Chapter Text
Fire was sort of soothing, he thought, watching as it flickered around the dark object. Its long tendrils curled up towards the sky in violent bursts only to fizzle away before it ever amounted to anything. It was like watching the lives of thousands, trying to be something, do something, and fail, flickering away into the inevitable emptiness. Fire burnt out just as lives did. A comforting thought.
Touka hadn't come yet. She had been out doing official business Kimi told him, as she changed some bandages and cleaned some wounds. He was still far too weak to do any of that himself. Since he had regained his sentiance, he had lost all the fight. The wailing, the screaming, the kicking and the moving. Now sitting up was the most difficult challenge he faced. It was humiliating, to be carried to a chamber pot, sat naked in a tub while someone else washed him. But then he remembered nights with no water, no food, no chamber pot and was suddenly grateful.
He slept often, Kimi bringing him milk of the poppy and wine to send him asleep most nights. His wounds were slowly healing and he itched for a sword to be placed in his palm. It was different now, he was missing several fingers on both hands, but he had enough to make it work, he knew that. He would hold a sword again. The moment he could stand. Each day he spent laying at the roof, letting maids push him to the top of the bed, let them basically spoon feed him mush as his stomach was too frail. Each night he spent with wandering thoughts as draughts weighed his mind down to oblivion.
He tried not to think much. He tried to block it all out. The screaming. The scratching. The biting. Bugs bugs bu-
“Morning Kaneki,” Kimi chirped as she came into the room, prancing over to the table where she kept her medical supplies. Kaneki did not respond, he just followed her with his eyes, and mumbled something. He didn't respond much. His throat always seemed to ache now, torn raw. Kimi turned to face him again, a fresh roll of bandages in hand and a soft frown. “Throat still playing up?”
He managed to nod and she tsked. After a moment she stepped outside the small dorr and muttered something to a maid outside that he couldn't hear. She stepped back in with a small smile.
“I’ve sent them to get you some honey, it should help soothe it at least,” she said, walking over to his bedside, hovering over him as she reached up to the rugs and furs over him. She pulled them off and Kaneki shivered in the cold. The fire didn’t seem enough. Kimi’s hands were soft as she darted them across his scarcely clad figure, spotting the areas in need of most dire bandaging and care. She decided on a large wound on his side. “We need to sit you up.”
She was quick and gentle trying to move him up, but he knew how he felt today. He pushed her hand away with a small smack, and used what little strength he had to push himself up. Kimi scolded him as she put a supporting arm around his back and pushed him the rest of the way up. He leaned over his bent legs and huffed, such a small use of energy and he was already exhausted.
“Fuck, you’re like… alive again,” he heard a voice stay. Standing in the doorway was Nishiki, accompanied by a maid with two small cups, honey and water. Kaneki glanced over at Nishiki, who walked in the room with very little care. He pulled up a chair from the desk in the room and sat down on the opposite bedside to Kimi. She was busy holding the cup of honey and the spoon in it, giving him small mouthfuls of it which he washed down with water. It was too sweet, he found. He had a taste for savoury flavours.
“Touka’s a bit wrapped up since it’s our first day back. I imagine she’ll be here soon.” Nishiki drawled, his eyes sweeping over the bandages and stitches and scars on Kaneki’s naked torso. He was wearing nothing but some pants that were definitely too big. He returned Nishiki’s gaze and the man nodded his head. Nishiki had been off with Touka while she went out on her business, something with a neighbouring house and some riots. She was a noble Lady after all and had been away for a good week. Unfortunately, the day she left was the day Kaneki woke.
Kimi had her hands on Kaneki’s torso, unwrapping the nasty wound. Sticky bandages pulled away and the burn was open to be seen. Nishiki hissed, his nose wrinkling. He stood from his chair, stepping closer to look at it.
“That’s nasty huh…” He mumbled, watching his girlfriend peel away at dead skin and use a cloth to wash the open parts.
“Yeah, I sort of did get tortured so…” He mumbled, the words rough on his dry lips. Kaneki winced as Kimi bumped a sore part of the burn and she mumbled sorry. Nishiki stood up straight with his hands on his hips. Kimi bandaged the wound. All was quiet. Then Nishiki coughed.
“I uhh. I’m gonna go. Stay conscious.” He said to Kaneki as he fled the room. Kaneki had a feeling he had made it awkward, but he didn't really care all that much. It didn't matter what Nishiki or Kimi thought of him. All that mattered was that his wounds healed, and his hand grew calloused again. He held his hand in front of himself, opening and closing it, watching the bandaged fold and unfold. He had three fingers on that hand. Kimi noticed his staring and hummed.
