day he had almost been killed and devoured by Rize-san.
That sense of loss, of hurt and humiliation upon being dehumanized by someone whom you thought of as like you, someone whom you had thought saw you as a fellow sentient being but who, in fact, saw in you only meat, only their latest meal. Ghouls are not anymore incapable of feeling than humans are, and wish to die at the hands of beings that resemble- or even are their own kind just as little as humans do.
So Kaneki isn't surprised when he grows to be feared; he isn't shocked when ghouls start switching sidewalks to avoid him, warded off by both the bitter stench of a kakuja that clings to his skin, and his admittedly intimidating appearance—a mask displaying a toothy, rabid snarl like that of a barely restrained beast, a body encased from head to toe in black leather, kagune the color of blood and hair the color of death.
There's a small, dark part of him that's thrilled by their obvious fear of him—the part that Jason yanked out of him like a ribbon of entrails and then lovingly nurtured into an ocean of toxic, cadaverous flowers until Kaneki grew just as wretchedly twisted as he—but he mostly just feels resentful, in an tired sort of way after all, whether he eats humans or ghouls, in the end he'll always be a cannibal.
Because they used to be lovers. Eto doubles over, laughing. Arima can only shake his head. Kaneki tries not to picture Tatara covered in paint and flailing. He fights a smile. Is our kid going to be this mischievous? He's related to Touka and Ayato. That pretty much answers that. At least it wasn't them who came up with the idea. Because clearly there's only one kid she would routinely have access to.
Who also happens to have a fairly good reason to have a grudge against Tatara. He throws his hands in the air. Kaneki says nothing as they step outside.
Eto sent him a copy of her latest novel. He still hasn't opened it. But maybe he should. He wonders if her novels might be more hopeful now, since she and Yoshimura are working on their issues, and she and Arima are together.
Speak of the devil. Yoshimura rounds the bend in the paths, smiling at him, and Kaneki—he doesn't know how to smile back, he doesn't know what to do, Touka should be here, but she's not, he's— "Kuzen," Eto says to her father, stepping in front of Kaneki.
Are you for real, Eto? Eto pushes past, marching down the path. Kaneki slowly lifts his head to see Yoshimura watching him. Blood floods Kaneki's cheeks. The sun blinds him. Yoshimura regards Kaneki with a severe expression. He stares back, wanting to hide his gaze, but feeling as if he can't.
The color of Yoshimura's eyes deepen, and Kaneki wonders if he's thinking of Ukina. Yoshimura looks down the path Eto disappeared down, and his Adam's apple bobs. Koma, Irimi, and Yoshimura all have nothing but kind things to say.
Hell, she even gets a text from Rize, of all people. Rize's working as a waitress in a similar establishment, not going to school, but considering what she's been through, Touka's happy for her. Congrats 2 u both. Kaneki holds her hand. Silverware clanks and couples and families chatter and laugh. Touka's skirt matches her blouse, but her blouse feels tight over her breasts.
NO Ghoul Can Pass E14! - Tokyo Ghoul:re Chapter 139 Live Reaction
Since everyone else knows by now, Touka figured they needed to tell Dad as soon as possible. Still, butterflies flutter in her stomach. She wonders if her child can feel it. How was the amusement park?
They're at a burger place, since Touka hasn't vomited once today and her stomach still craves a burger. Give it to me. They order, and Touka drums her fingers on the checkered table. Kaneki cracks his knuckles. Touka glances at Kaneki. He opens his mouth. I want to do it. She squeezes his thigh under the table. He clutches his water glass. He shoves the water glass out of the way and reaches across the table, grasping the hand the rests on top of it.
His eyes fill with tears. Even if I'm letting you down. Touka bites the insides of her cheeks. Salty blood fills her mouth. Kaneki clutches the ring tighter and Touka's own eyes fill up. If it's a girl, we'll name it after her. He's let her and Ayato set the terms for their relationship since he came back into their lives. Rikai stares at the maroon carpet. Yusa chews on his lip.
