美食家 - 月山 習

     The tattooed ghoul briefly wondered if Tsukiyama thought that low of him. Despite his appearance, Uta knew when certain acts and words were appropriate in different situations. Even though he had grown up on the streets of one of the most dangerous wards, he still had manners when dealing with others. He knew how important it was to be wary of another person’s actions.

     Figuring he was finally in a ‘safe’ environment [ without having to worry about his identity being revealed, at least ], Uta unzipped his leather jacket and took his sunglasses off. Adjusting his wardrobe as they walked was a much better course of action in the ghoul’s mind than looking around at each and every grandiose room they passed. Uta clipped his aviators to his loose white t-shirt as he pretended to be interested in Tsukiyama’s home, the tattoo on his chest peeking out from the weight of the spectacles hanging on his clothes.

     ”I ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴀsɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴏғ ᴀ ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ,” Uta looked over to his companion as they made their way into the kitchen. ”I ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇʟᴘғᴜʟ ᴏғғᴇʀ, ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ.”

     Once they [ finally ] arrived in their designated spot, Uta set his little box of treats down on the marble countertop near where he stood.

     ”I’ᴅ ᴏғғᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ᴍᴀsᴋ ᴀs ᴀ ғᴏʀᴍ ᴏғ ʀᴇᴘᴀʏᴍᴇɴᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ɢᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ,” he smirked. ”Sᴏ… ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ᴡᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴ? Aʜ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ I sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴊᴏᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ sᴏᴍᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇs. ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪsᴇ I’ʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴏ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ.”

     "Ah, non. It was no trouble at all! I rather enjoyed the opportunity to take advantage of the kitchen for personal use." He ran his fingertips over the cool marble counter, pausing briefly to admire the set up. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly.

     "There are a few simple things that you should know firsthand. The three main ingredients we will typically cook any sort of flesh with are: blood, plasma, and fat. If we were equating this to human cooking, blood would be the wine, plasma would be the oils, and fat would be like butter or shortening. Each one is used for a for acquiring different spectrums of flavor." The violet ghoul waved his hand toward a row of bottles with markings of blood type on each. In front of the bottles were a few tasting glasses.

     "I've selected a few bottles for you to sample, if you'd like. We can pair it with the type of flesh you'd like to learn to prepare. Most meats only require a light sauté to enhance their taste. So that is what we will be setting our sights on." Tsukiyama opened the first bottle in the lineup, pouring some of the rich, garnet liquid into a glass. He presented it to Uta, hoping he would find at least one among his collection that greatly appealed to his senses.

Which he often found was difficult to do within the confines of the apartment. Maybe it was because of everyone was in tight quarters (they all had their space sure, but some memebers of their squad had shorter tempers then others). Tooru had found a small selection of books that had caught his interest, new thrillers and mysteries that he thought that even Sasaki would enjoy. Then again, Tooru would read anything he could get his hands on if it provided a temporary escape from reality (his reality was not a kind one after all). At the moment, he was already nose buried in one book when he almost bumped into someone when he heard their voice. “O-oh! I’m so sorry!” he stammered as he closed the book and shuffled a bit. “I didn’t realize I was in anyone’s way!”

     "Ah, non. I was not paying attention, forgive me." His face had softened a bit, but he may have still held some semblance of confusion on his visage. 

     Despite being lost within himself these days, he took a moment to read the sign above the shelf. He had not even realized he walked to this section. "Is this your favorite genre?"

"The only useful thing that stupid wimp ever taught me, was to never be a softhearted dumbass.” A hand absently reached up to tug at his earring, as a sarcastic smile twisted its way onto his face, though with his mask still on, the stranger would have no way of catching it. 

He’d never come across a bigger fucking idiot in his life than his dad -though his sister was a close second.

"And the ‘Gourmet Ghoul’? What? Is that supposed to strike absolute fear into my heart? Maybe make me do a little curtsy for you, princess?” In this weakened state, he knew that he shouldn’t be trying to aggravate what could possibly be his opponent, but something about this man just rubbed him the wrong way - maybe it was the shitty taste in clothing, or the cocky voice - and the teen found himself increasingly wanting to make that smug-ass bastard choke on his own arrogance. 

