Chapter Text
In a quiet clinic elsewhere in the 13th ward, a doctor with his hair tied into a loose ponytail and eyes peering over the rims of his old, worn glasses sat behind a small wooden desk. The desk was cluttered with papers—formal appointment slips, test results, and basic examination tools. He was engaged in conversation with a patient who complained of an aching hand and a finger he could no longer flex without pain.
The doctor calmly examined the hand, tracing the swollen areas with gentle pressure. He diagnosed the issue as stenosing tenosynovitis, which is a condition that occurs when the flexor tendon of the finger becomes irritated and begins to thicken. Over time, the buildup would form nodules that cause the finger to momentarily become stuck when the tendon extended, and then popping out into extension painfully.
The patient remarked that he had tried painkillers to ease the discomfort, but they hadn't worked. So, the doctor administered a steroid injection to reduce the swelling and recommended rest, suggesting they monitor the improvement in the following days.
Grateful, the patient thanked him and left the clinic.
“Next!” he called out through the door after discarding the used syringe.
On a bench near his workstation, a young girl of twelve with vibrant brown hair, was absorbed in her drawing. Her small hands sketched her father, Asaki, in his lab coat. She tried to capture the slight hunch in his posture, the long, messy hair, and the crooked smile he often wore. By his feet, she added a dog with curly ears and a cheerful expression.
Satisfied with her sketch of the dog, complete with a leash, she moved on to draw her mother. She struggled with her mother's hair though, so she ended up with two small lines cascading down her mother's shoulders, much like how she had drawn her father.
Regardless, the couple stood hand in hand in her drawing, and little Hinami beamed joyfully between them.
While her father talked to a bearded man, the girl continued to dream on paper, imagining herself and her family in a permanent home somewhere far from here, where she could finally have a pet to call her own.
Beside her, Ryouko sat with a quiet smile, watching her husband tend to the patient. His soft voice, the same one that had always calmed her and their child during their most turbulent times, resonated gently.
Times for the family had been difficult—moving frequently whenever the doves closed in—but they had managed to get this far on their own.
She takes pride in her husband's honest and noble work. Though their current lifestyle may lack the abundance of their past, she admires his choice to embrace modesty and honesty. He left behind his old life, including past misconduct, to pursue a path of integrity. Here, he uses his limited medical knowledge to assist those in need, especially ghouls, which is a cause she wholeheartedly supports.
Soon, Asaki rose from his chair with a groan, careful not to strain his injured leg—which was a souvenir from their recent escape when they were caught in the crossfire of a dove attack.
After removing the stethoscope from around his neck, the doctor pressed it gently against the patient’s chest, moving it between the left and right, upper and lower areas, carefully listening to each breath. His expression tightened as the patient began to cough during his examination, the sound was deep and troubling, causing a frown to settle even more deeply on his face.
“Hmm...” Asaki murmured as he pulled the stethoscope away and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose as he met the patient’s gaze “How long has the coughing been this bad?”
“A few days now,” the patient rasped. He was very clearly struggling to catch his breath. “It wasn’t so bad at first, but... it’s getting worse.”
The doctor nodded slowly. Yes, he could see that.
He shook his head slowly but placed a gentle hand on the patient's shoulder.
“Don't worry, I’ll prescribe something to ease the coughing for now, but... we might need to run a few tests.”
The patient swallowed hard. He was getting anxious, the doctor could tell. Humans have the strange trait of wearing their emotions on their sleeves.
“It’s... serious, isn’t it?”
Asaki hesitated briefly before responding.
“I won’t lie to you; it could be, but we’ll take it one step at a time. You’re in good hands.”
Asaki then moved to his desk, retrieved his prescription pad, and quickly wrote out the medication with swift, hurried strokes. He tore off the slip and handed it to the patient, who bowed gratefully before dropping a few bills into the jar on his way out.
He placed the pad back on the table and glanced over at his daughter, lost in her dream world, and his wife, who returned his loving gaze with a smile.
There was nothing the doctor wouldn’t do to protect his most precious family.
“Next!”
The door burst open with a force that startled the room, slamming against the wall and dimming the light overhead. The impact nearly shook the structure.
Ryouko swiftly gathered her daughter into her arms and guided her behind the curtains next to Asaki's desk. There, she settled into the bed and cradled her daughter, who listened intently to the conversation unfolding beyond the thin barrier of the green curtains.