“I can’t do anything about that unfortunately,” she said, sitting down on the bed beside him. She smiled at him when he looked over, and reached a gentle hand up towards his face. “But I’ll do everything that I can, I promise.” Her hand almost reached his hair when he ducked away, almost as if instinct. He hated people touching him. He let them heal him. He wouldn't accept anything else. She clicked her tongue against her teeth and stood, walking over to the doorway. She peered out and grinned.
“Touka’s here.”
-
Sleep didn’t come easy to him after all that had happened. He found himself more often than not awake, standing with his arms crossed, gazing down at the few flickering lights of King’s landing. It was a miserable place. He would never call it home. Behind him was his bed, a large one, and in it slept his wife. Slept isn't quite the right term though, as she just mumbled and turned. She would probably wake soon.
Hide sighed, opening the window and letting the cold air rush in. It was a cold bite, but he found himself liking it more than he had previously. It helped clear his mind. He tried not to think about Kaneki, his grey eyes, his bloody form, white hair. He tried not to, but it seemed to be the only thing he could. While everyone was screaming about the monster with a dragon, he was thinking about the boy with an egg. He sighed again and slumped against the windowsill.
“Stop sighing,” A soft voice popped up from behind. He tilted his head round and Yoriko was up, blinking sleepily at him while she sat. “You sound old.” She said with a yawn. She was delicate on her feet when she stood up, taking half the bed sheets with her. She shimmied over to the window and looked out through bleary eyes. Her soft yellowy blonde hair was messed up from sleep, and soft brown eyes revealed themselves through slow blinks. He huffed, and raised a hand up to cup the back of her neck.
She buried her face in his chest while they both stared out. The marriage still hadn’t been consummate. He couldn't bed her, he just couldn't. She was wonderful though, and he was glad to have her. It was true, her wit sometimes failed her but her strength never did. She took what she had, she took and wore it like a coat of armour. They told her she dressed plain so the next day she started a fashion trend of wearing commoners clothes. They told her she looked like a stupid princess so she walked around with fairy tales the next day.
She was incredibly good natured, just as Hide was. Minus the schemes. He didn’t love her, he knew that. She knew that. She didn't hold it against him though, in fact she didn't mind at all. If anything, she was glad she didn't have to worry about finding suitors anymore. She and he were more like close friends now, confidants, who externally had to blush and hold hands and kiss the other on the cheek when both were looking in the opposite direction. She was definitely what Hide considered a hugger though, but he didn't mind. He found physical contact quite soothing.
“It’s cold.” She mumbled into his chest, still not quite awake and clinging to him like he was the bed. “We should sleep. I’ll re-establish the pillow wall if you're uncomfortable or something.” She laughed slightly at that, letting off her head as she pulled off him. On the first night of their marriage when it became clear that neither wanted to be there, she had put up a wall of pillows in between them. They spent the night awake, questioning the other through pillow gaps in the wall. It was quite fun actually. He was going to sigh again but he tried not to, else he would get teased for it when morning comes. Instead, he grumbled.
“I don't want to.” He said, eyes still shaping the walls of King’s landing, that boxed him in like a bird in a cage. He watched the few common people still awake mosey about, run through crowded festive streets and slink into shadier ones. He wondered if they would ever walk out the front gates, never turn back and be free of the walls. Hide wished sometimes he was lower born. Then he would remember a younger Kaneki, coated in bruises and stick thin, wearing only rags. Then he saw flashes of an older one, white hair and clutching a dragon egg-
Yoriko whacked him over the head lightly.
“Stop thinking, it will actually make you older.” She whined, her hand raised and ready to strike the back of his head again would he, gods prevent, think. After a moment though, she dropped them with a sigh of her own before leaning on the window sill, letting the wind blow at her short hair. “What are you thinking about this time? That friend of yours or the… you know what.” She whispered the last piece, aware of the thousand ears in the keep. Only because Hide told her of them. She knew about both Kaneki and the dragon egg, which probably wasn't the best decision on his part. He had been so stressed out when he came back he just broke down, told her everything. She had already known about Kaneki, but the dragon egg part he should have kept to himself.
“Both.” He responded, finally turning away from the window and facing into the warmer room, staring at the now empty bed sheets. Neat bed sheets. Clean bedsheets. He heard Yoriko click the window shut.
“Yeah, I get it. It’s stressful. I’ve been cooking with the servants to try and de-stress. It’s lots of fun, you should come with me next time,” she said as she walked past him, flopping back down on the stupid bed. “It would probably be good fo us to look like a couple in public and-”
“How much will that prove when you don't have a kid?” He responded by cutting her off. She sta up, staring at him and blinked. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.
