Soft Spoken Brutality Chapter 8



A/N: I’d like to think both Rize and Kaneki are troubled in their own way, only the former doesn’t admit it to herself. Hence why we see so much angstneki 

The significant lack of lighting didn’t bother Kaneki, the 20th ward seemed to emanate a sensation of safety and security. Hence walking in the night would not be as detrimental to his health as it would in any other place in Tokyo. Of course subconsciously his feeling of security also stemmed from the knowledge and association with those from Anteiku, for this meant his death; if it came. Would come from someone of the human kind. Perhaps some mugger desperate for another round of drinks, or a serial murderer and maybe even some poor soul trying to feed their family. 

Kaneki liked to think he was a happy person, liked to try to convince himself that he was undoubtedly a happy person. Defiantly, a thought remained perpetually plaguing the forefront of his mind, what makes you a good person? This was not the philosophical thought that came with self discovery and a desire to redeem humanity. No, this was a personal question. ‘What made me a good person?’ He would repeat this, second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour. 

His mind would simply spin in self consuming circles. Not that Kaneki would let anyone see that, he was devoutly and firmly in the belief that his mind was impregnable, his thoughts a ;sanctum, sewer. None will have touched or should touch. This was his unspoken rule, yet he didn’t want to die. Death would have been a sweet release from the life of simply existing, for what human doesn’t want to share the load that would have broken two mens backs.

Books. That was the answer. The simplicity of being able to borrow an identity, that had always been his answer. 

Yet this is why there was lack of grounding of his being in the reality of the world. He had willingly abandoned it since the times his mother was dying, for what need is a painful world in a fragile body, yet the novels he read pointed less at an escape. Instead they were supposed to be a reminder of those who couldn’t chose their fate. The tortured protagonist in Sen Tatsuki’s ‘Black Goats Egg’? He has no choice. He exists and cannot even escape from his existence in the novel. Kaneki can, he can leave and go where he desires.

This was seemingly the sign of the escape being attempted. A purpose in life would bring Kaneki back to reality. Thats what he told himself, thats what Hide told himself, thats what Hide told him. Thats what not dying told him. Yet he’d be dying again fairly soon.

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The manager was for once, unsure of what to do. For there in this ward stood Jason, this was not unwillingness to act. It was uncertainty. A slow throbbing was drowning out the world, as the manager went through all the possibilities of how this may end. For one. Jason was not alone, another, with a certain weird posturing stood there with him. Following the blood trail may have led the manager to one case that he might have to leave for the CCG…

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The smell of blood was thick in the air, and the manager would have my skull if I didn’t investigate what the origin of the unfortunate bleeding soul was. Yet the smirk that would have adorned my face was wiped off as suddenly as it emerged, the bleeding wasn’t random. The right amount had been cleaved, this was made to lure a hungry ghoul in.

Suddenly my pondering turns toward the worse, snarling I follow the blood trail. Stuck between fighting this suicidal would be smart ass, and the manager turning his ire toward my being. The choice was incredibly obvious, yet converging on the smell of the blood, I started to smell others. 

The manager, Jason, Ken… 

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Four powerful ghouls stood there, each converging on the location of some poor passerby bleeding out from his neck. A painful way to go. Yet he wasn’t allowed to die. Not until Jason had made sure that Rize was in his possession… 

It had taken sometime, but Aogiri Tree had managed to figure out the location of the binge eater, it wasn’t difficult. As torturing the truth out of those trying to keep quiet was this ghoul’s forte. Yet what confused Yakumo was why there were two Rize walking toward him right now. A sister? No, she had no relatives, at least none in this ward. A lover? That would seem a more likely choice, yet Jason smirked at that possibility. Who could have possibly wooed the infamous Binge Eater, he almost wanted to laugh at that possibility. 

Nico would have laughed with him, for entertainment in life was always something to be appreciated. Yet he immediately spotted the difference in the two Rize that were walking toward him and his unlikely companion. 

The clown faced okama tilted his head toward the weaker of the two. Yakumo grinned and nodded. Cracking his finger, before moving toward the lightless alley.

The manager realised a sense of foreboding what this would mean, yet confronting them there would have been a mistake. For this ward was off the radar of the CCG, Jason would simply have to make some noise, and flee. Perhaps the manager could have finished him, but not without alerting someone.

Instead the man tilted his hat and started progressing to the rooftops above the alley. Jason would know he is here, yet he hoped his presence would discourage any rash movements from the Aogiri ghoul. Of course the world wouldn’t be so kind.

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Kaneki simply saw red. The blood wasn’t his own. Until it was.

For in a flash a blinding searing sensation dominated his senses. He couldn’t tell where the pain originated from. Where it ended. Or even if he was in pain to begin with. The pleasant numbness was undoubtedly a poisoning sensation. Pleasantly making him feel out of touch with who or what his assailant was. 

‘Its human’ the voice sounded muffled, the sound filtered through throbbing underwater currents. 

The next moment he was roughly thrown into the next alley. 

‘Rize Kameshiro, you smell just like her.’

‘Be careful, he is quite ‘fragile’’ 

Once more there was simply a lack of perception or weight to those words, for the wounds he had received previously were much shallower. 

Each fibre in his blood stained abdomen throbbed with life, or as much life as it could muster when everything within was escaping wildly. Wildly he thrashed and fought for the realisation of death had unlike before become unwelcome. Yet the hand o n his throat and the blood flowing downwards did not care for such sentimentalities, for the determined cruelty of the man who held him was seemingly second nature. Whilst Kaneki was someone who escaped cruel reality and not embraced it.

Thus his struggle was just like his nature, artificial and concocted. For his life was never of any value to himself, until it was.

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References

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