Granted, there were some big differences.
For one thing, this boy was plainly shorter than Kaneki. His face was about as round and youthful as Kaneki's was (is?), but somehow softer and smoother. He was very thin and small, not only because of his stature but because of his gait. As he stood in the doorway, he was shrinking into it, causing an illusion where entryway seemed to yawn open like a great glass mouth, and the boy was trapped inside the kill zone, growing smaller and smaller as he prepared to be swallowed. His hair was shorter than Kaneki's, shorn unevenly as though by his own unsteady hand, and it fell against his dark, round cheeks. That was another huge difference.
The mirror's skin was a warm, healthy brown color.
It wasn't necessarily weird for mixed race kids to appear in Tokyo, but it really threw Kaneki off, because he'd been so sure he'd been looking at himself. If the boy had been even just a little paler, Kaneki would have smacked himself to make the mirror image disappear. It was just so jarring, looking into this boy's face, seeing the pale medical eyepatch fastened safely to his right eye, and realizing that this wasn't Kaneki's reflection. It was a real boy.
This wasn't his imagination.
This was really happening.
"Oh god…" Kaneki found himself covering his left eye in fear of exposing himself. His fingernails were digging instinctively into the tender flesh of his eyelid, fearing the worst had dropped upon him. He couldn't process what was happening. He just simply feared.
"Kaneki…?" Amon looked at him with some degree of concern, his dark eyes growing wider.
The boy seemed unbearably confused, his eyebrows knitting together desperately as he looked sharply away from Kaneki's face. Kaneki watched his hand lift gingerly to touch his eyepatch, his movements quick and nervous. He was clearly self-conscious.
Suddenly, Kaneki was entirely too empty. He felt like he was drifting, his mind vacating his body and leaving him with nothing but a bundle of weaknesses. He was nothing but a porous shield. A story etched into a round, leatherbound disc, tattered beyond repair. He couldn't think properly.
Then, all that emptiness was filled with pooling, icy rage.
His eyes slid sharply to Amon's face, his fingers dipping against the hollow of his eye socket, protruding veins rising beneath his fingertips. He wanted the whole world to feel his fury.
"What did you do?" he hissed, the heel of his hand digging into his left eye. His fingers trembled as he covered his kakugan, the rest of his body coiling with tension. It wasn't like the atmosphere had been lighthearted to begin with, but Kaneki knew how his mood had flipped the vibes in the air to straight up murderous. He was too angry to think straight. He was too disgusted to rein himself in.
"I haven't done anything," Amon retorted, his eyes narrowing. "You need to calm down. Right now. Get a grip."
When Amon stepped forward, Kaneki backed away, his bare feet scraping the linoleum and making a shrill squeaking sound. He threw Amon a furious glare, holding his darkened eye with one hand as he used the other to hold up between them.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," he whispered, his eyes growing dull as he found his heart pulling back, receding into a thorny patch inside the hollows of his chest cavity. "Why? Why would anyone do this?"
He was speaking, but not to Amon. He was letting his mind go, and words fell out. Out of his lips, out of his heart. He was feeling faint, like he'd never really been here to begin with.
Amon had been insinuating that he was replaceable for awhile now. But… could the CCG really be capable of such a terrible thing?
Kaneki's wrath crept back to him like a rabid dog being beckoned by its owner. He felt a little dizzy as he slumped, lowering his face into his hands and taking deep breaths. No, Amon was right. He needed to calm down. But it was hard. It was so hard, because he was so angry. Seeing this boy, seeing the eyepatch and making hasty assumptions, it made him sick, because he was violently recollecting his own experiences. It wasn't right. No one should have to go through this!
"Why…?" Kaneki had to think clearer. He had to think! Hadn't this all happened before? He clapped his hands over his eyes, and he could see the restless images, frayed patches on the edges of two girls watching him with vacant expressions, mirror images falling before him. "Oh… is that it…? Shiro and Kuro…?"
"White and black…?" Amon sounded skeptical. Kaneki didn't even want to look at him. "Listen, you already scared the kid off. I know the past few weeks have been stressful, but you have to pull yourself together right now. Okay?"
Kaneki's palms dug into his eyes as his fingernails dug deep into the roots of his hair. He nodded, even though he wasn't sure if it was possible. Had he broken? Already? How had that happened? Ryouko's death wasn't enough to trigger this, and he hadn't been through anything truly traumatic since the God of Death had lobotomized him.
So why?
Why did he feel so bad?
"I'm sorry," he murmured, letting the hand covering his right eye slip away. He let his gaze rise, and he smiled tremulously. "I… I overreacted. All I really do is overreact, I guess…" He took a deep breath, his hand pressing hard to his kakugan.
Amon let out a rather discontented sigh, and he shook his head. "I guess I can't exactly blame you," he said, albeit begrudgingly. "But are you going to be okay? Your eye is acting up, and I don't have anything to give you."
"It's not because I'm hungry," Kaneki murmured, rubbing the persistent veins absently. "This will happen if I'm excessively scared, or anxious, or excited, or, in this case, angry."
"That's inconvenient for you," Amon observed. "Will it go away soon? We're kind of on a compressed schedule, and you can't have that thing showing."
"It'll probably go away soon—" Kaneki broke off, looking sharply at the door as the boy from earlier burst in, huffing and puffing.