“Uhh, well. We could… try? I guess…” She mumbled, sounding and looking quite displeased with the idea. He just shook her head and she sighed in relief. She flopped back down on the bed and patted the spot beside her. He went over and flopped face down beside her. She snorted.
“We could always just run away.” That got his attention. He sat up, looking down at her while she laid there, looking at the ceiling. “We both have basic life skills to survive on our own. We could escape up north, get smuggled over the border via the ocean or something. We could go stay with your friend if he’s okay now. I could work in kitchens in the noble Lady’s house and cook food for them, and you can be an advisor or something. Or we could run further than westeros, go out to the free cities. Further even. We could chase the sun.”
She looked over, and Hide saw a gleam of something in her eyes. She stared for a moment, while Hide bit his lips.
“Not now. It’s not safe. If we want to run away somewhere, we need to know more than we do. Which guards are trustworthy, who will chase us, who will help.” He sat up straighter in the bed, thinking of a plan. “Besides, before we leave I want to know more about Kaneki's fairing, and if the north is going to lose, we can't very well escape somewhere they'll just possess in a few years. Other than that…”
“I’ll find us a smuggler.”
-
Mado.
Akira Mado. What kind of cursed luck was that? Amon thought to himself as he patrolled around the keep, following his designated path. It had been quiet ever since the incident with the dragon. Their army had diminished, filled with deserters, and the guard grew weary. The townsfolk were also affected, the morale lowered, as food grew scarce from trade blocks via the north. They heard the whispers of dragons. They knew the danger, and as such, most of them stayed home. The towns were eerily quiet most the day, only coming alive at night when they assumed the beast couldn't spot them.
Still, he trailed along his guarded spot, just one hallway .Back and forth. He had been growing restless. He had been called out to the front lines, the battle with the north in dire need of more assistance. He had accepted, of course. What an honour to fight for the King, instead of guarding him. Unfortunately however, Akira Mado had been assigned to go with him. Though the King wasn't exactly a fan of women in armour or women with brains for that matter, he was aware of his resources. That, or he grew tired of watching her beat his men up.
Still, being sent up north with his dead mentor’s child… It sent a shiver up his back. He clutched at his necklace for a moment, looking out at the empty sea just beside the townspeople. How many would soon row out to sea? How many would run away? Times grew dark, and he found the light of the lord grew fainter with each day. His love of the one true god was rapidly being overshadowed. Overshadowed by death, and dragons and torture, and northmen who knew how to cry. If he shut his eyes perhaps he would be standing there again, watching father cleave flesh off bone.
So he did not shut his eyes. He turned. And walked back along the corridor. Through a small corridor however, entered someone he wished not to see. Akira Mado. She paused when she saw him. He froze as well. It was quiet, the night wind blowing cold air from the sea. If he licked his lips he could taste salt, and he convinced himself it was from the sea, not the sweat that begane to dot his face.
“Amon.” She said, cold and sharp, uncaring for formalities. She strolled closer towards him. He sighed and looked out at the town again, praying she would not walk any closer. The guilt he felt from being near her was unbreakable, and that in itself was a tragedy. Akira Mado was a beautiful woman, but above that, she was smart, and talented. She was someone who normally Amon would seek out, a potential companion or ally he would be glad to have. But instead of seeing that potential in her eyes, all he saw was the glint of anger he father shared. Still, he nodded when she stood beside him, also looking out.
“We head north in a week.”
“We do.”
It was quiet again. His eyes flicked over to her a few times. He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off.
“I don't like you. I won't pretend I do.” She said, blunt and harsh, staring out into the city as though it were a plague. Amon was starting to believe it might be. Or was it the folks in the castle who were the plague. The burden. No. No, only the northmen were the ones wicked and wrong. Children, brutalised for fun. A boy, crying out on a bridge. He clutched at his necklace again.
“I can accept that.” He said, refusing to look at the woman beside him. All he could see was her father. It made his stomach do jumps to remember. Remember how he let them go. He let them run away. Her father's killers. It was only ever good men who died, he concluded. Father was alive still, in the lowest cells in the darkest corner of the deepest keep. He continued to live, to breathe as though he wasn't a filthy cannibal. And for what purpose? He never knew. Some sort of sacrifice or something.
“I know it was the Lady of house Kirishima that did it. A child.” She turned her head to Amon, an accusatory stare. “And what kind of man would lose a fight against a child? Other than the type that spares them of course.” She turned her head back out to the city. So she knew. She knew he had let the rabbit girl, the child and the boy go. It wasn't hard to figure out, he knew that much. He usually re-told the story as if the other opponent was an adult. Even then, there were few who were capable of beating him in a fight. It was still unlikely that he and Mado lost.
