Chapter Text
“When truth is replaced by silence,the silence is a lie.”
― Yevgeny Yevtushenko
On the mats you watch him, track his approach, pathetically slow for someone like yourself. You remind yourself to hold back, pull your punches just enough, leave bruises not broken bones.
He’s gone so abruptly you scarcely have a chance to catch the heel that digs for your throat. In surprise you hesitate and Hide levers himself by pushing off your hand, bringing his left foot up for a snapping kick that just about dislocates your jaw and sends you flying back. He drops but somersaults into a stand, racing to flank you.
You’re reeling but have enough sense to advance, intercepting with a slide to take out his legs. He skirts your tackle with a neat back flip, retreating and easily dodging your onslaught of fast, successive punches. He catches your last throw, linking thumbs and locking you in place. The air whistles as he ducks under and turns, whipping his elbow into your ribs.
You choke.
If that had been Shirazu or Mutsuki or Sasaki, the move would have split the bone to pieces. Instead you shudder under the intensity, step back and pull on your trapped hand to clutch Hide’s fingers in a vice, bringing your airborne right foot to the back of the smaller man’s knee, forcing him to kneel. He does more, clamping onto the arm holding him and bringing it down over his shoulder and you lose your grip with the ensuing pain. Released, he rolls back onto his palms and delivers yet another blow to your face, a dual kick that sends your head so far back you swear the crack echoing is it tearing off.
Of course it doesn’t because Hide is only human.
The rest of the fight is cat and mouse, because you’re enraged and Hide is smart enough to keep away from your bulldozing, snarling form. If he notices that none of the moves he uses break skin or incapacitate you, he doesn’t seem to care, darting at you then away, and you lunge after each time, screeching reminders internally that you have to be gentle even if you do manage to make contact.
He kites you around in circles that leave you boiling with heat and exhaustion, but the effort of wearing you out quickly wears on the other as well. The sweat rolls beneath his dampened clothes, along his shuddering limbs as he pants. His whole body heaves with the gasps, and your lips twitch. Hide’s intense speed is a sacrifice of stamina, and he obviously is on the verge of collapse. You pounce on him in a flash. He guards but you’ve picked out his weakness. He favours his right heavily, even now grimacing as he fends off an attack to that side.
You are smug as you pull a knee in to the opening on his left, giving a little extra oomph to the hit out of spite. Hide crumples, unable to withstand the force, and you hoist him under the arms and give veneration to judo with a sacrificial throw. He slams to the ground and you jackknife to your feet, ready to finish the job. As he shakily gets to all fours you rush forward and glide a foot beneath his head, effectively kicking him in the throat. It’s too light to crush his windpipe but it’ll leave a decent mark, especially with how your next kick has your toe nails catch on his chin, slicing a thin gouge. He smacks onto his back and stays flat, gulping the air while cradling his throat.
“T-time,” Hide rasps, and you wearily sink to the ground with all the dignity you can muster, nursing your own hurts. He got a lot more on you and even though you heal rapidly, everything is still smarting, especially the move at the beginning that practically crushed your face.
Five minutes later and Hide shifts onto his side with a laugh. “Oh gosh, everything hurts so damn bad!” His voice has a husky quality still. You probably did more damage than you realized, although you are proud with how irate you were you managed to keep from hospitalizing him. Most likely because he surrendered out of exhaustion, not injury. He examines you thoughtfully. “You’re incredibly strong, huh? I can’t even think of what it’d be like to fight you at full capacity...” He’s quiet for a moment, as though he’s contemplating something.
You pull your shirt overhead, too hot, and nod your agreement.
“You’re welcome,” You grind out, forcing yourself upright. Every part of you throbs, and any part that maybe doesn’t is numb and hurts with contact. You remember what it felt like to be chewed by Big Madam, the rows of white huge teeth gorging upon you, pain receptors bursting into silence under such agony. This is nothing compared to that, but you still feel like whisked batter, jello legs struggling to get you to the door.
“Oh yeah, thanks! You were awesome! We should do this again some time?”