"M-Mr. Koutarou!" He rushed up to them, stopping abruptly to drop into a deep bow. He straightened up, his cheeks reddened with an anxious flush. "Um… I think… I think I can help Mr. Kaneki. If that's okay?"
Kaneki stared at him as the boy dared not meet his eye. He felt guilty. He'd probably made a poor first impression on the kid.
Suddenly the boy was offering out both his hands.
"I had an extra one in the car," he explained hastily, pushing the familiar looking eyepatch toward Kaneki. "Please take it. You need it right now, don't you?"
Kaneki was shocked. He'd thought for sure he'd scared the boy half to death, but here he was, offering out his help in the best way he could. Kaneki was deeply touched by the notion. He reached for the eyepatch, plucking it gingerly from the boy's hands and staring at it sadly. It occurred to him that he'd been avoiding wearing one. Why? Because Hide had said it looked too conspicuous? Kaneki didn't really need it much anymore, except for isolated incidents like this where he simply lost complete control of his emotional state.
"Thank you," Kaneki murmured.
"That was very smart, Mutsuki," Amon told the boy kindly. The boy looked down at his feet, as though he wasn't entirely comfortable with the praise. Amon checked a watch on his wrist, his eyebrows furrowing. "Ah. We need to get going. I was hoping to stop at your apartment, Kaneki, so you could get changed, but I don't think that's practical. It'll take us about fifteen minutes to get to the first ward, so we might be okay as long as there's no traffic. Taking thirty five minutes to return to the twentieth ward, and then additionally another twenty five minutes to get from the twentieth ward to the first ward, that's just too much time we don't have."
"It's okay," Kaneki said, though he didn't really believe that. He didn't like the idea that he had to walk around in prison garb. Especially if they were going to the main office. Everyone already knew he was a ghoul, and to show up looking like a straight up felon was uncomfortable, to say the least. "Did Cochlea eat my clothes, or something?"
"I honestly could not tell you the mysteries of the inner workings of Cochlea," Amon said. It was worded like a joke, but the man looked so serious that Kaneki could only manage a forced smile.
Amon led them out the yawning glass doors, and Kaneki put on the eyepatch quickly. The fresh, chilly air made him shudder, the revelation that he was truly free beginning to sink in. But as quickly as the tingle of euphoria came, it faded. He wasn't really free. He'd trapped himself in the CCG's web, and he would never ever be released.
It was sad. He'd made his Faustian bargain, and for what?
He felt like nothing had even changed.
"Kaneki, this is Mutsuki Tooru," Amon said as he led them to the car. "He's a special circumstance, like you."
Mutsuki and Kaneki glanced at each other. He looked pretty young, but Kaneki supposed he couldn't judge. He recalled Touka chiding him once for looking like a high schooler. But he really couldn't imagine that this boy was any older than him.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Mutsuki said carefully, his eye averting quickly, as though keeping up eye contact was just too much for him.
"Yeah." Kaneki stared at him vacantly, wondering if he really was a half-ghoul after all. There were humans with eyepatches, obviously. Maybe Kaneki had been wrong to jump to such a harsh conclusion. "Sorry, I'm just… a little confused right now."
Mutsuki nodded, though he didn't offer any explanation. Kaneki sighed.
He was offered the passenger's seat, which honestly was alarming, but he took it so Mutsuki didn't feel awkward. He could tell the boy was really shy, and he understood how excruciating it was to be put on the spot. He sunk into his seat, eying his hands and realizing he was probably just as fucked now as he'd been rotting in that cell.
"I'm sorry about Mr. Mado, Amon," Kaneki lied, his fingers brushing his chin. "Were you two close?"
Amon's knuckles were white against the steering wheel. He did not meet Kaneki's eye.
"We were partners," Amon said simply. And that was all. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Kaneki turned his face away, staring out the window and watching the tall buildings reach above his field of vision, cars whirring past, people gathering in bulky crowds near crosswalks. He wasn't used to cars, honestly. Living in the city for basically his whole life had kind of left him without much use for a car. He certainly couldn't drive. It was funny. He'd lived in Tokyo for so long, but it was rare that he really got to see Tokyo. It felt like he'd been hiding in one quiet little corner, crouching behind average sized buildings and hoping he didn't have to step out of his comfort zone.
He was really, really confused. He wanted to ask Mutsuki if Kanou had experimented on him too, but he didn't know how. It was possible, wasn't it? Kaneki was certain he'd pushed Kanou into hiding earlier than expected, since he'd gone to the CCG initially and shed some light on his malpractice. But what did that mean for Shiro and Kuro?
I forgot all about them, Kaneki thought numbly. Shit. Maybe I should track them down before they become half-ghouls.
He could probably use the CCG for that, but… how did he bring them up without it being super suspicious? Like…?
"Mr. Kaneki?" Mutsuki's small voice startled him out of his thoughts. "Can I ask you a question?"
Kaneki glanced over his shoulder, and he nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Sure, go ahead."
Mutsuki stared at him, and Kaneki saw his fingers clench suddenly at the fabric of his beige duffle coat. "Why… were you in Cochlea, exactly?"
Kaneki's eyes widened. He glanced sharply at Amon, who kept his eyes firmly on the road, leaving no betrayal of emotion. Kaneki scowled.
"Uh…" He laughed nervously, glancing away from both of them and decidedly staring out the window. "I made a decision that the CCG wasn't too keen on, so I got locked up for a bit."
