Chapter Text
Amon would never forget the day he met Kaneki.
Snow crunched under Amon’s boots as he swept his flashlight through trees. The Aogiri raid was over, but complete extermination could never be ensured. He’d volunteered to help pick through the woods in search of escaping ghouls. Lingering adrenaline still pumped through his veins, but in the quiet of night, it was slowly beginning to drain from him. He’d page back to command and return home soon.
A twig snapped and Amon whirled around toward the noise. It could be an animal, but he tightened his grip on his quinque briefcase nonetheless. When it came to ghouls, a moment of weakness was all that separated life and death.
A ghoul stumbled into view, but they didn’t wear red Aogiri robes and no skeletal mask adorned their face. Instead, sure to be numb bare feet fumbled through snow and only tattered remains of clothes hung off them. Bone white hair spotted with blood shone in the moonlight. He looked nothing like the ghoul which plagued Amon’s mind, but he’d never be able to forget that mask. Not when it had grinned at him all while the ghoul behind it had cried.
Eyepatch fell face first into the snow and Amon froze.
Only the sounds of his own breathing broke up the night air and he knew what he had to do. He was a ghoul investigator who’d stumbled upon a registered ghoul. One who’d collapsed right in front of him from either exhaustion or wounds. All he had to do was finish the job and bring justice to such an existence.
Amon took a step forward, but he didn’t activate his quinque. It could be a trap. It had to be one. With any other ghoul he’d assume they were faking death to lure him in and strike the second he was too close.
Yet it was Eyepatch. Eyepatch who’d let him go even though he’d been starving. Eyepatch who’d cried and pleaded with Amon to not make him a murderer.
Amon knelt beside Eyepatch and freezing snow began to melt through the knees of his pants. Eyepatch didn’t look good. Blood matted his hair and stained him in splotches. His hands and feet had begun to turn blue and purple from the cold. With a sickening lurch in his stomach, Amon’s eyes caught on the broken chains which dangled from them. He’d been kept prisoner by Aogiri. It wasn’t unheard of for ghouls to have their own internal affairs and conflicts, but how someone like Eyepatch could have gotten himself mixed up with them eluded Amon.
Maybe he was assuming too much. Despite Eyepatch’s pleas, Amon had found Mado dead underneath the bridge he’d been trying so desperately to reach. Eyepatch hadn’t been the one to kill him, but he’d been the one to allow it to happen nonetheless.
Amon touched his comm and the familiar buzz of an open line vibrated in his ear.
“This is Investigator Amon Koutarou. The woods are clear. Permission to head home?” he asked, the lie bitter on his tongue but not enough to regret. Yet.
“Permission granted.”
Amon turned off the comm and looked back down at Eyepatch. He hadn’t moved yet, and ghoul or not, he needed to breathe. If there’d been a time to drop the act of unconsciousness and strike, it had already passed.
Eyepatch was light as Amon picked him up. Far too light. Bones jabbed Amon from underneath his worn clothes and he needed to eat. Never had Amon thought such a thing would cross his mind, but there was no doubt about it. If he were human, Amon would have rushed him to the hospital immediately.
Yet he wasn’t. Which was why Amon chose to make what had to be the most stupid decision of his life.
Amon stuck to back roads and alleyways as he made his way back, but even when he was forced into populated streets, people gave them nothing more than a second glance at most. It couldn’t be the first time they’d seen something so strange at three in the morning and maybe it wouldn’t be the last. Only when Amon finally arrived home and shut the door behind him did he relax.
Eyepatch still remained unconscious as Amon deposited him on the couch, but his chest still rose and fell in even breaths. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t done so sooner, but Amon reached forward and began to undo Eyepatch’s mask. It was only a few buckles, something which could be taken on and off with ease, and all too soon the leather fell away.
Amon took in a sharp breath as he finally saw him. He’d be hesitant to even claim the kid was university age with his round face. He’d learned long ago that looks and age had little to do with a ghoul’s ability, but Amon’s stomach churned all the same. A dried trickle of blood trailed down from one of Eyepatch’s ears and the light of Amon’s apartment allowed him to see more detail than a simple flashlight had allowed him. It wasn’t nail polish Eyepatch was wearing, not when his nails had rotted black with blood. Both fingers and toes appeared to have been skinned. Except it couldn’t be. It was new and tender pink flesh which greeted Amon’s eyes instead, and he already knew who had taken Eyepatch as prisoner.
No one, not ghoul nor human, deserved to catch Jason’s interest.
Eyepatch’s face twisted before he blinked, and Amon backed away as the weight of what he’d done finally slammed into him. He had a ghoul in his apartment. A ghoul who’d allowed him to live, but also one who’d beaten him. Amon wasn’t even holding his quinque.
Eyepatch snapped up as his gaze darted around the unfamiliar apartment before his focus locked onto Amon.
It took all of two seconds for one of Eyepatch’s sclera to blacken into a kakugan and for his kagune to glow red as he released it. Bringing him back had been a mistake, and despite everything he’d learned and the instincts he’d honed, Amon couldn’t move. Breath caught in his throat and somehow he knew with certainty that if he so much as breathed wrong, everything would shatter.
Despite Eyepatch’s threat, only sheer terror painted his face. He didn’t know where he was and it was all too possible he’d already forgotten who Amon was. Either way, it didn’t matter if he remembered their fight or how he’d spared him. Only that Amon wore the coat of a ghoul investigator.
“I found you collapsed outside the raided Aogiri base,” Amon explained. To reason with a ghoul was madness, yet he found himself doing it all the same. “I brought you back here.”
“Why? You should have killed me,” Eyepatch stated, his voice strangely measured despite his poised kagune and the meaning of his words.
Eyepatch was right. Amon should have taken it as luck and exterminated him. He should have brought Eyepatch’s corpse back to the CCG so he could have a quinque made out of his kagune, yet that wasn’t what he’d done.
“I wanted answers,” he confessed. Everything Eyepatch had done went against what he knew of ghouls. To be spared once was unheard of. But twice? Twice didn’t happen. “You should get cleaned up first, though.”
They both needed it, but a conversation couldn’t be had at the moment. Not with Eyepatch’s current state and not until he felt secure enough to have a rational discussion.
“And then you’ll try to kill me?” Eyepatch asked.
“I…” Amon should. It was the right thing to do. Ghouls had to be exterminated, yet he’d carried Eyepatch back to his own home and pitied what he’d gone through. “I should. Let me see your hands. I’ve learned how to pick locks.”
Eyepatch spared a glance down to the kit which lay on the table. It was small, something Amon carried with him since ghouls locked themselves away and busting down doors was easier said than done.
“It’s fine,” Eyepatch stated as he held one of his cuffs in newly regrown fingers, and yanked.
Blood poured down his wrist and skin tore as he forced it up. Bones cracked yet Eyepatch only stared at it with dead eyes as if he didn’t feel a single thing.
“Stop!” Amon yelled as he darted forward, the fragile peace between them no longer mattering to him when Eyepatch was mangling his own hand voluntarily. Ghoul or not, he still felt pain. “You’ll —”
Eyepatch looked up at him, seemingly unbothered by their proximity now. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Blood splattered onto Eyepatch’s shorts and he set the bloodied cuff down on his own lap in what seemed to be an attempt to not stain the couch further. Amon’s blood went cold as he watched Eyepatch reach for the other cuff with a hand which was still knitting itself together again.
“Just… Let me take it off the proper way. Please,” Amon insisted as he opened his lock picking kit. He’d seen things during his career he’d never be able to forget, but his stomach churned with the implications of Eyepatch’s new behavior.
Eyepatched paused, but surrendered his uninjured hand to Amon. “Why when I’m just a ghoul? You plan to kill me.”
There was no good answer to that as Amon worked his way through the lock. He could claim something about ghoul counter measure laws, but he’d never cared about a ghoul’s feelings. Only that they were dead and he’d been the one who’d done what was needed to ensure it.
The cuff fell to the floor with a thud.