She was old enough to understand that when her mother took her into hiding and placed a finger to her lips, it meant she had to be quiet, hold her breath, and wait for Papa to return and tell them it was safe to come out.
Yet, she was not old enough to grasp the true nature of fear when it took hold of her.
From Asaki's perspective, he observes a tall and imposing figure standing near the entrance, his bulk so significant that he had to stoop to fit through the door.
The man’s rectangular face held a cruel edge, and even at rest, his eyes looked ballistic. Regardless of his formal attire of suit and tie, there was an unsettling aura of raw strength emanating from him, and his bulging muscles straining beneath his clothes didn't help either.
Asaki, taking cautious breaths, acknowledged the ghoul from his seat, but his demeanor was notably less cordial than for his human patients.
“Y-Yamori...”
He gulped.
“T-To what... do I owe the... pleasure of this visit?”
The doctor cursed inwardly at his quivering voice, though it seemed to amuse Yamori. The ghoul’s visits were rare but whenever he does, it was for something wicked. Ever since Yamori learned of the doctor’s specific tricks and skills, he had occasionally sought Asaki’s services in exchange for his life. Though the deal was precarious, the doctor preferred it over the risk of falling prey to Yamori’s violence.
Yamori strode into the room, displaying a sense of entitlement as though he owned the place and wasn't actually a visitor. He didn’t wait for an invitation, plopping down on the bench where Hinami and Ryouko had previously sat, now just a couple of paces from their hiding spot. If he chose to yank the curtains open, their cover would be blown.
For a moment, the room fell into an unsettling silence, which made Asaki fear the ghoul’s next move.
“I’m afraid I’ve lost my... toy,” Yamori drawled. “But the doves were kind enough to pick it up for me.”
Crack!
The “toy” was a pair of medical pliers, crafted from scraps of quinque steel and pieces of kagune from corpses the doctor had looted. Unlike true quinques, it wasn’t particularly effective against ghouls, but in Yamori’s hands, that's hardly a concern.
Whatever Yamori planned for the pliers, Asaki knew it wasn’t for any noble cause. He knows of course, that he had no choice but to comply; otherwise, Yamori could shatter the fragile peace Asaki had worked so hard to maintain for his family.
Crack!
The room filled with the sound of cracking bones as Yamori flexed his fingers without showing any sign of pain or discomfort. In fact, he seemed to derive pleasure from the act.
“I... trust you’ll find me a suitable replacement,” Yamori said with a predatory grin, his teeth flashing white. He cracked another finger. “... After all, you know I don’t like being disappointed.”
Crack!
“O-Of course, Yamori,” Asaki whispered, cold sweat forming on his brow despite the cool room. The thought of what Yamori might do to his family forced him into immediate submission. “I—I’ll do what I can.”
Yamori’s grin widened. He was clearly satisfied with the doctor’s response.
“... See that you do,” Yamori said, sniffing the air briefly.
For a moment, Asaki held his breath, in fear that the ghoul might detect the scent of his wife and child behind the curtain.
Fortunately, Yamori turned and headed for the door, and Asaki felt as though a heavy weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders.
“I’ll be waiting, then.”
The door swung violently shut behind Yamori, and the clinic fell back into silence, and it wasn’t the quiet of earlier, but one fraught with discomfort and fear.
Ryouko soon stepped out of hiding and Asaki caught a fleeting glimpse of her and their daughter from the corner of his eye. He was deeply shaken, and he knew his family could see it.
Ryouko's usually warm eyes were now filled with apprehension and of uncertainty that the doctor knew gripped his heart tightly like its own cage. He tried to offer his usual reassuring smile, but the effort felt beyond him. Instead, his face remained blank and devoid of the warmth he normally radiated.
Then, she called out to him softly.
“... Dear?”
Their eyes met, he saw that they spoke a question even her lips did not dare say. His attempt at reassurance turned bitter, even as he tried to conceal it beneath his eyeglasses. Asaki had always been a pillar of strength for his family, but it felt as though he too might crumble.
He shook his head slowly.
No, he wouldn't let Yamori get his hands on his family. He had to protect them from him and from the world that threatened to tear them apart.
But how? How could he possibly manage? His strength was waning with age, and the strain of adjusting to a restricted diet was taking its toll on him. He feared that soon, he might lose every ounce of fight left in him.
He knew he wouldn’t be strong enough to protect his entire family from Yamori. The ghoul was too powerful, even with all his experience. He had to get them out of danger as soon as possible.