"That…" Mutsuki sounded plainly confused, his voice trailing off. Maybe he was a little skeptical. After all, Kaneki wasn't really offering any details, and what he did offer sounded pretty sketchy.
"It's nothing you need to worry about, Mutsuki," Amon said firmly. "Kaneki's case is a little more complicated than yours."
"Oh." Mutsuki didn't say anything more, though Kaneki could sense he was itching to.
"I'm sorry if I scared you earlier," Kaneki said, turning in his seat to face him. Mutsuki stared at him, his visible eye wide. He didn't deny that he'd been scared but he looked a little uncertain.
"That's okay, Mr. Kaneki," he said softly. The way he said Kaneki-san, it was practically dripping with over saturated respect. It seemed kind of forced and out of place.
"Can I ask?" Kaneki pointed at Mutsuki's eyepatch, watching his hand fly up to touch it gingerly. "It's not really an injury. Right?"
Mutsuki shook his head slowly. His mouth opened. And then it closed. He looked down at his lap. For the first time, Kaneki really looked at him. He was wearing that beige duffle coat over a pair of jeans, his coat buttoned up nearly to his chin and his hood bundling around his neck. His hair was as dark as Kaneki's, but thicker and shorter, uneven and wispy. His one visible eye was naturally very big, leaving the impression of a deer in distress. There was a duffle bag sitting on the seat beside him.
The car came to a stop, and Kaneki continued to stare at Mutsuki. He felt desperate with his confusion, but he also needed to know if his rage had been valid. What if he'd just snapped over nothing? The thought made him feel immensely guilty.
Kaneki exited the car, his feet scraping the cool pavement of the main office's parking lot. The wind blew, striking his bare arms, and he sighed. He shot a glance at Amon as he stepped out of the driver's seat.
"So," he said, "why are we here?"
Amon rounded the car with a mellow expression, as though he were simply being patient with Kaneki. He closed his eyes. "Well," he said distantly, "the Bureau Director wants a word with you and Mutsuki. Which, by the way, is a pretty big deal."
"Oh. Damn, am I in trouble?" Kaneki was joking, but Amon's eyes snapped open, and he glared down at him.
"What happened before can't happen again," Amon warned. "Right now, what the main office wants to see is results. Do they continue to waste time on you, or do they simply replace you? That's what this is about. So stop taking things so lightly, and remember to do your job. You are a ghoul investigator, Kaneki. Whatever else you are doesn't matter."
Kaneki turned his face away sharply. "I don't need you to remind me of that," he murmured.
"No," Amon said darkly. "You do. Let's go." He opened the back door without looking. "Mutsuki."
"Coming!" The boy's voice broke nervously. From within the car there was a quick zip, and Mutsuki poked his head out of the car. "Sorry. Um…" He stepped out, and he offered a bundle of clothes out to Kaneki. There was a pair of athletic sneakers sitting on top. "Will this do? I think my pants will be a little short on you."
Kaneki stared at him with wide eyes. Amon, too, seemed to be taken aback, his eyes widening and softening.
"Mutsuki…" Kaneki's eyes traveled to the clothes. What could he do? He didn't even know this kid. He'd literally just scared the crap out of him, and he was offering up his clothes just… for what? Kaneki didn't know. The worst part was, Kaneki knew he'd do the same. It made him angry. He wanted to stop seeing an echo of himself in this stranger, because it wasn't fair to him. "Are you sure?"
"I…" Mutsuki glanced away quickly. "Not to be rude, but you looked like you just broke out of prison. You're from the twentieth ward, right?" He looked back at Kaneki, and then he offered out the clothes again. "You don't want to walk into the main office looking like that. Trust me, even ill-fitting clothes like this… are better than being the talk of the whole CCG."
"That's exaggerating a little, isn't it, Mutsuki?" Amon offered with a short, nervous laugh.
Mutsuki seemed to flush, and he shook his head. "No, I'm being serious," he insisted. "You don't want to be on the bad side of a rumor like that, Mr. Koutarou. It's way safer if Kaneki— Mister—"
"Kaneki is just fine, Mutsuki," Kaneki said, reaching out and grasping the clothes. "It's fine. Thank you so much for this. I owe you big time, okay?"
"You don't owe me anything?" Mutsuki looked sheepish now, and Kaneki shrugged, pondering at how he was going to get changed in a parking lot.
"Just change in the car," Amon sighed, shaking his head. "We don't have time to find a public restroom, and the whole point of this is avoiding walking in there dressed like that. So, uh..."
Kaneki wasn't exactly comfortable with that, but it didn't seem like he had much of a choice. He exhaled sharply, and he nodded, climbing into the back seat of Amon's car and shutting the door. Both men immediately turned around to give him his privacy, which he was grateful for, but at this point things like this didn't bother him all that much. Maybe it would have before, back before Yamori, back before everything had become so muddled, but now he was so desensitized to this idea of shame that he couldn't even process it.
The really uncomfortable thing was actually getting dressed while sitting down. That was fucking annoying.
"Thanks," he said again as he tugged on the snug sneakers, his toes cramping as he untucked the back of the shoe. He all but jumped out of the car, testing the feel of Mutsuki's clothes. They were small, but not quite enough that he couldn't move. He rolled up the short hem of the pants so it at least didn't look like he was wearing jeans that didn't fit.