You don’t look back as you ignore him and thankfully he is too worn to chase after you.
You’re still sporting a ghastly black eye the next time you see Hide.
It’s huge and mottled and had Mutsuki gaping in horror when he first saw you because a week ago it had been considerably more swollen and stubborn in healing to the point you’d asked for one of the other boy’s eye patches. Now you’re just cringing every time old ladies begin speculating if you’re being abused at home.
You’ve never had an injury take this long to heal.
The supermarket is flooded with customers sluggishly perusing the store, carelessly bumping and nudging you out of the way as they shop. The lack of concern for personal space is horrifying and your shoulders are raised constantly as you tuck yourself into the smallest target possible, unconsciously growling under breath as a mother with a stroller sympathetically pats you on the back. All of these disregardful, worthless creatures chirping and arguing and making a general nuisance of themselves trample over you, pulling you with them in relentless motion.
You blink in shock as you see them part before a creature you find even more intolerable, depositing you neatly in the vacated space.
Hide is bent over the lip of a box, making a series of disgruntled noises and mutters that makes people consciously avoid him as they also dig through the bargain bin. Since you have wandered so close, unawares of course, the tide of shoppers has split around you too, as though you have been encompassed by Hide’s bubble of the thought-to-be mentally unstable. You click your tongue, turning to re-enter the stream with a slight panic and great irritation. The last person you want to see is Hide. The last person you want to see you is Hide. The last day you want to see him is today.
And because the entire universe just likes you to bend over and take it when you plead for a small break, you hear an exclamation of your name.
“Urie, wait!”
Before you can dive back into the masses and pretend you can’t hear him, didn’t notice him, maybe weren’t even yourself because how can he know he hasn’t seen your face yet, he has sped to stand in front of you. He blocks you with arms widespread, black hair tousled from his rush, tips brushing over his nose in a tangle. When you don’t move he grins and smacks you on the chest in what you suppose is affection.
“Fancy meeting you here eh? This is actually perfect timing. I’m in a bit of a pinch and you’re just what I need.” Hide loops an arm around you and drags you towards the box he was struggling in moments ago. “C’mere.” Maybe you’ve contracted a cold. You feel slightly feverish beside him, heat building in your temples with a sudden bludgeoning headache. And your legs just move on their own, offering zero resistance as he leads you.
“This is kind of embarrassing, so don’t laugh okay? It’s not something that happens super often, after all.” He’s speaking again and you just grip your basket tighter, hold it before you like some impenetrable wall that has already demonstrated its uselessness against Hide. He’s rubbing the back of his neck with an abashed face, redness lighting up his nearly invisible freckles. “But I, uh, can’t really reach the stuff at the bottom there, and you’re taller than me and... Well when I grabbed a bag I dropped my glasses and I can’t dig far enough to find them.”
He’s not looking at you so it’s the perfect opportunity to make your escape while laughing maniacally at his misfortune. Maybe the universe is offering you a once in a lifetime freebie, that Hide is begging for your help and you can refuse, scorn him and mock him for idiocy, finally get back at someone who has humiliated you.
Your eye throbs as you stand a little straighter.
Then something remarkable happens. Just as you are about to flippantly brush him off, tell him he’s SOL and cackle like some triumphant Bond villain, Hide looks up at you.
His lips are pulled upward in the most charming while still mortified smile and you catch sight of the long, vertical scratch that splits his lower lip, the one you put there, bright and fierce and red. Red like his eyes.
Red like his eyes.
His eyes are red.
But they’re brown.
They were brown.
His eyes, that are (were) brown, are red.
These aren’t contacts. They aren’t fake or glossy, or unnaturally stiff even though they’re unnaturally bright. His eyes are red, the kind that accompanies the black sclera of a kakugan, except he still has the whites of a human oculus.
You stare and Hide backs up, ducks his head again, avoids eye contact.
“Hey man, I know I’m gorgeous but c’mon the longer we take the longer the lines are gonna get,” Hide sounds strained, gaze flicking everywhere, every so often back to you to see if you’re still staring and of course you are so he groans near imperceptibly. “I’ll give you a picture if you want, you just gotta’ help me out.”