It didn’t matter to him if he was left alone and at risk; as long as they were safe, he’d be alright. He had to believe that he’d be alright.
He took two hesitant steps toward his wife, reaching out with a trembling hand to grasp her arm firmly yet gently. “It’s not safe here anymore. You have to leave before he comes back.”
His wife stood there, watching him, her eyes still filled with fear and tears on the brink of spilling. Asaki couldn’t tell if she was really hearing him or simply frozen in her worry.
When he saw this, Asaki felt his own eyes well up but managed to hold back the tears. He couldn’t afford to break down, not now.
He turned away from her, and began to gather their meagre belongings to prepare them to flee.
Ryouko said nothing, simply watching him as he hastily gathered their things.
Even if he couldn’t stay by their side, at least he could ensure they had somewhere safe to go. His plan was to confront Yamori and buy time for Ryouko and their daughter to find safety elsewhere, or until he himself could leave the 13th ward.
"But what about you, dear? We can't leave you here alone." Her voice was soft, fragile, filled with worry.
Asaki paused, managing a small, strained smile. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
The words felt hollow, even as they left his mouth. He knew they lacked conviction. "I’ll find a way to handle this... but you and Hinami need to get somewhere safe.”
But where is safety? A small part of himself asked.
They had been running for so long—dodging the doves, hiding from ghouls—that the idea of safety felt more like a fading dream. Safety had become just another day of surviving, of moving from one hiding place to the next.
His eyes wandered around the room until they stopped on a photograph pinned to his calendar. It showed him with another man—tall, gentlemanly in appearance, but with the weariness of someone who’d seen too much of the world.
In that instant, Asaki knew where safety might be found.
He turned back to Ryouko, a spark of hope lighting his tired eyes. “Listen, you need to go to the 20th ward. Find Yoshimura at Anteiku. He’ll keep you safe until I can join you.”
His wife looked at him and he swore he could see hope glimmering in her eyes irrespective of the warning darkness that threatened to consume them.
Yoshimura owed him a favor once for his help in escaping the ward with his own daughter. Asaki had never thought he’d need to call in that favor. He knew that Yoshimura could very well be trusted to protect his family in his absence, and he used that knowledge to find his strength to push past his fear and focus on the task at hand.
The last time he’d seen Yoshimura’s daughter, she’d been just a little girl, full of life and hope. He wondered what she might be like now. Asaki could tell that the kid means so much to Yoshimura that he was willing to risk it all to stay with his daughter, and he knows he would be willing to do the same.
However, when he looked towards his wife, Ryouko, his heart ached at the sight of her distress. This was the only way. He couldn’t protect them here, not with Yamori lurking around. Sending them to the 20th ward was his only chance to keep them safe, while he stayed behind to deal with this mess that had spun out of control. He needed to be strong—for both of them. Especially for Hinami. His little girl, their precious light in the darkness.
From the way she gripped their daughter’s hand, Asaki could sense they would be alright, even without him. He knew they’d understand why he needed to do this, why he had to send them away. He didn’t offer Ryouko anything more than a simple promise, one he prayed he could keep.
"Trust me. I'll find a way to join you soon, but for now, you need to go. Please."
She stepped toward him, and he met her halfway, pulling her into a brief embrace. Asaki pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead—a quiet goodbye—before she reluctantly turned and prepared to leave.
Asaki then knelt before Hinami, his daughter. Even with her limited grasp of the world, there was always a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes, more questions each day, questions he tried his best to answer every night before bed.
But that day, there was only one question on her lips, and when she asked it, he froze. He couldn’t find the words. It felt like someone had stolen his voice, leaving him to stare at her helplessly.
“When will I see you again, papa?”
Before he could respond, Ryouko led Hinami away and out of the clinic, leaving Asaki in the suffocating quiet at their departure.
"I've made... the right call," he murmured to himself with a heavy heart as he watched the door shut. The silence of the clinic, which usually meant they were safe, now felt oppressive to him.
The station was buzzing with activity, even long after the typical morning rush had passed. The sun had just risen, casting a warm light that hadn’t yet turned into the harsh midday heat.
Amid the bustling crowd, a mother and child hurried through the throng, heads bowed low as they tried to blend in while standing out at the same time. The mother gripped her daughter’s tiny hand tightly as they climbed the stairs, avoiding the crowded elevators that the rest of the commuters swarmed toward. There was an urgency in their movements, as though they were running from something unseen.