"No problem," Mutsuki said quietly.
"That does look better," Amon admitted as Kaneki slammed the car door shut. "That was a good idea, Mutsuki."
"Oh. Thank you."
"Hey, Mutsuki," Kaneki said as Amon waved them both forward. "Question. Why do you have a duffle bag full of clothes in Amon's back seat?"
Mutsuki paused midstep. He stood for a moment, looking a little rattled, but then continued walking. "I'm between places right now," he explained in a soft, melancholy voice.
"Oh." Kaneki considered this. "Wait, are you saying you don't have anywhere to live?"
"Uh, well, I mean," Mutsuki gasped, shaking his head hastily, "it's not really a big deal at all, really! I was just living at school before this, and now I don't go to school anymore, so I can't live there, but it's really not a big deal, there are lots of hotels in Tokyo—"
"You can't live in hotel." Kaneki shook his head. Why do I care so much? he wondered mildly. He couldn't help it. He simply cared too much. Wasn't that just his thing? Caring? Too damn much? About everything and everyone? "What university did you go to, anyway?"
"I…" Mutsuki was staring at Kaneki like he'd slapped his head on backwards. Amon gave a sharp little chuckle from ahead of them, and Kaneki shot a glare at his shaking shoulders.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Mutsuki went to the CCG Academy, Kaneki," Amon explained with a small smirk. "He's fifteen."
"Huh?" Kaneki glanced at the boy, who immediately bowed his head and hid his face. "You went to that ghoul hunting school?"
"You didn't?" Mutsuki blurted, looking a little scandalized. "How did you end up here in the first place, if not by the academy?"
"Uh." Kaneki took a moment to think about it, but only superficially. "Yeah, basically unadulterated stupidity."
"You know there are worse places you can be right now," Amon reminded him, pulling the door to the CCG's main office open. "Like a cell."
"Or a lab table," Kaneki retorted, brushing past him. "I'd say in a briefcase too, but—"
"Kaneki, no."
"Oh, what, am I not allowed to joke about that stuff?" Kaneki rolled his eyes. "Do I get to like, decide what happens to it? After I die? Like do I get to will special quinque rights?" He smiled grimly. "That'd be cool."
"What?" Mutsuki asked flatly.
"Kaneki's just being morbid," Amon said quickly. "Don't mind him, he's been through a lot. Have you ever been to the main office before, Mutsuki?"
"Um…" The boy was glancing around the entrance in awe. "Once? It was a while ago, though. I don't remember it well."
"Is Mr. Shinohara still operating from this office?" Kaneki asked, his hands slipping into the soft pockets of Mutsuki's sweater. They both had similar tastes in clothing, so that was good, at least.
"Yeah." Amon smiled fondly. "It seems like he has his hands full with his new partner, though."
"Suzuya?" Kaneki couldn't say it was all that surprising, considering he'd met the kid before and, yeah, they were a handful, but Shinohara had seemed so… in control. It was news to Kaneki that Suzuya and Shinohara had been newly paired up. The way Shinohara had interacted with them, it seemed to Kaneki like he'd been mentoring Suzuya for a long time.
"You met him?" Amon looked curious. "Shinohara introduced you two, or something?"
"Uh…" Kaneki thought about his stolen wallet, and the small fibs he'd told to alleviate the tension of the situation. "Something like that. So wait, Mutsuki, you're still a student? A high schooler?"
"I don't go to school anymore," Mutsuki admitted.
"He's a Rank 3 Investigator," Amon explained vacantly as they entered an elevator. "Like you."
It only took Kaneki just about the entire elevator ride for it to really sink in that he was standing next to his replacement.
Holy shit, he thought, glancing down at Mutsuki. I might be digging my grave right now. This boy, he's going to be the first to toss the dirt over the coffin. Holy shit.
"What… happened… when I was in Cochlea?" he wondered aloud, partially to himself, but mostly to Amon. "I'm really confused."
"Give it a moment, Kaneki," Amon told him gently. "We're getting there. First let's get you guys to this meeting, and then you'll get your answers."
That made him nervous. Like he was being led into a trap. Part of him wanted to backpedal and find an escape route. Everyone around him was an enemy, no matter how friendly, no matter how sweet. It made his skin prickle. He wasn't even breathing now. Could he really trust Amon? And this boy, Mutsuki, who even was he?
No. This was too much. Too much, too fast. He wasn't ready to face his mistakes just yet.
"Kaneki…?" Mutsuki was glancing at him worriedly. He'd started his usual Kaneki-san, but cut himself off quickly. He'd stopped midway down a hall, he realized, staring into the void beneath Amon's back. Under the fabric of his coat, his cotton shirt, his easily torn flesh, and the strong sinew stretching thinly over bone. He stared into a space where his mind escaped him, where his consciousness faded, and he was left with this frozen husk of a body, useless as ever.
"Huh?" He allowed himself to snap out of his reverie, and he looked at Mutsuki. The boy was a careful distance away, though he'd turned around completely and stopped to wait for Kaneki. What could he deduce from that? Mutsuki was scared of him, but…? But also, he seemed to care a whole lot about Kaneki's general wellbeing. Maybe, Kaneki thought, as though Mutsuki could hear him, you see it too. How alike we are. "Oh. Sorry, I got distracted."
