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The room was silent when he stepped in, its only occupant lying on a metal-framed bed, his hair pale as the sheets that enclosed him.
As white as this entire room.
Arima frowned slightly at the stench of antiseptic that filled the air, and pressed his lips in a thin line as he sat down on the chair beside the bed – the only other furniture existing in this room and of course it had to be white as well – giving the sleeping individual a once-over.
If he didn’t know better, the stillness of the boy – for he never looked younger than at this moment – could fool even Arima into believing that he was dead.
But Arima did know better.
Kaneki’s – Haise’s? He didn’t know if the other had his memories back at the time of the incident – skin was paler than usual and his face devoid of any usual signs of worries or madness. It’s a wonder that only in this state, on the edge of death, can he get the peace and quiet he yearns so badly for.
He felt a slight twinge in his chest at that thought, and the frown on his face deepened.
This is the third time.
“Good morning.” He greeted lightly as the boy’s only visible eyelid fluttered and he was reintroduced to the cruel world he existed in.
“…Who are you?”
“Arima Kishou.” His reply was quick, a short answer to an equally short and simple question.
“Mm…” Silence, then -
“Who am I?”
He didn’t know how to answer that, who was he to provide one to such a complicated matter? After all, the confused boy in front of him was a half-ghoul hybrid, the SS-rated Centipede, Kaneki Ken, and…
“Sasaki Haise.” He said instead.
“You’re Sasaki Haise."
…
“Good morning, Arima-san!” The other greeted politely when Arima entered the room, he returned the greeting with a light nod and felt his chest constrict when Kaneki beamed at him.
He didn’t have time to indulge in thinking about the weird feeling in his chest; however, when the boy’s attention was directed almost immediately at the items he had in his hand.
The certain sense of satisfaction and joy in seeing his eyes – eye, really, but he was not concerned about that anymore, the doctor informed him that it was healing slowly – light up returned, and Arima could not help but to smile at the enthusiasm of the other.
“You said you finished the other books I’ve loaned you, so I brought more.” He handed them over, watching as Kaneki looked and browsed through the books with a burning curiosity comparable to a child’s.
“Thank you.” He looked up and smiled at him, and Arima felt the tight constriction amidst the contentment again.
How could he, Arima thought to himself, staring at Kaneki fingering the words ‘The Hanged Man’s McGuffin’ and ‘The Black Goat’s Egg’, when something once so familiar to the other had suddenly become an entirely new thing?
…
He had had to stop the other from hurting himself.
The scene he had walked into had been nothing short of chaotic, however the CCG had prepared for this scenario – that’s exactly the reason why the windows were made with enhanced glass and there was barely anything in the room in the first place – so no one had been hurt.
No one, except for the other.
Arima took one look at the blood splattered on the floor and walls – his blood, he knew straightaway, because the other could never hurt others, even on the brink of insanity – and the small figure huddled in the corner of the room.
There Kaneki sat, shaking and mumbling to himself while rocking back and forth.
"Haise.” He called out. The figure stilled, and Arima watched as the boy tried to huddle into himself further, his sobs becoming louder and clearer.
It bothered him.
“Haise.” He tried again, moving closer and reaching out to touch the other lightly on the shoulder. Kaneki stilled, turning around to slap his hand off.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you?” His eyes were filled with tears and Arima could see the streak of red that flowed from his bandaged left eye.
He was suddenly reminded of the day they’d first met, the rain, the death, the blood, the voice –
"Why, Arima-san?”
It was then he noticed the bright red marks on the other’s arms, and the drying blood on his fingertips.
“I’m a monster, Arima-san, I don’t deserve this, your kindness, anything. So why –”
“You’re human.” Arima watched as the other’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Haise, you are definitely human.” He repeated when the other clutched at his elbow again and began shaking his head fervently in denial.
“No, I’m not I’m not I’m not I’m not –”
In Kaneki’s heated denial and tirade of self-hatred, Arima could do nothing but to hold him close.
He could only hope that it’d be enough.
…
“From today on, this will be your new home.” He told the other, who looked around the hallway curiously – it was his first time out into the world, and the idea of having a place to return seemed to have brightened his mood.
“Thank you, the world looks very different from – the ward.” Kaneki offered him a lopsided smile. Calling it a “ward” was an understatement, as it was more of a prison than anything else due to his unique physique.
