Chapter Text
Crawling. The red ants were crawling, skittering masses that amalgamated into a monstrous red cloud, biting their way across the paper thin skin of his chest. Seidou Takizawa screams, begs, sobs. Anyone, will anyone come save him?
Seidou Takizawa was never a hero, though he would have liked to be, in another life. His old life, the one that was stolen from him. No, the heroes had been Houji, Arima, Amon, and his academic-turned-profesional rival, Mado. Even the lunatic kid, Suzuya had been a hero, but never Seidou. Right now, he would have given anything, swallowed any remainder of the pride he once had, if only any one of them would burst through the door, quinque in hand, and put him out of his ghoulish misery.
Because that's what he is now, right? He isn't Seidou Takizawa any longer, though he fought that fact for over a year, clinging to the vestiges of his humanity long after it should have been tortured out of him. Because if he were to accept that he was no longer Seidou Takizawa, he would have to accept that he was no longer human, no longer an investigator for the CCG, and no longer the son, the brother, the friend, the partner, that he once was. In his defense, a complete loss of identity was a hard thing to come to terms with. He had done it, but it had taken time, as well as a complete breakdown of body and soul.
The ants gnawed, each bite sending fire through his veins, as they traveled up, up, up. His eyes grew wide, new tears tracking down his face as he looked to Dr. Kanou, pleading with this man, this human monster, even though he knew it would fall upon deaf ears.
"Please, please, don't let them in my mouth!" He screamed, the ants biting their way up his neck.
"You know how to make this stop, Takizawa. There's only one way that this ends." The doctor's voice was flat, calm, completely unaffected by Seidou's begging cries. He knew the doctor would not listen. He never did. Only insisted that Seidou must embrace who he now is, become the Owl of Aogiri Tree. Behind him stood an equally stoic Tatara, looking on in apparent boredom, never lifting a finger to help him. He was in a small cell, being tortured by a human and a ghoul. He was both half of each and none of either, and he had no brethren here.
The ants reached his mouth. He hadn't noticed their final ascent in his screaming and had left himself wide open to attack. The ants poured into his open mouth like stinging soldiers rushing down into a trench, filling him to his gums. He tried to spit them out, but his tongue was too swollen to eject them. The more they bit, the more he screamed, the more they poured into his mouth, finally biting at his uvula and tumbling down his throat. His insides began to burn, searing stinging pain traveling down his esophagus and into his stomach. Seidou could no longer scream, and the only signs of life he showed were the never-ending tracks of tears pouring down his cheeks, wetting his snow white hair.
"If you agree to help us, Takizawa, this can all stop. I can give you this liquid right now," Dr. Kanou pulled a tube of sickening green substance from the chest pocket of his lab coat. "And if you drink it, the burning will neutralize. The ants will die. And you can be free of this place. Isn't that what you want, Takizawa? After two years in this cell?"
Of course that's what he wanted. He wanted it more than anything. His eyes darted to where Tatara stood, still stoic. He'd never be free of here, even if they let him out. Still, though, there would be less ants.
Resigning himself to his new reality, he finally met Dr. Kanou's gaze. He nodded, it was all he had strength for. Dr. Kanou flashed Seidou a warm smile, like the kind his father had given him when he learned to read as a child, or when he'd first rode a bicycle. Dad. Mom. The memory just made the burning in his stomach all the more agonizing. The doctor stood, uncorking the vial and tipping it down Seidou's throat as he sputtered and gagged.
It burned. Fresh tears welled once again, and Seidou felt like he'd be sick. The liquid tasted foul and hurt, hurt so much, however, within moments, he did find relief. The sores all over his mouth were soothed, and glancing down he noticed his chest had faded from angry red to soft pink. The scittering in his gut ceased, and he was finally able to breathe again.
"That's better, isn't it?" The doctor's asked. Seidou nodded. "Don't you have something you'd like to say to me, Takizawa?"
Swallowing his bitter and ultimately impotent rage, Seidou nodded once more. "Thank you, sir," he croaked, vocal chords shredded from screaming. They had been this way long before the ants. The doctor nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. He pulled a key from his pocket and proceeded to free Seidou from the RC inhibiting table restraints he had been shackled to. Seidou reached with his left hand to his right wrist, rubbing soothingly to try to regain feeling before repeating the action on his ghoulish wrist.
"Well, Takizawa, while I am loathe to see you go, as I had so many ideas left to try on you, I am still so pleased that you've finally decided to graduate," Dr. Kanou said, his eyes betraying a silent disappointment.
"Get up," Tatara ordered, making Seidou jump. He'd almost forgotten the man's presence by the door. Seidou obeyed, standing shakily and waiting for his next command. "Come with me."
Seidou followed Tatara in a daze, silent as the ghoul in front of him, save for the light echo of footsteps bouncing along the tiled corridor. They walked for what seemed like ages through the bowels of Dr. Kanou's research laboratory, until Tatara halted at a door with no warning, causing Seidou to smack straight into the taller man's back. Tatara didn't even seem to notice.
