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A Forgotten Birthday, An Unopened Gift (A Touken/Kanetou fanfic)

Summary: It's the day after Kaneki is freed from Aogiri and decided to leave Anteiku, leaving both him and Touka lamenting the distance between them.

Words: 2,269

Notes: You can blame @hakucho-art for this angst-fest, the original hc was her idea 😔

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The air is cold and still. Touka sits on Anteiku's balcony, tucked away behind the tall bodies of surrounding buildings. It's dark now, the sun having long set, and the moon's light dulled by the overcast night sky. Touka shivers, hugging her body. The painful ache on her back permeates her entire body, stinging with each slow breath. It's healing, the inflamed skin gradually knitting itself back together, but the cold leaves her body tense, only adding to the pain. She should be going back inside, her numb fingers rubbing over the goosebumps on her arms. Yet she remains, searching for the moon beyond the dense barrier of clouds above.

To her side is a rectangular package, wrapped in a patterned paper bag and sealed with a sticker of a cartoon-ish rabbit. Picking it up, she tightens her hold around what was meant to be a gift, the bag crinkling under her fingers. It's a book of poems Yoriko helped pick out at the bookstore a week or so ago, recently released and highly acclaimed. Thinking about it now, Touka wonders if he already has a copy, knowing he visits the bookstore often. Well, that was before tonight. After seeing the state he was in at the Aogiri base, she finds it hard to imagine him casually browsing for books, as if nothing has changed. Cringing, Touka tosses the gift aside and wraps her arms around her knees, lowering her head.

She can still see his back facing her, his dark shirt tattered, his hair an unusual white, and his skin uncomfortably pale. It was an almost haunting sight, a complete change from the soft, weak boy she has come to know the past two months. He had walked away from his life at Anteiku and rejected her offer to stand by his side. And her heart, brimming with a mix of relief and gratitude moments before, ruptured from his sudden betrayal. Like a splash of cold water, a hard slap against her skin. She shakes her head at the memory, her fingers digging into her thighs. He never stopped her, watching her silently as she walked away from that cold hill-top. Leaving him, she suddenly felt incredibly hollow, as if he had punctured her heart and drained all that kept her warm before.

“Idiot.” She mutters, unwanted tears filling her eyes. “Idiot, idiot, idiot!” She kicks the ground, scaring away nearby pigeons.

She grips her necklace, the chain cold against her palm. Holding her parents’ last keepsake, she squeezes her eyes shut. She can almost see them, smiling at her, beckoning her, their voices dulled from the passing of time. Still, she relishes the warmth they bring her, welcoming her with much-needed affection. She can even see Ayato – young and soft, carrying with him an innocence that has yet to be trampled. An innocence she used to know. But they're not really here, not anymore, and opening her eyes, hot tears fall down her reddened cheeks, the metal biting into her skin.

“Why am I always…” Her words are broken with a soft whimper and she angrily wipes away her tears, sniffing. She doesn't finish her words, unable to bring herself to say her thoughts aloud, even while knowing it to be the truth.

And as always, she is left alone to dwell on the numbing loneliness enshrouding her, forever questioning what she should have done differently.

. . .

“This is one of my family's safehouses.” Tsukiyama explains, gesturing towards a modern-looking building. “This one is free for us to use for however long we–”

Before Tsukiyama can finish, however, Kaneki walks ahead and into the building, his ragged clothes hanging off his slender body. He looks around the doorway before examining his dirty feet. They're scarred and covered in a mix of dirt and dried blood. With a sigh, he steps into the house, and Banjou, his friends, and Tsukiyama follow from behind.

Tsukiyama, of course, makes no complaint, but even if he had, Kaneki lacks the patience to comply with any more demands. Not after tonight. Thankfully, the others choose not to comment while he walks around the house, checking the different rooms and silently making note of how he will utilise these spaces.