“That’s how humans are. We don’t like to see things in pain,” Amon finally said. Maybe that answer would make some sense to a ghoul, especially one like Eyepatch who’d shown him mercy.
Instead, a bitter smile crept across Eyepatch’s face. “Sure.”
Amon swallowed down his irritation as he worked on the cuffs around Eyepatch’s ankles. The ghoul clearly didn’t buy his answer, but maybe it had been too much to expect from something like him. Even if Eyepatch could feel empathy in some detached way, he surrounded himself with ghouls. Kindness among the species wasn’t common.
Getting Eyepatch into the shower wasn’t easy. Somehow, it was his excuse of the couch getting further stained that did it. He wasn’t sure why Eyepatch would care about such a thing when the furniture wasn’t his, but it was the only reasoning he’d listened to.
Amon needed to clean himself as well, but it could wait. Once he’d shed his armor, only dried sweat remained. It was foolish to change into normal clothes, but Eyepatch hadn’t made a move to kill him yet. Maybe it was from the lingering shock and trauma of what he’d gone through, but Eyepatch seemed willing to talk.
The shower still ran as Amon stepped out of his room. He couldn’t imagine the water would shut off anytime soon. Dried blood, dirt, and ash had stained Eyepatch’s skin head to toe. It would be no easy task to scrub himself clean.
Amon had only drank coffee at night a few times before. It had always been at the office when he’d found a loose thread to a case and needed to fully unravel it before he even attempted to sleep. Tonight wasn’t like those times, though. Tonight, it was the only thing both he and the being in his apartment could enjoy.
Amon had never been particularly good at making coffee, he simply dumped the grounds into the machine he kept, but he hoped Eyepatch wouldn’t be too picky about it. Ghouls had that tendency and preferred coffee brands as he’d found out while investigating.
Something told him Eyepatch would not enjoy the cream and sugar Amon poured into his own cup of coffee, but he wasn’t going to drink it black if he had the option not to.
The shower stopped and Amon waited with baited breath. Eyepatch could have changed his mind about letting Amon live, yet something within Amon couldn’t fully believe that suspicion. Eyepatch wasn’t like the ghouls he’d encountered over the years. Tonight was only continuing to prove it.
Amon wasn’t sure why his breath left him for a fleeting moment when Eyepatch walked into the living room. Damp snowy hair rested atop his head and the clothes Amon had lent him hung off his small frame. Two flat gray eyes stared at him, the life snatched out of them, until they closed and he yawned.
Eyepatch looked human. Far, far too human.
“I didn’t have any decaf,” Amon warned as he offered Eyepatch a cup of coffee.
Amon’s heart broke as Eyepatch stared at it with wide eyes and then back up at Amon as if he couldn’t believe it. For a moment, there wasn’t a ghoul in Amon’s home, but a broken and traumatized boy who desperately needed kindness just like anyone else.
“Thank you,” Eyepatch whispered as he took the cup with trembling hands.
Amon watched him take a sip and pretended he didn’t see the way unshed tears shone in Eyepatch’s eyes. The coffee wasn’t anything special, but maybe the humanity was.
The thought of killing Eyepatch now made Amon’s stomach churn.
It was Eyepatch who spoke first. “I believe you said you had questions for me.”
They weren’t the ones Amon was supposed to ask. Any investigator would demand information on ghouls or ward information, but not even questions of Rabbit plagued Amon’s mind. Not when Rabbit was another ordinary ghoul and Eyepatch was anything but.
“Why did you kill me when we first met? It would have been easy,” Amon finally said. There had to be something, some reason he couldn’t see as a human. Ghouls continued to spare him yet slaughter everyone he held dear. There had to be a reason, no matter how difficult it could be to hear.
“I was a coward and didn’t want to stain my hands.”
The wording was off and nothing like the ghoul he’d seen that day. Nothing about him had been cowardly, not when he’d picked a fight with Amon all by himself. Not when he’d been trying to help another ghoul for reasons Amon would never know.
Eyepatch’s answer didn’t make sense. “But you’ve already killed to eat and you were starving, so why —”
“I’d never killed,” Eyepatch interrupted him before he took a sip of coffee. “There’s other ways to get food without murdering anyone.”
“There’s…” Amon began, but Eyepatch didn’t say a word. Maybe he bought human meat other ghouls provided, but that didn’t seem right either. It was one thing to buy animal meat and another entirely to kill an animal to later eat, but Eyepatch was clearly intelligent and understood Amon’s question. Dead bodies sometimes went missing and morgues had direct lines to the CCG even though they sprayed bodies with solutions that would make them taste awful to ghouls.
Amon had questioned enough ghouls to know he wouldn’t get a clearer answer out of Eyepatch in that regard. Eyepatch had killed by now, that much was clear with his answer, but had it been ghouls or humans who’d met their end because of him? One way or another, he’d fought his way out of Aogiri.
“When I was a child, I was orphaned and taken in by a ghoul named Porpora Donato,” Amon began in the hopes an explanation to his question would somehow help Eyepatch answer his original question. “I didn’t know what he was until one night I stumbled upon him with two of my brothers, both of them dead, and blood staining his mouth. He should have killed me then, but instead he locked me away. It wasn’t a logical move on his part and it wasn’t a logical move for you to spare me either. Why do ghouls keep letting me go when they kill everyone else?”
There had to be something wrong with Amon. Something only a ghoul would be able to see in him and a reason they toyed with him, yet Eyepatch’s gaze was only sad as he looked at Amon. Not cruel or taunting as any other ghoul would be, but as if he felt for him.
There was no reason for Eyepatch to play pretend at being human, and Amon couldn’t find it within himself to believe it was nothing more than a performance.
“I can’t give you an answer for that, but I am sorry that happened to you,” Eyepatch finally said, his voice softer and more gentle than Amon had ever heard it. “No offense, but there’s nothing about you that inherently sets you apart. He might have just loved you in his own twisted way.”
Love. There was no way such a word could be used as reason for the months Amon had spent alone in that dark and utterly cold basement. Such a word couldn’t be used for the way he’d watched his siblings be torn apart and eaten in front of him.
Yet blankets had been draped over his shoulders in the winter and Donato had brought him his favorite meals. He’d talked to Amon and read him books to keep him company.
Eyepatch stood and set down his empty coffee cup, but he didn’t turn on Amon. They both knew what was supposed to happen, what they were supposed to do, but Amon didn’t reach for his quinque.
“Thank you for the coffee and care, investigator. However, I won’t let you kill me. I’ll be going now,” Eyepatch stated. Amon still didn’t make a move to grab his weapon even as he watched Eyepatch walk toward the door. Did he have anywhere to go or a home to return to? Amon didn’t dare ask.
Eyepatch paused by Amon’s door, his hand on the handle, before he turned toward him. “May I ask for your name, investigator?”
“Amon Koutarou.” The answer was out of him before Amon could stop and think about it, but he wanted Eyepatch to know. They could very well never cross paths again, but it felt right. For just a few fleeting moments, they’d been more than just a ghoul and a ghoul investigator.
“Amon…” Eyepatch whispered to himself. The smallest hints of a smile came across him as he said Amon’s name. “Thank you. I’d like to remember the ghoul investigator who spared me. We’re even now.”
Eyepatch opened the door and Amon watched him walk away. He didn’t follow or chase after him. For the first time in his life, Amon let a ghoul live and walk free.
Kaneki was more than aware of the stupid decision he was making.
Yet his face wasn’t plastered everywhere or even on the CCG website. Amon hadn’t just allowed him to leave without a fight, but he’d also never reported him to the CCG. He’d kept quiet even though he had every reason not to.
Kaneki checked his watch. He’d made sure to arrive outside Amon’s apartment well after typical working hours, but the trains wouldn’t be running for much longer. He’d figured it would be less creepy to show up at Amon’s apartment building rather than his work since Amon had brought him there before. The less Amon knew of his past escapade to the CCG, the better.
Finally, a very familiar ghoul investigator turned the block corner, and Kaneki watched his eyes bug out and his hand grip his quinque briefcase in a death grip. Kaneki dipped his head in greeting and kept his hands tucked away in his coat pockets.
