Omake. Or is it?

Arima was a genius, 

Arima, was a genius?

Arima was a genius.

This title was neither self prescribed nor exaggerated, as due to his job of maintaining the office in the First Ward, the basic requirement of maintain a level of knowledge about what went on in the other wards was essential. Of course, this was part of the role for all investigators with any resemblance of power and authority within the CCG; yet his mechanical efficiency and lack of complaints had always been paramount to his success in the battlefield of bureaucracy. 

What many failed to notice about Arima, a fact not unnoticed by the man himself, was his boundless thirst for discovery. This meant he was better prepared for the subjugation of the ghouls he would face during extermination. Yet, there was a more personal side to his curiosity, for something mundane always plagued his life, an inability to break the mould, if you will. This personal curiosity was what drove the man to wake up, what drove him to sleep. For the claims of immortality that others sang and preached about, the CCG’s reaper stalwartly warded against accepting their claims, because the fear of complacency drove him. Thus, curiosity was the perfect counter.

The desk and its mahogany texture… how was it created? This type of question, at first glance may seem daft and pointless, as any such question would simply be laid to the wayside in any other situation. That was an issue; the trivialities lay abandoned and forgotten in the face of mounting importance. Elitism. Disdain for elitism from the elitist.

The stack of reports on the man’s table only served to augment the feeling of utmost importance, along with utmost boredom. Something immediately stood out, and despite all odds, Arima noticed it. He was definitely not supposed to notice it, nor was he supposed to care. Yet, that was a first glance assumption most people made, though not that he would discourage or scold them for it. It did make his job infinitely easier: not having to worry about the internal thoughts of others due to the simplification that was involved when regarding himself. 

‘The 20th Ward casualty report,’ he casually muttered to himself. The fact that even the 20th Ward had casualties was quite surprising to the man, yet what surprised him even more was the scene of the crime. 

Silently, he picked up his briefcase, now personally interested.

————— 

It couldn’t have gotten any worse.

That was a phrase many have used, exaggerating its meaning and effect. On paper it meant frustration with the situation and its devolution; in reality it was a sign of the utmost pain and desolation due to the uttering of this powerful phrase. 

Rize Kameshiro was thinking to herself, three days after that fateful night, about how things probably could get worse. The wounds she received are non-existent, long healed due to the nature of her kagune and her voracious appetite (at least when not caught and limited by Anteiku staff). And yet, the current situation was by far and away the first time that Rize had a terrible time for someone other than herself. 

Picking up Kaneki, or the discarded remains of the boy, was difficult. The constant reminder of his merits and his interest in her was what mainly kept her appetite at bay. At the same time, there was a spark, a genuine worry for the young man, though whether this feeling stemmed from a sense of duty or some unknown kinship was yet to be determined.

Regardless of all the inner turmoil this ghoul faced, one thing remained constant: her hatred for the low profile she was obliged to keep. The cleanup in the aftermath of the mess left by Ken’s innards along with the manager’s panicked and rage-like state were matters that led to much confusion and frustration on Rize’s part. The collective security of the ward, at least what the manager liked to call it, was much more vital than her own personal comfort or needs.

At least that was what she kept telling herself. Yet the distress was very real, very irritating and very mysterious. The attempt to further dwell on the issue was, however, cut massively short. 

‘Have you heard of the news?’ exclaimed an unusually excited dove. ‘This one is definitely too thin on the meat’; a subtle subconscious evaluation, undoubtedly left from her time beyond the 20th.

The other dove and his stoic face gave away no surprise, until a more silent part of the conversation escaped her notice. At least one word was heard, the only one that actually mattered. 

‘Arima’

—— — — 

Kaneki was in heaven. For that was the only state the explained this new lack of pain. The hope that he would stay that way grew fainter and fainter, until the pain returned…

— — — — 

For someone who prided himself on himself on the ability to maintain a calm demeanour, it was obvious to anyone who knew the manager, something was off.

The manager could only somewhat recall the events of that faithful evening. Yet he knew that he had made a massive mistake. Only now he hoped that this mistake wouldn’t cost the brave young man his life. 

Another human, a different death. 

The guilt was the same however…

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1. N/a

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.

———————————————————————————————————————————————

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…

———————— ————— ————————————————————— ——————————— 

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 a̲s̲s̲, 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.

——————————————————————————————————— ———————————

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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1. N/a

Rize’s perspective. 2 days and less before chapter 6.

Leaving the cafe prior would have been a very satisfying or very frustrating experience, a cup of coffee and a sack of meat. Or just the former. Whilst the cafe and their customers were of course strictly off limits, at least when taken at face value, there were always those they knew, or those around the various locations close to the cafe. 

Despite the constant reminders by the manager in regards to my eating habits. My perception of his stern demeanour being forced or a facade had led to a practical disregard for anything that he said, hence my attempt at targeting Kaneki. Yet this time I was shaken, a sense of absolute fear had taken control of my extremities. All encompassing, all powerful, overpowering and supremely real. The killing intent exuded by the manager was this time fully directed at me. 

“Rize-san, a word if you will” he stated, in a voice that almost seemed forcefully tranquil. Perhaps he doesn’t realise his killing intent and how it has entirely permeated the small zone that surrounded us. If I were to look around, I would surely identify other ghouls hurriedly leaving and even those working at this little sanctuary would have been surprised to see their guardian suddenly stirred. 

