contrived tragedy.

Independent Kaneki Ken & Sasaki Haise roleplay/ask blog [Please read "RULES" linked above before interacting] tracker: #kanekilogy

[kanekilogy]

[Good grief.

It’s been a very busy past few months after solidifying routine and settling back into life after having graduated.

This account is very much dead at the moment, however I am contemplating dropping off writings I can muster up to type out in free time. 

Thank you very much for all the support and concern you’ve sent in. I appreciate it so much. ]

[asdearchive-blog]

The seclusion offered from a corner booth of a café called out his name when no one else did. A soothing whisper above the low murmur of voices surrounding him. These days were often spent alone with a cup of coffee grasped in his hands, aimlessly staring toward the empty seat across from him. It wasn’t exactly by happenstance, but more or less he had chosen this course for himself on purpose, deciding it was better to keep many at a distance to prevent another loss, another massacre of what little he had left. He was already holding on too tightly for fear if he let go they would slip through unnoticeable cracks, forever to be out of his reach and unable to be protected. Somehow he wondered if this was what Kaneki had felt like… Powerless and conflicted and…

Once upon a time Kaneki would have been one of those people he desired to keep within arm’s reach.

That felt like an eternity ago.

A drawn out sigh left his lips as he tipped down his hat to cover his gaze. With his face known on the streets by a handful, it was sheer stupidity to decide to roam as he did. He wasn’t actively looking for anyone, but he was mostly memorizing what would he would so desperately miss. Tsukiyama knew his days in Tokyo were numbered. He couldn’t reside comfortably knowing the blood of his family was on the hands of ‘friend’ and stranger, staining the memories he had cherished. Gloved fingers tightened around his cup at the recurring thought, gradually relaxing at the sound of a bell ringing from the café’s entrance. Out of sheer habit, he glanced up and toward the door, immediately feeling ice flood his veins and turn his blood frigid at the sight of the man’s figure.

“Kaneki-kun…”

[kanekilogy]

Something beeps from his right thrice before he chooses to respond, pressing the answer button just beneath the helix of his ear. Ken removes his glasses from his face and mutely clears his throat-- deft hands cleaning round lenses against the fabric of a black dress shirt. 

“Yes. This is Sasaki Haise... Clear to proceed; please continue.”

From then on, the conversation is strictly protocol, as is anticipated from secretary front so very eager to record all and file after every case investigated. He muses it is scripted-- entire paragraphs and responses all remembered, rehearsed, then recited with such professional cadence and tact that the half-ghoul finds it incredibly odd the informant on the other line does not immediately hang up after questioning.

[”Lastly. You’ve nothing else scheduled until tomorrow. Might I suggest you catch your breath?”] "...Do I seem out of steam?”  [”You never run out of it is the issue, sir. Have some coffee, perhaps. Have a nice day.”]

Left disconnected, he contemplates that coffee sounds like promising company.

His phone lock screen indicates three hours left of sunlight in the day by time he makes way toward the entrance of a quaint, decorative coffee shop just off the corner end of a bustling street. Small bells chime above his head and conditioned employees greet the new patron with soft voices and subtle bows, gesturing to a variety of seating arrangements.  Ken finds that his vision gravitates to the walls and booths, then anchors itself to a face partially hidden beneath a light cap that plucks strings of familiarity within his conscience. 

He has been spotted and identified, but is faced not with usual mirth. It is uncharacteristic of whom Ken thought of as the epitome of self-sufficient; thus words refuse to form and he swallows his voice entirely as he steps forward with dark leather Derby shoes.  The raven avoids eye contact until he stops beside the booth seat parallel to Tsukiyama; he removes his earpiece, smartphone, and recorder, then slides all objects to the farthermost end of the horizontal wooden flat of the table.  

“If I may...”

[kanekilogy]

I cannot believe you literally incorporated a parallel of Caesar's death through the Kanekis in the thread ON THE IDES OF MARCH.

[Haha; good eye. ^^]

[ask-sekigan-no-ou]

Conversation with the Crossbreed: EPILOGUE.

(((Part 1)))

[kanekilogy]

He is asleep when the beckoning compulsion to wake first seizes him by the chain of the anchor of his sunken conscience. Shiro is hauled to the surface of reality and wakes not in a field with ashen skies during the ides of March, but in bed with fists gripping ivory sheets having replaced the bundle of flowers he had picked only seconds ago. He is pierced with awareness of something terrible and painfully rolls over with fire within his eyes and ice at the tips of his fingers as he runs his hand over the wall at his side.

Haise calls for his power in a fight that has unfurled in the mission, he realizes; his soul threatens to leave his ‘body’ if he does not hurry in due time--

“You just love taking a hit, don’t you?”

“I will be loved.”

--Yet his blood runs thick as it channels within the very same body; he likens it to honey as fissures cyclically form, seal, then form again between the tiles he then crawls upon to reach the exit of the bedroom.

