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Brisk, bitter breezes nipped at the edges of a black, leather mask strung with a row of maliciously grinning teeth and fastened with an eyepatch. Two metallic incisions potruded off to each side of the neck, adding to the horror aspect of the leather covering. The muscles of the uncovered eye twitched briefly in a narrowed position, retaining the known aspect of an observer critically pondering. The black sclera laced with scarlet veins centered by a bloody iris enlarged in an emphasized moment of shock.
On the opposite side a man of great height raised his new weapon and swayed his body in preparation for an offensive move. Cool moonlight smoothly contoured across each new plate of armor, emphasizing the broad shoulders and massive build of the investigator. Cast over the head of the man was a mask that smoothly narrowed into a shape reminiscent of a beak. His stance cast that of dominance, marked as an indomitable wall of steel, one that could not be passed.
The half ghoul truthfully wished against any harm for the man who was stubbornly placed in front of his path. Oh, how their places have been switched by the cruelty of a higher being. It only placed greater reason to quickly move past if the previous circumstances were taken into consideration. When he had blocked the path of the man in front of him (Amon, who has revealed his name, what is it that he sees to press this far?) he was left to find his partner's body run cold. Would the same occur to the manager if these events ran parallels to one another?
I can still fight! Koutaro, bearing the burden of the arata, struck forward with his spear-like weapon. The large man thrust his weight forward, behind that of his quinque, aiming for the torso of the ghoul. The man spread his legs behind the attack to provide himself with a more stable position behind the thrusting attack. In a swift motion, the weapon was retracted and swung backwards, retracting the weight of the force. He receded from his attack, bending to the side as the trails of kagune swept across his quinque.
He watched with caution and an interest shaken by concern at the bizarre contortions of the rinkaku. The red tentacles retraced themselves to the owner who clutched his side, blood seeping between the ghostly pale fingers. The opposite hand gripped the side of his head, fingers firmly sinking into clumps of soiled white locks. The body of the boy slowly curled in on itself through twitching intervals. His one visible eye squeezed itself shut out of visible pain and inner turmoil. The smoothly scaled covering of the kagune peeled off in distorted extensions as it writhed with random motion in the darky overcast sky. The snapping of sinew resonated profoundly against of the concrete of the surrounding buildings. The RC cells were breaking off and rearranging themselves in sync with the mental state of the ghoul. Deterioration. Amon's mind could not help but drift over what had occurred, no, been inflicted, to reflect this amount of agony and change. The ragged tendrils coiled amongst themselves before unraveling, revealing two new appendages behind the veil of bloody contorted shapes. A series of crackling RC cells erupted in volume as the new extensions reaped through the musty air as it became soaked in rain. Black plates heavily drew across each tentacle, only visible from the intervals provided by the liquid state of the red RC cells lurking underneath in a dull glow. Between each interval lied two extensions on opposite ends. The entire structure mimicked that of an insect. Over the leather mask ran the cells in charge of the finishing touch, sweeping off into the form a narrow form of a beak and placing a vacant kakugan at the center of the naturally formed mask.
SS Rated. Centipede.
The man with the large build, emphasized by the arata armor clad over his muscles, tightly held his partially damaged quinque in a decisive position. His legs remained firmly planted on the slick asphalt, prepared to swiftly move.
-
The kakuja consumed his body, engulfing the workings of his brain. The chanting chatter of strength providing the protection of those he cares for echoed in his ear canal. Whispers of his own weakness tickled his brain. He proceeded to take heed to the mockery of the clicking multi legged insect. The ragged resonance of Yamori's jeer stuffed his head as a blindfold took away his vision. The remnants of his mind dwindled to him and the centipede, and he laughed along, giving in to its greed.
He insides twisted in a series of contractions, aching in hunger. His muscles flexed through the regular motions of a brawl, knowing and well atuned. His head drifted off into a mad haze. An incomprehensible stirring of loss and distorting of perspective propelled his rampant insanity.
The Manager. Koma. Irimi. Touka. Hinami. Nishiki. Anteiku ...Hide. The idea of losing them, the world that had come to accept him... the world he had abandoned... was no reality worth living in. Death would be a welcoming embrace to failure. He refused to accept his own weakness, he had been done watching with helplessness. The strong would prevail.