Hide, a man who has no last name and has impossible eyes.
Hide, who during your spar, moved with the speed and fluidity of something beyond what he should be capable of.
You’d avoided the gym for a week, instead utilizing the training floor of the Chateau, working in the odd hours that guaranteed Sasaki wouldn’t be around to observe you and Shirazu wouldn’t disturb you.
When the bruises refused to fade, Mutsuki’s concerned simpering drove you to the labs. Which is where you learned another interesting tidbit about your own physiology and Hide’s capability.
“Pressure points?” You’d mumbled, taken aback that such a thing could even affect you. The doctor nodded sagely, frowning a little.
“Of course. It’s not a well known technique, mostly because it’s ineffective with how far ghouls have advanced, but RC cells are a binary blood cell. It’s how they’re so effective when it comes to regeneration, because they’re able to exploit both the cardiovascular and lymphatic system by resting along the lymph nodes in sacs. It makes sense considering white blood cells are a defense mechanism employed by the body to combat disease thus they have centres of reproduction and drainage close to the vital organs. RC cells use this route to set up mini factories of their own, that way in case of an injury they’re prepared to instantly regenerate and protect the same systems. The regulation of these cells in this manner prevents ROS disease in ghouls because they have fixed amounts in the bloodstream during what we would consider ‘regular operating hours’.”
The doctor had stalked closer, gesturing with his pen. “But, because of this, if a person were to say, jab at the cluster of nerves along the neck,” here he’d run his pen along the length of your neck, “Known as a pressure point, it would immobilize the area and cause immense pain. Which judging by the inflammation you probably felt. And this would cause damage to the cervical nodes in this area, which stops production of RC cells, which stops regeneration.”
You’d snarled. “Why wasn’t I told this before? That’s pretty important, having extremely vulnerable areas that can inhibit my abilities. What if a ghoul sprung it during the auction raid? I’d be useless!”
The doctor had grimaced, glaring at you. “With all due respect Urie-san, we have plenty of fully human, non-Quinx personnel in the field and they’re quite capable of engaging and disposing of ghouls without a boosted RC factor. Such as Kuroiwa Takeomi.”
That had stung. You’d bit back an withering retort, curling your fists tightly enough to leave bloody crescents through your black gloves. The doctor wasn’t quite finished, continuing his explanation with a sigh.
“The reason no one told you is because no one thought to tell you. I haven’t seen this technique in practice, I’m just going by experience. It’s called kotei shimasu. It’s a super old method to immobilize and weaken a ghoul, used by the older families of Tokyo during the Meiji Era and taught usually only as a tradition these days, so I sincerely doubt a ghoul would ever use it against you. Due to modern ghouls having an abominably high RC count it’s rarely possible for a regular person to exert enough force to actually hit the triggers, which is why it’s not taught in the academy anymore.
“As I’ve said, only established families, maybe such as the Washuus, would ever know of it. That aside, the reason it worked on you is because you’re not a ghoul, you’re a Quinx. It doesn’t take nearly as much force to injure you, and it’s relatively easy to break skin. Because RC cells also help the body recuperate faster from the effects of epinephrine, loss of them probably left you feeling pretty sluggish during your fight as well. Whoever it was, they didn’t take full advantage. They stayed along the cervix, which means they took out your brain as a prime but left your koukaku alone, and basically the rest of your body. The healing is slow going because it’s a lot more work to fix a spot that’s actually responsible for repairing the body, so your face isn’t a priority.”
“Is there any way to speed it up?”
He shrugged. “Depending on how precise they were, not really, but try to ice it tonight and avoid tight collars, it might reduce the inflammation a bit.”
Huh.
You remember this conversation vividly now, watching Hide retreat from you, deliberately looking at the floor. You wonder why he drew attention to himself, called you over, if he didn’t want you to see him like this.
Could it be he is somehow excited to see you?
That doesn’t...
He needed to see you?
Well...
