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Who would have thought ghouls had their own wedding traditions? Well, obviously ghouls would’ve thought that, but Kaneki had no idea until fairly recently. He hadn’t even known ghouls got married.
The marrying persons (ghouls in the past had always done group weddings. Though they were often solitary in predation, there was safety in numbers on happy occasions) did not need a minister or family. The venue didn’t have to be anywhere in particular. No words really needed to be spoken.
It was as simple as a blood promise, white clothing dyed red with aniline, and a witness. Very no frills, quick enough to not get caught, but with symbolism that would speak to a predatory society.
Kaneki had been fascinated the second Touka mentioned that her parents had been ‘married’ (complete with air quotes!).
She told him that the blood promise was different than the kind you’d make with a brother or friend. Those sorts of promises were done with a knife, representing that a tool had been used to enter a contract (Kaneki understood that meant that the same tool could be used to end it). Blood was intermingled for those kinds of bonds, then allowed to heal nicely.
Marriage promises were different.
There was a bite, some blood-drinking, and then pressing of mica powder into the wound to keep it from healing too neatly. It was a scar that, for ghouls at least, could be cut out but posed significant threat to the bearer depending on placement. Promises lasting a lifetime were always located deep in the juncture of the neck.
Irremovable for the average ghoul.
Touka told him that some sweethearts would leave their marks on the shoulder, upper arm, or, if they so fancied, the thighs. These could be concealed or cut out if separation was inevitable.
Ghouls were always practical (and more than a little violent).
She told him that the red dye for the clothing was to conceal overzealous bloodstains. She also told him stories about how it originally wasn’t red dye (which was honestly a little gross).
Finally, he asked about the witness, unable to conceal the depth of his curiousity. She had laughed and ruffled his hair fondly,
“The witness is a friend to you both. They’ll hold you to your agreement to share territory, to defend one another, etc. If you don’t, they can kill you both without interference.”
It was bizarre that he could see the beauty in that. Kaneki blamed his literature classes.
Ever since those talks, Kaneki had wondered about the possibility of a ghoul wedding. He had wondered who he could possibly get married to, or who would have a ceremony with him, or who the witness would be.
He dreamed of red dresses, the taste of blood, and sweet promises.
When he met Amon again, 5 years after their first fight, Kaneki had already reunited with Hide. It had been a long and arduous process for Kaneki, even after Hide had admitted he knew everything, to allow his best friend back into his newly dangerous life. It was only after Hide convinced him he got into more trouble without Kaneki than with him that he relented.
Where was he?
Right.
As he was already beginning to settle into…something…with Hide, Kaneki was haunted by guilt after his talk with the investigator. Amon had surprised him in the shop and had been incredibly sweet, earnestly inviting Kaneki somewhere open and easy to escape to talk.
He’d also been incredibly pretty, if Kaneki was being honest.
A 6 ft whatever man should not be quite so endearing. Especially not when built like a rugged mountainside.
He’d told Hide about the meeting as he’d prepared that night, chewing his lip in worry, and had been surprised when laughter met his ears.
“I can learn how to share.”
Hide told him cheerily, seeing straight through his nervous jitters, and kissed him on the lips for the first time ever.
“Huh, you got some blood in my mouth. Stop chewing your lips, ‘Neki!”
As Hide’s airy chuckles filled the room, Kaneki remembered Touka’s stories about weddings and many partners.
Amon…no, Koutarou-kun, brought coffee to their talk. They’d stayed together outside for over 9 hours learning whatever they could about one another.
Koutarou-kun gave Kaneki his jacket before he left. Hide said it was so he’d have a reason to see Kaneki again.
When he’d come into work with the jacket, Nishiki had snorted and looked over at the corner Kimi was quietly reading in.
She was wearing Nishiki’s favourite sweater.
Touka called Kaneki’s cellphone late one night, startling him out of the tangle of limbs he and Hide had become.
“Yoriko knows.”
She whisper-screamed, panic bleeding from every bit of her voice.
“Oh God, Yoriko knows.”
She came over that night and cried.
The next time Yoriko brought Touka food, it was with an apology on her face and nothing but coffee in her bag.
Kimi, Hide, and Yoriko started a little club. Touka, Nishiki, and Kaneki tried not to ask about it.
When Koutarou was seen with them later on, nobody asked about that either.
It had been years and everyone was settled. Oddly enough, they were happy.
Koutarou and Hide got along surprisingly well, though they argued like kids. Koutarou kept Hide honest, Hide kept Koutarou relaxed, and Kaneki couldn’t stop looking at them and wondering when he had really started living.
Without even really consciously preparing for it, Kaneki whispered,
“Marry me.”
The simultaneous “Yes” he received was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
“Ghouls have group weddings, right?”
Kaneki asked the next day, sweeping the floor next to Touka while Nishiki sorted the money in the till. Both of them stopped moving and Kaneki tried to stifle a laugh.
“I think Yomo would be the perfect witness. He could kill us all.”
He continued, delighting in the creeping redness in their faces.
“I agree.”
Yomo announced from behind him (all three of them nearly had heart attacks).
The wedding was in June. Amon, Kimi, and Yoriko all cried like babies. Hide had looked unusually serious the whole time.
Barely any of them had family to speak of.
Most of them probably wouldn’t enjoy the taste of blood in their mouth.
But for all of them, red was a lucky colour, and scars were something they’d wear with pride (even if the humans needed a little help tearing ghoul flesh).
Love was love, after all.