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Kaneki’s return is bittersweet.
From the window of Saiko’s hospital room, Touka had spotted a figure emerging in the distance, carrying a limp body, covered in what she could only describe as goop . Her heart had fallen, sinking into the pit of her stomach as the figure grew closer. The legs of her chair had screeched against the tile flooring, her legs carrying her out of Saiko’s room and down the hall toward the elevator. She’d cursed the damned thing as its doors closed slowly—no matter how hard and how many times she pressed the button for the first floor, the elevator would not pick up speed. It felt like an eternity, stuck inside those four walls, praying that no one on the lower floors would call the elevator, waiting for that ding! and the opening of its doors. But at last, she’d arrived, squeezing through the smallest crack in the doors, and breaking out into a sprint toward the entrance. It was there that her brother met her, a somber smile on his face. He held her husband in his arms, his body limp, but his breathing steady. She’d broken out in tears at the sight of him.
She was forced to wait outside while he was examined, provided nothing but an empty chair in a deserted waiting room, with only the ticking of the clock on the wall to keep her company. Ayato, never the best with his emotions, had placed his arm around his older sister and awkwardly pressed his lips to her temple. He insisted that her husband would be fine, and that, in the off chance that he wasn’t, he would find a way to bring him back just so he could kill him. He had left shortly afterward, mumbling something about reporting to those damn humans about what had transpired on his and Kaneki’s mission. The visitors fluttered in, one-by-one, soon after. Hinami had been first, tears welling in her eyes, sporting a hopeful smile. She’d reminded Touka that Kaneki would make it back to her—he always did, even when the idea seemed impossible—and left her with a warm embrace. Urie, her husband’s former underling in the CCG, had been next, keeping his distance with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He continued to refer to Kaneki as Sasaki , the name of the persona her husband had been forced to create after being brainwashed by that bastard White Reaper, but often caught himself, apologizing between words. He expressed genuine concern despite her husband’s betrayal upon regaining his memories. When the conversation had died, the young man had rubbed the back of his neck and excused himself.
Tsukiyama had emerged shortly after Urie’s departure, practically sobbing, and demanding that the Queen of the Ghouls be given a solid answer regarding her husband’s condition. Thankfully, Nishiki had forcibly removed him from the waiting room.
“He always escapes death,” he had stated, sipping on his canned coffee. “There is no way he’s going to give up so easily. He’s got a wife and a kid now.”
The silence settles over them like a blanket on a cold night. It’s oddly comforting; Nishiki is one to give Touka the space she needs yet still be physically present to provide company. For a moment, she listens to the sounds within the hospital—Nishiki sipping his coffee, the sole of his shoe hitting the wall as he leans back against it; the paging of doctors on the overhead speakers; the soft chatter of nurses and visitors alike as they pass through the halls; the singing of an elevator arriving at its destination. It’s in this moment that Touka decides that she hates hospitals. Ghouls don’t visit hospitals. There’s no need when their injuries would regenerate. Not to mention, it’s best for most ghouls to avoid hospital visits, as the scent of death and blood in the air is enough to make even the most disciplined of ghouls give in to their most basic instincts.
She wonders if she would hate hospitals less were her husband human. Perhaps, then, his medical team could give her an accurate prognosis rather than a lousy guess.
She clenches her jaw and buries her face in her hands.
~~~
When she is finally allowed to see her husband, she never leaves his side. He’s been cleaned of the dragon’s flesh, his clothing discarded and swapped out for a hospital gown. He has wires coming out of the gown, connected to electrodes stuck to his chest and abdomen. The monitor they connect to beeps rhythmically.
Touka holds his hand and talks with him throughout the day about the mundane. She tells him of the weather and what she’s fed the baby that day; she tells him of news around the globe and of the storyline in her favorite manga. When talking proves difficult, she plays her favorite songs on her phone, soft pop songs and catchy dance tracks, the occasional pop punk band, and an entire library from her favorite K-Pop group. She takes her daily Big Girl burger in his room, scarfing it down after opening a window to draft the awful stench from the room. Somehow, eating is easier at Kaneki’s side.
It seems as though everyone offers her a place to stay, despite having her own apartment. Tsukiyama is the first to offer, speaking in a much calmer manner than usual. The manor has plenty of empty rooms, he informs her, and staff ready and willing to care for the Queen of the Ghouls and her unborn child. Yomo offers his place of residence later that evening. He’ll take the couch, he says; it’s the least he can do for his niece. Nishiki, however, offers not his place, but the extra room at Kimi’s. She’s busy in the lab, he explains, and has sent him to extend the offer. The gestures are nice, this she tells each of them (Tsukiyama takes rejection the hardest, judging by the pained smile on his face, but he respects her decision, reminding her that his door is always open), but she will be staying at her husband’s side. His doctors have informed her that he could wake at any time, be it in an hour, or a month from now, perhaps even longer. She hasn’t a bed of her own to sleep in, and Kaneki’s is much too small to accommodate two people, but the chair makes do. It’s nothing special, but it’s comfortable enough for short periods of sitting. Its purpose isn’t to be slept in, but Touka keeps it at her husband’s bedside and rests her head on the mattress, just beside his left thigh.