Kuro soothes the child at his side and brushes through raven locks as the newest addition of the tragic apparitions continues to keep silent since his very conjuring. He observes and dares to think that the anthropomorphic coagulation of his desperation to leave this very hell is almost endearing. “You know what you must do, don’t you? We do learn very quickly, after all,” he asks.   The little boy, whom Kuro remembers as the timid face in all his elementary yearbook albums, grins in wholesome understanding. “I will take care of big brother ‘Shiro,’ just as you asked--”

--and there are footsteps at the windowsill.

Kuro nods in light greeting. 

“How did it go?”

‘Little Shiro’ smiles, reciprocating the gesture of a nod as he reenters the increasingly-dilapidated home. “It went well!”

“That’s a relief,” Kuro murmurs; he then quietly ushers the newcomer forward to acquaint them both, watching from his peripheral as the white-haired child looks curiously at the prospect of a potential ‘comrade’ exactly his mirror image. “Before any questions, I’ve come around to thinking about something. It’s a plan that just might work. “Though first, how about you two get to know one another…”

Shiro slurs every swear that leaves him as his joints refuse him a solid grip of the doorknob-- his spine is uncomfortably bent and aching well into the third minute he struggles in his pathetic journey. Shiro deems his right hand a lost cause that serves him no purpose but only as dead weight and only then pulls the door open when attempted with his left.

He sees two children seated on the floor and Kuro’s hand cue what seems to be a silent signal before being cut from conscientiousness; Shiro is blinded by the brilliant pain that seizes his body, and collapses once more into black.

It was a blur of teeth and spilling blood as the sound of a successful hunt echoes and fades in the hollow of his rib cage and reverberates in tune with sharp ringing in his ears.

The first thing Shiro does when he awakens is yell in pain, but gone along with the ‘life’ of the white-haired child is his ability to make any sound.

“...It’s a shame, Shiro…” Kuro waits until the other slowly turns his head and gaze to properly face him. It appeared he had not budged from the chair once the entire time he was unconscious. 

“I really did enjoy the quiet time we had here, but everything eventually comes to an end… “I’ve tried for so long to come up with other solutions, but in the way everything within these boundaries functions? I…” 

Kuro looks again at the child resting his head upon his lap. Within moments, the little boy’s hair transitions into alabaster locks, and the transfer of ‘little brother’s’ identity comes to completion. 

“I can’t do anything else... “But this worked, just like I hoped it would… By consuming ‘a part of you,’ this part of me is now what ties us together. I can finally help get us out of here. “I can leave this building and get in contact with Haise, Shiro.--   “--I can do something for once… I can come closer to having all of this identify as one, single person.”

The boy on Kuro’s lap grasps his hand and leads them both to the window with shrinking patience. “Quickly; Haise is in dire need, Kuro.”

Kuro refuses the lingering doubt in his heart and does not look back to Shiro as he exits; he immediately swings his legs over the windowsill and steps onto even more familiar tiles outside of the home. 

Something within him wonders if he perhaps had the ability to roam outside all along, until he is pulled along to make haste and search for wherever Haise has landed on the board.

[asdearchive-blog]

The sentence had been mostly directed at himself, voicing his irritation to no one in particular. A bit of surprise caught him off guard from the other’s presence, however; a hand stilled mid-way as it has been running down his profile. 

“Kaneki-kun,” he began, righting himself and falling back into his usual posture. “Your concern is appreciated. I do hope my bothersome complaining did not disturb you.” 

[kanekilogy]

“So as you claim on your own,” he waves into the air to dismiss the nonexistent disturbance. “Rest assured, you are justified. I wasn’t particularly a fan of group work either.”

The moment the sentence flees him, his lips seal as his mind begins excavating to find a high school memory somewhere none too deep within his past. Ken has only recently forgotten how to keep track of time by the anticipatory countdown of days until a weekend, exam, or holiday.

“I will admit, however,” the half-ghoul tilts his head and exhibits a glimmer of his jaded, timid nature-- “--I’m a little jealous. I miss having an academic career.”

[asdearchive-blog]

“Nothing says college like incompetent group partners.” 

[kanekilogy]

He hasn’t much to respond with, merely nodding in sympathy as he rests a manual on the counter top between them.

“Hence your conspicuous display of stress today, I see. “Very understandable. My condolences.”

[kaeveeoh]

Kaneki + Smiles

[melo-9ba]

Kaneki-Yamori

[edwxrdkenway]

CCG’s Black Reaper

[kanekilogy]

Shuu could barely contain the excitement on his face as he leant against the frame of the entrance to the living room, lips threatening to draw back into an unabashed grin. "My little lady, Kaneki-kun.. do you happen to know what day it is?"

Thursday.

“Print this one, too. Banjou-san is pulling a silly face in it,” she gestures to the bottom right corner of the screen. “What about this from the karaoke place? His pose is amazing– like a firework display. A firework man.”

