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exulzae · 4 months

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Twisted Wound

For @exulzae for the @tgpairup event! They wanted AyaKane, and I did my best! Enjoy :]

Aogiri was supposed to be colder than Anteiku.

Kaneki expected that much; the only warmth provided in Yamori’s playroom had been the sweat from his own brow, the blood spilling from his fingers and toes, and the heaving breath of the man himself as he grappled with killing Kaneki on the spot. A foolish mistake, in hindsight— now he was going to be another weapon of the Doves, like so many before him.

As a replacement, Kaneki assumed many of his responsibilities— chief among them being convening with the other executives.

All were cold in their own way— Noro was tall and silent, roaming the halls like a zombie. Accompanying him at all times was Eto, a childish— thus dangerous— mystery who always seemed to be watching Kaneki when he wasn’t looking. There was Naki, the new White Suits leader, who was overly emotional and unstable. And then Tatara always glared at Kaneki when he spoke up, as though he knew Kaneki’s true purpose, despite that being impossible.

In a way, it was good. Kaneki truly felt nothing towards these ghouls— these monsters— and counted to himself the days until their demise. He would consume them once they became useless, and he would climb on their corpses to the pinnacle of strength, upon which he would finally be able to protect what mattered to him.

But then there was Ayato. Touka’s younger brother, and a roaring fire amidst the cold. He was a lot like his sister, much as he likely didn’t want to admit: strong-willed, and a face full of swears and glares for anyone disagreeable. It should be easy to hate someone like that; those were the types that pushed people away and ended up all alone because of it.

If that were true, then it must have been the burden of nostalgia on Kaneki’s shoulders, because he found himself hesitating. Bringing down Aogiri meant confronting Ayato again, meant grappling with the choice he’d made in the 11th ward. It meant questioning his actions in that checkerboarded room, and rendering them meaningless.

And then it happened. Kaneki hadn’t been sent out to exterminate ghouls for a while, and he felt the pangs of hunger clawing at the walls of his stomach. The monster inside him craved sustenance, but his sense of justice and heroism demanded only one type of food— villains. And yet, the powers that be demanded he bide his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. He had to feign loyalty to Aogiri lest they catch onto his plan, and a true predator knew when to keep his claws beneath his cloak.

In a show of what must have been amused pity, Eto had suggested to Tatara that Kaneki accompany Ayato’s squad to a 15th ward raid. However, there were no ghouls, like Kaneki anticipated— they were going to attack a Dove’s nest.

Humans.

He knew this day would come eventually; it was just the consequence of working with ghouls. Humans would be attacked. Humans would be killed. But Kaneki, a former human, hunting his old kind— it stilled him. He knew how fragile they could be, how much easier they crumbled compared to ghouls. That was what Yamori had taught him.

Yet, when Ayato recklessly charged ahead and got stabbed by two hooks of a strange quinque, Kaneki almost thought he was just another human. The way Ayato crumbled when his ribs shattered like glass— Kaneki acted before he realized it. His kagune, grafted onto him like a broken branch onto a foreign tree, spilled forth wilder than anything before.

Two appendages around Ayato, and two through the Dove that did it.

Blood, human blood, spilled over Kaneki’s implanted organ, and the intoxicating smell of raw meat. He had always resisted the temptation, and the heat of battle always made it difficult. But Ayato needed attention now, and Kaneki used that to push him forward.

He ran as fast and as far as he could, far behind the front lines. It went against all of his logic, all of his choices, all of his resolve. If he had woven a tapestry in which he styled himself the hero, this slashed a knife through it and turned it into scraps on the floor.

He could feel the confusion from the others; the Eyepatch hadn’t established a habit of retreating, and Ayato hadn’t established a habit of being protected. But battle was battle, and there wasn’t enough time to consider it.

A few buildings later, once the screams of combat were silent memories, Ayato stirred. “Shit…” he muttered. “Take me back, half-ass.”

“You’re injured.”

“Yeah, obviously!” As he said it, he hissed in pain. “Shit…! Look, if you let me feed, I won’t be injured!”

“How will you feed if you can barely stand?” Kaneki countered.

“You don’t know shit, half-ass. I need to eat.”

“You need rest. I’ll figure something out.”

“And what do you know about what I need, huh?!” With a forceful shove, Ayato tumbled out of Kaneki’s grip and clambered to his feet. He clutched his wound, but neither his words nor his scowl were any less vicious for it. “Prancin’ about and actin’ like you’re better than anyone, just cuz you beat Yamori or whatever…!”

Kaneki stood at a distance, watching Ayato struggle with the injury he was ignoring. He’d been observing Ayato’s feeding habits, and it was clear he didn’t cannibalize. He was floundering about in the world of ghouls, yet he refused to steal from them. That was what they were built to do, after all. But if he didn’t eat something soon, then—

“Why’re you even here, anyway?” There was a wall for Ayato to sink down against. “You kill shitty Doves, but you only eat when it’s other ghouls… It’s stupid; they taste disgusting.”

Kaneki said nothing. It was true, to an extent, but there was a limit to one’s base instincts. He had to overcome them, ascend past the sheep and become a shepherd, so that he might pick the ones most suitable for slaughter.