“What do you think?” Tsukiyama asks, smiling, once Kaneki returns to the living room. The others are sitting on the sofas, checking each other's wounds. “Is it all to your liking?”

“Yes.” Kaneki answers, slumping down onto a spare seat. His body suddenly feels much heavier, the exhaustion taking hold. “This is fine. Except…”

“Except…?” Tsukiyama leans forward, his hands clasped together, and eager to do whatever Kaneki may ask.

“There's no room for you.” Kaneki says, his voice cool and steady. He brushes a hand through his hair as Tsukiyama stands frozen, wondering if he somehow misheard Kaneki. Kaneki looks back at him, his expression unreadable. “You need to find somewhere else to sleep.”

“O-Oh…” Tsukiyama clears his throat, straightening. “But this hideout has so many spare rooms. Surely there's one I can–”

“No. There isn't.” Kaneki reiterates. He pulls himself back onto his feet and heads towards Banjou, seemingly ending the discussion.

Placing a hand on Banjou's shoulder, he offers a small, wry smile. “I need to sleep now, but you and the others are free to do what needs to be done. Make sure you heal your wounds and rest, okay?” He asks this, glancing at the others, who all nod back in appreciation.

“You too, Kaneki-kun.” Banjou returns the gesture with a heavy hand on Kaneki's shoulder. “We're all here for you.” He glances at Tsukiyama, now standing behind Kaneki and visibly shaken by what has transpired the past few minutes. Shaken, but not deterred. “And we'll be here once you wake up.”

Kaneki smiles, truly grateful to hear Banjou say those words. “Thank you, Banjou. Really.”

Once he makes sure Tsukiyama has left the building, much to Tsukiyama's dismay, he enters one of the smaller bedrooms on the second floor, shutting and leaning back against the door. It's only then that he can feel his legs tremble, and sliding onto the ground, he buries his face into his rough hands. With a stifled sob, his jaw clenched, he grips his now white hair, pulling his strands between his fingers.

So much has transpired the past week, the past day even, that it is difficult for Kaneki to completely comprehend. The memories rush through his mind like a rampant flood, crashing through his consciousness with feelings of hate, fear, regret, and a deep, dark grief that he can feel himself sinking further into with every passing moment.

And beyond the murky depths consuming him, he can see her face, looking at him with those wide, dark eyes. There's a softness there, beyond its hardened exterior, like a light beyond the dark abyss. He wants nothing more than to reach for it, to hold it gently within his hands, but he holds back, resisting the urge. Sensing his hesitation, her expression falters, the relief twisting into confusion, before finally settling on a bitter disappointment. At the time, she said nothing as she turned away from him, yet he could still hear the spite in her footsteps, the feeling of betrayal in her silence. The sound echoes through his mind now, shaking the foundations of his fortitude.

But it had to be done, he knows, and with a shaky breath, he lowers his hands and leans his head back, tears falling from his half-lidded eyes. If there is one thing he is certain about after all the turmoil of the past week, it was that Touka would be safer in Anteiku and away from him. Him and his ugly hands. Looking at them, his eyes drift over the ringed scars around the base of each finger, and then his darkened nails, black with congealed blood. Beyond the hundreds of layers of skin, though, was the blood of those he tormented not long before, their screams still ringing through his head. He can still smell their stench all over him. They deserved their pain, Kaneki thought, clicking his index finger. The sound elicits a stream of numbers that rattle around the inside of his ear. It still pulsates painfully with the scratching of centipede legs.

1000. 206. Minus 7. 204. Minus what what wha–

He slaps his hands over his ears, biting hard into his lip. He can taste blood as the sound fades into static, his body tense. Letting out a shaking sigh, he lowers his hands, sucking away the blood from his bottom lip.

Despite his desire to trample those with unrestrained power, this is not a life he wants Touka to see, to feel, or to share. Not anymore, at least. He will spare her from that life, free her from that shadow that continues to haunt her. Even at the cost of her friendship, of her presence in his life. The idea alone makes his stomach twist into a tight knot, but he has suffered worse pains – if it's for her sake, he will take on whatever pain is demanded from him.