Hirako puts his hand on Rikai's shoulder. Shio lowers his chin towards his chest. A cloud covers the sun outside the window. Shio narrows his eyes.
Yusa glances up at his brother, biting his lip hard enough for it to bleed. Rikai just nods, Yusa agrees, and Shio sighs. Tatara burst into their office earlier, insisting on suspension. Ui's stomach clenched in fury that Tatara dared impugn Arima. Shio's jaw falls open in shock. Rikai starts to cry. Arima sighs and crouches in front of his brother. I'm not—angry with you, okay?
I'm suspending you because you hurt a colleague of mine, and because if you weren't my brother I wouldn't have even hesitated. This does not mean I think you're a bad person, okay? Shio offers him a tentative smile. Ui gives in and smiles back. Rikai cries into Hirako's shoulder. I mean, the kid's got no parents—mom's dead and dad's unknown—and already lives with me. Hirako's mouth twitches, and possibly for the first time since Ui's seen him, his friend looks vulnerable.
Give Rikai a permanent home, a permanent family.
Touka and Tsukiyama Meet.JPG
Since she was fired, but she'd live on campus, presumably. Unless they live off-campus like Mado. He picks up a pencil—the one he chews every time he wishes for a cigarette—and twists it in his hand again and again.
Ui cocks his head. Considering Uta's role, however minor, in an organization that hurt Hairu, that hurt Shio and the other kids… even if he turned on them in the end and saved some of the kids' lives. Arima bursts back into the office, jaw set. Clearly punishing Yusa is hardly something he enjoys. Arima nods and pushes past, into his office. Arima picks up the manila envelope Eto handed to him and studies it.
Arima puts the envelope down on his desk. Not just because of Furuta. Because of how Ui was himself sucked into Furuta's schemes, thought he was helping Hairu… "He writes me every month," Arima says. I've never written him back. Eto usually burns his letters, but she decided to turn this one over to me. Arima presses his lips together. He's not going to answer.
You two can leave when classes end. Hairu glares at her brother when Ui and Shio return to the dorm. Abashed, Shio hurries to help Hairu put groceries away. Shio's eyes shine with tears. He springs at his sister and wraps her in a hug. Ui shakes his head, grabbing a bag of rice to store away. Shio checks his phone and lets out a yelp. He claps his hands to his cheeks, looking far younger than his sixteen years.
A smile blooms across her face as she chortles. Ui moves for the phone. First thing in the morning. Hairu brushes her hair, her nightgown barely covering her ass. He pulls the covers back. Hairu grasps him by the back of the neck and presses her mouth against his. All he tastes is her, and her minty toothpaste. Hairu pinches the ends of his hair. I mean, I'd want to. You'd step in, I imagine, but—with all the changes to Re since the Washuus left and Marude took over as principal, and with all the overcrowding in the dorms—probably it's best to wait.
Hairu pulls him down on top of her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulls him closer. Her breath tickles his chin. Some of who get along quite swimmingly with Shio already.
And some of whom may already look at you like a father figure. Ui rolls off her and lies next to her, peering at her face. It's all they want, after all. Rio wants his big brother back. Hajime wants his parents.
Hairu studies his face, her hand cupping his cheek. A smile spreads across her face. His fingers reach for the manila envelope again, but he doesn't pick it up. If you want to make it official, you should. Sweat prickles against the back of his neck.
What will his parents say when he adopts two kids with mental health issues? Ui remembers being on the river rapids ride, floating through the bumpy water on a raft with Hairu, Takeomi, Mutsuki, Urie, Shirazu, Saiko, and Hsiao. And all Ui could think of was that one of his former students was having a kid, and how he was—happy.
Because a family is the thing so many of these kids crave, and it's the thing Ui didn't realize he wanted for himself so badly until he worked here.