I - I WILL... I - w - will pro... TECT EVERYONE... I AM the str - STRONG. Aaah - Aa Aah - hhaHHA... I'M SO fucked UP, "I must... protect." The distinction between his thoughts and words became fuzzy.
The brawl became a haze of action and reaction. One key move played to dominate another. His moves became an incoherent mess simplified to being hit and hitting back. Animalistic and straight to the point.
An angered roar punched its way into the screwed over repeating processes played out through the prattle of the ridiculing clicking. Touka's condescending words filled the void of his stomach. He cackled in off key huffs at his own pathetic antics. In the end, this was all for his selfish gluttony, wasn't it? It was the only reason he was trying this hard, wasn't it? No one really did need his protecting, did they? Koma, Irimi, and the Manager all willingly stayed behind.
A squelch of muscle and organs spurting liquids across the scaled surface one rinkaku tendril alerted his mind to a higher focus. The investigator's quinque sustained heavy damage and the armor contained a break. A gut-wrenching screech was muffled behind the full face mask, sending chills along his body as the frontal piece of his kakuja deteriorated. No... he had not been trying to aim for anything other than the quinque. With the position the man held a moment before crumpling in on himself, clutching his side, he noted that with the direction of his now dissolved rinkaku, his arm could have been severed as well.
The investigator pulled off his helmet to reveal staring, milky eyes. Past the bright crimson spilling off his lips, one question stung the air, "Are you my... r-rea.. per...?" His knees buckled as his indiscernible expression faced the dark sky.
"H-huh?" His stupor was shaken at the sight of the deep infliction of his actions. The idea of losing complete control over his actions tore up his brain in deep crevasses of regret and shame. Among the people he foolishly believed he could save, the boy could not bear the idea of killing the man who he asked not to make him a murderer. He was already a hypocrite for speaking of such a thing, such a foolish thing. But this investigator... showed no sign of a vendetta against him. He had said he was willing to listen to him, didn't he? His mind was scrambled during the underground of Kanou's mansion, but he had been let go for a reason. But what was it that had deemed him his god of death?
"A-Amon! W-what - what w-why have I been..." The questions sputtering between his lips lacked a direction as they simply became a venting of quaking fear,"I d-didn't want to... I didn't m-mean to..."
A wheeze gurgled by blood huffed out between trembling lips, "Why is it... that I always..." The investigator's eyes rolled over to the sky, glassy with tears, "is it really... my turn?" His back hit the concrete with a dull thud.
"Fuck!" The wraith clad in black leather flew across the asphalt and kneeled over the fallen figure of a wall. The remains of the kakuja dissolved into a red mist.
"Oh god, this is all my fault." The boy's voice heaved, heavy with the build up of tears. His quivering hands reached over the gaping wound. The shattered section of the armor was rendered useless in containing the blood. Too much of the substance was pouring out. The scent of iron, fresh and profound nabbed incessantly at his stomach. His vision slipped in and out of focus as his mind was tossed between sickened shame and feral hunger.
His mind shifted to a dizzy mess, feeling off balance and out of any sensible state. One shaking hand clutched his churning and groaning insides. A deep breath shook his diaphragm as the situation became analyzed. This man would die if something didn't clog the bleeding from the inflicted impalement before a medical team could arrive.
The boy took a brief moment to observe his non dominant hand. It was filthy. He was made ugly with that filth. But perhaps, for a moment, that could be redeemed. In a single, swift motion he removed the investigator's hand, which tightly grasped over the hole, and stuffed his own hand inside the gap. He could feel the squishy organs and pooling blood temptingly lap across his fingers. The squelch of the soft insides beneath the tough muscle tissue drove him to madness. FLESH brings STRENGTH. FLESH makes the pain GO AWAY. FLESH is SATISFACTION.
The mind of the one eyed ghoul dissolved into fighting his own primary instincts of survival. A rising tone signified the splitting of the zipper along his leather mask. In a desperate attempt to quiet his stomach, he snapped off a several sections of the squirming kakuja armor with his quaking free hand. Ravenously, the high density RC cell armor plates were shoved between his jaws; it cracked like glass against his teeth and roughly scraped against his throat. A sloppy mess became of his lips and leather clad facial features, the true colors of his ugliness. His stomach became occupied with the few blocky chunks, but there was no satisfaction. It only bought him more coherence as he longingly stared into the face of his victim.