“I’d like to continue our talk from last time,” he said. He was much clearer headed now than before when he’d been freshly reeling from Jason and his escape. The shower had helped immensely, though. “And to return your clothes.”
“Return my…” Amon started before realization dawned on his face and his gaze focused on the bundle Kaneki had tucked under his arm. His eyes narrowed in suspicion all the same.
Kaneki sighed. Maybe he’d overestimated Amon’s good will, but he’d prepared for that as well. “I found personal information on Porpora which took a lot to get. Information is precious in the ghoul world, Amon.”
Itori had been ecstatic at his newfound power, something which she’d known about before Kaneki had even stepped into her bar. The mission she’d given him had been simple, but deadly in exchange for her information. A few powerful ghouls had been in her way and caught onto her snooping. He’d had the power to take them down and things had been as straightforward as that.
“How long have you been standing in the cold?” Amon asked as he finally began to approach him. It wasn’t the question Kaneki had been expecting, but he followed Amon up to his apartment nonetheless. It was another stupid decision on his part, but Amon no longer gripped his briefcase in a white knuckled grip. It would be too easy to pretend they were friends.
Kaneki shrugged. “An hour or so.”
“I can’t promise the coffee I make will be any good, but we can talk over dinner,” Amon said as he opened his apartment door and they stepped inside. “It didn’t keep you up too late last time, did it?”
“I don’t get much sleep these days.” It was easy to fall into casual conversation despite what they both were. If possible, he’d like to sleep as sparingly as he could. Not when it no longer meant rest, but him returning to that checkered room instead.
Amon just nodded and maybe they shared that aspect in common. He must have seen things he’d never be able to forget as well. Neither of them were living an easy life.
Amon left Kaneki to making coffee, an easy job when all he had to do was dump the grounds into the machine, but as he watched Amon throw a plain patty for a hamburg steak into his pan with nothing else, he couldn’t stick with his coffee anymore. Even if he couldn’t eat it anymore, someone had to enjoy it in his place.
“Let me,” Kaneki volunteered as he began to go through the kitchen cupboards. “You have wine here, right? Vegetables in the fridge, too?”
“Yes?” Amon answered even though it came out more as an ask.
It all felt like the months of being a ghoul had been nothing but a dream as Kaneki worked in the kitchen. He didn’t have to think about a thing as he saute’d vegetables in one pan and eventually steamed the hamburg steak with wine when they’d almost finished cooking.
It smelled horrible and stung Kaneki’s nostrils, but it didn’t matter. Not really. He’d smelt and eaten worse every single time he forced ghoul flesh down his throat.
Amon watched him with wide eyes as Kaneki plated the food and then moved on to converting the wine into sauce. All he needed to do was add a few more ingredients and boil it down before he drizzled the substance over the meat patty. A strange sense of pride welled up in him as he looked down at the food he’d made. He couldn’t taste test it, but even though it had always been a poor imitation of his mom’s cooking, Hide had sworn Kaneki had a talent for cooking.
Kaneki watched as Amon hesitantly took a bite just to stare down at the food in shock. “How did you learn how to cook?”
Kaneki turned away to pour his coffee. He shouldn’t have stepped in to save Amon’s pitiful excuse for a dinner. If the CCG knew what he really was, they’d want nothing more than to get their hands on him.
“It’s complicated,” he answered as he sat down at the small table across from Amon. “But it’s been a while since anyone’s been able to enjoy my cooking. I hope I didn’t lose my touch.”
“It’s perfect,” Amon breathed as he took another bite. It was rewarding in a way to watch him eat. Kaneki would never be able to enjoy human food or hamburg steak again, but watching someone else enjoy it would have to be enough for him.
Kaneki decided to let Amon eat before they talked. He had no doubt what he was about to say would spoil Amon’s appetite, or at the very least, cause his food to taste like dust in his mouth. What he’d learned hadn’t been easy, and for someone like Amon who had personal ties to Porpora, it could take him a while to stomach it all.
Only when Amon finished did Kaneki set down his coffee and begin to talk.
“Porpora was orphaned as a child by ghoul countermeasures while in Russia. He fled here with a fake ID to escape. It took until his teens to arrive here, and it was during that time he joined the Clowns. He was known to be particularly vengeful and bitter about his lot in life, but enjoyed the senseless way of life he could indulge in with them. Eventually he pulled away to run an orphanage for no other reason than because he found it amusing and ironic to do so. It apparently gave everyone a laugh, but he began to mellow out a few years before his capture,” Kaneki began to explain. He hadn’t asked how Itori had known so much personal information about him. That would only have sent him on another of her missions. “The cause of that was you, Amon. He still occasionally met up with other Clowns and would sometimes invite them over to pose as potential adoptive parents just to pick a kid out to kill and eat. You were off limits. More often than not, he’d end up talking about you whenever he saw them. It could be about things he taught you as part of school, something amusing you said, or something horrible he’d made you do without your knowledge at the time. I won’t deny that what he did to you and the other children there was anything short of cruel and despicable, but he truly saw you as his own son and claimed you as such. That’s why he never killed you despite it being in his best interests.”
“He’s not my father,” Amon hissed. He reached up to touch a cross pendant around his neck. For anyone else, Kaneki would have written it off as religious jewelry, but Amon’s background made everything different.
“You don’t choose your parents, Amon,” Kaneki stated. Amon could deny it all he wanted, but until he let Porpora and the necklace around his neck go, then he’d never be free, but trapped in his own denial instead.
“Were yours sadistic ghouls too?” Amon snapped. “Did they feed you parts of your siblings with a smile just because it was fun? Don’t pretend you never heard what he did to us when gathering your information.”
Kaneki had heard everything Porpora had put them through. Before Yamori, he would have been sick from the cruelty, yet things were no longer the same. He wasn’t sheltered and tucked away from the truth of their world anymore.
“No. My parents…. My dad died a few years after I was born. Truthfully, I only remember his casket and Mom crying. As for my mom…” Kaneki took a moment to think. Up until recently, he’d have talked about her with a smile on his face. She’d been his pride and joy his entire life even though she’d left him alone so soon. “She was both kind and weak. She made me into who I was and am, but she’s dead as well. She overworked herself while I was still a child trying to both support me on my own and help my aunt. It was too much for her and she couldn’t choose between us.”
Amon glanced down at his empty plate. Only a small amount of sauce remained on it and the earlier anger had fizzled away. If anything, he looked guilty.
“I’m sorry for your loss. I shouldn’t have pushed,” Amon quietly said. Kaneki didn’t understand when he had to believe them to be ghouls as well, but maybe he’d forgotten for a moment.
“It’s understandable. What I told you couldn’t have been easy to hear. The world isn’t a kind place to any of us. It’s wrong,” Kaneki said as he remembered the words Amon had told him when they’d first met. Amon’s life had been torn apart by a ghoul posing as his father, and Kaneki’s had been torn apart by a human who’d claimed to be his doctor.
Amon nodded in agreement, and soon, Kaneki found himself walking away from Amon’s apartment. He had someone who’d appreciate human food now. After all, it was important to keep up his skill in cooking food, and he hated letting any of the ingredients they kept as a disguise in their fridge to go to waste.
With a plan in mind, Kaneki began to mentally go through the food they had and what simple dishes he’d be able to make out of it. He’d be returning to Amon’s sooner than initially planned.
The last thing Amon had expected during the weekend was for Eyepatch to show up at his door with a bento box for Amon and an invitation to go on a walk around one of the nearby parks.
“I dislike wasting food,” Eyepatch explained as they walked side by side. Amon still couldn’t believe how good the food had been once again. Ghouls could often describe food due to learning about it, but cooking? Very few ever mastered that. “It’s something precious, but I’ve kept it around anyway as cover in case I was investigated someday. I’d rather give it to someone who can use it.”
Nothing Eyepatch did or said matched up with the mentality of a ghoul. Amon had believed his questions to have been answered the night he’d brought Eyepatch home, but a thousand others had sprung up in their place instead.