“You ain’t in Fantasy Caféland anymore,” Ayato continued. “We’re ghouls, Eyepatch. We eat humans, not each other.”

Kaneki stepped toward him, deciding to entertain the boy. “If you’re picky about what you eat, you’ll never become strong; those you care about will slip through your fingers like sand.”

“And who said I cared about anyone?” Ayato fired back. “I only need me, myself, and I… That’s how ghouls operate, you bastard. We can only count on ourselves.”

“What about Touka, then?” Kaneki squatted down to his level.

He clicked his tongue. “What about her?”

“You could have killed her back in Anteiku or in the 11th ward, yet you didn’t. You let her live.”

When Ayato didn’t respond, Kaneki knew he hit the nail on the head.

“You’re protecting someone, just like I am. Killing Doves en masse won’t solve anything; battle experience only gets you so far. You must be able to expand your limits, too. And to do that, you must eat. You must feed.”

He grabbed Ayato by the shirt collar.

“Like this.”

In one swift motion, he lunged forth and sunk his teeth into Ayato’s shoulder. Ayato hissed. “What the fuck are you doing?!” he yelled.

“Teaching you a lesson.” Kaneki stood up, wiping the blood off his mouth. The taste was still the same, like spoiled goods that no chef could salvage. It was the foulest trash one could consume. “You said you needed to eat, and if you don’t, you’ll die. So show me your resolve.”

Ayato clutched his shoulder, glaring. “Bastard…”

“Calling me names won’t fill your belly.” Kaneki balled up his fists and shifted into a fighting stance. “Now feed, Kirishima.”

“I’ll do more than that…” Ayato struggled to his feet, crouching low. He suddenly smirked. “I’ll wipe the goddamn floor with your fucking guts.”

Kaneki didn’t notice his own smirk. “Come and try.”

Ayato lunged first, driven by hunger and newfound frustration. Kaneki didn’t expect the sudden speed, and felt Ayato’s nails scrape his cheek as he dodged to the side. He aimed a fist at Ayato’s cheek, but the boy turned, and his kagune, though shrunken by lack of sustenance, burst out of his open back, lining Kaneki’s hand and arm with small shards.

Kaneki jumped back to try and reorient himself, but he underestimated a ghoul’s hunger. He’d never been on the receiving end like this; Ayato chased him down and grabbed him by the arm, his fingernails sinking into the flesh so as to not let go. Kaneki winced slightly at the sensation, but that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was when Ayato’s teeth sank into Kaneki’s shoulder, far deeper than expected. It was as if he wanted the wound to never heal, and wanted to leave lasting proof that it was by his power that Kaneki suffered it. Ayato’s power, and no one else’s, simultaneously claiming victory and possession both.

Yet, for some reason, it was a familiar— thus comforting— sensation. Not familiar in the sense that Kaneki had been bitten like this, but familiar in the way that he had been held with the same intent before. The way Ayato’s hands clung to his shirt and arm, combined with the searing pain of his flesh being torn— it was like being held in both affection and contempt, love and disgust.

But were those not two sides of the same coin? By coveting that which we hate, desiring that which we despise, do we not also love them? Crave them? Need them?

Despite himself, Kaneki felt himself clinging to the sensation as Ayato fed on him, took from him. He clung to it like it was the only thing that mattered, far beyond kings or weeds or bad coffee beans; this current, familiar, foreign moment was all that mattered.

He enjoyed it.

He despised it.

Ayato’s hair was a shaggy, bloody mess, unkempt and uncared for. He needed to wash it, Kaneki thought. Did he even know how to wash it? Was that something a ghoul like him, so entrenched in that world, knew how to do? Would Kaneki have to—

“You taste weird,” Ayato said, getting off and wiping the blood dripping from his mouth.

Kaneki stayed still on the floor, bordering on rigid. “So I’ve been told,” he responded, feeling his shoulder struggle to put itself back together. “You were hungry.”

“N-No shit I was hungry!” Ayato shouted back, stuffing his hands into his pockets. There was a new color in his cheeks: a reddish and healthy hue. “Still… Still am…”

And that was why Kaneki continued to hesitate. Ayato, every so often, displayed behavior that was so much more… human than the other executives. Unlike Tatara, Eto, Noro, or even Naki, Ayato knew things. Knew the joy of peace, the sorrow of loss, and the painstaking existence of never having both as a ghoul.

However, Kaneki simply nodded, stowing away such thoughts for his greater purpose. “The raid must be over by now.”

“Hmph, no thanks to you.” Ayato rolled his shoulders. “The others are probably lookin’ for us. C’mon.”

Kaneki rolled to his feet, calming himself. He was not here to… frolic with the company he kept now; he was on a mission, and not even Ayato would stand in his way. “Alright.”

Despite that, Kaneki stared at his new wound, surrounded by torn fabric. It was closing, as it always did, but something was different. Instead of a bare patch of skin, Kaneki saw a scar in the shape of Ayato’s teeth. Almost like a brand, marking one’s territory, one’s property.

What loathsome pleasure he felt.

#reblogging here too because you deserve it #ayakane #tg #Tokyo ghoul #god it makes me so happy

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