"Oi! Look at me! Don't you dare make me a murderer." He choked through gasps that bubbled over with tears. He was drowning, an act of losing complete control. The sheets of rain became the single audible drone in his perception. Numbly, he took in the glassy eyes of the investigator as his free hand brushed across the cold, damp skin. Was is the fate he had inflicted on him that he was watching unfold? What was it that his eyes held? Fear? Acceptance? Realization? Betrayal?
A sputtering breath erupted between the man's lips as blood was spit between his teeth, "Eye... -patch..." His eyes immersed themselves in wonder, "What is it... that makes a ghoul cry?" The man seemed to be staring through the uncovered eye of the ghoul, "Why... was I spared?" His head adjusted in a way that signified him searching beyond the ghoul positioned over him. Those words, though spoken with a brittle and broken breath, were woven deeply with meaning in a way that caused the half-ghoul's heart to ache and heave in a turmoil. The man suffering below him... for how long has he been wandering, lost?
Kaneki understood, he wanted to know how a ghoul could care for a person. Why spare a life? Why try to save life? Why show mercy?
"I-" The masked boy gulped, at a loss for a proper response. He had found himself too enveloped in those words and the direty of his condition to properly collect and convey his thoughts. With the groaning ache in his insides and the wafering scent of a surplus of bloody flesh, it had turned his brain into an incoherent mess; he felt as though he could pass out.
The boy shook his muddle of a mind, as if attempting to narrow his diverging thoughts into one path, "Is it wrong to care for someone?" He was filthy. What an ugly person he was for speaking of such a thing to the very person he tried to reap.
Amon's large hand curled over the arm of the ghoul which remained inserted into his side. It felt so small and thin, almost humanly fragile. It was strangely deceiving. Even the hand inserted in him felt strangely still, as if there was no temptation to clean out his insides. There really was no intention to kill him. The ghoul easily could have performed a killing blow while he remained this vulnerable, or simply left him for dead.
"I never thought... a ghoul..." The dark haired investigator appeared to stare off beyond the masked figure above him, "I refused... to a-accept..." His hand clutched the metallic cross over his chest, a burden which had been carried on his neck. The mans eyelids steadily slid to a close as a slight curve of the lips brought his facial features to a readable sense of peace, "T-thank-you." A few beads of crimson liquid slipped down his lips.
Am I wrong to care for others? Am I doing this because of my own selfishness?
Kaneki subconsciously flinched at the contact as he felt his heart plummet, heavy with emotion. An innate sense of fear rode up inside him at the idea of this man's death and blood stained on his hands. Amon did not deserve to die. His world views resonated with such a strength that he could not fathom the idea of the man possessing them passing away.
His black tipped hands scoured the arata for a form of a communicator. His eye caught sight of the object looped around the man's ear, and proceeded to remove it.
"You let me go when I was in the underground of Kanou's mansion. I may have spared you at Kasahara river, but don't think that I'm going to let you go to the other side now." His voice became strained at the forced attempt of humor that was mostly for his own comfort.
Awkwardly, he fumbled with the object in one hand. His fingers trembled, both out of the frigid air and numbing fear as he toyed with the settings and examined its workings. The boy's eye scanned the redesigned walkie-talkie for an emergency setting, or something that would alert a medical team without digging through various channels and praying luck would turn its tide in his favor.
The idea of being killed on sight after the arrival of a medical team did not seem to engage fear, but rather relief so long as the investigator was saved. As long as he could live, he would find solace in that, even if it required his own life as payment.
He took into consideration asking Amon for the specific channel that contacted a medical team, but the man remained in such a fragile state that he became fearful of stirring him. His chest rose and fell at a rapid pace as shallow breaths puffed between his frozen, blue lips. He had lost too much blood already, and the frigid temperature of winter did nothing to help. Out of panic he switched the channel back to its original setting and clicked the button that allowed him to speak as he hooked the device over his ear. Perhaps the man was in previous contact with a higher up, or had the medical team on 'speed dial.'
The buzz of static stuffed the corners of his mind as the cottony substance filled his ears. The soft emptiness occupied the bitter air. His body became numb as streams of rain droplets slicked across his body and dribbled randomly over the investigator's bloody form.
-
Dread had sickly been piling up in the form of lead in her stomach as the infamous Mado-intuition took manifestation. The buzzing click of her communicator being contacted echoed in her ear. It was last set to division four.