"Go through this door, and get changed. I'll be waiting out here," he said. Seidou looked down at himself briefly, nearly having forgotten that he wore a tattered pair of white scrub pants, and nothing else. He walked through the door, finding the room to be little else than a large walk in closet. Rows upon rows of clothing hung in front of him. He turned back to look at Tatara.
"What do I put on?" He asked the man. Tatara rolled his eyes, the only sign of a personality Seidou had ever seen from him.
"Whatever feels right," Tatara replied. Seidou's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing, finally closing the door and appraising his choices. He hadn't had a choice in anything in over two years, and he wasn't really sure how to make one anymore. He felt overwhelmed by the vast array of garments just as much as he felt silly that something as simple as an outfit could cause such inner turmoil. He thumbed through rack after rack, carefully evaluating each choice. Tatara would surely be growing impatient, but he still took care with each item, asking himself if the garment could tell him who he was.
Finally, he had decided on black trousers and a pinstripe turtleneck sweater. The contrast of black and white reminded him of a chalkboard, and he imagined that each white line was revealing to him another facet of his soul. He topped off the outfit with a billowing black cloak, pulling the hood up over his white hair before evaluating himself in the mirror. He gasped aloud at his reflection staring back at him.
His hair had grown unkempt and wild in the past two years, sticking up at odd angles that he couldn't smooth down, no matter how hard he tried. His skin was deathly pale, sunlight not having touched his skin since the morning of the Anteiku operation. He had changed in other ways as well. He was more muscular, having spent hours alone in his cell with nothing to focus on but reps and sets. His nails had gone black from repeated removals and regenerations. The most astonishing change was his eyes. Once big and brown, they had become beady and black. Even ignoring his ghoul eye, he doubted anyone who once knew him would be able to recognize him, even if he stood directly in front of them and told them who he was.
He regarded the chosen outfit with approval. The pinstripe turtleneck covered his throat, and his cloak swallowed the rest of his body. He thought to himself that it was fitting that others could only see the white stripes around his neck, while he would always know that the real multitude of stripes lay underneath. Like an iceberg, he thought. He remembered seeing pictures of them in school as a child, wondering to himself how something so innocuous on the surface could be hiding such depths below. It suited him now, to be so hidden away. Aogiri Tree only wanted to see the monster that they had manufactured, so that is what he would show them. Until the right moment, of course.
-
Later that night, after Tatara had delivered Seidou to Rushima and shown him to his new room, Seidou laid in bed, feeling the first blankets he had felt in two years, and he thought about Akira Mado.
Always getting the better of him, always thinking herself so superior, and look at where he'd ended up now. She had been right. He had gone after Amon during the melee to keep her out of harm's way. That is how he had ended up here in the first place. As much as he'd hated her, he had always admired her, and to tell the truth, he couldn't bear the thought of finding her light snuffed out. It would destroy his ideals, his good conquering evil childhood dreams to see his hidden hero die on that futile battlefield. Better that he die before that happen, so he had gone in her place, hoping maybe that in his final moments, he could be her hidden hero, too.
He wondered where she was now. Probably a Senior Special Investigator. Probably kicking the villain's asses all over Tokyo. Probably, he never crossed her mind. Only Amon knew the truth, that he was still alive, but also dead. Akira, though, he would never even show up on her radar. He doubted she had ever thought about him, before or after Anteiku. It didn't really matter now, anyway. If she did cross his path, he'd kill her. He was torn by which desire he wanted, to see her again and show her how strong he had become, or to never see her again for her own safety.
He chewed on his fingers as he thought, a habit he had picked up after his first meal as a ghoul. His parents had been delivered to him on a silver tray, and he, in his reckless hunger, had devoured them. Dr. Kanou's eyes held a delighted glint as he watched Seidou shovel pieces of his own parents into his mouth. He had even licked the blood off of his fingers, completely ignorant to the horror he had just committed. When he was told, he shoved away from his cot and ran to the toilet, shoving those same fingers down his throat, forcing up the meal. Tears, chunks of flesh, and bile all fell into the silver bowl, and Seidou couldn't bear to flush it all down the drain. His mother, unstable, but loving and kind. His father, a little stern, but always so proud of him. And he'd ate their corpses and then wasted them, leaving them to rot in a toilet. He couldn't flush. He had pissed and shat in a corner for a whole week before the assistants had come in and held him down while they cleaned up the mess. Since then, he bit his fingers. The same fingers he had licked clean. He wondered if he was punishing or soothing himself at this point.
It was all too much to contemplate, and Seidou was far too tired to come to any real enlightenment, so he finally let sleep take him, pulling him under into that sweet oblivion of blackness. Ever since Dr. Kanou had Frankensteined his body with that of the original Owl, Seidou Takizawa had never had a dream. It was a mercy, he thought, as the soothing black tide pulled him under. Dreaming was for the living, anyway.