Sleeping in a hospital isn’t optimal. The hall lights remain lit, and voices continue to broadcast through the speaker system. The footsteps of nurses on night shift wake her, and it takes a moment for Touka to remember where she is as one pops her head into the room and offers her a warm blanket. Despite knowing what she is, the hospital staff doesn’t seem to fear her. It’s a strange feeling.
~~~
Touka requests to care for her husband as a nurse would the following day.
It’s time to bathe him—it’s common for comatose patients to develop sores on their skin from lying in bed for a prolonged period of time; unclean skin only adds to the problem. Today’s nurse greets Touka as she enters the room, wheeling in a tray with a small tub of water, a cloth, and a bottle of mild soap. The nurse begins to unbutton Kaneki’s gown when Touka steps in. She figures that the nurse is under the wrong impression; just an overprotective wife not wanting another woman to see her husband naked. It doesn’t matter to Touka—once Kaneki is cleared to leave this place, they’ll never see the nurse again.
Perhaps it’s silly, wanting to take over the basic jobs assigned to the nursing staff, but she doesn’t want Kaneki to feel as though he’s alone. She wants him to know that she will never leave his side, even in their lowest times. That’s what love is to her, what the bite mark on her shoulder and the ring around his neck represents.
When the nurse exits the room, Touka pushes the hospital gown down to Kaneki’s waist. His barred torso is covered in red scars, similar to that which creeps up his neck, and those beneath his eyes. Upon closer inspection, she can make out where the dragon latched onto her husband’s body. She gently runs her fingers down the center of his chest. His skin is as smooth as she remembers it, as if no trauma had befallen his body. It’s the ghoul in him, she knows, but she can’t help but wonder if the scars will remain. She knows him well enough to know that they will serve as a constant reminder to him of his actions. He’ll struggle to look at himself in the mirror each day, no matter how much potential good he’s brought to the ghoul world.
Touka will help him cross that bridge whenever they may get to it.
~~~
It’s a Thursday night when Kaneki finally wakes.
Touka clicks a button on the television remote, watching the screen as she mindlessly surfs the limited amount of channels offered by the hospital. Every day it’s the same thing—reruns of old sitcoms, trashy reality television, soap operas, talk shows, and news broadcasts that paint her husband as a villain. Despite the CCG and the ghouls setting their differences aside and talks of peace fluttering about, the average human continues to live in fear. Aren’t they aware that ghouls have families just as they do? That the man they’re whispering about risked his life to save the city he so deeply loves? That he is neither ghoul nor human, but the coming together of the two worlds?
The more she dwells on it, the angrier she becomes. It isn’t healthy for her nor the baby, not to mention not being worth her time. She needs to focus on getting her husband home and nursing him back to full strength. If only he would wake up…
She settles on a show centered around celebrity interviews and gossip, and leans back in her chair with a hand atop her growing belly.
But the man in the bed beside her begins to stir. Slowly, at first, to which Touka dismisses it as a reflex explained earlier by the doctor. However, both his arms and legs begin to move in a manner all too familiar to her, having watched him wake after nights spent together. She quickly rises to her feet, unintentionally tipping her chair over, and grabs his hand.
“Ken? Ken, I’m here. I’m here.”
The words nearly lodge in her throat. Her eyes begin to well with tears, and the lump in his throat grows. It’s been two long weeks without her husband, and she can’t wait to see his beautiful grey eyes.
The stirring comes to a natural stop. Kaneki’s lips part and his adam’s apple begins to bob. Touka’s heart races.
“Tou… ka?”
His voice—deep, raspy, so utterly Ken Kaneki —is a symphony drowning out the sounds around them. Slowly, weakly, his fingers wrap around his wife’s hand, and the tears in her eyes spill down Touka’s cheeks. Kaneki’s lashes flutter as he struggles to open his eyes for the first time in two weeks. Touka watches eagerly, lifting his hand and kissing the inside of his wrist. A teardrop falls from her chin and wets his skin.
“You’re—” A cough interrupts him. “—crying? Don’t. I’m sorry.”
“Idiot,” she smiles. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”
He stares at her through his lashes, with eyes as grey as the clouds that rained over Tokyo as Touka clawed him out of the dragon. There is sorrow and confusion within those eyes, overshadowed only by the joy she last saw the night of their wedding ceremony. The corners of his lips twitch into a small smile, though he pulls his hand from hers. She reluctantly releases it, comforted only when he reaches up to cup her cheek. She leans into his touch, uttering a soft I missed you .