"Akira speaking. Amon, what's happened?" Her clipped and flat tone hid her raging dread as she picked up on the other line after slashing down a ghoul, "Amon?" She repeated, her façade slipping slightly as her response was that of static and the distinguishable drone of rain. Though it was light, she was able to make out a series of sobbing breaths, causing her brows to knit it confusion after noting that the voice on the other line was not quite deep.
"I -" The person on the other line hiccuped after a deafening pause, "I-I'm so sorry..." The voice was quite young, but not that of any investigator she recognized, "I didn't mean to. I swear." Words appeared to be tumbling out of his mouth without much of a check in his state of emotional distress.
A turmoil of confusion deeply bombarded her as a disturbing feeling thickly settled along her gut. Who was with division four that had witnessed Amon's fight with the Centipede? What was the outcome of the battle? Where was Amon?
"Who is this speaking?" She directly voiced one of her nagging internal questions as she pulled over her straight faced, monotoned mask. All traces of her internal upheaval became ground under a barricade, a cold disposition.
Static.
"Where is and what is the condition of First Class Amon Koutaro?" Her tone edged off into becoming snappish at how the person on the other line seemed to be avoiding her previous question.
"H-he's dying... He'll bleed to death. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'msorry." The young voice continued to choke out a montage of apologies. Her level of fear and frustration continued to mount from the vague answers as her intuition caused her to squirm in fear. She had one haunch on who she was speaking with.
"Takizawa, cover for me," The man in question turned to face her with a surprised expression that questioned her motives, but nodded in agreement regardless. With swift fingers, she switched the channel on her communicator, "Marude? What is the status of First Class Amon Koutaro from division four and the intercepted ghoul?"
"Division four lost sight of First Class Amon during his battle with SS rated Centipede. The whereabouts of both are currently unknown." An irked grunt rumbled into the grainy quality of the communicator followed by the mumbling of a few choice words, "Neither of em' are even within the vicinity of my monitors!" The director continued off by berating the investigators apart of the fourth division who did not follow the dueling two.
"Why do you ask? Is the renowned Mado-intuition acting up again?" The man snickered despite his clear frustrations over losing track of a ghoul that could very well compromise the mission and a strong man of the CCG who was fighting him, despite not being very fond of him.
"I received a call from Amon's communicator. An unidentifiable male voice reported that he was dying, but has not provided his location." Akira dryly divulged the information, pointedly ignoring the previous comment.
Marude appeared to draw in the same suspicion based on the lengthy pause, "Keep him talking and milk out as much information as possible. Report back to me any confirmations on his location or motivations. I will be sending out a search unit for Centipede and the body of First Class Amon."
"Yes sir." Her reply was swift and curt, disguising her surprise at the orders. Akira cut the feed and quickly switched to the channel Amon's communicator was last on. The weeping breaths were much lighter now, it was a relief to know she would not have to hunt down the unidentified respondent. The blonde gingerly stepped out of the fray of her division terminating a group of ghouls.
"Answer me truthfully, who is this I am speaking with?" The cold of the air laced along her straight forward words, "You've continued to remain in contact with me for a reason. Don't expect me to listen to your vague babbling without a clear analysis on the situation."
"I'm deeply sorry... m-my head is a complete mess at the moment. I'll take your approach as a rightful lack of trust, regardless of how at the end of this conversation I'll be killed anyway." The youthful voice hesitated, stalling the answer. Akira's stomach rolled into knots as she anticipated its reveal.
"I'm t-the Eyepatch ghoul." The reply was a quiet whisp of the wind, spoken with apparent shame.
A long silence of static occupied the air as the young woman's insides bubbled in a built up bolt of horror. The pace of her heart quickened. She felt like a piece of prey snagged in the claws of a feline, it would play with her before the kill. It could leverage Amon to its advantage, bargain his life over its own whims. The ghoul's known history sickeningly clouded her brain, bringing forth waves of nausea. She was conversing with the reason Amon was unable to save her father and help eradicate the Rabbit and Daughter ghoul. The half-kakuja, Centipede. A cannibal who has displayed a deranged and off balance mental state. The ghoul who Amon had fought twice prior, and likely dealt him a killing blow. The ghoul who was using First Class Amon's communicator, likely standing within the vicinity of his body.