As they made their way toward the exit, Ryouko’s eyes caught sight of two figures standing by the entrance. A man in formal office attire, mid-conversation with a younger boy who looked about ten years younger, perhaps his apprentice. They were casually sipping coffee, but Ryouko's heart skipped a beat the moment she recognized their uniforms.
There were only a few who wore those particular suits and ties, and the telltale sign of who they were, had to be the poorly concealed firearms holstered at their thighs. There was no doubt about it. They were CCG investigators.
Panic surged through her veins. So, she lowered her head and ran quickly to pass by unnoticed, but in her hurry, fate intervened, and she collided directly with the older man. Her daughter tumbled to the ground with a soft “oof,” and before Ryouko could react, the man reached out with a concerned expression.
“Hey kiddo, you alright there?”
Her heart raced, but she forced herself to stay calm as she knelt and scooped her daughter up before the man could help. The puzzled look on his face didn’t go unnoticed, but to her relief, he didn’t press the issue further.
"I- it's alright, sir," she said, bowing her head in apology before she took young Hinami away while silently praying they hadn't drawn too much attention to themselves through her own blunder.
The sun beat down harshly as Ryouko and her daughter stepped out of the station and into the busy streets of Nerima. The heat pressed against them in contrast to the artificially cool air inside the station, and Ryouko resisted the urge to glance back, not wanting to know if the investigators were still watching or if their brief encounter had sparked any suspicion. It didn’t matter. They just needed to disappear before any further questions arose.
As they rounded the corner of the second street, the clear sky abruptly dimmed. Thick clouds rolled in, and within moments, rain poured down as if the heavens were mourning. Pedestrians scurried for cover, umbrellas sprouting open or people rushing into nearby shops, but most were drenched by the time they found shelter.
Ryouko and her daughter had no umbrella. She quickly pulled her scarf over their heads, holding her daughter close to share its meager protection as they pressed on through the downpour. The rain fell heavily, shrouding the streets in a foggy mist, making the world feel more distant, more isolated.
Eventually, after weaving through a few more soaked streets, they found themselves in front of a park. The rain-slicked pavement glistened beneath their feet as they continued their path, finally arriving at their destination, soaked but undeterred.
If Asaki's directions were accurate, this had to be the place.
Ryouko scanned the quiet neighborhood in search of something—anything—that matched the name he’d given her. "Anteiku."
She still wasn’t sure what kind of place it was, but Asaki had spoken of it as a haven, a safe refuge for people like them.
Rounding another corner, they entered a more subdued part of the district, where buildings seemed to crowd together as though space itself had shrunk between them.
There, nestled among the dense infrastructure, stood a modest building, its white paint a little worn from the elements. The glass windows gleamed with condensation from the rain, while wooden archways framed the entrance. A sign hanging out front quietly declared it a coffee shop, and off to the side is a narrow flight of stairs disappearing around the corner, next to a closed garage.
This had to be Anteiku.
“We're here... Asaki,” Ryouko whispered, her voice barely more than a breath, though carried with it a note of longing as if hoping her husband might somehow hear her from across the city, across the impossible distance that separated them now. A faint, wry smile touched her lips as she gently squeezed her daughter’s hand.
Without another word, she led the way up the stairs, hoping that inside this unassuming building lay the sanctuary they so desperately needed.
XX: KANEKI KEN
The timid college boy wiped the counter down for what felt like the hundredth time, more out of habit than necessity. The rain outside had begun to fall in earnest, covering the neighborhood in a slowly thickening fog. It was the kind of quiet, dreary day that made the small café feel even more empty than usual.
The soft hum of the coffee machine—one that Ms. Sen... err Ms. Eto had insisted they get shortly before Kaneki started working there—filled the air. The gentle drip of brewing coffee was the only real sound, save for the occasional clatter of dishes from the sink.
Anteiku was quiet... more so than usual.
Kaneki stole a glance over at Touka. She was wiping condensation off the windows with a blank expression as though lost, even at work.
He knew things had been tense lately, with doves swarming the 20th ward in increasing numbers. Mr. Yomo had been giving them warnings after hours, brief meetings where he'd share the latest news about the CCG's movements, and Kaneki had noticed it too. The ward was crawling with investigators, some of them in civilian clothing, so it was a little harder to spot them. Others... well, they didn't bother to hide their presence at all, practically daring someone to react.