“How did you turn out like this? You’re not like a typical…” Amon trailed off. They were in public even if he doubted anyone was listening. All it would take was one person overhearing and deciding to do something about it.
Eyepatch cupped his chin as he thought back. “My mom sheltered me as a kid and taught me to be kind above everything else. It was both a blessing and a curse in the end. I wasn’t ready for reality, and because of that, I only recently began to learn how to fight. Being helpless isn’t an option any longer.”
“How recently?” Amon found himself asking. Eyepatch’s first blows on him had been laughably weak, but once he’d committed himself, he’d been too strong for Amon to fight. Knowing Eyepatch now, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been scared of hurting Amon.
“About three months ago?” Eyepatch guessed with a shrug. The breath left Amon’s lungs. He’d overpowered Amon with only a month of training. Just one.
He couldn’t help but look at Eyepatch again in a new light. Despite his slim build and shorter stature, despite his rounded face and soft features, Amon could be walking side by side with a rate S ghoul. Yet Eyepatch didn’t flaunt his strength. He only walked with quiet assurance in himself, his eyes still dead, but he continued anyway. Amon had seen the look before in resilient investigators who’d lost everything, whether it was colleagues or limbs, but pressed on regardless.
Amon had respected each of them, and despite everything, Eyepatch was no exception.
They passed a group of kids sitting around a table, books and papers spread across it. Sometimes Amon wondered what school would have been like at that age, but he’d been taught by Donato instead. It was a good day to study, though. Despite the chilly winter air, the sun beamed down and the sky remained clear.
“What does this kanji mean again?” one of the kids asked, just to receive a few shrugs. “It has something to do with plants, but…”
“Flower, actually,” Eyepatch said as he deviated from the park’s path. The kid shifted so Eyepatch could point at the kanji. “So put together…”
Once again Amon could only watch Eyepatch in awe. Ghouls weren’t known for getting a good education, most of them could barely read, but Eyepatch was different. He had a way with explaining the kanji that sounded beautiful to Amon’s own ears, and a hint of life whispered through Eyepatch’s words.
Gentle. That was the only word Amon could find as he watched Eyepatch answer questions with patience as he bent down to be on the kids’ level. Amon had no idea what level of education he had, but he could all too easily imagine him as a favorite teacher. One who could explain concepts in such a way that everyone would become intrigued by them even if they’d never held an interest in the subject before in their lives.
Amon shouldn’t trust a ghoul with children, not in general and not with his past, but Eyepatch was different. Somehow, Amon found himself relaxing around him and simply watching the situation play out.
“Did you dye your hair? It looks so cool!” one of the kids piped up. Amon froze, yet Eyepatch only laughed good naturedly.
“It’s this color naturally. I did think of dyeing it black to fit in, but I decided not to,” Eyepatch answered with a slight smile.
“Wait really!” All too soon one of the kids reached out to touch it to see for herself, and Eyepatch bowed her head to allow her curiosity. “But what about your nails? Those look like they hurt.”
“Ah, that… I uh, I accidentally slammed them while closing a door. Both hands, actually,” Eyepatch lied as he laughed awkwardly. Amon was seeing a whole new side of him. The human facade Eyepatch put up around others, but it didn’t feel fake. Not entirely. “I can be pretty clumsy, but it’s nothing. Really.”
“Mom!” one of the kids yelled. Both Eyepatch and Amon froze before they looked over to where the kid was shouting. A woman stood and began to walk over. “Mom, look at his hands! Make them better?”
Amon wasn’t sure even a doctor would be able to undo the damage.
“Really, it’s all fine! They don’t even hurt anymore and —” Eyepatch protested as he tried to back away, just for a woman, who had to be the child’s mother, to take him by the wrists. Her eyes widened into saucers as she took in the state of his mangled hands and she glanced at Amon before she whispered something into his ear.
“Nothing like that. If anything, he’s been helping me since then,” Eyepatch answered, and the tension Amon hadn’t noticed in the first place fell away.
All too soon, the mother had Eyepatch sitting down on one of the park benches as she wrapped brightly colored bandaids around the tips of his fingers. Characters from cartoons decorated the bandaids and the kids seemed insistent on Eyepatch picking out the ones he liked, which he humored by decisively choosing each and every single one for their amusement.
Amon had thought he’d learned his lesson that ghouls could act human, but maybe he hadn’t really as he relaxed into the scene around him. He was an outsider, yet he was learning more about Eyepatch than he could have dreamed. He enjoyed literature and used to study it at Kami, according to what he told the mother. He was good with kids and went out of his way to help them.
Eyepatch had claimed his mother had taught him to be kind, and she’d more than succeeded. Even if it was nothing but a performance with no genuine goodwill behind it since he was a ghoul, he carried out the actions nonetheless.
Yet it felt far too real for it to be anything aside from Eyepatch’s own nature, ghoul or not.
The mother only actually spoke to them once the kids had gone back to studying despite their complaints.
“That wasn’t from a door slam,” she stated as her gaze pierced through the both of them. “If it was your parents, a girlfriend, anyone no matter who they are, this is too much. You hear me?”
“I’m fine now,” Eyepatch whispered as he reached up to fiddle with his hair. “I got away.”
The woman nodded before she turned to Amon with a look that could make even the strongest ghoul investigators stand up straighter. “And you need to look out for him if you want to call yourself a friend.”
“I will, ma’am,” Amon found himself saying, but it wasn’t a lie. As impossible as it should be, for the first time in his life, Amon wanted nothing more than to protect and shield a ghoul from the world they lived in. Eyepatch had suffered more than enough.
Kaneki found himself cooking at home often again. He didn’t miss the glances thrown his way when he did so, even if he did keep the kitchen window open to air out the smell. He understood why everyone kept asking if he could really trust Amon and if he was really sure about things. They were right that it was a stupid decision, though they never said those exact words.
The only person who encouraged it was Tsukiyama. The same person everyone else believed Kaneki crazy for allowing him to keep in contact with him. Hinami, on the other hand, was only concerned about his well being. She knew who Amon was, Kaneki hadn’t hid the truth from her, but she reminded him each time he left to be careful.
As Kaneki cooked, his mind shifted to Amon instead of his housemates’ opinions on his choices. Hopefully he was eating better now outside of what Kaneki made him. He’d had to learn the hard way how essential food was.
Yet sometimes he wondered. Amon knew he was a ghoul and still held beliefs about their species as a whole, but he treated Kaneki as a person for the most part. Amon had to see him differently than a human, yet Kaneki still had no idea how much Amon had separated his existence from both the labels of ghoul and human. Monster, half-ass, ghoul, human, cannibal, freak — all words Kaneki had heard in regard to himself. Amon had to have a word in mind for him as well, but it hadn’t slipped from him. Not yet.
Despite it all, despite knowing what Kaneki was, Amon hadn’t turned him in. He hadn’t fought or threatened him. He hadn’t demanded information or the details of other ghouls. Instead, he’d taken Kaneki home when he’d collapsed and unlocked the chains around his ankles and wrists. He’d made him take a shower and given him new clothes to wear. He’d made Kaneki coffee as a kindness and nothing more. He asked how Kaneki was doing instead of demanding his name.
For just a few fleeting moments, Kaneki could forget what he was when around Amon. He could pretend he was living a normal life again without the reality he’d foolishly stumbled into. He could pretend he was part of the human world again.
Kaneki was too attached, but he couldn’t find the strength to step back either. Not when he’d already let go of so much already.
Amon would never forget the first time Eyepatch showed up at his doorway covered in blood.
Amon knew what he was supposed to ask, he knew he was supposed to assume it was human blood, but he stepped aside and shut the door behind Eyepatch as quickly as possible in case someone saw them. Blood stained Eyepatch’s hair and dripped off his black clothes. Tears in the fabric marked where he’d been cut and injured, but only smooth flesh lay beneath the openings.
“All ghouls. It… It was…” Eyepatch mumbled, his words quiet and slurred together. His eyes remained unfocused.