"Are you okay, Kaneki?" Amon asked cautiously.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
Kaneki shot him a sharp look, and he folded his arms across his chest. "Amon, if there was a real problem, trust me. You'd know." He started forward, leaving Mutsuki behind to watch confusedly. He was fifteen. He was young, and he was scared.
He was not a threat. He was just a child, and whatever his situation was right now, it was simply unfair that he had to go through this.
Kaneki had been eighteen. Three years older, and yet he never would have been able to live at all without the guidance of Anteiku. This boy appeared to be quite fine, though. Nervous, but overall very supportive and pretty damn calm, all things considering. Because… wasn't he, like, homeless? And by all accounts, a newly turned ghoul?
Amon led them down a hallway and stopped near the end at a pair of double doors. He rapped his knuckles twice against them while Kaneki and Mutsuki stood silently at either side of him, one reflecting the other without really meaning to.
The man who opened the door was middle-aged, with a soft face sculpted out of a lifetime of hardships. He was smiling, and it looked genuine, reaching his dark eyes until they crinkled at the corners. Those same bright, crinkling eyes moved swiftly from one face to the other. Kaneki didn't miss the glint to his gaze.
"All here, then?" The man, startling poised and still smiling gently, stepped aside and held the door open for them. "I'd like to begin as soon as possible."
"I'm sorry for any delay, sir," Amon said in a firm, dignified voice. "Cochlea didn't hold on to Kaneki's clothes, so we had to make do."
"Well, Cochlea doesn't have much of a reason to keep clothing around, does it?" The man chuckled, glancing at Kaneki. For some reason, Kaneki was a little suspicious. It didn't seem plausible that this random old man would be able to tell which tiny eyepatched kid was Kaneki Ken just by glancing. "You seem to have gotten along well enough without clothes."
"I'm borrowing them." Kaneki watched the man's back as he turned away, walking toward a warm mahogany desk and hopping right up on top of it. He sat near the edge so his feet scraped the floor, leaning back leisurely as he gestured to the seats before him. There were only two. Amon hung back, a signal for Kaneki and Mutsuki to go on and take the seats.
"My name is Washuu Yoshitoki," the man said calmly as Kaneki and Mutsuki slowly took their places in their designated seats. Mutsuki looked nervous. Kaneki didn't know how he looked, but he sensed it probably wasn't all that great. "I'm the Bureau Director here at the CCG. Which, you know, all in good fun. Lots of paperwork and such." Yoshitoki smiled down at them. "Let me guess. Kaneki Ken," he jerked his finger toward Kaneki's face, then immediately swung it toward Mutsuki, who jumped. "Mutsuki Tooru. Right?"
"How did you…?" Mutsuki's visible eye was so wide, Kaneki thought it might activate its kakugan at any moment. Then without warning, Mutsuki seemed to relax. He bowed his head, and Kaneki blinked at him curiously. He's figured something out, he realized. Ah. So this boy was probably more investigator than hunter. Was that a good thing? Kaneki couldn't be sure just yet. "Oh."
"Oh?" Yoshitoki tilted his head, his dark, fluffy hair falling away from his face. "What? Are you going to call my bluff?"
Mutsuki glanced up at him, his brow furrowing. He pressed his lips firmly together, and he averted his gaze sharply.
"You can speak freely," Yoshitoki told Mutsuki quickly, probably sensing that the boy was completely closing up.
Mutsuki exhaled sharply. He met Yoshitoki's eye, his jaw tightening.
"It wasn't a bluff," he said softly.
Yoshitoki smiled. "Well," he said, "then how did I know?"
Kaneki turned to stare at Mutsuki. The boy's fingers clenched at the hem of his coat, and he took a deep breath. "You read our files," he murmured, turning his eyes toward his lap. "Right?"
"Huh." Yoshitoki looked over their heads, likely meeting Amon's eye. "Koutarou. Did you read Mutsuki's file?"
"No, sir." Amon sounded a little confused. "As far as I know, Mutsuki's file hasn't been digitally stored in the CCG's network, so if you have his file, that's the only one available. Kaneki, however, is a completely different story."
"You don't need to read a file to know my baggage, Amon," Kaneki tried to joke. Only Yoshitoki laughed. Kaneki tried not to look too stung. Hide would have laughed, he thought glumly. Hide. Oh, god, he needed to contact Hide!
"Mutsuki's file should remain classified for now, I think," Yoshitoki said, frowning a bit. "The details of his predicament are pretty underwraps, and if information leaked out into public forums anyone could get to it. It'd just make him a target, really."
"Mr. Washuu," Kaneki spoke up, his voice rather dead. "Did you…" He raised his eyes, unable to keep his cold fury to himself. "Did the CCG use me in order to recreate Kanou's experiment and birth more half-ghouls?"
Yoshitoki did not answer immediately. He merely studied Kaneki's face, his soft face looking rather worn and exhausted. Mutsuki had stiffened in his seat, his one visible eye sliding hastily to Kaneki's face.
"Kaneki—" Amon started, letting out an exasperated sigh. Yoshitoki held up his hand, waving it casually at Amon, who immediately fell silent.
"It's just an honest question, Koutarou," Yoshitoki said, smiling dimly. "I think we owe Kaneki an explanation at the very least, don't you?"
"Of course," Amon said. "I'm sorry. I just think he could have phrased that better."
"Everything I say is wrong," Kaneki quipped in a clipped, bitter voice. "At this point, Amon, you should just start whispering in my ear what to do and say at any given moment."
