Kai—Kaneki stepped out of Kanou's office, his stance unreadable. His lazy gaze swept across the lounge, searching for his 'new' friend. He didn't find him among the scattered occupants, who stared at him with a mixture of awe and something deeper—reverence. Unbothered, he turned and walked off, heading for the next place Hide might be.
---
"So what you're saying is..." Hide sucked in a sharp breath, staring down at the dark liquid swirling in his mug. He glanced up at the nurses, who nursed their own cups of coffee, eyes glimmering. "That Kaneki made this?"
The nurses nodded, already understanding his reaction.
A good brew deserved its due praise, and Hide knew this better than most. He and Kaneki had both fallen in love with Anteiku's coffee at first sip. But this... this cup in his hands...
His fingers trembled slightly as he stared into the abyssal blackness of the coffee. And the abyss stared back.
There was something about this brew. It relieved a fatigue he hadn't even realized weighed on him, like a burden lifted from his very soul. He felt lighter. Elevated. As if his being had been touched by something divine.
The chattering around him faded. A hush settled over the breakroom.
Hide exhaled, already turning in his seat—he was getting used to the telltale signs of his friend's arrival.
And there he was.
Kaneki had changed into civilian clothes—courtesy of Hide, who had brought over a set after hearing about the 'incident' on the news. His previous outfit must've been nothing but shredded rags.
Hide had long given up on reforming his friend's fashion sense. Kaneki was the very definition of a bookworm—a nerd—when it came to dressing. No matter how much Hide tried to introduce some style into his wardrobe, the guy simply didn't care.
But now, standing before him in khaki pants, a dull-green pullover, and a pair of clean white shoes, Kaneki somehow looked different. The outfit was casual, but on him, it carried an air of quiet nobility.
His raven-black hair was slicked back, with two loose bangs framing his forehead. His eyes—sharp and predatory—didn't dart around the room like before, yet Hide could tell he was aware of everyone present.
Kaneki's gaze flickered to the mug in Hide's hands for a brief second, and the corner of his lips curled—just barely.
Then, without a word, he reached out, snatched the cup from Hide's grip, and downed the entire thing in one smooth motion.
"DUDE—!" Hide sputtered, but Kaneki merely set the empty mug on the counter.
"It was good?" Kaneki said—not as a question, but as a statement. A confirmation.
The nurses understood this.
It was not for him to be assured. It was for you—so you would know this was the best coffee you would ever have.
"Are you finally getting discharged? Look at you rocking that fit!" Hide grinned, hopping off his seat. "See, I knew you just needed a change of wardrobe. Even changed your hairstyle—you're rocking it, by the way—"
Kaneki turned, offering the nurses a curt nod—a silent acknowledgment of their presence, a wordless thanks for their care. Then, without another word, he walked toward the exit, Hide falling into step beside him, carrying the conversation for them both.
Kaneki didn't mind the blonde's energy. In fact, he welcomed it.
For eons, the only voice he had known was his own thoughts echoing through the abyss. Now, he was here—amongst the living, in a world that still moved forward. He wasn't yet used to conversing with others, so he offered curt nods and short responses as he adjusted.
They stopped at a fast-food court and settled on burgers.
The food tasted... bland. Kaneki wasn't complaining though. He relished the act of chewing, of using his taste buds again—even if the sensation was dull. He might as well have been eating chalk dust for all he cared.
Only coffee had any real taste. And he drank it with every meal.
Once again, eyes were drawn to him.
Hide shifted uncomfortably in his seat, sensing the weight of multiple stares. Any other person would've fidgeted under such scrutiny. But Kaneki?
He was unmoved.
Compared to the feeling of being watched in the abyss, this was nothing.
To him, these people were house kittens stalking an elephant.
---
"Hey, is that a new model or something?"
A soft giggle followed as a group of girls whispered, stealing glances at their table.
"That guy's bad news, I tell ya. His scent... I can't place my finger on it, but it makes me shiver."
At a corner table, three men sat hunched over their meals, engaged in a hushed conversation. Their brows were damp with cold sweat.