Eyepatch was out of it as he stood in a daze in front of Amon. He had no idea why he’d chosen to show up at his door, Amon couldn’t do anything to help him, but he could run a bath. He could let him soak in warm water and give him a change of ill fitting clothes. He could brew him a cup of coffee and let him come back to himself in safety.
Blood splattered onto the floor as Amon led Eyepatch to the bathroom and eventually sat him down on the toilet seat. He wasn’t sure what had happened, and he doubted Eyepatch would be chatty about the details when he came back to himself, but he couldn’t imagine it was anything less than horrific. Not when he’d remained clear headed and stable so soon after Jason’s torture.
Never in his life had Amon been so grateful for the gag gift of a bath bomb than in the moment he threw the thing into the water. He doubted Eyepatch had the mental clarity at the moment to properly wash himself. Not when he sat staring into thin air and muttering to himself.
Amon only caught bits of what he was saying as he helped Eyepatch undress. Yamori’s name kept coming up along with someone named Rize. Had he wandered to Amon’s apartment because he’d been triggered into some flashback? It would make too much sense for him to try and recreate the night he’d escaped if he was lost within his own memories.
Amon averted his eyes as he helped Eyepatch into the bath. Something about the warmth made Eyepatch halt his mumbling, a fact Amon was grateful for as he began to rinse Eyepatch’s hair. He wasn’t sure how much more he could listen to. Eyepatch’s repetition that he was strong now, that he was weak, the numbers he listed off, his questions of where his toes and fingers had gone, of a bucket filled to the brim of them. Each and every single string of words he’d said had sent nothing but muted horror and chills through Amon.
The tub’s water soon turned a murky red despite the bath bomb’s coloring, and Amon drained the tub just to refill it again and toss in a new bath bomb. He’d never complain about office parties and random gift giving events again.
White hair finally appeared again from under the blood and Amon frowned as he realized how pale Eyepatch’s skin was. It was like porcelain, but sickly and deprived of sunlight. Was Eyepatch eating enough or was he still starving himself? Amon knew he should hope for the latter, yet the very thought of such a thing sent a stabbing pain through his heart. Eyepatch claimed there were other ways to obtain food and was always so insistent on Amon eating well. It wouldn’t be fair to deprive himself of something so vital, even if it was human flesh.
Eyepatch’s eyes fluttered shut as Amon washed his body. A washcloth separated them from ever touching, but it felt… Amon wasn’t sure what word could be used. He’d never dream of doing such a thing for even his closest of colleagues and his heart ached at the trust Eyepatch had entrusted him with. Eyepatch was uniquely vulnerable like this and so very human that Amon had let him in without a second thought.
Yet Eyepatch was a ghoul. A strange one. One who practiced kindness and empathy. One who longed for kindness in return but seemed wholly unused to it. Someone who had more human traits than most people Amon had met in his entire life. Someone who’d been lonely enough to show up at a ghoul investigator’s apartment subconsciously despite being defenseless.
Amon only left Eyepatch long enough to fetch a set of clothes for him. Next was draining the tub and drying Eyepatch off. Despite his resolution not to look, some sight was required, and Amon froze as a scar caught his eye.
Ghouls didn’t scar. Yet he stared at a surgical one along Eyepatch’s side. There could be no other explanation for its precision, yet Amon already knew he wouldn’t be getting any answers to it. Not when there had to be some important story behind such an impossibility.
So, Amon moved on.
Eyepatch just about swam in the excess cloth of Amon’s clothes once he’d finished dressing him. Like this, with Eyepatch’s head lolling to the side as he dozed off every few seconds and his face relaxed, he was cute. An absurd thought for Amon to have, but a true one nonetheless. Just because Eyepatch carried a strength Amon hoped he’d never see didn’t mean he could only appear any one way.
Amon frowned as he picked Eyepatch up. He was too light once again, though at least bones didn’t poke him anymore this time. No coffee would be had tonight. Not as he set Eyepatch down on the couch and laid a blanket over him. His dreams would be anything but sweet, Amon knew that fact from experience, but hopefully they’d be ones he could forget. That was the best he could hope for.
Muffled ringing sounded from the bathroom and Amon walked toward the sound. As he stared down at Eyepatch’s discarded and soaked clothes, he knew without a doubt where it was coming from. Maybe it was good he hadn’t simply thrown them into the tub to rinse without checking.
Amon pulled the phone out of the shorts’ pockets. Only one symbol was displayed on the screen for the contact, a smart choice since Eyepatch was a ghoul, and Amon set the phone on the sink countertop to ring. Eyepatch could call them back later.
Or maybe never. He deserved more than the company of ghouls. He fit in better with humans than he ever would with them, but Amon could understand in a way. Any human who found out Eyepatch’s true nature would be obligated to turn him in, Amon included, but he’d chosen not to and kept making that choice with every second that passed.
Amon was already rinsing out Eyepatch’s clothes by the time the phone rang again. Whoever it was hadn’t even bothered to wait more than ten seconds between calls. Sure enough, when Amon looked over, it was the same caller.
He elected to ignore it again.
A third time. Then a fourth. Whoever it was would wake up Eyepatch, and Amon made another idiotic decision as he answered the call.
“Kaneki, where are you?” a man on the other end of the line asked without waiting a single moment. So that was Eyepatch’s name. Kaneki. “Are you okay? If you hadn’t picked up, I would have left to come find you. We’ve been worried about you.”
What a strange thing for a ghoul to say, but somehow, something within Amon relaxed at the ghoul’s words. Kaneki had someone who cared about his well being.
“Kaneki? Kaneki, are you okay? Why aren’t you answering?” the man continued at Amon’s silence. “Just tell me where you are so I can pick you up. I’ll get the rest of the gas masks and —”
“He’s okay,” Amon blurted. He couldn’t let them stir up trouble while trying to find him, much less have a whole group of ghouls end up at Amon’s door.
The man paused for a second before his tone turned icy and suspicious. “Who are you?”
“I…” Amon began. He couldn’t tell them the truth. He made plenty of idiotic decisions when it came to Kaneki, but not suicidal ones. “Eyepatch showed up at my door covered in blood, but physically fine. He’s sleeping right now.”
“Sleeping?” the man echoed.
“Yes, and you almost woke him up with your phone calls,” Amon hissed. The ghoul obviously didn’t believe him, but if he cared about Kaneki, then he wouldn’t disturb him any longer. “He’s exhausted, but I’m sure he’ll be back with you tomorrow.”
Silence for a beat, and Amon waited.
“If he isn’t back by tomorrow, investigator, then we’ll come and find you. I promised to be his shield, and even though I’m weaker than him, I won’t go back on my word,” the ghoul said before he hung up.
Amon stared down at the phone in his hand, but despite the threat, a small warmth filled him. Kaneki was cared for, even if by ghouls instead of humans. He wasn’t entirely alone and Amon hadn’t been his only option.
Cared for. What a strange emotion for Amon to pin to a ghoul, yet there hadn’t been any reason for an act in that phone call. At least not in the beginning. Amon didn’t want to believe it, not when he’d helped corner a ghoul who’d sacrificed herself for her child and not when Kaneki had told Amon Donato had loved him, but there was more to ghouls than instinct and sadism. More emotions Amon didn’t want to think of, but knew he’d have to nonetheless.
Maybe Mado had known and been trying to guide Amon to that answer as well.
Suddenly, the severed mother’s hand and the father’s rushed quinque churned Amon’s stomach. There’d been a reason for both of those moves, and Amon had helped carry them out, even if he hadn’t been the one to wield the quinque or wait with the severed hand as bait.
Kaneki woke up screaming.
Someone was holding him by the wrists and he was back there again. Back with Yamori where his toes and fingers would be cut off over and over again. Back with Yamori where he’d have to choose who lived and died all because it amused the ghoul. Back with Yamori where a centipede would eat away his brain just for it to heal again and again. He could already hear it skittering and clicking in his ear.
“One thousand, nine hundred and ninety three, nine hundred and eighty six,” Kaneki counted as he wrenched away. It would start soon and he’d be wrenched back to reality from the pain.