And now I have one, Ui thinks. He and Hairu discuss it with Shio first, and he's nothing but enthusiastic, and Ui's heart caves for this kid, his little brother.
They'll wait until the end of the school year before they tell them. Arima bites into an apple. Sour juice stings his tongue. The manila envelope sits on his countertop, seal broken. Eto glowers from her perch on the table. He emerges from his bedroom, rubbing his eyes. Yusa turns to Eto, who chortles—a joyless, crackling sound.
She picks up a green apple and tosses it from hand to hand. Arima stares at his brother, the one he never stopped searching for, the one he always knew about, unlike the one who wrote the letters, unlike the one the manila envelope proves is actually his brother. He sets the red apple he was eating aside.
You and I share the same mother. He steps back from Arima. And then his jaw clamps shut and he turns and stalks back into his bedroom. What was that reaction? Are you angry with me? He checks his phone. A picture of a sonogram. That's right, Touka's eleven weeks today. Furuta's been writing to him for months, and at first Arima ignored the letters, and then read them, and then he wrote back when Furuta claimed they had the same father.
He picks up the red apple. Brown already appears on the pale flesh. Arima slams his phone down on the countertop and marches into Yusa's room. The door slams into the wall. Yusa's head snaps up. His laptop's open to a Skype feed with Shio on half the screen and Rikai on the other half.
A little more support from my girlfriend! Unless maybe she doesn't want to be his girlfriend anymore, considering whose blood runs in his veins, polluting his body. Arima's jaw is so tight it throbs. Yusa stares at him.
Arima closes his eyes. We're not mad at you because of who your dickbag father happens to be, Kishou Arima. We're mad because you were not forthcoming—" His chest tightens. The sweet apple juice in his mouth sours. Arima doesn't know how to answer.
Because that's precisely why. He has no answers. He gets to his feet and wraps his arms around Arima. Be more open with them, Eto had told him once. I have questions too. He and Eto grew up differently, himself confined to the trafficking ring, Eto trying to survive among drug dealers and criminals, until they wound up at Re Academy. I hate this fucking place, Eto said when his—father, the then principal, ordered him to catch whoever had just snuck off campus, and he cornered her.
She was a freshman, he a senior and an RA. I want to take this fucking school, fuck it up even more, and give it a factory reset. And her words resurrected everything he buried in that moment, and he smiled, and he let her go, told the principal he failed. She returned to teach at the school the same year he was hired as a dean, and she never mentioned that statement to him, but he knew she hadn't forgotten that vow she made. The glitter in her green eyes told him that.
She was fired for the things she did, but he never tried to stop her. He didn't ask many questions. It's another few weeks before Arima makes the drive to Cochlea, where his brother rots. Furuta can't conceal his surprise when he enters the room, guarded by two men, and see Arima waiting there. Yusa does that sometimes.
You and me, really. Hairu and Hsiao were just gifted. Who never gave a shit about us. Our father—he gave you the position of dean because you were his son, and he thought he'd trained you so that you'd never disobey him, you know that, right? I thought—I was a prodigy—I graduated so early— "He never gave me a second glance," Furuta says. The whole reason they weren't going to sell me was just because his DNA was in me, and I—" He sucks in his breath.
And when he didn't, you wanted to destroy him. And you didn't care if you destroyed yourself in the process. The guards look at them. His cheeks look gaunt. But he talked about you. He bragged about you. You—" No one gave you the option. No one gave either of us any options. He curls a fist. Shadows fall throughout the room. Arima meets his eyes. Furuta sucks in his breath. He twitches away from the guard, face screwing up like a child's. He lets the guards pull him out of the room. Eto's going to kill me, he thinks as he walks up towards his apartment.