Every being had a scent.
The scent of prey.
The scent of predators.
And the scent of monstrosity.
The trio's gazes flickered to the quiet man sitting across from the boisterous blonde.
The contrast was almost comical.
One, a vibrant burst of life—blond-haired, loud, full of mirth, speaking with animated gestures, smiling at nothing and everything. A sun in its lonesome, burning bright.
The other, his polar opposite—silent, oppressive, yet undeniably the center of attention. His words came in measured doses, his presence overwhelming yet strangely controlled. His focus remained on his energetic friend, yet at times, his abyssal eyes flickered around the room, observing the world with detached curiosity.
His nose wrinkled and the three men didn't miss the slight gesture.
Was he one of them?
Where did he come from?
Who was he—
And then, those eyes found them.
The air collapsed around the trio.
A pair of black voids locked onto them, locking them in place, stripping them bare.
Brown.
Grey.
Deep blue.
Three pairs of eyes met his gaze—and froze.
It was like being pinned under a scientist's scalpel. Like being studied, examined, dissected.
They felt small. No—
They were small.
The worst part?
They couldn't look away.
The blackness of his irises swirled in agitation, like a void teeming with something unknowable, sucking them in. A hunger—not for flesh, not for power, but for discovery. A thirst for chaos.
A moment stretched—too long, too oppressive—
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the weight lifted.
The trio gasped, air flooding their lungs as they jolted back into reality.
Their hands shook. Their pupils had shrunk to pinpricks.
A waitress approached their table, concerned—then stopped.
She stared.
And in the next moment, she turned on her heel and hurried away.
Fear quickened her steps. She needed to make an urgent call.
Amidst the three, she had seen them. A pair of infamous scarlet eyes atop black sclera.
A ghoul.
Her breath hitched. Her pace increased.
The CCG. Yes, she needed to alert the authorities. Before this restaurant turned into a slaughterhouse.
Little did she know—
A far greater threat than a mere ghoul sat in the booth across from a chattering blond, lazily munching on tasteless fries.
Ignorance was bliss.
---
In the corner booth, the trio sat stiff. Their breaths were unsteady.
"Your eyes..." Kira rasped in a low voice, his breath shallow, his pulse a wild drumbeat in his ears.
The moment stretched unbearably as the words left his lips, his fear momentarily shoved aside by grim realization. He wasn't speaking about that man's abyssal gaze anymore. No—this was something else.
It was them.
His wide, trembling eyes locked onto his companion across the table—onto the telltale glow of scarlet irises, black sclera.
The Kakuja.
It had slipped out. Even if only for a fraction of a second, even if his companion had managed to wrestle it back into submission—it had been there.
And worst of all… someone had seen it.
Kira barely had time to process the creeping horror before the sound of a sharp inhale cut through the thick air. A presence—unnoticed until now—stood at the edge of their table.
The waitress.
She had come to check on them. To ask if they needed anything. To offer some meaningless customer service pleasantries.
But now, all she could do was stare.
Her face paled to a ghostly white. Her pupils shrank to pinpricks. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Then—she backpedaled.
One step. Then two. Then three.
Then she was gone.
She didn't walk. She fled.
Kira didn't need to think. He already knew what was coming next.
She wouldn't call the police.
She wouldn't pretend she had seen nothing.
No—she was going straight for the CCG.
A metallic tang filled his mouth as he bit down on the inside of his cheek, his mind already spinning through their dwindling options.
They needed to leave.
Now.
The three of them moved as one, their bodies stiff with suppressed tension. They rose from their seats—slowly, deliberately—not running. Not yet.
Drawing attention would be a death sentence.
Without a word, they maneuvered around the enigma's table, taking the widest possible berth without seeming unnatural. None of them dared to look at him again, but they still felt his presence—oppressive, unreadable, something wholly beyond them.
They stepped through the doors, and the moment the night air hit their skin—
They moved.
No longer cautious. No longer composed.
Their bodies knew the truth before their minds fully accepted it.
The CCG would be here in minutes.
And so, without hesitation—
They ran.