"Stop that, Kaneki." Amon's voice was cold and firm. "I understand your anger, but you are acting like a child."
"They experimented on me!" Kaneki jerked to his feet and whirled around to face Amon. He wasn't even angry at him. He wasn't sure who he was angry at, but he was angry, and it felt so cold as it leaked through his chest, like melting ice pooling at the bottom of a cooler. "They drugged me and took me out of my cell when I was sleeping. They used me to make more human weapons!"
"Kaneki," Yoshitoki said gently. "Calm down. I can promise you, what was done to you in Cochlea was not experimentation. The doctors there were merely monitoring your life signs, in addition to your RC signature. They were able to determine from a completely non-invasive set of tests how to safely mimic Dr. Kanou's experiment."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Kaneki said coolly, his fists clenching at his sides. "So you experimented on a child instead? My bad. That makes it all fucking better."
"Kaneki!" Amon reprimanded sharply. Kaneki decidedly ignored him.
"It wasn't like that," Mutsuki gasped, looking up at Kaneki with his one visible eye clearly desperate and scared. "Kaneki, please, I consented to the surgery! It wasn't—"
"The CCG is a large scale military faction with numerous branches around the globe," Kaneki informed Mutsuki curtly. "They have money and resources and manpower that ghouls do not. To put it simply, the CCG didn't need you. But kids are easy." His eyes flashed dangerously to Yoshitoki's warm, weary face. "Kids won't ask questions, and if they're desperate, they won't need much convincing at all."
Mutsuki's mouth clamped shut. From the way the atmosphere in the room shifted, it was clear that Kaneki's vicious, rapid words had hit home. And maybe Kaneki might have felt bad about that if it had been any other time, but he was so furious that he could barely reach any other emotion inside the void that seemed to envelope his chest.
Yoshitoki inhaled sharply, and he stretched his legs out further from the desk. He scratched his cheek, smiling vacantly down at his feet. He had a very calming presence, his eyes softening more and more with every passing moment. Kaneki didn't know why, but he found his anger fading rapidly, replaced by an inexplicable desire to crack open this man's head and feel his secrets fall like warm summer rain through Kaneki's fingers.
"Kaneki," the man said gently, "I was the one who authorized the Q project. I saw your test results first hand, and I understand your reservations on the subject, but we made alterations to Kanou's initial experiment. That offers Mutsuki far more freedom than you have, and lessens the risk of an RC spike." He sighed, lowering his head in what might have been reflection, his smile dim and sad. "I'm sorry. You have been through so much already, so this probably came as a shock. But, Kaneki, you and Mutsuki are two completely different cases."
"We're both crossbreeds," Kaneki whispered. "What's the difference? Do you honestly think that because you got consent first, that makes what you did somehow more ethical than what Kanou did to me? You're delusional!"
"You were implanted with ghoul organs," Yoshitoki assured, resting his hands back against his desk and lounging against it. "Of course that had a lot of negative consequences. In truth, I doubt Dr. Kanou expected you to survive this long on your own. But you know, against all odds, here you are!" Yoshitoki tilted his head, and he shrugged. "Mutsuki, however, was implanted with kakuhou sealed within a box made with the same basic material as the quinque. This prohibits his RC cells from rapidly reproducing, or for his regular cells to begin to mutate. Essentially, he's a normal human with the ability to use the kagune."
Kaneki stared at him blankly. Very slowly, he settled back into his seat, mulling over Yoshitoki's words. He wasn't quite so enraged as he was confused, because he didn't quite get how it was possible for a "normal human" to use the kagune and have a kakugan. It just didn't make sense.
He turned to face Mutsuki. "A normal human? So you can still eat human food?"
Mutsuki seemed to go rigid, like a cat that had been spooked and felt the need to violently recoil, but could not quite fully react. "You… you can't?" he asked in a tremulous voice.
"Don't worry too much, Mutsuki," the CCG Director piped up. "If Kaneki was dangerous, he wouldn't have been allowed out of Cochlea."
"But why was he there in the first place?" Mutsuki blurted. He looked immediately remorseful, his dark cheeks reddening. He bowed his head as Yoshitoki laughed.
"Ah, well, from what I've heard," he said with a peculiar brightness to his tone, "Kaneki here is very compassionate. A little too much, I'm afraid, for the general liking of our organization. Basically he was being punished for insubordination."
"Isn't sending him to Cochlea a little… extreme?" Mutsuki glanced worriedly at Kaneki's face, his hands wringing in his lap. He's so nervous, Kaneki thought sadly. This poor kid. Why would he ever consent to this hell? He had a feeling that Mutsuki's story was a lot more complicated than he'd initially thought. It was a relief though, to know that he could still eat normal food.
"I recommended putting him under house arrest," Yoshitoki said thoughtfully, "but that was overruled. The detention center seemed much more intimidating, and it wasn't solely up to me, unfortunately. So I'm sorry for that as well, Kaneki. You've been treated rather harshly, and that isn't fair to you."
"Thanks," he said dully. "I… guess?"
"I guess we should address why we're all here." Yoshitoki stood up straight and rounded his desk. "Kaneki, you've shown incredible control over your kagune, leading us to assume you have a natural proficiency with it. You were also able to hold your own against a ghoul in a fight, which by the way, is very impressive for someone without any training. You'll be an amazing asset to us."