The very same ghoul whose voice is unmistakably young and stifled unevenly back by weeping. Was that amount of emotion that thickly weaved within his voice faked? That voice was unbelievably youthful and torn, heaving with regret and melancholy. Was it really all for a sort of scheme? Her mind attempted to comprehend why a ghoul with such a history would become tormented by such emotions after an encounter with her partner. It was disturbingly odd behavior.
"I'm sorry. I made a lot of stupid mistakes. I just wanted to save everyone, to protect my last place of belonging. I think that investigator was fighting for the same thing, I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't mean to do it, I became completely lost in the idea of loosing everything that I wasn't paying attention to my actions. I'm sorry, he doesn't deserve any of this. It's all my fault." The ghoul paused, his breath hitched by a sob, "It was stupid of me from the beginning to think I could use a power I can't control." He muttered under his wavering breath. It was not meant for her ears.
That ghoul... was venting to her, there was no other fitting explanation. It perturbed her how un-ghoul-like his reaction to his situation remained. An unsettling lurch pulled within her gut as a single question rampantly raced across her thoughts, but it would only hinder the amount of time she had to reach out to Amon.
"Please... I don't know which channel the medical unit's feed is on." The young voice quaked with fear.
Akira's mind held at a conflicting stall as the situation slowly became digested. It sickened her how a ghoul involved in her father's murder case was asking her to help save a friend. Both men would only be doves to the ghoul, specialist eradicators of its own species. Both men were involved in the death of the mother ghoul, the most likely motive behind her father's killer. To her knowledge, there would be no reason for the ghoul to care for Amon's well being. A mounting amount of frustration and confusion tormented her to no end. Why was the voice on the feed conveying with great believability such worry? Her position and further actions were situated in an quandary, unable to discern whether or not it would be appropriate to trust the ghoul. As a friend and partner, she wished to reach out to Amon. As an investigator, a sincere lack of trust towards the creature was ingrained within her. It was a section of her that believed it was a trap held by a ghoul in cahoots with her father's murderer. The lead to the lead to the infamous Rabbit could be hers to interrogate.
Akira felt her breath hiccup at the thought of her father's passing, and cupped the lower half of her face as she held back the cascade of emotions that came with it, "Why is it that you would come to his aid? Earlier you spoke of your assurance that your death is inevitable at the end of this conversation." Her mask of indifference began to slide as she struggled to hold back her deep hurt, "You're willing to die if it means a medical team can get to him. Why is it... that you've chosen to save him? Why was he spared over my father? Why... did the Rabbit..." The release of the held back emotion vented through the communicator's feed as her eyes became red and puffy with tears.
The pause in the air was filled with the mumbling patter of rain and her own breaths, unsteady with tears. She berated herself for exposing her soft side to a ghoul, wondering what had possessed her to do so. What had happened to her previous disposition?
"I'm sorry," The monster repeated to the point where the words became nothing more than background noise, sucking out any meaning, "We just wanted to protect the daughter of the mother the CCG killed. She was an innocent person, both of them were. I'm sure you can understand the want to protect the life of someone who has done nothing wrong." Innocent? She wanted to slaughter the thing for speaking of such a preposterous idea. It was in a ghoul's nature to feed and kill humans, an inevitable part of their lives. How could one of them ever survive without committing such a thing? "I can't speak for the Rabbit, but she agreed to the terms that it would be fine if a murderer like herself died. I was never given any details about their fight, but your father's death did not come without grief on the Rabbit. I never truly understood why until now. Ms. Investigator, she too, knew well the pain of having a father taken away."
Akira felt herself go numb as she attempted to digest the information. A ghoul... her father's murderer, thought it could empathize with her? She found herself unsure how to respond. She'd never let her internal issues become this open before, and was floundering when it came to dealing with them. Why couldn't she seem to push them behind that mask where they always hid before?
"If you want to come and kill me for stopping Amon from saving him, go ahead. Just please dispatch a medical unit afterwards for him." He mumbled into the crackling speaker, then divulged his current location by a street name and a few landmarks.
The boy never bargained her partner for anything, it can't be a trap. Or it could be an ambush, all set perfectly in play to toy with your emotions. First your parents, now you. Despite what her training as an investigator had established into her ideology, she found herself defying orders. Strangely, she did not feel she would die today.