He couldn’t stop yanking at his own hair until he’d feel a tug and release as the roots gave out. It was the only thing he could grab onto, yet all too soon a large man was tackling him.
“I’m not weak anymore!” Kaneki screamed as he threw the man off. He’d learned to become strong so he wouldn’t be at the mercy of others again. So he could choose both and save everyone. “I’ll kill you again, Yamori! I’ll kill you and eat you and become even stronger!”
Kaneki gasped for air, the man no longer on him or a threat. Maybe he was another hallucination, but it didn’t matter. Kaneki had beaten him again. He wasn’t weak even though his heart pounded in his chest.
It was only as reality trickled back into focus that horror flooded through Kaneki.
The apartment around him wasn’t his own, but Amon’s. He had no memories of ending up there, but he was sitting on Amon’s couch and wearing the man’s clothes. As for Amon himself…
Amon lay across the room, thrown to the opposing wall and scuffed up, even if he was conscious. Kaneki had been the one to do that to him. He’d been the one to lay a hand on Amon and use his strength to hurt him when Amon had probably been trying to keep Kaneki from hurting himself. He knew how he sometimes broke his own fingers in his sleep or tried to pry off his own nails. Sometimes he’d wake up and strands of white hair would be clutched in his hands with bits of his scalp attached to them.
“I’m sorry,” Kaneki breathed as he collapsed to his knees on the floor. He couldn’t breathe again. He’d shown Amon who had good reason to hate him exactly why he was justified in that. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I —”
Sobs clogged Kaneki’s throat and the wood of Amon’s floor felt cool against his forehead as he apologized over and over again. He might have seriously hurt him, but even if he hadn’t, he’d still thrown him. He wasn’t safe for Amon to be around. He deserved for Amon to turn him in immediately.
Kaneki tried not to flinch as Amon began to walk over to him. Instead he screwed his eyes shut. He deserved whatever was coming to him, but if his life was at risk, he’d force himself to fight and survive. He couldn’t protect anyone if he was dead.
Yet Amon didn’t kick him away in disgust or scream at him. Instead, he knelt beside Kaneki and pulled him up so he wasn’t bowing anymore.
“You woke up from a nightmare and had a flashback,” Amon stated, as if that was explanation enough.
“I…” Kaneki started. He didn’t understand. He’d lashed out and hurt him. He couldn’t stop trembling.
“It happens to investigators too,” Amon continued. For some reason, he only looked sad instead of angry as he had every right to be. He’d extended kindness and trust to Kaneki, just for it to be used against him. “There’s some investigators at the CCG none of us dare wake up since they’ll have a quinque knife at our throats within seconds. It’s a normal reaction. I should have thought through what I was doing.”
Hot tears stung Kaneki’s eyes in a new wave. He wasn’t worthy of the forgiveness and understanding Amon was giving him.
“I’m broken,” Kaneki whispered. He’d known it to be true ever since he’d escaped Yamori who had twisted him into something strong yet utterly wrong, but he’d thought he had it under complete control. He’d thought he could break apart on his own and no one would be the wiser to it.
Amon didn’t agree or disagree with him. Instead, he guided him back onto the couch.
“You showed up last night covered in blood,” Amon started. Kaneki did remember the mission he’d gone on, but things became blurry. He’d been eating the corpses of some of the stronger ghouls, and then… And then things had become hazy. “You were delirious and largely non responsive.”
“Oh,” Kaneki breathed. He should have gone home, but despite having no memories of that time, he already knew why he hadn’t. His state would have worried everyone. They would have asked questions and wouldn’t have let him alone out of concern. Amon, though… He must have known deep down he would have been accepted without a single question save if it was human or ghoul blood.
Maybe it was because Amon still wasn’t asking that Kaneki found himself explaining.
“I was trying to track down information, and one of the threads included a gang of ghouls. I looked into them just to find out they have ties with Aogiri. A discussion for what I wanted wasn’t possible at that point, so I fought. They were dangerous to everyone around them. Ghouls and humans. I couldn’t let them be,” Kaneki explained. It had been a bloodbath and they’d been strong. He was pretty sure they’d landed a few hits on him, but it hadn’t mattered. Only that he’d won and eliminated another threat.
Amon simply nodded and he passed Kaneki his own battered phone. To Amon, Kaneki’s mission was just part of his job. “Someone called about you last night. He sounded worried.”
Kaneki’s eyes went wide as he took his phone back. Amon had answered it for him, and as Kaneki pulled up his call history to see it had been Banjou, he was going to be sick. Amon was okay with him for reasons Kaneki wasn’t entirely sure of, but he was an exception. Banjou wasn’t. If Amon heard his voice again, if he put together the abbreviation Kaneki had set for his contact name, if —
“You should let others watch out for you. Even ghoul investigators don’t act alone,” Amon continued. He had to know Banjou had been a ghoul. There was no way he didn’t, yet he talked of him as if he was a human.
Like he was a person.
Kaneki would have once called it the bare minimum to be considered a person, but the same couldn’t be said anymore. He finally knew why he’d shown up at Amon’s door. The other reasons he’d come up with had played their own parts, but the truth was undeniable. He felt safe with Amon. It was as simple as that.
Amon found himself standing amidst the wreckage of an Aogiri hideout the next day.
They’d been called soon after authorities had found the scene and tarps covered the bodies of ghouls. Only one kagune had left its mark along walls and the bodies torn apart by it. A rinkaku user. One ghoul who’d wiped out an entire dangerous cell of ghouls the CCG had been after for months and lost investigators to.
Kaneki. It was Kaneki who’d torn the place apart.
A mix of emotions swirled within Amon as he took it in and took note of the bodies. It didn’t match with the Kaneki he knew who made him meals and helped children with kanji. He’d known Kaneki was powerful with the quiet sureness and strength he walked with and he was still trying to grapple with the fact that Kaneki had been the one to overpower Jason and kill him. If anything, he hoped that was the last ghoul Kaneki ate.
Yet as he counted missing limbs and even kakuhous torn out of bodies, he knew that wasn’t the case. No wonder Kaneki had been out of it when he’d turned up at Amon’s apartment. Kaneki knew it would make him stronger, but whether or not he knew the side effects was something else entirely. The CCG didn’t release information like that.
Kaneki would lose his mind if he kept going down this path. Not from his earlier torture, not from the violence, but due to what he was using as fuel. He’d have to warn him the next time they saw each other.
“This ghoul has to be SS at least,” an investigator mumbled to herself as she typed up notes.
They’d want to hunt Kaneki down. There was no question about it when he’d become so powerful. They didn’t know what sort of person he was, but when had that ever mattered? When had Amon himself ever cared? He’d gone after any ghoul the CCG pointed him toward. It didn’t matter who they were. Man or woman. Adult or child. Mother, father, grandparent. Only what species they were. Nothing more and nothing less.
He wasn’t supposed to think of Kaneki as a person, much less other ghouls as such, but Amon couldn’t go back to his old way of thinking anymore. He looked forward to Kaneki’s visits and he was glad Kaneki had ghoul friends who helped him.
A hypocrite. That’s what he was. Someone who worked at the CCG and went after ghouls he deemed immoral, yet he welcomed Kaneki into his home. He thought of Kaneki as a close friend but then turned around to work at the CCG.
The night he’d brought Kaneki home had been the day his once orderly life had fallen apart. Yet even now, Amon knew he wouldn’t have killed him in the woods. Instead, he would have done everything all over again.
Kaneki was ignoring Amon’s insistence to rely on others. He could have brought Banjou along for the mission, but opted to go by himself instead. As much as he appreciated Banjou and the gas masks, they weren’t strong. He’d have to protect them himself. And Tsukiyama? He still wasn’t entirely sure if he could trust the man not to stab him to then feast on during battle.
Aogiri had more small hide outs and cells than Kaneki could have ever guessed, and the last place he’d raided had included a few other base locations. Cold night air whipped right through Kaneki’s clothes as he crept through a shipping yard in search of the right container. The notes hadn’t been particularly descriptive and he’d been left to rely on his weak nose instead.