She's waiting for him. Her fingers rove up to undo the buttons. You know I'm going back? Of course you do. She kicks the door shut. He hitches her up, her legs around his hips. She presses her mouth into his, fingers digging through his hair, and he lets her pull him down, his body and hers syncing in rhythm and his eyes, even without glasses, taking in the way her face tightens and her lips part, listening to the sounds of her breaths, feeling the way her fingernails dig into his shoulders as she clutches him like he's all she has.
You know me, and I see you. A few months later and Re Academy prepares to close its gates for the summer. Hairu and Ui's first wedding anniversary fast approaches, and when Ui checks the mail the day they're going to tell the kids, he finds an elaborate invitation for Touka Kirishima's baby shower. Most likely both of them. The students took their final finals today, and now Shio's a senior, and Ui can't believe it. But Shio seems more concerned with the announcement.
I know I aced that final, so I'll probably get like a C. When Shio bursts back into the room, Rio popping in behind him and Hajime dragging his feet, beanie pulled low over his indigo hair. And pressing her chin into his shoulder. You don't want to leave here. Shio drops onto the loveseat, a grin on his face. And also maybe forever.
What if they aren't happy? What if they say no? I'd still love them. You could stay here. You'd have to share a room, but—" "Huh? Since I never had one. Ui hears it unspoken in her voice. Sweat pricks the back of his neck. Rio drops his head to his knees. He nods his head slightly. It's in Rio's files. Rio lets out a sob. Hairu puts her hand on his shoulder, and he looks up at her, tears and snot running down his face, pleading. She kneels and wraps her arms around him, and he crumples onto her, crying.
Hajime focuses on Ui, who comes over to sit next to him. Ui offers him a smile. He grabs a throw pillow and tosses it up in the air, catching it. Ui catches sight of him blinking rapidly. He doesn't mind a bit. Juuzou leans forward, curious. He's been visiting Mutsuki to try and encourage him, since Urie says Mucchan's been scared of dissociating even since he attacked Takizawa and Akira after the Kirishimas' surprise birthday party last year.
The apartment Mutsuki shares with Urie, Shirazu, Saiko, Hsiao, Higemaru, and Aura has three bedrooms—one each for the couples, and one for the three other guys, and a small kitchen and living area, where Juuzou perches on the plump couch.
Saiko cheers, jumping to her feet. Urie's jaw hangs open. Hsiao shoves the laptop into Shirazu's face. He holds out his hand to Saiko, who chortles and high-fives him. Mutsuki grabs Saiko in a hug. Urie shakes his head. Like you did last time you had a bunch of friends over. He's studying art in university, considering going back and teaching art at Re, since the art teacher they hired to replace Uta is lacking.
I want to be like Shinohara. I want to mentor students. It's better late than never. Juuzou rubs his chin. Mutsuki rushes to the kitchen to make food for the party, as Saiko's already texting everyone. Within a few hours everyone is there, and Saiko's dividing them all into teams to play video games.
Touka rubs her swelling abdomen, and Saiko tries to talk to the baby. Something presses into him—a foot? They play video games well into the morning, and eventually Mutsuki falls asleep with his head on Urie's lap, and when Juuzou wakes up, the bright sunlight of late morning shines through the windows, and everyone's asleep on the couch or on the floor.
Saiko's drooling onto Hsiao's shoulder. Juuzou cracks his neck as he sits up. Touka's flopped on the couch, Kaneki asleep on the floor beneath her. The sticky taste of candy lingers in Juuzou's mouth. His phone has about a dozen where are you? How are you going to take care of a kid when you're still a kid in so many ways? Juuzou wonders as he texts a profuse apology to his boyfriend.
Then again, none of them really got the chance to enjoy being kids. Because of that, you know what a child needs.
Juuzou thinks of Big Madam, rotting in prison, and what she did to him: And he thinks of Shinohara, and how he saw so many possibilities for Juuzou, but wanted him to choose them himself, handled him the scalpel to carve himself. You can be like Shinohara, Kaneki, Touka, he decides. I know you can be. And you too, Mutsuki, you can be who you want to be. I'll come over and make you all pancakes, Hanbee texts, clearly just relieved Juuzou's okay. We all can be. They've spent the entire afternoon with Akira, Yoriko, and Kimi, helping prepare the living room to host a baby shower for Touka tomorrow.