Kaneki couldn't really help but feel content as the man spoke. It felt nice to be praised by him.
"Mutsuki has been unable to summon his kagune," Yoshitoki continued, sitting down at his desk and glancing at what appeared to be a medical report. "I don't see why it's a huge deal, since, you know, he's still pretty fresh out of the surgery, but of course everyone wants to see results immediately." His eyebrows raised, and he chuckled. "Yeah, good luck with that. Anyway, I want you to coach him."
"Uh…" Kaneki and Mutsuki glanced at each other. He looked at the boy, with his round, dark face, and his large visible eye, and the eyepatch, and he remembered vividly his own experience with kagune training. He almost actually winced. "Okay. I'll try."
"Good." Yoshitoki smiled at them, leaning back in his chair. "Kaneki, since you live in the twentieth ward, I assume you're fine with continuing to operate there under Koutarou."
"Sure."
"Mutsuki," Yoshitoki continued, looking at the boy, "you'll be working with Kaneki under Amon's jurisdiction. You're still a novelty among investigators, so it may be for the best if you keep your abilities a secret for now."
"Oh. Oh, right, of course." Mutsuki nodded curtly. Kaneki thought perhaps he was the only one who really heard the relief in his voice.
"You'll both receive quinques," Yoshitoki continued, realigning the papers on his desk as though he was growing bored and fidgety, "because you will be doing field work from now on, and frankly relying on your kagune is, in my opinion, a huge health hazard. You two are not ghouls. If you burn too many RC cells trying to fight an opponent, you'll be defenseless. I assume neither of you have a preference?"
"A preference?" Kaneki repeated. His mouth was dry. The idea of twirling around some other ghoul's kagune made him sick to his stomach.
"Bikaku, Rinkaku, etcetera…?" Yoshitoki drummed a pen against his lips. "I don't know. Some people are crazy about that sort of thing. Take Mado Kureo! Ah, my apologies, Koutarou, you were partners, weren't you? He was a fascinating man, but wow. Now that's a quinque specialist."
"No preference," Kaneki stated flatly.
"Same," Mutsuki murmured.
Yoshitoki glanced between the two of them. He smiled genially, his eyes softening to the point where he looked a bit like an elderly dog. "I'll figure something out for you both," he said gently. "I can probably trust you guys not to die until then, right?" He laughed brightly, and Kaneki found himself relaxing.
"I'll be there to make sure that doesn't happen," Amon spoke up, sounding so very resolute. Kaneki closed his eyes. Carefully, he reached up and removed his eyepatch. Mutsuki stiffened in the seat beside him, looking wild eyed. Perhaps he was imagining what it'd be like to take off his own eyepatch.
"Director," he said, staring at him with dead eyes. "I'd like to speak to you alone."
The room was silent. It felt as though the atmosphere had shifted, and Kaneki was once more the unrepentant catalyst. He'd made the air turn over, releasing thick ribbons of tension over them.
However, Yoshitoki seemed inexplicably unaffected.
He smiled, and he offered a shrug. "Yeah, sure," he said. "I don't see why not." He stood, and he began to walk toward the door. He gestured for Kaneki to follow, and for a moment he merely stared in shock before quickly leaping to his feet. He tucked the eyepatch into his pocket and let Yoshitoki lead him from the room, the eyes of Amon and Mutsuki following their backs as they went.
"I almost want to guess what this is about," Yoshitoki said as they headed down the hall. "But my better judgement tells me you're not that patient. What's on your mind, Kaneki?"
He wasn't entirely sure. This was, in his mind, the only chance he had to really get to the heart of the CCG without causing another scene. But even without the theatrics, he felt like he was going to get flung into Cochlea again. He was scared to speak. He could hear his own heart racing, his eyes cast forward into nothing, and he realized he really was nothing more than an empty husk strung up and showcased around.
"You must think I'm useful," Kaneki said thoughtfully.
"You are." Yoshitoki smiled. "But that's not what this is about. Should we find somewhere to sit down?"
"I don't want to be overheard."
"Then let's go for a walk around the block." Yoshitoki stretched his arms, and he shrugged. "It's my lunch break. Plus there's a fast food place down the street, and I could use a burger." He started forward with more energy than Kaneki had anticipated, taking quick, even strides down the hall.
As he passed by his office door, he bellowed, "Koutarou! I'm going to McDonald's! What do you and Mutsuki want?"
"What?" The door opened behind them, Amon's voice quick and shaky. "Sir, you— you honestly don't have to—!"
"I'll just guess, then!" Yoshitoki zipped down the hall and onto the staircase, clearly avoiding Amon's objection like the plague. Kaneki rushed to catch up, feeling a little lost, but somewhat exhilarated.
"You're pretty new," Yoshitoki said, slowing his pace as he descended the stairwell so Kaneki could catch up. "I can tell you feel no obligation to respect me, so frankly I'd like to try my best to earn it. Your respect, and also your trust."
Kaneki looked away. His trust? Well, it was a pretty thought. He'd give him that.
"What I am," Kaneki began as they neared the exit, "has clearly influenced the CCG's decision making process. You don't care that I'm a half ghoul at this point. You just want me to kill other ghouls."
"Well no one was really anticipating you'd try to save them," Yoshitoki joked mildly, shooting Kaneki a soft smile. "That was a bold choice. I'll tell you one thing for sure, no one here will ever call you a coward."