It’s the only excuse that would make sense. He caught sight of you. He didn’t want to lose you in the crowd, so against his better judgment, he brought you here. Because he wanted to talk to you.
You set your basket down slowly and reach into the bin barely filled with bulk packages of chocolate chips. You dig a few moments and your hand closes around something firm and plastic and you pull his glasses from the pile.
They’re sunglasses, sleek and sporty.
He doesn’t hesitate to clamp them over his eyes after taking them from you. The orange tint obscures the bloody carmine irises. His deformities disappear and he seems relieved, swiping both baskets from the floor and returning yours with a grateful smile.
“That’s the second favour you’ve done me now. I’m working up quite a tab, huh?”
As you expected Hide does not immediately brush you off, instead nudging shoulders and encouraging you to follow him to check out. You do so, peeking at the contents of his shopping. He’s grabbed large quantities of chocolate, sparkling drinks and a suspiciously coloured box of green pasta. It’s almost as ridiculous as the list Mutsuki gave you.
“So what are you up to, shopping for your girlfriend?” Hide queries and then apologizes to a passerby that nearly tips him over in their rush. When it happens again you irritably switch sides so that Hide is now crowded against the wall and the crowd pushes past you instead.
You grind out, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Oh so just a lady friend?” Hide points to the list lying atop the egg carton, where Mutsuki’s scrawl dances in the curliest kanji loops you’ve ever seen. You realize what he’s talking about with a start and shift the basket away.
“No, I just got volunteered to be their errand boy,” You dismiss, feeling a sudden urgency to protect Mutsuki from Hide’s questions. So you give him a little more to divert him. “My squad wants to have a real family Christmas.”
“Wow, you’re always roped into helping people out, huh?” He chuckles, covering his mouth. “You’re kind of a nice guy, Urie. Your squad is really lucky.”
That is immensely amusing to you, and your lips twitch. You are tempted to tell Hide about how you are actually the least liked member of your team, to the point you were stripped of your position as leader due to your inability to cooperate. That Mutsuki guilt tripped you into going to the store, and you eventually gave in because it meant you’d be separated from them for a good few hours.
You don’t because playing the reluctant nice guy is a better angle for interrogation than the asshole.
It’s also kind of pleasant to have someone think something positive of you for once.
You’re not very good at conversation because of how rarely you actively engage with other people but you know this is an opening to ask something of Hide. You try to ask the way Mutsuki would, with his feeble whiny mannerisms, and probe, “So, uh... What are you... Up to?”
“Me? I’m just bargain hunting. They always have good sales at this time. Plus,” He looks around with scrupulous suspicion. You lean closer as he whispers behind a hand conspiratorially, “My brother is celebrating Christmas with me this year, and he has this thing for dark chocolate, so I’m gonna surprise him with fondue.” He beams proudly and you turn away to hide your expression.
“Wow, that sounds... Cool.” You cringe around the word.
“Yeah well he’s kind of a jerk for springing this on me the last minute so he gets discount chocolate, but I know he’ll like it anyways. He’s kind of a sourpuss, like you, but worse because he has a right to be self important because of his job.”
You blink. Did Hide just... Insult you?
“Gosh aren’t families just the worst though? Like your squad, the Quinx was it’s name, right?”
“Yes,” You respond automatically, bemused by Hide’s near rude familiarity, then you freeze.
You slow and then standstill.
Hide continues for a few paces. Each step is in measure with your heart, a harmonious thumping of organ against bone to foot against concrete. He turns back to you, shoving his fingers deep into the pockets of his coat.
“I would say being part of a family is like being subjected to bad communism.” He snorts as though he’s hilarious, scratching his cheek.
He knows where you’re from.
Which means he knows what you are.
So it’s not unreasonable to assume that he’s known all along.
Which affirms what you’ve come to believe after your visit with the doctor.
You barrel into Hide, forcing him against the wall, shoving your basket into his stomach, a hand grinding into the brick above his head. You catch reflection of your eyes in the glasses, wild and roving, and see that you still haven’t managed to wipe the smile from his face, or instill any kind of fear. If anything he looks mildly confused.
