Chapter Text
His boots left imprints that marked the snowy white pathway to a mound. Today would be the first snowfall of Tokyo which added a natural aesthetic to the always lit up city. It would hide the ugliness of pollution and urbanization...
Grey eyes travel from the sky to his gloved hands.
Would it be able to hide the pain people experience?
He stopped in his tracks, having arrived at his set destination.
The cold air kissed his pale cheeks and blew over his charcoal tresses. Black took over white. He should be happy. Black was the color he had naturally. The hair he had before he was tortured.
He swept off the pile of snow that accumulated on the edges of the monument and carefully lowered his bouquet. A small wry smile was worn on his face. Kaneki curled his hands tightly so when he had uncurled, there were angry crescents formed by his nails. It had healed in an instant given his regenerative abilities. Eating the Owl's kakuhou made him stronger.
"Hello Shirazu." Kaneki let his fingers trail down the letters engraved on the cold stone. "I've come to pay my respects."
He took note of other gifts lying on the step. "You're quite popular."
"I'm being promoted to Special Class next month." He continued. "The Quinckes are to be promoted as well. There were notable new members to the squad."
Your squad.
His aloof facade he donned in was nonexistent for a moment. "They've matured to the point where I'm proud of them. Maybe you would be, too."
If you kept breathing.
Kaneki chuckled dryly, hoping it would conceal the emotions that people thought he discarded ever since. He was a great actor to the point where he could even fool himself. Although it wouldn't be of use to fool the dead.
It was pathetic of him to talk to a slab of stone that didn't even have the corpse six feet under. His body was taken during the vehicle transportation. By the Aogiri.
He'll kill them. Tear them from limb to limb. Decapitate. Mutilate. Eat. Destroy--
Kaneki willed himself to stop seeing red at that moment. There would be nothing to gain if he lashed out with anger now. Doing such wouldn't bring Shirazu back.
His eyes darken as he thought of that reminder.
He shouldn't feel even a sliver of regret or pain. Shirazu's death was the result of his own inability to fight and weaknesses of those who were with him. Yet, the thoughts of should've and could've keep plaguing his mind.
You could have been with him.
You should've refused the task at the rooftop.
You could've saved him.
Kaneki started. "The reward money for killing Noro went to the funding of your sister's hospitalization. A cure prototype will be tested out at the end of the month and I'll personally bear the financing for her rehabilitation should your money run out." He popped a knuckle, a habit he picked up again. "Haru has a chance to live."
Face tilting up, the shady sky was reflected on his pupils. "Be happy on the other side, Shirazu."
I love you.
His throat constricts, rendering him unable to convey those words. His tongue was all but unfamiliar with the word love now. He hasn't spoke of it since Ginshi died and he changed.
The ravenette doesn't linger long in the burial grounds, having left the area without turning back. Without looking at the name engraved in stone. Without crying.
"Haise, why are you here?" The soft yet firm voice called out to him, with him nearly being a step from the slope going down.
Kaneki stopped in his tracks. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. Starting from the flower field of corpses to the first day he opened his eyes with a new identity. The soothing, levelled voice that lulled him to sleep with book excerpts. The harsh, disappointed voice that shaped him up to be an excellent investigator through time and training. The gentle, solicitating voice that had encouraged him through the adversities and bouts of uncertainty when he didn't know who he was. The warm, admiring voice that had him wanting to seek for a love that cannot be.
"I came to visit Shirazu."
Arima's footsteps were padded with the snow as his cushion.
Kaneki senses Arima's presence at his right, donning a grey trenchoat in his peripheral view. "How about you?"
"I paid my respects to Hairu." His voice, as void of emotion as it was, had pain underneath. He's known him long enough to be able to know.
He never really liked Ihei as Haise. She was too brutal in leaving ghoul remains and was relentless but that seemed hypocritical to say now. Especially when his lengths of cruelty was worse. Aside from that, there were people who loved her like Ui and seeing the Special Class visit her grave... she couldn't have been all that bad as a person.
They had probably known each other for a long time. It leaves him curious at the same time restrained. Kaneki no longer had the right to know-- but really, he never had that right in the first place.
He was brought out of his reverie when Arima held his hand. Before Kaneki had a say in this, he was guided down the slope wordlessly. "What are you doing, Arima?"
Still, the older remained silent, feigning ignorance. He only tightened his hold and the warmth he emanated poured even through his gloves.
Kaneki didn't like being kept in the dark and he didn't like the fact that the pounding of his heart could be heard by his own ears. Doing this felt... wrong.
An image of a boy with sharkteeth pops up.
"We don't need to hold hands."
"..."
"Let go."
Arima shook his head like how a child would. The action could've been somewhat endearing but his stubbornness was really testing his patience.
He tried yanking away from his touch and momentarily, he was released. Only to be held again by him. Violence wasn't the way to handle this but he swore that his fists were pulsating at the urge to punch Arima.
"Please. For a while longer."
Kaneki blinked, taken aback by the need and vulnerability of that voice. He's never heard him speak like this before. As if he was someone who hungered for company. He acquiesced his request, nothing followed after but their solemn stroll.
Arima had showered him with fatherly care before; a ruffle on the head, a pat on the back, a statement of praise but he never went with an intimate gesture. There was a limit and he understood. To Arima, he was only a son in his eyes and Haise, knew that it was forbidden to go past their bond as family.
Perhaps being held by the hand was his ultimate form of comfort but the longer his hand stayed and the longer he remained unresponsive doesn't suggest such at all. It was a silly presumption but perhaps holding him had given Arima comfort.
They arrive at the parking lot, in front of Arima's car. At long last, Arima unclasped his hand from his. Relief (was it, really?) settled from his granted freedom yet, his fingers were cold without that warmth.
"Let's have coffee."
"I can't refuse?" Kaneki tried his best, keeping his irritated tone to a minimum. The older was persistent of keeping him company, it seems, wording it in such a way that his statement was an order.
His irritation lowers the slightest when he saw a miniscule smile on the reaper as he offered the exposed passenger seat. "No."
Resigning to his fate was all he can do against the CCG's Strongest.