"Takizawa, I'll be heading over to the remains of division four." She notified the man who warned her of the danger of her decision and questioned her actions. Silently, she prayed for his safety and that she was not coming to the wrong choice as she jogged off towards the location the ghoul had specified.
A new voice of a deeper resonance broke into the audio of her communicator. Her heart became elated as her breath was caught in her throat.
-
"Akira, I'm going to claim ownership rights over this ghoul." He raised his low, raspy, voice, ignoring her qualms. He was aware that no ghoul was permitted to be left alive.
The man proceeded to lower his voice for the sole ears of the masked boy, "Eyepatch... Don't mistake me for letting you escape to the other side either." Koutaro's hands gripped the ghoul's arm with a greater firmness, as if to assure he would not dissappear, "I want to understand how you see the world. I... want to hear your story." His eyes appeared weary and heavy with exhaust at their small openings as they gazed into the single visible eye of the ghoul. The investigator observed and took into acceptance every emotion set into the grey turmoil. It was strikingly un-ghoul-like, defying his education at the academy and the monster which his mask portrayed.
"That mask is so ill fitting." He took note of the juxtaposition as the corners of his lips slightly twitched upwards.
-
The daughter of Mado Kureo cautiously approached the designated site, checking the area for signs of other ghouls who could ambush her. As the ghoul clad in black came into a clearer view, all color drained from her face. Palpitations filled her chest as her breaths became more rapid and adrenaline entered her system. Her fist tightly clutched the handle of her quinque, the movements of her muscles becoming increasingly rapid, twitchy, and sensitive. This was the pay dealt to her for trusting a ghoul. All signs her inner turmoil slid familiarly behind a hardened mask as she stepped closer to the unmoving creature. The tip of her quinque found its way to the leather covered throat of her next victim. Her hardened gaze narrowed as she scrutinized the lying bastard. What else should she have expected from a ghoul? He could use Amon as leverage while he was in front of her eyes, pulling out the organs he pleased with the arm inserted in his side.
"A..kira..." The sickly pale investigator's gaze peered up at her with eyes washed by relief at the sight of a familiar face, "don't. His fingers haven't so much as twitched."
"I.. only ate part of his kakuja armor. I have no intention of killing him." Centipede explained away the mess around his lips as he cautiously turned off and put down the communicator with his free hand and raised it behind his head.
His words of 'no intention of killing him' rolled about in her mind as she took in how close to death's door her partner laid, "Explain to me why you have your arm in his side." The blond's tone took on a familiarly flat one as the question was quickly laid out.
His adam's apple bobbed as his uncovered, grey eye stared down wearily at the edge of her weaponry, "I was in the state of a kakuja and lost complete control of myself and my actions. It became increasingly difficult for me to keep track of my aim. I was going after his quinque and armor, but unintentionally deeply punctured his side. I couldn't stand the idea of murdering the man who..." The ghoul paused as it scrunched up its eyes, holding back an indistinguishable emotion, "I... There was so much blood pooling out. The wound was deep enough that I knew he would die of blood loss, possibly even organ failure if something didn't clog the flow before a medical team could get to him. It wasn't the most sanitary choice, but my arm seemed to be the perfect size."
The female ghoul investigator appeared to halt, her body stiffened as the cold of the air seeped through the standard battle uniform. Her icy gaze hardened, analyzing the other's expression for the slightest sign of lying.
This isn't the time to bring up doubts, she curtly tossed that path of thought away. Not while Amon was in such a dire condition. Her own personal thoughts could be sorted through later. Amon would be writing up a report on his actions if he survives through the treatment. No, don't doubt his strength, and don't strain it either. Her quinque slowly receded to her side.
Centipede interpreted her actions as a chance to speak up, "The last thing I saw your father do was behead a mother in front of her child. I understand the CCG's motives behind the killing of ghouls. I understand that an investigator both can't and is unwilling to see eye to eye with a ghoul. I don't hold a grudge against anyone for that. I can't say I knew much about your father. I only ever saw one side to him, the one ghouls fear. It's just as the CCG can only see one side to ghouls. But I have learned that no man was ever inherently cruel. We act out what we feel and what has been inflicted on us. It's a process of the loss of innocence. Seeing now that he had raised a daughter who is this willing to go out of her way for someone she cares about... that's admirable."
