CALAMITY'S PUPPET.

                 He’s coughing, whimpering like a child – each breath he takes a living lie. He’s curled as blood spurts out of his body, but not for long. Kakugan disappears, for now, in fact he hides it. He’s curled up, hands carefully covering up his wound. 

      His breathing is even, despite his appearance. ( You fool, do you think that this is enough to make the man fall? He has lived this life before you took your first breath. ) He’s crouched down, as deception fills the room in attempts to affect the child as well. He thinks the battle is over, but not for the other. He waits patiently, for the perfect opportunity to strike; in where one is at it’s most vulnerable state. 

               “ I dont think so, I think I need a hand. ” 

                                      —- He’s sly, but that’s the way the world is.

     An empty gaze is delivered as connoisseur dons the crimson substance of life, line of sight derived of false pity. He is no fool, but he has been one. This is where he grows, learned from a past library date; survival screams at nerves and cells to not fall for such easy deception. This is not the first time they have fought, far from it. He’s been exposed to such tactics too many times. He understands, and receives the message. THIS BATTLE IS FAR FROM OVER.

          “ If I give you a hand, you can die.            Look at your own blood -- it’s slipping through your fingers. “

     He speaks with such honesty, so casual with his words. He delves into the mind of his opponent, cognition manipulated to think like the opponent. However, he is not bitter, holds no resentment. After all, Tsukiyama himself knows all too well that the reminder is well needed. HE TEACHES KANEKI ABOUT THE TERRIFYING ASPECTS OF A GHOUL. And for that, no conviction is displayed. Gray irises settle upon the sword selected by the tampered tragedy: Tsukiyama has yet to dispose of his kagune, another notation he was careful to speculate on.

               i need you to say it out loud - —                                 tell me I make you PROUD.

                                          i just want to hear you say it - —                               say it a little louder, please.

                                             “ STAY STILL. ”

HER HANDS DISSECT ICARUS and slip out his raw, beating heart, she plucks his dying ribs apart and pries open his birthing lungs, her wretched haunting undefeated in the crevices of his slowing breath (air slips from them as life withers in his rotting body, his corpse was blooming red and she culls him fresh, she tugs at tendons and string alike as their hero falls into the gut of the earth: you were never destined for saccharine glory, you selfish abomination, you served only as a meal, as an entertainment for the gods dear icarus, so FALL). he screams out but she answers, she stands behind him as they fall together, as they die together like eurydice and orpheus’s hollow myth (her nefarious fingers wrap around his own as they clutch at his final gospel, a last testament to WHY TRAGEDIES ARE THE ONLY KIND OF HERO) —- but she asks one final question, she lifts him to the dead gods above as unholy sacrifice and hisses: who are you, really ?

                  “ There’s a hole in your head, but you can still use your brain. Kaneki, do                       you remember the poems that you read ? There was a lot, wasn’t there ?                                WE SHOULD SHOW HIM WHAT WE KNOW. ”

    “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! “

    HE KICKS, HE SCREAMS; OH DEAR, THE PAIN WAS UNBEARABLE! His fractured soul has no path, and there is no resolution flowing in his blood. He thrashes all over, wrenches death’s spear out of his eye socket, and sputters out nonsense. Tampered and incomplete, that is who Kaneki Ken truly is; HE WAS BORN TO DIE ALONE. He prays to the god of no one, and God heeds his prayer. RIZE KAMISHIRO -- SHE IS THE ONLY ONE YOU HAVE LEFT. HOW PITIFUL, TO RELY ON A TARNISHED IMAGE CONTRIVED IN YOUR ABERRANT MIND. Fraud is the comfort implanted on her tongue, the love sown on her fingers -- what else does he have? Her voice commands, and he heeds her call. Thick crimson oozes out of rancid flesh, but he stills himself, arms swaying as he listens. She speaks madness as he perceives it, understands this foreign language more than anyone. YOUR BLOOD SPILLS, SO RECITE WHAT YOU KNOW. PERFECT! IT’S A FLAWLESS PLAN! you poor, pitiful animal -- good god, what are you saying???

        “ HA HA KANEKI KUN, LOOK OUT! ” 

      He chirps, as he nearly leaps and moves with terrifying accuracy. Sparring, is what Kaneki would call it, but Shuu considers it as a personal evaluation. How should he serve Kaneki? How beautiful would he be placed upon a silver platter? He can see it now, eye gouged out, lips curled into a rather forced, yet romantic smile. Blood is dry, but it drips down from its eye sockets – resembling tears. Shuu grins, and it seems as if he’s let himself delve too deep in thought, as Kaneki manages to stab the side of his stomach. He coughs blood, and Shuu leaks out crocodile tears. 

              COME CLOSER COME CLOSER, FALL INTO HIS TRAP – FALL INTO THE ANGEL OF DEATH’S ARMS ONCE MORE. 

                 “ Ah, Kaneki - kun … help.”

     “ Cheh -- “

     Death’s sword meets with that of sorrow’s spear. THEY CLASH, UNRELENTING AND LACKING ALL MERCY. But Tsukiyama loses himself, delves into a mind’s seclusion. Kaneki does not hesitate, physically feels the squelching of a punctured abdomen. However, there is no hint of regret, no sign of any visible emotion regarding the other. This is normal, this is all but out of the ordinary. He scowls, glowers at Tsukiyama with silent conviction like a beast that he’s always been. ( I’VE ENSURED YOUR DAMNATION. ) With a blink of an eye, kagune disperses, and kakugan is no longer in sight. Eyelids fall, and the boy respires.