Footsteps. Quiet and hidden, but there nonetheless, and Kaneki froze in place as he waited. He’d let the ghoul pass him by before he’d strike and have them take him to the hideout.
The footsteps drew closer and closer. Kaneki let his kagune take form for a swift takedown. He couldn’t afford to let them make a single noise.
The figure stepped into view and Kaneki sprung into action.
The man was tall and well built, but it didn’t matter as Kaneki jumped up and circled one of his legs around the man’s neck all while he grabbed an arm and twisted. All too soon the man fell over from the momentum as Kaneki pinned him down and poised a single tip from his kagune in front of the man’s face.
“If you scream, you —” he started before he actually looked at the person he’d tackled.
The man held a quinque briefcase in the hand Kaneki didn’t have yanked up in his hold, and even with only the moon as their light, he wouldn’t be able to mistake the man’s face for anyone else’s in a million years.
Kaneki sighed as he let go and got to his feet. He offered a hand. “Sorry about that, Amon. What are you doing here?”
“Eyepatch?” Amon asked as he took Kaneki’s hand. “You really did a number on me. I’m impressed. I was following a lead.”
“A lead?” Kaneki asked. Seeing as it was only Amon and the place wasn’t crawling with CCG agents, he had no idea what was going on. “Also I know you heard my name over the phone. You can stop using my codename.”
“There’s been a slight uptick in missing people reports around this area and a few kagune marks across shipping containers. I thought it was a small group of ghouls, especially since the marks they left always appeared rather weak,” Amon explained, though Kaneki couldn’t help but notice how he seemed antsy around maintaining eye contact. A trap, then. No ghoul would be sloppy enough to not only leave evidence of their kagune, but also stay in the area.
“There’s an Aogiri cell around here like the one I wiped out last time,” Kaneki explained as he let his kagune disappear. It would probably be easier for Amon to look at him without it and his kakugan. “They’ll be strong again, so I suggest you turn back unless you’re ready for a battle.”
“So back-up,” Amon concluded as if that were the only path of action.
“Amon, I’m a ghoul. They’ll kill me, and I’m hoping to find some information here. I don’t know how exactly you see me, but they’d be more than happy to skewer me and shove my remains in a box,” Kaneki hissed. There would be no team ups or momentary understanding between them. He wasn’t sure just how he’d convinced Amon he was a person, but it wouldn’t happen with anyone else. “We do this my way.”
Amon nodded and activated his quinque. It was a new one, but similar to the old weapon Kaneki had broken when they’d first fought. It did suit him. As a ghoul, Amon would probably find a koukaku type to be his best match. He had a build suited for it.
Kaneki knew how foolish he was being as he let Amon follow behind him with his weapon out. All he needed to do was deal one blow to Kaneki and he’d find himself crippled. Really, what was he doing offering his back to a ghoul investigator?
The scent of ghouls was weak, but Kaneki couldn’t say the same for human blood as he sniffed the air and followed the scent. It was alluring in a way even though his stomach no longer ached for food. He’d filled it with rancid ghoul flesh instead and that was enough. He ate to become strong, not as a pleasure.
“That one,” Kaneki eventually whispered as he pointed to a cargo container. To the outside eye, it didn’t seem any different from the others, but the scent coming from it was unmistakable. “Ready?”
Amon nodded and Kaneki let his kagune form again. A slight red glow lit the concrete beneath them from his kagune, and Kaneki sprinted forward. Surprise would be his best factor at play even though the ghouls inside were likely waiting for a lone investigator to pick off and pry information out of.
Metal tore away under Kaneki’s kagune and yelling erupted from inside the container. A quick glance over the area told Kaneki everything he needed to know. Around ten to fifteen ghouls sprung into action as Kaneki skewered one with his rinkaku tendril and tossed the body aside.
What followed was a bloodbath.
Ghouls charged at him and Kaneki whipped around another one of his kagune tails to swipe at them. An ukaku user sent shrapnel flying through the air, and while Amon thankfully took cover, Kaneki had no such plans.
No amount of dodging could fully let him evade every flying shard, but he no longer cared about how the shrapnel pierced through him like knives. He didn’t care if they embedded themselves into his arms or body so long as they didn’t kill or stop him from functioning.
A split second of both horror and sheer terror widened the ghoul’s eyes before Kaneki pierced through him as well. He didn’t wait for the light to drain from them before he turned to the rest.
Amon was fighting two different ghouls at once and a spike of sheer terror lanced through Kaneki as he saw a third ghoul charging toward Amon’s back. Even if he noticed him, Amon wouldn’t be able to counter or dodge all three attacks. It had been a mistake to allow him to come along with him.
Kaneki darted forward.
He wasn’t able to counter all of it with his kagune. Instead, he found sweet blood gurgling up his throat and into his mouth as his body took the rest of the blow. They must have gotten one of his lungs, but it didn’t matter. Not when he could cough and choke on blood until his body healed itself and allowed air through.
Killing the ghoul was easy when they’d assumed their blow meant victory. Kaneki wasn’t going down that quickly.
Black spots danced in Kaneki’s vision and the ruins of the cargo container swirled around him as he continued to fight. He didn’t care about precision anymore or clean deaths when he’d be vulnerable soon. He’d heal and breathe again, but all he could do was hold the air in his functioning lung at the present.
Slashes across chests and severed limbs. Amon finished off the injured ghouls as the two of them fought together as if in a macabre dance. He could barely see a thing, but movement still caught his eye, and he knew the fight was over when no more blurry or dimmed figures charged toward them.
“Kaneki!” Amon called as Kaneki fell to his knees and finally allowed himself to cough.
His lungs prickled and burned with tiny needles, but he knew the feeling. The organ was repaired even if the skin wasn’t yet. All he needed to do was expel the blood and he’d be fine again. That was all.
“Breathe. Just breathe,” Amon urged him as he gathered Kaneki in his arms and allowed him to relax back and lean on him. It was nice, in a way. He’d never been held after being injured on a mission before. “It’ll be okay. I’ll… I —”
A small wisp of air finally got through. Kaneki choked on wheezing breaths between hacking, but his vision began to clear again. Amon was looking down at him, tears in his eyes as if seeing Kaneki briefly injured was somehow a tragedy.
“I’m, I’m —” Kaneki coughed again and only a few droplets of blood splattered out of his mouth. He doubted he was a pretty sight. “I’m fine.”
Amon’s hand hovered over the puncture in Kaneki’s chest. It would have been fatal for just about any human. He couldn’t imagine it looked good when the outside skin hadn’t reknit itself again.
Kaneki sat up on his own once air began to fill his lungs again. Kagune shrapnel still stuck out of his arms and chest. He felt along his chest and it no longer seemed to be actively bleeding. It was healed enough, and the shards weren’t allowing himself to regenerate.
Kaneki began to tear them out.
“Kaneki! You’re tearing through your own skin!” Amon yelled as he reached out in an attempt to make him stop. “You’ll bleed out!”
“I won’t,” Kaneki replied as he yanked another out. Amon was still working with the logic of a completely human body. Not a ghoul one. “And if I start to, there’s plenty around me. I think this one had a strong kagune.”
Kaneki reached down toward the corpse of the ghoul who’d landed the blow on him. It had been a spindly and multi-pronged bikaku. He wasn’t sure how it would translate once he absorbed it, but he’d find out soon enough.
The arm was easy to tear off. Since he wasn’t human, Kaneki doubted Amon would have any problem with him eating the man’s remains. As always, the foul taste flooded Kaneki’s mouth, but he forced the slimy flesh down his throat regardless. He’d become stronger this way and wouldn’t waste bodies.
“Stop. Kaneki, just stop. Please,” Amon whispered. Kaneki wasn’t sure why he sounded so defeated or why he only looked at him so sadly it somehow hurt Kaneki as well. “Cannibalizing will drive you insane. It’s not worth it. You said there were alternative ways to get human flesh, didn’t you?”