He can see the scowl on her face as the thought passes through his tattered mind, and a smile tugs on his lips, her anger weirdly comforting. Familiar, even.

“Damn it.” He breathes, rubbing his face. “I want to see her again.”

. . .

Holding a cotton swab soaked in alcohol, Irimi dabs the wounds on Touka's back. Touka flinches with each contact, hissing through clenched teeth. Irimi places a hand on Touka's shoulder, holding her in place.

“Ow.” Touka murmurs, hunching her shoulders. The wounds continue to pulsate and tingle when Irimi finally pulls her hand back, discarding the blood-stained swab. “How much longer will this take?”

“Hmm,” Irimi leans forward, delicately placing her hands against Touka's back and examining the injury. “The cuts are deeper than I thought. You might need stitching.”

Touka shudders. “Forget it! Just give me some food and I'll be fine.”

Irimi is quiet for a moment, preparing the gauze. “I'm worried that your kakuhou has been damaged.” Pressing the gauze against the wound, she notices Touka's body stiffen. “It may be a while before you can use your kagune again. Even then, it may take longer for them to return to their original state.”

“Oh…” Touka is not sure what else to say, her hands clenched into fists on top of her thighs. Her hair falls forward, hiding her face. She can feel the colour drain from her cheeks.

“Yes, well,” Irimi sighs and finishes bandaging Touka's injury. With a warm, damp cloth, she wipes away the blood dripping down Touka’s back. “This shouldn't be too surprising, considering everything that's happened.” She leans back, gathering her supplies. “You just need time to rest and recover.”

“Right.”

Touka can't bring herself to say the words circling her mind, to voice the realisation that she would have been nothing but a burden to Kaneki, even if he had accepted her offer to join him. It's ridiculous, she thinks, resentment thickening into a hard lump in her throat; she had always been the one leading the charge before, using her strength to fight against those that threatened her and her loved ones. And now she's been reduced to nothing more than a burden, a mere hindrance to the very people she sought to protect.

Ayato's words lash against her, biting into her as hard as he had during their fight – she has grown weak, complacent, soft from the years she's spent playing human. And now, as punishment, her wings have been clipped, keeping her pinned to the ground where she belongs. Regret shrouds over her as she stands from her seat, mumbling a small thank you to Irimi. Her peer watches her, concerned.

“Listen, Touka-chan.” Irimi stands alongside Touka. “You're young, with so many opportunities ahead of you. You were brought to Anteiku so that you could explore those opportunities. It's a chance not many of us ghouls have growing up, you know that as well as I do. You don't need to prove yourself fighting battles that can't be won.”

Touka turns away, her arms wrapped around her waist. “Sure,” her frown deepens. “I just feel so…” Her words trail off into a defeated silence.

“It'll pass, you'll see.” Irimi pats her head and with that, leaves the room, leaving Touka alone with the words offered to her.

It gives Touka little comfort, unable to break free from the misery encompassing her. This day has left her defeated and to see any silver lining past all that has transpired would only add to her bitterness.

Still, she refuses to collapse where she stands and instead, she heads towards her bedroom, lifting her head. It is not resolve driving her forward, or the optimism that things will get better. It is simply what Touka has always done, what she will continue doing, so long as her heart is beating and her legs can carry her; she'll carry on, hoping, desperately, that Kaneki will at least keep his promise visit the cafe soon. He said he would, after all. Maybe then she can convince him to return. Yes, there's always that chance, as pathetic as it makes her feel, clinging hopelessly onto his words like this. Searching beyond that, though, Touka finds some comfort by reminding herself of Hinami and Yoriko, along with all the others at the cafe. It had to be enough, at least for now. If not…she isn't sure how much longer she can tread on this tightrope she has made for herself.

#fic rec sunday #touken

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