The young woman was taken aback by his words, raising her brows higher above her widened eyes. He'd be ashamed that I haven't killed you. Her lips parted to shoot out a snappy reply, but found her tongue to be still and dry. It came to her with great difficulty to accept the ghoul's words.
She proceeded to set the channel on her communicator to that of the medical unit. Words slipped out of her mouth in an almost incoherent blur, an automatic functionality. Or maybe it was out of her desperation to save her partner. Her cool regard turned its attention to the man's injury, burying the fear squirming inside her. He'll bleed out if I remove his arm, and a medical team dispatched by the CCG would have the ghoul killed beforehand in order to provide help for Amon.
In a smooth sway of her upper body, Akira raised her quinque, almost feeling sympathy towards the man-eater. Never before have her emotions been contorted in such a way by one of the creatures. Gathering the muscle in her biceps and chest, she firmly planted her legs and completed the manuver of her swing. An inevitable spurt of dark liquid added to the soiled ground and lightly pattered across her features. No, by a boy. A general young man. A few inches in front of the juncture of the elbow, his arm had become severed in a clean sweep.
"Surrender." Her flat tone drained of emotion came with ease as the crimson washed blade of her quinque rested below the masked being's chin. Her eyes flicked across the two laid out in front of her to discover she was not the only one surprised by her own actions.
The visible eye of the ghoul widened larger than its socket should have allowed, and was given too short of an amount of time to react to the situation. His reply was that of blood curdling screech bubbling out of his rough vocal cords and spewing from from his spread jaws. The cries became spattered with partially formed cursing as his facial muscles constricted out of the severe pain. The chest of the young boy heaved as several more heavy cries followed in suit. The severed arm was clutched firmly to his quaking chest as he peered up with a deeply wounded expression before bowing in submission.
"I-I... sur-surend-er," The small voice murmured in a weakened breath, "I understand."
Akira had gazed upon the subdued half-kakuja with a mixture of unsettling fear and understandable shock. Dispite breaking her regulations as a ghoul investigator, internally she could never deny that the same ghoul who had endangered Amon's life had very well saved it.
The blonde kneeled at the side of her partner, giving a glance over to his wounded side and the severed arm of the ghoul, "A medical team has been dispatched along with the Ghoul Containment Unit. Both will arrive shortly, Amon, please stay with me." Her stoic mask cracked with the brimming of tears gathered in her eyes. It provided a break from the surmounting stress, another opening to her locked up emotions.
"Don't be absurd," Koutaro's voice broke through the roar of moterized engines and crunch of snow underneath multiple tires, "if I were to give up now, he would become a murderer." His half lidded eyes drooped, dripping with exhaust.
-
"Akira, your father's death was due to my own fault in under estimating the enemy." Amon called out out to her in a cough, gurgled by the blood seeping up his esophagus. He was unsure if his muffled, weak words had reached her, she was distributing information and orders to the medical and ghoul containment units.
With the nabbing pain gripping his side, it became increasingly difficult to focus. An abyss of grueling stretches of agony engulfed his organs. His very veins became a web work disturbed by a gush of wind. The whole infrastructure became enveloped in contortions as reaction. Lightheadedness sputtered out light patterned around the edges of his vision. The lights of the surrounding vans became bleary and out of focus. People in dark uniforms crowded around the area. As he felt his body become lifted up on a stretcher, his blurring vision locked on to the Eyepatch ghoul. The boy was thrashed about, tackled, and bound by multiple officers with no resistance. His head was hung low, and his body was a lifeless rag doll pushed about the hands of unknowing and careless children. Was it shame that hung him so low? His body was pulled inside a ghoul containment until and closed behind quinque steel doors.
He felt his head bob up as the stretcher was taken into an ambulance owned by the CCG, and the wheels clinched against the metal edge of the floor. Florecent lights glared holes into his head, as if washing out ever wound on his body and mind. A dark shape loomed overhead, providing relief from the judgment of light.
"Amon, you've changed." Akira softly searched his eyes as her features embodied pity and confusion.
"I tried... to stop being such a... stubborn old mule." Morimine materialized within his memories as he felt the arata being peeled off. Perhaps she too could understand why. The guilt of his ignorance hung in the form of a cross around his neck. But perhaps he could redeem himself. There were still questions he wanted to ask him.