“Urie, what--”
You make your voice cold. Flat, icy and clipped words spew out. “You did this on purpose. You targeted me.”
“I don’t--”
“Don’t lie.”
Finally an expression you can comprehend.
Guilt transforms his smile into a frown but he doesn’t look away.
He’s quiet for a while. He stares at you with a gaze that is almost...
Piercing.
Like he’s somehow dissecting you despite being rammed against a wall, towered over, threatened. You feel almost as though he is the one standing over you, as if you’ve missed something because he has a pitiful expression, and it’s not quite self-pitying, more as if he pities you.
And then the smile returns. Small yet bright.
“...You know, I was pretty scared when we fought and you weren’t responding. When I tried to wind you, I almost fractured my own elbow. Amazing! But still pretty scary. I almost thought I was fighting a real ghoul. Or that you were the crazy kid that strangled one of them. So I was a bit relieved when I tapped your neck and then you actually slowed down. So I knew you couldn’t be a real ghoul even though you weren’t human... Fully at least. Still, I didn’t know what a Quinx was until afterwards.”
You do your best not to react to Hide’s story, keeping your body rigid, trying to sort out whether he’s telling the truth because it doesn’t make a lot of sense. Even if your name isn’t far-reaching (yet), the Quinx is a massive project, and everyone has been good and briefed for a few years now. Especially since the CCG really doesn’t want its men accidentally massacring valuable experiments by confusing a Quinx with the real thing.
“All active Investigators have been informed about my squad,” You counter, satisfied that you’ve caught him in a sure lie. You want to make this quick, figure out why this prick has such an interest in you and then indulge in a little retribution. At least you can confirm his bizarre eyes don’t make for fast regeneration, whatever else their purpose serves, so you’ll be sure to enjoy yourself.
“It may come as surprise considering my top form, but I’ve been on a leave of absence for almost... three years? Yeah, I think it was that long,” Here the brunet rubs his chin, nodding to himself. “And don’t go thinking it was forced or anything! Uh... Well it kind of was, but not like disciplinary. I got real torn up during an operation. Anyway, for the short and sweet of it, I’m actually not even field authorized yet. So I’ve been playing catch up for a long time with the Commission, and to be honest, they left out a lot of stuff while bringing me up to speed. Honestly, I only found out because you kinda’ freaked me out, being not a hundred percent, you know, human?”
Your molars crumble as your teeth grind to keep your face straight. The flaking bone sticks to your tongue and you swallow thickly. “You’ve said that twice now.”
“Sorry! I-uh, what?”
“The not human thing. I’m still human. I’m nowhere near the threshold for a ghoul.”
“O-oh.”
“So you asked me to train with you purely out of chance?”
“Genuine coincidence, as hard as it is to believe.”
“What squad are you assigned to, then, when you return?”
“Fura’s Squad.”
You’re a bit taken aback by the familiar name, and you study him carefully for a few moments. You straighten to your full height, allowing the other some space as you consider him. “What rank are you?”
Hide doesn’t relax (as he was never tensed to begin with) but he does try to mimic you, squaring his shoulders and standing tall.
“Rank 2, I’m pretty sure.”
“...Pretty sure?”
“I, uh, have one last assessment before being cleared. For active duty.”
Aggravatingly, his story seems to match up so far. He would only receive full disclosure once he was actually taking part in operations, which does explain his lack of knowledge on the Quinx. You’d be suspicious of his high rank after being on so long a leave except you’ve seen him in action. Kotei shimasu or no, Hide is clearly far more deserving than a rookie squad, as much as it pains you to admit. Fura’s Squad is reasonable, as well as his rank.
However, you feel Hide is only pretending to be honest, but at the same time you’re not ready to ask the bigger questions. You don’t care about him or his chameleon eyes or his baggage all that much as long as he doesn’t have some sort of vendetta against you. You have something more important to deal with.
You open your mouth.
Hide beats you to the punch.
“I can fix that if you want. Your eye and stuff. I mean, that’s what you really wanna’ know, right?”
You nod.
“Okay then we should head somewhere private.”