Let Rei Ao-kun come watch my match?
Deep beneath the never-melting ice in Miyuki's eyes, something loosened the tiniest bit.
She pictured herself on the Nine Schools stage, casting magic forged from the wisdom of countless worlds—beyond the limits of this one—leaving the crowd breathless. And somewhere in the stands, Rei Ao would be watching quietly. Maybe… the corner of his mouth would lift in a small, approving smile.
Just imagining it sent an indescribable tremor and longing twining around Miyuki Shiba's heart like vines. Even her cold blood seemed to warm by a barely perceptible degree.
Did she need the championship?
No.
But she needed the stage.
A stage grand enough, dazzling enough—
to let her pour out all her light for one purpose only: to catch his eye.
Miyuki slowly lifted her lashes, those ice-cool eyes meeting Mayumi Saegusa's head-on. Her lips parted, and a voice as clear as spring water rang through the council room:
"I understand. I'll enter the Nine Schools."
Not for the school's honor.
Not to prove anything.
Only to await his arrival.
…
Tokyo, 20th Ward.
Anteiku Café.
Afternoon sunlight spilled through the wide glass windows, laying warm patches across the polished wooden floor. The air was rich with coffee and fresh pastries; soft jazz drifted lazily by.
At this hour, there weren't many customers—little clusters here and there, savoring an easy afternoon.
Touka Kirishima pushed open the café's heavy wooden door, bringing with her the faint chill from outside and the tiredness of a student's day. She'd just finished her morning classes; the wind had left her short dark-blue hair a little tousled.
She inhaled the familiar aroma on reflex, and a bit of tension eased from her shoulders.
But that calm snagged the moment her gaze slid toward the bar.
A stranger was fumbling behind the counter.
He was a slight, skinny boy—messy black hair, black-rimmed glasses, a careful, nervous look behind the lenses. He wore Anteiku's dark server apron, a tray in hand with two cups of coffee. His movements were stiff and awkward.
As he tried to deliver the drinks to a window table, he stumbled; the cups lurched, and the coffee nearly sloshed out.
Touka wasn't watching his clumsiness so much as confirming what he was.
Human.
A flash of crimson kakugan flickered in her eyes and she forced it down. Her sense of smell told her plainly: the scent rolling off this boy was pure, concentrated… human.
In a café run by ghouls—and frequented by plenty of ghouls—that smell was a firefly in the dark: impossible to miss.
Her brows drew tight; her eyes sharpened, wary.
Why is a human here?
Wearing a server's apron?
What on earth is the manager thinking?
"Back already, Touka?"
A slightly husky, lazily lilted woman's voice drifted over. Kaya Irimi came out from the back with a freshly dried cup in hand. Same cool, simple look as always—but more helplessness than usual in her eyes.
Touka cut her a look that asked the question without words, frown deepening toward the awkward human boy.
Irimi followed her gaze and caught Kaneki Ken nearly dumping the coffee. She sighed, dropped her voice. "Oh—Kaneki? New part-timer. Name's Kaneki Ken."
She paused, stepped a little closer, and lowered her voice further.
"Couldn't really help it, Touka. You've got school. Day shifts get shorthanded."
"This kid happened to apply yesterday. Seemed honest enough. Clumsy, yeah, but the manager thought it over and hired him."
She shrugged, very much a "push the duck onto the perch" gesture. "It's just carrying trays and washing dishes. Shouldn't… cause any big problems, right?"
"But… he's…"
Touka's voice carried a faint edge of cold. She didn't say the word "human," but the meaning was obvious.
Of course Irimi got it. The helpless look on her face deepened into a wry smile.
"I know. I know."
"But the manager said Anteiku's creed is to welcome anyone seeking a bit of peace—no matter the species."
"And… with things how they are right now, having a human around isn't the worst idea."
She glanced meaningfully out the window—at the tension hanging over the 20th Ward.
Touka fell silent. She couldn't gainsay the manager's decision. She agreed with Anteiku's philosophy, too.
But letting a completely oblivious, fragile human drift among ghouls all day?
It was like tossing a defenseless rabbit into a pack of wolves.
Even if the wolves promised not to eat it, that innate predator-prey tension was a risk in itself.
What if some ghoul lost control?
What if the kid stumbled onto something he shouldn't?
You didn't want to imagine the fallout.
She watched the boy—Kaneki Ken—finally set the coffee down safely and exhale in relief. He pushed up his glasses, a shy, slightly dopey smile tugging at his mouth.
To Touka, that smile screamed naïveté.
A thin thread of unease pulled tight in her chest.
She didn't press the point. She just nodded to Irimi to say she understood. But her brow stayed knotted, her gaze still weighing and worried.
More than this suddenly appearing part-timer who made her feel like a thorn was lodged between her shoulder blades, she had something more urgent to deal with. The thought that had haunted her last night was now clearer—and more pressing.
She tore her eyes off Kaneki, turned, and headed quickly for the stairs to the staff lounge upstairs.
Right now, she needed a quiet place to dig into that mysterious trading chat group.
Maybe—the answers to the 20th Ward's looming crisis, and to the human "risk" setting her on edge… were in there.