Touka Kirishima fell silent.
She understood the manager's decision. She understood Yomo's helplessness. But staring at that scene by the window—peaceful on the surface, deadly underneath—and at the culprit she couldn't touch, a hot mix of frustration and anger burned in her chest.
Touka clenched her fists until her nails nearly bit into her palms. In the end, she only managed a hard nod and forced out a single word from her throat: "…Mm."
Her gaze drifted, almost against her will, to the floating group-chat interface deep in her mind. The name of the group owner, Rei Ao, rested quietly at the top of the list like a lighthouse in the dark.
Pay the price yourself… If it was to protect her family, she might pay any price. The thought sprouted in her heart like a creeping vine.
…
Afternoon sun cut bright geometric shapes across the floor through Anteiku's front windows. The air was thick with the rich scent of roasted coffee beans, threaded with the faint dryness of old paper, wrapping the room in a lazy, reassuring mood.
The wooden tables and chairs gleamed from a fresh wipe. In the corner, a turntable spun softly, letting mellow jazz lay a gentle filter over the space.
Ken Kaneki sat by the window, fingers curling a little too tightly around his warm coffee cup. The heat seeped into his fingertips, but couldn't quite chase off his jitters.
His eyes kept drifting—almost on their own—to the woman sitting across from him: Rize Kamishiro.
Today Rize wore a well-tailored off-white dress, delicate lace trimming the neckline and framing her slender throat.
Her hair fell smoothly over her shoulders; sunlight danced on the ends, gilding them in warm gold. Slim frames rested on her nose; behind the lenses, her eyes seemed to hold liquid light.
Whenever she looked at Kaneki, there was just the right amount of gentle warmth in her smile, as if it could draw a person's soul right in.
"Kaneki-san, you seem to really like Takatsuki Sen's novels," Rize said, her voice soft and pleasant, like a feather brushing the tip of his heart. "Your eyes lit up just now when you mentioned her."
Kaneki snapped back to himself. His cheeks warmed and he ducked his head, flustered. "Ah—r-really? I just think her writing really hits home."
A lie. He was simply captivated by Rize. His voice came out a little dry; he was embarrassed by how much he'd spaced out. He almost never lost composure like this—especially not in front of a girl.
"I like her too." Rize gave a small nod, picked up the little silver spoon, and lazily stirred her coffee. Brown liquid rippled out in circles. "That sense of detachment from the world, the questioning of one's own existence… It's heavy, but strangely compelling, isn't it?"
"Y-Yes!" Kaneki's eyes lit up as if he'd found a kindred spirit; a lot of his earlier tension evaporated. He didn't really understand, but agreeing felt safe.
"I've always thought anyone who can write like that must have an incredibly rich, delicate inner life," he said. "Sometimes when I read her, it feels like she's pin-pointing certain emotions in me. It's… a curious feeling."
Rize listened patiently, a faint smile at her lips, her gaze fixed on his face as if every word he said was interesting. The feeling of being fully heard and understood was new to Kaneki.
He was introverted by nature, not good at socializing, with few friends—and almost never got to speak his mind so freely. Rize's presence was like a warm light brightening his gray little world.
Love at first sight. So this is what it feels like.
He watched the slight tilt of her head. Sunlight traced her soft profile; long lashes cast a small shadow beneath her lids; her nose was straight; her lips curved like a careful sketch—so beautiful he couldn't look away.
Kaneki drifted off again. His heartbeat picked up, a little deer thudding around in his chest. In the quiet café he could almost hear the drum of it himself. The instant his eyes met Rize's, he panicked and looked away, pretending to study the street outside, while his cheeks burned hotter and hotter.
From an angle he couldn't see, Rize's gentle smile seemed to freeze for an instant. Deep in her pupils, a faint, almost playful, evil glint flickered—an undercurrent beneath a calm lake. She hid it perfectly, so fast it could've been a trick of the light.
Looking at the tips of his ears reddening and the fluster in his eyes, a flash of knowing—and contempt—passed through her. But her tone stayed gentle: "Kaneki-san, you have a unique eye for literature. Listening to you is… quite interesting."
"R-Really? Th-thanks…" Kaneki stammered, even more embarrassed.
…
They kept chatting, on and off—literature to film, music to the city's narrow back alleys. Time slipped by before they knew it. Outside, the sunlight softened, warming to orange-red. The afterglow painted everything inside the shop in a hazy gold.
"It's getting late, Kaneki-san." Rize lifted her head toward the window, her voice carrying the faintest trace of regret. "I should be going."
The words flipped a switch, snapping Kaneki out of the spell of their conversation. He glanced outside and saw the sun already sinking between distant buildings, the sky ablaze with orange. A strong reluctance welled up in him. Time had flown; there was still so much he wanted to say to her.