And Arima was his warden, even if he had some semblance of freedom.
Nothing more than an illusion, Arima thought offhandedly, watching Kaneki survey the huge apartment with interested eyes. But at least he’s no longer sad.
He ignored the traitorous thought of doubt blooming in his mind.
…
“I have to say, I never thought the Shinigami of the CCG could even feel emotions.” The overly cheerful comment made Arima narrow his eyes and look up from the book he had been reading – Dear Kafka, Takatsuki Sen, his favourite.
“…And am I correct in assuming that you’re not Ken?” The other blinked in surprise at the mention of the name and smirked, leaning closer to him, kakugan glowing an eerie and vibrant red even under the bright sunlight of a Sunday afternoon.
“Who knows? I’m definitely not that wimpy Kaneki, nor am I the fool he had grown into. Obviously I am not your oh-so-endearing Haise-kun. So, who am I?”
Arima thought about it.
“…Kamishiro Rize.” The ghoul threw his head back and laughed, a chillingly mad sound that would’ve sent shivers down anyone’s spine.
But Arima wasn’t just anyone, and the ghoul in front of him was nothing that he’d be afraid of.
“Oh, how cute. Need I tell you, though, that Kamishiro Rize is very much alive? But I guess,” the other tilted his head to the side, putting on a show of being in thought mockingly, “it’s the closest you can get anyway. I don’t even know who I am anymore! Isn’t that funny!” His voice ended on a hysterical note, and Arima reacted before the sharp tips of the other’s kagune could even approach him.
The other’s eyes widened in surprise, and he looked down at the blade in his abdomen, impaling through the area where they both knew his kakuhou resided.
“…Really... It’s… funny, isn’t it.” His looked up with a mocking smile, “For all that you claim you treasure Haise – or is it Kaneki-kun you want, really? – in the end, you still can’t trust him?”
The effects of the RC suppressants settling in, the ghoul – no, it’s Kaneki now, Arima thought, looking as the bright red of the kakugan faded into a dulling silvery-grey – smiled bitterly as he collapsed into Arima’s arms.
“…Arima... Kishou.” Kaneki breathed, fighting the comatose effect of the suppressants.
“…Thank you.”
And Kaneki Ken closed his eyes.
Again.
The feeling and scent of blood suddenly made him feel sick, and he watched as they bloomed like flowers on his pristine white carpet.
“I’ve never seen you in a yukata before.” Kaneki remarked, giving him a once over and blinking in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in anything less formal than dress shirts and pants, actually.” He looked thoughtful, eyebrows scrunched up and mouth pouting, forming a cute frown.
Arima merely shrugged in reply.
“We are going to a temple festival after all. You look good in that.” It was interesting watching Kaneki’s cheek turn red at his comment, even more so when the other began flailing at the compliment.
“I – I don’t! You look so much better…” He mumbled off, looking away and sulking. Arima reached up to ruffle his – white – tresses.
“Hey!” Embarrassment.
“Let’s go, we do have to reach there before the crowd starts to arrive.”
“Arima-kun.” He ignored Chigyou’s calls as he pushed past the scientist to enter the room Kaneki was resting in.
“Arima-kun, listen to me.” It took all of Arima’s self control to calm down and do so. Chigyou wasn’t stupid enough to stop him unless it was really important.
“The Centipede… I mean, Kaneki Ken, he lasted for a little more than a month this time. While it is a significant improvement from last time…” The scientist paused, wondering how to put the hard truth across to the elite investigator.
Arima Kishou was, after all, nothing but stubborn.
“… Chairman Washuu might really want him exterminated soon.”
“However!” He continued hurriedly when he saw Arima tense up, “Director Washuu and I have convinced him to give us a little more time. We… have a solution to prevent and minimise his chances of going berserk again. Whether you would like to agree to it is entirely up to you. You have complete rights, after all.”
“…We’ll talk more about this later,” he relented when Arima refused to give a verbal reply, staring straight ahead at the sleeping figure in the room.
He barely registered the soft pat on his shoulder from Chigyou as the scientist left him and Kaneki alone.
They said it’s entirely up to him. Arima thought as he stroked Kaneki’s cheek – the soft skin too cold for his liking – fingers lingering on his left eye.
They were wrong.
“I’m not even sure what this bodes for me.” Kaneki complained, squinting as he tried to digest and decipher the meaning of the words written on his o’mikuji.