Amon was missing the point. It didn’t matter what voices Kaneki would hear or what hallucinations he’d see. It didn’t matter if he woke up screaming every time he managed to sleep. None of it did. He could bear pain and let it crush him until the only part of him that remained was something stronger which refused to die.
“Humans won’t make me stronger, Amon. The only way to survive and keep people safe in my world is to not let someone more powerful take them away from you. I’m not watching anyone else die because of my own weakness,” Kaneki explained. Ryouko. The mother and child whose names he couldn’t remember. None of them had needed to die. Not if he’d simply been able to do something about it.
“You’re strong enough. You fought through this entire ghoul hideout. You killed Jason,” Amon countered, but his words felt weak even to Kaneki’s ears. Maybe they were similar in that regard. Amon hadn’t been able to overpower Porpora and he hadn’t been able to get past Kaneki when they’d fought.
Kaneki choked down another bite. “We both know there’s worse out there. This was a small cell and nothing more.”
Yamori hadn’t been the strongest Aogiri leader and sheer numbers would be able to take Kaneki down. Not until he’d be able to stand at the top would he be able to finally be content with his strength. He wouldn’t be able to assure anything until then.
“Then let me take care of it!” Amon began as he got to his feet and walked over. “The CCG has the resources to —”
“To send hundreds of investigators to their deaths, you included?” Kaneki asked as he looked up at the man. He hadn’t taken a blow for him because of an apathy toward Amon’s life. “What if they have someone I care about? The CCG will slaughter them as well because we’re all just ghouls to you.”
Trusting Amon was like playing with fire. But utilizing the CCG? That would be wielding an unsteady bomb without a timer to show him when it would all blow up in his face. It wasn’t an option if he wanted Amon and the rest of his friends to survive.
Silence stretched between them and Amon had understood his point. They weren’t that different. Not really.
“Will you be able to get home safe?” Amon asked. An invitation to crash at his apartment again.
Kaneki nodded. That wasn’t an option for the night. “I’d like to go through the place and see if there’s any information here. Make sure to get home safely yourself, Amon. You’re still a human.”
“Just leave me something to show the CCG when I turn in an altered report of what happened here,” Amon replied, but a small smile upturned his lips. He’d be fine.
Kaneki nodded and Amon left.
It had been an idiotic move to use his own body as a shield for Amon. He’d sustained worse injuries that had almost shut his body down long enough to have lost the fight, yet Kaneki had charged in without a second thought.
The realization should have hit him sooner. He’d known he cared for Amon, but he hadn’t realized how deeply it had run. Not until he’d found himself choking on his own blood.
A quiet love had always been what Kaneki had dreamed of, but now, it was nothing more than a curse. He’d become too attached and there was no turning back.
Amon dragged himself back home from work. In short, his day had been a nightmare. It was preferable to him wandering into the Aogiri hideout and being interrogated and then killed, but Kaneki’s obvious kagune marks along with Amon’s own involvement hadn’t exactly been easy to explain or sell either.
He’d gone with the simplest of stories he could. It had been a trap and he’d been outnumbered until Eyepatch, seemingly on a mission of his own, had swooped in and killed everyone save for Amon. It wouldn’t be the first time he claimed Eyepatch spared him. Both Shinohara and Juuzou had been uniquely interested. Shinohara out of concern and Juuzou out of amusement with the way they’d gathered Eyepatch favored Amon for one reason or another. It wasn’t unheard of for ghouls to have personal vendettas, interests, or even attachments to specific investigators.
This time though, it was more of a case of Amon having an interest in Kaneki than the other way round. He’d just been lucky to have it be reciprocated.
Then a near interrogation about Eyepatch had started. It was meant to be a friendly swapping of information, but Amon had been forced to walk a tightrope while talking and writing his report about Kaneki. He couldn’t leave too much out if he wanted to avoid suspicion, but even the most mundane of information seemed like a betrayal. Shinohara had seemed to be interested in Kaneki himself: personality, fighting style, and way of speaking. Juuzou had kept asking leading questions with a grin on his face. Much more and Amon would report him for harassment. He didn’t need anymore questions about if said ghoul caught his interest or if Amon had enjoyed watching him fight. What he and Kaneki had wasn’t like that.
And yet his heart skipped a beat and the anxiety of the day melted off Amon’s shoulders as he saw Kaneki waiting outside his apartment complex. A smile came across his face without him having to force it and he found himself picking up his pace so he could reach Kaneki quicker.
A faint smile lifted Kaneki’s face as well despite the deep sadness which always clung to him.
Letting Kaneki in with him felt as natural as breathing. Prompting him to speak of the authors and books he kept up with despite his recent disconnect to literature felt right. His apartment felt like home as they worked together in the kitchen and Kaneki went on a nerdy rant Amon only half understood about the literary elements and specific prose he could still appreciate within the newest books he’d read.
Something about having Kaneki at his side settled Amon. He didn’t have to push himself to a breaking point in a quest for justice and revenge. Instead, he could breathe in the moment and hope it would never end. He could wish Kaneki would always be by his side no matter the day or what they were doing.
Amon’s mind halted.
Those weren’t typical thoughts someone would have about a friend. It was possible, but Amon had never been one of those people. He’d always realized his love too late as regret would eat him away for time wasted and opportunities which would never come again while he stared down at graves.
Amon dared to sneak a glance at Kaneki. To truly look at him and take him in.
He’d had crushes on boys as well as girls since childhood, but he’d never dwelled on it all that much once he’d been taken in by the CCG. He’d had more important goals than eventual romance or a partner, and he’d decided to abstain. To be in a relationship as a ghoul investigator wasn’t a wise choice. It would require him to split his attention between his partner and work, which wasn’t an option for him. Or, they’d be equally dedicated to the CCG and one of them would inevitably die.
Amon had never in his entire life foreseen this third option.
Kaneki’s snowy hair nearly shone in the light streaming in from the window. Lashes swooped over pale gray eyes which bore memories and a sorrow so heavy it had to be crushing Kaneki from the inside out. Pink lips that Amon loved to listen to and injured hands which could be both delicate and brutal depending on what task Kaneki set out to do.
At first, when Amon had seen Kaneki’s kakugan and kagune during their mission, he’d been thrown off kilter. He wasn’t used to such a look on Kaneki, but soon, the feeling had turned into something else. The soft glow had entranced him and Kaneki’s white hair had perfectly contrasted the black of his kakugan.
Never in his life would Amon have described ghoul features as breathtaking, but that’s what Kaneki had been in that moment. He’d had to avert his eyes as the two ideas clashed within his head.
“Amon? Is everything okay?” Kaneki asked. Amon snapped back to reality and Kaneki was looking at him with his head slightly tilted to the side and his brows pinched together in worry.
Adorable. Kaneki had no idea how cute he was with such an expression while he wore a nerdy sweater vest and slacks.
“It’s nothing,” Amon blurted as heat rushed to his face and he turned his attention back to the vegetables he’d been cutting. “Thank you for helping me with dinner.”
Kaneki sighed, but when Amon glanced over, he wasn’t frowning. Instead, a small smile pulled the corners of his lips up as he went back to mixing together ingredients. Kaneki caught his eye, and for a brief moment, a spark of life flickered to life within them.
“Just tell me later, okay?” Kaneki asked.
Amon nodded, but he already knew it was a lie. To do so was a horrible idea on every level imaginable. Simple reasons to start with. Kaneki might not like him back, he could make him uncomfortable, or he could pressure him with it. Then reasons more unique to them as people. Kaneki was an adult, but much younger than Amon. What he’d seen and experienced had pushed his maturity far past where it should be, but key years and experiences still divided them. Lastly, societal reasons. They were both men, and despite progress, discrimination still ran rampant and the law wouldn’t recognize them. Most importantly though, so much so the rest felt like fleeting details, Kaneki wasn’t human. Amon would already be executed if they were found out, but his feelings crossed yet another line he’d never considered before.
Of all the people to fall for…
Of all the people to fall for, of course it would be someone kind, strong, and motivated. In other words: Kaneki. Amon had been doomed from the start.