“Manager, what would be the matter?” I drop all matter of honourifics, as if I am to die, I would do so without grovelling. I also subtly note his intentional omission of the usual warm greeting in favour of our much more. What I was not expecting was a his direction for us to talk inside. An idea sprang into my mind at that very moment. 

“Manager.” I deadpan, feigning a sense of confidence, this being my only chance at retaining my life. 

“Who stands to lose more from me making a scene?” I hint in a voice with arrogance befitting those fools from the 11th. The manager being of an entirely different caliber of strength, and this being broad daylight, my blind look into the twilight sky being one based entirely on desperation. 

What I don’t notice is his tensing, or at least not immediately. “Is that a threat?” was almost whispered.  That was part of the high stakes communication that prevents the disclosure of information tries to ensure a misstep on the part of the weaker by reinforcing the gap in strength. He knows my fear, the minute I abandoned the use of his last name meant the shedding of familiarity in favour of caution. Perhaps even terror. This advantage of mine was minute, temporary and most importantly futile.  

“It would be unwise of you to cause any more trouble than you already have.” a sense of confusion dawns onto me. My inactivity since entering the ward was legendary for my appetite, yet the manager claims something had already occurred due to my person.

“I see you have returned to reason Rize-san, not the first time you have abandoned it for your own trivialities.” his annoyance being obvious and overbearing, especially considering how much I had miscalculated in regards to his temperament and what that could have cost me.

Silently I followed him, to the sitting room in the back of Anteiku, “please, sit.” 

The sound of coffee being poured into antique cups was the only echo that permeated the silent. A current and relative peace that was slowly being approached and threatened by the tension relating to the future of my situation or even life. 

“Do you not realise the consequences your actions carry? The people they may affect? The occurrence of the recent past: it has already attracted many unwanted detractors.” I frown; ‘many’? That was something that was most certainly unexpected, if not worrying. 

“Manager, I would assume that you are referring to investigators?” my silent hope was that it was simply a few doves, slipping into another ward to redirect their search; that would be incredibly easy. His long face seemed to suggest otherwise…

“Investigators? You know as well as I do Rize-san, that the 20th ward falls well into its own expected boundaries. There are investigators at Anteiku; their families. What would lead you to believe it is investigators that I am worried about?” the no-nonsense tone of voice conveyed the almost sardonic desire to illustrate his irritation. But perhaps my nervousness is finally getting to me, affecting the way I’m perceiving his posture.

————————————

What was increasingly obvious was the disparity of information held by the two ghouls. As one could see the difference in experience was amounting to a significant advantage, at least in this particular interrogation. A facade is something all ghouls, due to the human society they inhabit, possess or are able to utilise; an undoubtedly extremely useful skill.Yet the ability to accentuate emotions and differentiate the skill of the user, that is what truly separated those who thrived from those who survived. 

Kuzan; the manager, he was humble enough to understand the necessity of those skills and the implications they carried for himself and those whom he protected. 

Yet the path to achieving paramount skill, that required an inordinate amount of patience- 

Every calculated movement had to be followed by another statement, one must always be reading their opponent to succeed in the conflict of mind and body. The victor would be one to walk away with a sense of control and superiority; the loser left doubting the integrity of their information and thought process. 

Humans who along similar lines had attempted to study this traditionally ghoul art, out of some kind of perverse fascination or spite. They had yet to realise that the ordinary survival instinct that consumes and drives those possessed to extreme lengths, for it is not even second nature. It is so primary, that many lose their original identity in the face of the threat of being discovered. 

Rize, her purple hair disheveled, her posture rigid and most importantly her breathing slowed. It was a valiant attempt to get herself under some semblance of control. Yet due to the imposing authority and the critical eye with which he regarded her, his silver hair only contrasting with his dark and sharp eyes. 

“I understand your familiarity with the ghouls of 11th ward, even your association with Kameshiro Matasaka in the 6th…” this line of thought was obviously a simple reiteration of the known facts. A matter  that wasn’t actually a matter. 

“What do you know of the Aogiri Tree?”

———————

The night of chapter 6: Rize’s perspective. 

The discussion with the manager, whilst most certainly unpleasant, was perhaps somewhat necessary given the circumstances in which I had become embroiled in. Of course as any ghoul would or wouldn’t know, my temper and patience have their limits; if faced with someone whom it is possible to eat. Yet they do say that danger makes you re-evaluate. 

Due to this being the 20th ward, and the manager’s strict warnings about hunting and not causing trouble. I have remained meal-less for an extended period of time. Yet despite the physical discomfort and mental fatigue I experienced, there was a certain feeling of satisfaction, for I had seemingly finally found a place where I enjoy staying more than hating its inhabitants. 

Perhaps the manager realised this, yet the man just seems more cruel and callous to me by the minute. I silently smirked, finding irony in the fact that: if any of my thoughts were to be voiced, I would be ridiculed. The manager? ‘Cruel’? Yet undoubtedly that was what he was, for otherwise he wouldn’t put a ravenous ghoul like myself as an enforcer for order. 

This was the greatest irony in my life, probably even more than befriending Ken. For I have often played with my food before, yet this is the first time I’m made to ensure no one plays with theirs…

1. N/a