Arima looked down at his.
Half blessing.
He wondered about the contents of Kaneki’s.
“Hey!” The other frowned in disapproval when Arima took the piece of paper from his hand and walked to the nearest pine tree.
“I wasn’t done with it yet,” The younger male grumbled, “and you didn't even give me a choice on whether I wanted to keep it or not.”
“It’s easier this way.” He replied simply, reaching up to tie the two lots together onto a tree branch. Turning to look down at Kaneki, he laced their fingers together and wrapped an arm around the other’s waist, enjoying the hitch in Kaneki’s breathing.
“We’ll always be together then.”
“… You’re saying, either I become a ghoul investigator and live as another person without my memories, or I refuse and die?” Kaneki looked at him as if he was crazy, and laughed. Arima gave no response, but simply waited patiently as Kaneki’s bitter laughter died down.
“Arima Kishou, you and the rest of CCG must be crazy.”
“Why am I not dead in the first place? You slaughtered Irimi-san and Koma-san that easily. So why not me?”
“Will you stop it with the silence!”
Kaneki was heaving by now, glaring at him not with hatred – but perhaps, if there were any elements of it, it would be because Arima didn’t kill him – but immense sadness and despair.
“… I simply didn’t feel like it. Killing you, I mean.” However, Arima felt like he’s done it more than once, for everytime Kaneki reopened his eyes everything had to be reset to the beginning –
“So I’m basically alive for your amusement.”
“Not that either,” if he were a lesser person, Arima would’ve sighed in troubled annoyance at his lack of ability to convey what he meant.
“Then what?” The other was relatively calmer, resigned. Kaneki was a smart person; he knew he was in a precocious situation right now. Having lost his place of belonging, and his precious people. There wasn’t much he could hold on to any longer. It was no longer of any use getting all riled up.
Arima only wished Kaneki was sharp enough to understand what he was trying to say.
“Ken,” He began, watching a frown adorn the other’s delicate features at the name – after all, he had all his memories back by now and knew Arima always called him ‘Haise’ – “I want you to stay. With me.” He continued as the bewildered half-human opened his mouth to cut his words off.
“You –”
“And I know everything you have known is now lost, because of me, because of CCG. I want to give you something else that you can treasure, a place where you can belong, by my side.”
Kaneki did not start going into hysterics, although Arima could tell from the other’s expressions that he was only still digesting the idea, and it was only a matter of time before –
“…I’m still a half-ghoul, no matter what.” His eyes widened slightly at Kaneki’s sour reply, the other was now clutching his bed sheets so hardly his knuckles were impossibly white. Kaneki’s hands shook along with his voice.
“Despite knowing that, even knowing that I am a threat for everyone, you would still offer me this?” The question of ‘Why?’ went unsaid.
And so, it went unanswered.
“Yes, I will.”
“Aren’t you afraid, of me, of my betrayal? Using a ghoul as a ghoul investigator, that’s a double-edged knife you’re handling, Arima Kishou.”
“I’m good with weapons. Plus,” He paused, watching the boy frown at his reply, “I won’t mind getting injured by you, if it’s the price I have to pay for you to remain.”
Kaneki’s eyes widened. After several moments, he looked up and smiled resignedly.
“Arima Kishou, you really are one impossible individual.”
“Do you want to know what my o’mikuji said?”
“Hm?”
“Tabitachi and Machibito. Didn’t make any sense to me.” The boy smiled sheepishly, “After all, it’s not like I can go anywhere right now.”
In the stark white room, a boy – a boy, for although he was the age of a young adult, the clean slate of his memories brought along the air of innocence, of someone who knew nothing about the harsh realities of the world – slept, his pale complexion matching his equally snow-coloured hair.
Dressed in white robes and covered with bleached sheets, one could almost mistake him for an angel with how the harsh light gave his figure an alabaster glow.
And sitting by his side, patiently waiting for his awakening, a male with equally white hair, dressed in an impeccably perfect, neat black suit.
The boy’s hand twitched, and the male smiled when he blinked his eyes open slowly, hesitantly, revealing dark grey irises.
“Good morning, Haise.”
…
Several miles away, in a shrine located at the outskirts of Tokyo, two strips of paper could be seen on a pine tree branch, tied together, never to separate. They fluttered amidst the soft pink glow of dancing sakura flower petals at full bloom.
It was spring.
The start of a new beginning.