“Look, Akira-”
“Mado. Call me Mado.” And with a swift twist of her head, she was walking away, body tense and fists clenched. Soon she vanished, her silk dress and armoured plates disappearing from sight. He let out a sigh, trying not to let the guilt continually gnaw away at him. Again, he found himself holding that stupid necklace of his. He was conflicted. He was weak. So to put it simply, he would need to not be.
He would not let another northerner go. He would not let the boy with the eyepatch go. Should it be true and the boy becomes ward of house Yoshimura Amon would have no qualms about slaying them on the battlefield. It's the only way to atone for his sins isn't it?
-
She sat at the edge of his bed. Barley, like she was afraid to be near him, as though he was going to implode at any moment. She watched him with tears in her eyes, like looking at the body of a ghost. He wasn't a ghost, but he figured he looked like one. He himself was still getting used to the white body hair all over, the long white hair down to his shoulders. It shocked him as much as it did Touka.
“So.. you’re awake now? For real this time?” She asked awkwardly, fiddling with the sheets on his bed. She dropped her eyes from his, eye contact being too much for her apparently. It seemed she couldn't handle looking into the face of a stranger. Janeki knew he was different. He knew he was too different. Already he was planning his actions forwards, away from here, away from Touka. He cared about her, truly. That's why he had to go. He bit the inside of his cheek.
He nodded in response to her question while he laid against the headrest, in some fair discomfort. He hadn’t had any milk of the poppy yet, as he desired a clear mind for reuniting with Touka. She was quick to see him, as Nishiki and Kimi had said. The second she ran in the room, hair windswept, eyes blurry, and a shocked gasp halfway passed her face, Kimi had left, leaving the room to them. So she sat on the end of his bed, not saying a word to him. Until now.
“That's… good. Sorry, fuck I dont know what to say.” he mumbled, burying her head in her hands. He saw the flash of pain across her face, the teary eyes, the scowl. He watched. There was still a part of him that was urging him forwards, driving him to grab her arm and pull her in for a hug despite his wounds. But that part was nothing more than a small whisper, a meaningless mumble outshined by the roars of a dragon. His head turned past her to stare at the egg in the fireplace. He wondered if they had noticed the small crack yet.
“That’s alright,” he mumbled, his throat growing sore again. It was strange to hear himself speak. It was dry and gravelly, so unlike the tone he used to have. Each word he uttered felt like they were from the mouth of a stranger. He could scarcely keep up with all the changes that had happened to his body, the more noticeable being the missing extremities. Still, he found himself staring down at bandaged hands and feet praying he would be able to balance a blade and balance his feet when he could stand once more.
When she turned her head to look at him he wondered if she knew. Knew who he was now, what he was. He could still taste meat on his tongue. He could still feel laceration against his skin, burns on flesh, hands on his body. It repulsed him. He was repulsive. He felt, he wondered if she saw it. He wondered if she was repulsed. He prayed she was, it would lessen the blow when he left. The moment he could stand, he would run. He was fire, he would burn whatever he touched and he did not want it to be her.
“What will you do now?” She whispered, hands once again fiddling with the soft bed sheets, eyes lowered and not looking at him. He sighed, tilting his head back slightly. The roof was bland, but at least it wasn't as bad as the one in Jason’s room. He felt detached from it all for some reason. He knew it had happened. He felt the pain every moment, yet he didn't feel fear when he said his name. The name Yamorri sat on his tongue like an easy saying, he was unfearing. Perhaps it was because he knew what had happened to them. He had killed them himself. Even thinking that did not evoke disgust.
“I…” He started, before snapping his mouth shut. He couldn't tell her his plan. He wouldn't. He couldn't tell her anything. “I’m really glad you're here, Touka.” It was a lie. A painful lie. He saw the tears rise in her eyes and the way she lent away, hunched over and shaking as her body wracked with small sobs. It hurt, it did. Truth was he wanted her farther away than anyone else. She stood after a moment, tears still decorating her face and she walked briskly around the bed, standing beside him at the head. He looked up at her and she gently raised a hand up, dropping it down into his hair.
It burned. He wanted it off. He bit his lip and toughed it out, when she sat on the bed beside him and rested a gentle head on his shoulder, hand latching onto uninjured skin on his arm. She stroked his hair for a moment before bringing it further towards herself, curling up against his side. A raw sense of panic curdled his blood. He wanted to pull her off of him as though she were a leech. He grit his teeth and toughed it out, letting her cry. Not once did his hands rise up to hold her. She noticed.