He was about to spit out his refusal to the other’s offer, because who the fuck would want to work with this prissy bitch, when the pain within him flared up as if deciding to remind him of his critical hunger; this deal was probably as good as it got, if it the situation was to be resolved peacefully. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Ayato was going to have to accept unless he wanted to risk ending up a hungry bloody mess.

"…Whatever. I never gave two shits for the eyes anyway." He wanted to fucking beat himself into plump for being in this situation - if he had fed sooner, he wouldn’t have to be in such a pathetic position…

"But if you’re lying, I’ll beat the fuck outta you."

     Raising his hands up in mock surrender, he let out a short puff of air through his nostrils. Giving the young male a charmed smile, his hands lowered again.

     "Good boy." Tsukiyama praised. The smile slid into a devilish smirk. 

       "Please excuse me." He bowed politely to the scoundrel.

     Jumping, he grabbed onto the fire escape ladder, pulling himself up gracefully on the platform above him. He retrieved a handkerchief and wiped the dirt off his hands, glancing down to see that his pants had not suffered any ill fate. Tsukiyama tucked the soiled cloth into his back pocket so he would not think to wrap the girl's eyes in it.

     Reaching the window, he glanced inside as his hand slipped into the small gap between the sill and the seal. These buildings were cozy with their old age, but certainly had their flaws without properly insulated seals. With his lips still curled into a smile, he slid a couple more fingers under and lifted it up. The room temperature billowed toward him, gently replacing the surrounding chill of the night. 

     His eyes scanned the room, seeing no sign of panic and certainly no sign of the girl. For a split moment he wondered if he had made a mistake. Then he heard the water begin to run in, what he assumed was, a bathroom down the short hall. Shuu made fluid, delicate strides toward the restroom. Oh, this was so unrefined of him, but something about that made it better. The loutish boy downstairs would probably enjoy himself participating in these sort of activities.

    Opening the door quietly, the girl's form had only been slightly obscured by the beveled glass and steam. With a smooth voice, loud enough to call her attention from the running water, he recited an english phrase:

     "Honey, I'm home!"

     The next movements were a bit of sadistic blur for him. He was pulling open the shower door before she could gather her wits enough to cry for help. His hands made their way to her throat first, cutting off her airway so that she couldn't scream.

     Tsukiyama brushed the wet locks from her face, much like a lover might do. With a slight cant of his head, he watched the fear swirl around in those gorgeous pools he so desired to taste. The shear panic in her expression exhilarated him as he nearly crushed her windpipe. Running a thumb over her delicate eyelids, he pushed the upper lid out of the way so she could not close it. He leaned down, grazing his tongue lightly over the cornea. 

     A shallow, breathless scream passed from her chest, but caught in her throat by his own grip. Oh it was marvelous, truly worth the wait. Kissing her above the brow he muttered against her warm skin, sweet words in french as his thumb trailed beneath the lid and dug into her socket. It pushed forward easily with a soft squelching sound. 

     The look of terror in her remaining eye was beginning to lose its lucidity. Loosening his hold slightly, he allowed a rush of oxygen back to her, keeping her conscious as he severed the optic nerves with his well-kept fingernails. He examined it as she watched him wordlessly in shock. Holding the eyeball between his thumb, ring, and pinky finger, he slipped his index finger under her upper lid once more. Curling it into a hook, he pushed it forward and clipped it quickly. 

     The second one was never as much fun and he was sure the little mongrel outside might be getting impatient. He wanted to avoid a quarrel at all costs if he could. Releasing the girl who had passed out form pain and shock, he tucked the eyeballs neatly into a sealed bag in his pocket. Tsukiyama turned his gaze down to her as he ran his tongue languidly over his bloody digits. With a turn on his heel, he made hasty work of washing his hands, digging his nails under one another to remove the small shreds of her tender nerves.

     With the wild card waiting for him outside, he certainly didn't take as much time with her as he initially intended. Moving a stray lock of hair back in place, he admired his reflection in the mirror momentarily before moving on.

     Bending down, he hoisted up the girl from the floor and carried her limp body bridle-style toward the window. Stepping out into the cold through the window, the nude girl went a bit rigid. Her skin raised slightly with small bumps, the water from her shower and the cold had begun to wake her from her short fainting spell.