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The Auction Raid was officially over, the arrival of the S3 Squad having completely swayed the odds in the CCG’s favour. While kagune were harvested and the death toll was taken, Akira volunteered to be one of the investigators scanning Zeum Hall and its perimeter one last time. After her encounter with Takizawa (could he even be called by that name anymore?), she needed to get away from everyone.
That was why she was walking through the dense greenery on one side of the building, a place that was an easy escape route for ghouls. Though it was regulation for investigators not to work alone, there had been too many casualties that night to hold to that rule, for which Akira was shamefully glad.
Endless thoughts ran through her mind. Of Haise, Fueguchi, Takizawa... of one more man who was considered dead, whose body was never found...
Get a grip, Akira scolded herself, trying to concentrate on the task at hand. One distraction was more than enough to take her life, and she had far too many.
She was really in no state to be working, not when she could still hear the echo of Haise's screams and remember Takizawa's crazed expression, but as long as she was on duty, she could focus her mind on something else and dull the pain that even now threatened to tear her apart.
Taking deep breaths, Akira focused on her surroundings, carefully noting every shadow and movement in her vision as she walked. The night breeze made leaves flutter all around her, and carried along with it a metallic smell that she recognised immediately.
Akira stiffened.
No battle had been recorded in this part. The operation had been held entirely within the building.
Taking slow steps forward, she softened the thud of her heels against the ground. Her hand inched to her communicator to request backup, but just as she was about to do so, Akira decided against it. As long as she had the element of surprise on her side, she could manage. However, the moment she spoke, it would be gone.
In another minute, she came upon the cause for the scent of blood. Half a dozen corpses were strewn in her path, all wearing the red robes of Aogiri.
But that made no sense. When no investigators had come here... who had killed these ghouls?
Careful not to slip in the puddles of blood, she bent down near one of the dead ghouls to examine it. Their body was riddled with deep cuts and gouges that seemed to be inflicted by a kagune. Probably a bikaku, judging by the size of the entry wounds.
Taking a closer look at the others, Akira realised there were signs of cannibalism on a few of them. Great, she was dealing with a kakuja.
Ahead of her, she heard faint footsteps and a murmuring voice. Just one, which was a blessing, but if she wanted to apprehend this ghoul, she couldn't wait any longer. It was a recklessly suicidal move, engaging a possible kakuja alone, but Akira's intuition guided her actions as it always had.
Taking out Fueguchi One and moving ahead, into a clearing with more dead bodies, Akira noticed there was one white-robed figure standing amidst them, turned away from her. Most likely male with that bulk. Without wasting another second, she lashed out at him with her quinque.
He turned quickly and twisted a rod (why not a kagune? she wondered) to block the attack. The quinque, instead of impaling him in the chest, drove through his shoulder, tearing skin and spraying blood. He stumbled back.
Taking advantage, Akira continued her offense relentlessly, but the ghoul didn't retaliate, only dodging and deflecting. What was he doing? Waiting for allies?
With her next strike, Akira managed to wrap her whip around the rod and break it. She readied herself for the ghoul to finally bring out his kagune... but nothing happened.
This was the perfect chance to end this fight. She shouldn't be standing still and just waiting.
But now that she and the ghoul were facing each other, unmoving… Akira noticed exactly how tall he was, a height that was rare among the population of Tokyo (or anywhere else, really). It was difficult to say with the hood casting shadows on his face, but she could make out strands of black hair. And she knew only one person who had that stance in battle.
A suspicion gripped her heart and spread like poison, and it was just as dangerous too. She wouldn’t even have entertained it if it wasn’t for Takizawa, and the painful hope he had created in her.
There was no way, but still—
Fueguchi One flew through the air again, but this time it was aimed with precision at the ghoul's hood—she had trained with it until it had become an extension of herself, and aiming at a still target was too easy. The spines of her whip caught on the cloth and pulled it back, revealing her opponent’s face.
In the faint moonlight, steady teal eyes gazed at her.
Koutarou Amon.
Akira froze, rooted to the spot. It was like the breath had been stolen from her lungs, the ground fading from beneath her feet and sending her tumbling into an abyss. Happiness, sorrow, anger, relief… she felt those and so much more in that one moment that she could hardly distinguish between them.
How many nights had she dreamt of seeing him again? How many dawns had she woken up with tears in her eyes, wondering what she could have done differently? And now...
A few seconds passed by in that unbearable quiet, though she would have sworn it was an eternity.
"Akira."
It was a voice she had thought she would never hear again, soft and low and unsure and alive.
He slowly took a step forward, and then a few more.
She tensed, grip tightening on the handle of her quinque. By now she should have already attacked, finished this, but it was him— No, he was no longer the person she had known and loved; he was just like Takizawa, bereft of his humanity, a familiar body hosting a monster—
He covered the distance between them, and in another moment, Akira felt something warm and rough against her lips. Her debate with herself stopped abruptly as the pounding of her heart drowned it all out.
This close, her eyes instinctively fluttered shut, but not before she caught a glimpse of his eyes, of a longing so intense that it made her shiver. Hands rested on her shoulders, as if grounding her, imploring her to relax and think of nothing else. She trembled with the conflict of desire and duty, the former slowly winning out, until finally she gave in and her hands opened from their tight fists.
Her quinque fell to the ground, clattering in the silence.
The moment broke.
Amon pulled away, his expression startled, like he had been stuck in a dream and was only just waking up. Right after, dawning realisation and then worry entered his eyes. Before she could speak a word, he darted away, white robe swishing behind him.
Akira reached out helplessly, wanting to—wanting to what? Call his name, shout, pull him back—she didn't know. It felt like she had woken up from a dream herself, the way her usually clear mind was fogged.
She watched until he merged with the shadows and vanished from her sight, then lifted a hand to tentatively touch her burning lips. What had just happened? Did he really… did she really…
Bending down to pick up her quinque, heart still racing and filled with emotions she couldn't comprehend, Akira suddenly wished she hadn't so foolishly dropped it. She batted that thought aside; things like that were too dangerous to even think.
Her duty was to eradicate ghouls. He was a ghoul now. She hated ghouls.
It was a simple equation. There should have been nothing else to it.
But she loved him.
And as she walked away, amidst all the questions and fears that flooded her mind, Akira found herself praying for Amon's safety, hoping for the day they would meet again.