Kaneki had developed a sort of sixth sense for detecting them during his employment here at Anteiku, though he knew it wasn’t foolproof. He could feel the tension in the air every time he walked home from the café or the university, and today was no different. The presence of the doves hung over the ward like the storm clouds overhead.
Because of this, even the usual customers of Anteiku, the ghouls who frequented the shop, had become smart enough to stay hidden. It wasn’t worth the risk to walk openly in the ward, not with the doves patrolling so frequently. They probably didn’t want to end up like Aise, the one they had heartlessly labeled as "Suspect Number 652" in the news a little over a month ago.
Then there was that father and daughter who’d been attacked by a ghoul recently. That incident probably spurred the doves to double their patrols, pushing the ward into even more tension.
It was strange, seeing them so active now. Kaneki barely noticed them when he was just a regular college kid.
That was before he met Rize, before everything flipped upside down and his life spun out of control.
As a result of all these things, Anteiku’s usual steady flow of customers had all but dried up. Kaneki tried not to think about how long it had been since the last person walked in.
He finished wiping the counter and set the cloth down, before he turned his attention to the clean dishes that maybe still needs some wiping, and the small but empty pastry case by the counter.
“We should probably make some, right?” he asked, turning towards his coworker with a little fidget of his hands.
Touka didn’t even look up from the table she was wiping.
“For who? No one’s coming in today.”
There was a slight bitterness to her tone, though it was less directed at him and more at the situation they found themselves in.
Kaneki sighed. She wasn’t wrong. There wasn't much to do in the cafe today that Kaneki wondered why they were still around when there's no customers coming since this morning.
Suddenly, the bell above the door chimed softly to break the stillness in the café. Touka momentarily paused in wiping the tables because she was closest to the door to greet the customers. "Welcome to Antei—"
She paused halfway through her sentence, and shouted, “Kaneki, go grab a towel, quick!”
It was only then that Kaneki allowed his eyes to fall towards the doorway, where he would find a woman and a little girl standing there, both of them were soaked from the rain. The woman was clutching the little girl's hand tightly as if scared she would slip away if she let go.
Before he could process who they might be, Touka's voice would bring him back to the present and he blinked, surprised by the urgency present in her voice.
He hurried to the back and grabbed two clean towels from the supply closet, and by the time he arrived, Touka was already beside the two strangers, and there was something in her expression—recognition, maybe? Kaneki wasn’t sure, but it was clear this wasn’t just any customer walking in out of the rain.
The woman took the towel with a grateful nod, gently patting the little girl’s head before drying herself off.
“Thank you...” the woman whispered as she glanced nervously around her. “Please... I need to speak with the manager.”
Touka gave her a nod. “Come with me. He’s upstairs.” Then she turned to Kaneki, who was still standing with the spare towel in his hand. “Stay with the girl.”
His eyes simply widened and he opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Touka was already leading the woman upstairs and he had no choice but to stay down here with the little girl.
The silence that followed their departure was almost suffocating.
He tried glancing at the little girl who now stood near one of the tables that Touka was wiping earlier, her small fist clutching the towel that her mother had given her earlier. She didn’t look up at him. In fact, she didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence at all, just kept to herself, staring down at her shoes.
Kaneki scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
He had never been great with kids.
What was he supposed to say? The girl looked so fragile, and the last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable.
“Uh... do you... want to sit down?” he offered, but his voice remained uncertain.
The girl didn’t respond though. Instead she shuffled a little closer to the chair next to her but didn’t sit.
What now?
Kaneki bit his lip. He could hear Touka’s voice upstairs, muffled through the floorboards, but there was no way of knowing how long the conversation would take.
To try and make himself useful, he moved behind the counter and poured a small cup of warm coffee, then placed it carefully on the table near the girl.
“Here. It’s, uh, warm. In case you’re cold.”
Was that the best he could do?
Still, no response. The girl just stared down at the towel in her hands, her fingers fidgeting nervously with the fabric. Kaneki could tell that she was shy, maybe even scared, so he took a few steps back to give her some personal space.
There was something about the girl—something quiet but heavy, like she was carrying the weight of the world on her small shoulders. Just like her mother had, when she’d walked in.
After a long pause, Kaneki spoke again, but allowed his his voice to soften this time.
“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We’ll just... wait here until your mom’s done upstairs, okay?”
The girl didn’t say anything, but she finally, slowly, took a seat at the table, her small hands still clutching the towel tightly.
Kaneki stood nearby, watching her out of the corner of his eye, feeling strangely protective of the quiet, fragile presence sitting across from him.