He climbs onto the bed and looks down at Karren. The aquamarine covers of Shuu's childhood king-sized bed are soft under her skin. The matching curtains sway in the breeze. She'll stay here tonight rather than in the room she used to occupy, because she has no attachment to it. Exhaustion settles into her shoulders, sits heavy in her spine. Shuu's fingertips still for a moment, and then rub her temples. Some of the tension bleeds away. He peers at her, his face hovering over hers.
Shuu pulls away from her, taking her wrists in his hands. A strand of purple hair dangles over his cheekbones, the ones that landed him a part-time modeling gig last semester. And she doesn't know if she wants him to pull open the door, let it break free, because it's ugly, but if he doesn't, it might drown her. I want to know what's bothering you, Karren. You don't have to be. And your mother won't be. And of course Kaneki's parents aren't, and Touka's mom isn't, so—and we'd still have your dad, so it's not like—" Shuu pulls her against him, arms wrapping around her back.
Karren lets the tears overflow, spilling onto his designer shirt, and he just pulls her closer. She shakes her head. Daughter-in-law, which you will be eventually, by the way," Karren snorts. I just—" "You're still allowed to cry," Shuu says, his minty breath tickling her ears.
I wonder what they'd have thought of me. Would your brothers be like Ayato, threatening me if I knocked you up? A laugh escapes as she imagines Arunolt and Nathanael sitting Shuu down to threaten him. A smirk crawls over his face. She arches her eyebrows, striking a pinup pose. The next day, Touka's jaw falls open in surprise when they greet her. Everyone lavishes gifts on her, and Karren makes sure Touka feels loved.
All of the people from Dorm Blocks 11 and 20 when they were students attend, even Asa, Hakatori and Ikuma, Itou and his new girlfriend Misato. Miza and Naki come too. You won't feel lonely, and neither will your child, Karren thinks. We'll make sure he knows how loved he is. He doesn't know what to say, so he just nods and scuttles past him. Hairu waves, Rio and Hajime arguing behind her.
He makes it to his apartment and flops down on his bed. Touka's almost nine months now, her stomach almost out to her knees and Kaneki an anxious wreck. He remembers Hikari when she was pregnant with Touka, even younger than his niece is now.
Everything's all set, Arata's texted. Even with Ui taking the step of telling Yomo he wouldn't blame him, he's not sure he can do it. He gets to his feet and looks at his blank walls, the carpet-less floor, the spartan furniture. It's all very empty. But Hikari's family—they make it full. I'm your sister, Hikari said once. I'll always be here for you. His phone vibrates again, and it lights up with a message from Touka. I hope you're going tomorrow. You've been alone long enough. She's so like you, Hikari.
He gets up before dawn the next day, when a cool dark blue quilt still covers the sky. It rains lightly on his way over to the Cochlea Detention Center. When Uta sees him, his brows swoop together in surprise. That, Uta already knows. He squints through the window, studying the rain splattering the glass.
Yomo switches off his music—the songs Uta would always call boring when they were growing up together. They arrive at the apartment that Arata put together yesterday, and Yomo hands Uta the key. It's a tiny studio, and the bedding and kitchen supplies are all second-hand, but they made sure to stock the fridge with eggs and simple food, and Yomo put some clay, paints, and some of Uta's old art in the living room.
Itori hung a photo of the three of them, plus Roma and Nico, on the wall. His laugh still sounds the same. Uta raises his eyebrows.
How am I so bad at this? He scuffs his boot on the old, red-painted floor. Uta sucks in his breath. Yomo bites his lip. Heat fills his cheeks.
A small smile curves Uta's lips. Yomo takes a step forward.