Then why do I feel like one? he thought sadly.
"About that…" He squinted into the sunlight as they exited the CCG. "I'm still not over it. That woman shouldn't have been killed."
Yoshitoki was quiet. He stood in silence for a moment before he started forward, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his white trench coat. "Ghouls kill people," he said. "We kill ghouls. Ghouls fight back. It's a messy cycle."
"And it can end!" Kaneki looked up at the man desperately, feeling only deepening sorrow as he recalled how useless he'd been upon facing Ryouko's death. "There are really, really bad ghouls out there. Ghouls that terrorize not only humans, but other ghouls! We should focus more on them, and less on the harmless ghouls who can't even provide for themselves!"
Yoshitoki continued walking, smiling vacantly ahead of him. He was pensive for sure, thinking fast and evaluating Kaneki's every word.
"I understand," Yoshitoki said quietly. "It's hard when the people you thought you knew turn out to be something else, isn't it? But trust me, Kaneki. It's better off this way."
"We are murderers," Kaneki snapped. "We are cold blooded killers. We hunt our prey, we mock their pleas, and we beat them when we're down. We rip them apart, and we harvest their organs because they're more useful to us dead than alive. We leave entire families devastated, children without homes, without fathers or mothers, and we endlessly taunt them with the people that they've already lost to us." He shot the Director a furious glare. "Now, Mr. Washuu, who am I talking about?"
Yoshitoki's eyebrows raised, and he averted his gaze. "Well," he admitted, "that's a fair assessment. I ask myself that question sometimes. Are we no better than the ghouls?" He shrugged. "Who knows? But we're protecting people. So that's that."
"And who's going to protect people from us?" Kaneki asked.
"Ah." Yoshitoki waggled his finger. "Isn't that just the question? Tell me, Kaneki, how many ghouls do you know?"
His jaw clenched. He was being too transparent. He might as well scream that he was completely invested in the wellbeing of numerous ghouls across the city, and would die for them.
"Your voice won't be heard." Yoshitoki's footsteps were brisk, his heels clipping the sidewalk as he moved effortlessly through a crowd. Kaneki was struggling to keep by his side. "You will scream yourself hoarse trying to win over the CCG to this crusade, Kaneki. You may even lose your life to it. Please, for your own safety, stop this."
"I can't." Kaneki looked up at him, and he could feel his desperation creeping in. "There has to be a way. I exist, don't I? There has to be a reason. I want to bridge the gap between worlds. To show that humans and ghouls aren't so different. Is that wrong?"
"You joined the CCG, Kaneki. Remember that." Yoshitoki shook his head. "You chose us. You could have opposed us."
"But I didn't!" he gasped. "Because I thought you could help me! But all you've done is lock me up and treat me like a criminal for existing! You can't just do that to people!"
Yoshitoki was smiling, and that was terribly unnerving. Why? Why was he so calm?
"I can't imagine you happen to have a compromise." He paused in the middle of the sidewalk and half turned to glance back at him. His hands were still in his pockets. "Okay, then. Let's hear it. Say hypothetically, the CCG decided to listen to you and maybe start seeing the world as less black and white, and more gray. How would you convince us that you're right?"
Kaneki stood, feeling a little rattled, as though Yoshitoki had just handed him a lottery ticket with all but one number filled in.
"How?" he repeated softly.
"Yes. How?" Yoshitoki watched him with glittering eyes. "What step would you take to change our entire world? Just out of curiosity."
"Uh…" Kaneki didn't even really need to think about it. "I'd have the CCG hire a ghoul. Not a half ghoul like me, or whatever Mutsuki is. A real ghoul."
"Really?" Yoshitoki's eyes widened a bit. "How on earth would you convince a ghoul to work for the CCG?"
"Easy." Kaneki shrugged. "Offer them and their immediate relatives immunity. You'd have ghouls lining around the block, if you were serious about it."
"That's pretty risky." Yoshitoki was smiling, which was sort of frightening, but also soothing. "Granting immunity to any old ghoul?"
"Of course you'd be a little selective," Kaneki said vacantly, scratching his head. "I mean, your best bet would be ghouls who have been able to fully integrate into human society. You can actually run background checks on them."
"That's fascinating." Yoshitoki stared at Kaneki until Kaneki felt like he was going to combust. "Do you think that could actually work?"
"I don't see why not?"
Yoshitoki cocked his head in a way that seemed to say, "Well, you've got a point." He stared ahead of him for a few moments, and then he turned. He whirled on his heel, and he faced Kaneki fully. "I have an idea. I would need your complete cooperation, and also for your theory to be correct."
"Wait, what?" Kaneki choked, taking a step back.
"A ghoul could easily infiltrate a ghoul organization." Yoshitoki's smile was earnest, but also undeniably sly. "You obviously can't do it. I've seen your kakugan. Oh, it's gone now, by the way." Kaneki touched his eye self-consciously. "So, what I'm really asking is, do you think you can find a ghoul willing to work with me?"
Kaneki stared at him.
"Is this a joke?" he asked slowly. "Or like, a test? I really don't want to go back to Cochlea."
"I'm being serious this time."
"You want me to…" Kaneki's eyes widened. "You want to hire a ghoul?"
"Well, basically," he said thoughtfully, "what I really want is to hire a spy."
And before Kaneki really knew it, a deal had been struck.