“Is your nickname for him not ‘flower man?’” Ken chuckles as he obediently selects the desired photos on the convenience store printing machine. “You shouldn’t spoil him, Hinami-chan.””Maybe more like an ‘uki-uki (うきうき)**’ man?” she hopes to impress him with utilizing a word from her memory list for the week.Ken in turn laughs. “…I think it’s fitting,” Hinami traces the perimeter of a tile with the cap of her shoe, embarrassed.“Good job,” the elder reassures with a nod, “that it is.” He retrieves his wallet and leafs through small bills as the young teen hums the tune of her current favorite afternoon drama.

At home, Jiro is the only one of the trio who gladly obliges Hinami in helping decorate the small photo album purchased from the city bookstore across the street from a local florist. Ken carries out from his bedroom a box to the coffee table and lays out before the ladies of the apartment a variety of craft items and stickers he had saved. 

“Kaneki-san, you have a nice collection,” Jiro offers a small smile as she picks up a roll of red ribbon. “I didn’t think you were one to hide such hobbies from us.”Dark nails reach behind the keeper’s head to sheepishly tousle layered locks of white. “Not of my possession, Jiro-san,” he grins. “These are some favorites from the inventory my mother had left behind.”Hinami’s peripheral vision serves her well as she does not miss a beat in finding something solemn across his expression, and the young teen places a glitter heart sticker on Jiro’s nose. “These still look to be in good condition; they’re wonderful, big brother!”

“Oh, good; good. That’s a relief…” Soft laughter that is heard in echoes down the hall is enough to beckon both Ichimi and Sante from their room to join; Banjou-san participates soon after, fearing he may be left out.The next half-hour is spent as the gang thoughtfully decorates the album cover and bickers over photo placement within its pages, which Ichimi and Sante are partially absent for as the eldest brother convinces the younger to not seek revenge on Jiro for decorating his gas mask.

For one reason or another he cannot surely pinpoint, Ken has a particular hunch that evening he must hide the hot glue gun.

Piscine is only acquainted in meeting the incredibly starved Mahisha when the half-ghoul lifts his gaze from the novel and hears approaching rhythmic, even footsteps.

“He’s quite early today,” Ken murmurs, and Hinami covers her grin with a half-digested work of classic fiction. Just as the gourmet turns corner to arrive at the living room entrance, both Hinami and Ken resume tasks to fake that his presence went unnoticed. 

“My little lady, Kaneki-kun.. do you happen to know what day it is?“ 

Hinami waves hello, turning to the man at the door frame. “March 3rd?”

Ken purses his lips in mock thought, adjusting his vision to the ceiling. “Thursday?” he chimes in short after, and lifts a cushion on the seat beside him, revealing the photo album addressed to the day’s celebrant. 

**note: “うきうき” is an expression for describing someone who is full of cheer/joy 

[blooming1oo]

Happy Valentines Day ! 

Thank you for sticking with me throughout the good and bad times, at when I’m at my ugliest and when I’m striving to be my best. I love you. 

(*ﾉ´∀｀)ﾉ 💜 ❤ 💜 ❤💜 ❤ 💜!!

[saikorashii]

例の戦闘服の謎

[ask-sekigan-no-ou]

Part 2.

(Part 1.)

[kanekilogy]

“He stayed there all night, spending the time partly in a light slumber, from which his hunger kept waking him up in a start, and partly in worrying and sketching vague hopes, which all led to the same conclusion, that he must lie low for the present and, by exercising patience and the utmost consideration, help the family to bear the inconvenience he was bound to cause them in his present condition.” -Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis

“Interesting, isn’t it, ‘big brother?’ Haise is bound to have something around here in this lifeless expanse of a memory bank get triggered soon enough. It’s only a matter of time, at this rate,” the youth adjusts the cuffs of his dress shirt sleeves as he approaches to lean against the table at which Kuro currently reads.

“You almost sound anticipatory. Enthused, even,” Kuro murmurs, half-distracted by what else the current predicament therefore entails. “Shiro and I can only hope you will not get yourself or Haise into unnecessary trouble.”

The child blinks, round eyes widened and filled to the brim of an unlabeled form of energy Kuro has watched slowly grow and develop throughout the duration of this newcomer’s existence. “Exactly how long is it going to take for you to accept that I am ‘Shiro,’ Kuro? The very same as Shiro who does nothing else but take up space in that bed of yours and deteriorate because he cannot maintain a body that does not even exist in reality.

“He has not been capable of much lately; is this not true?”

Kuro straightens his posture against the backrest of his seat and closes the novel in his hands, sliding it away at arm’s length.

As much as he would love to debunk the very statement, what the little boy taunts at is only truth to his ears and bitterness upon his tongue. The Shiro who lies in bed says little to nothing for days at a time and has slowly begun to wither while the Shiro standing beside him only solidifies more of a personality each and every time he passes to and from beyond the single window in the abode.

“I knew it to be so,” ‘little brother’ grins.

“You know nothing,” Kuro sighed, tapping his index finger upon the polished, wooden flat. “Point aside, there’s something in particular I need discuss with you; I’d like your cooperation.”

A chance to finally be accepted or taken seriously as a part of the dubious complexity that is the Ken family, perhaps. Little brother Shiro visibly brightens and promptly takes a seat at perpendicular orientation. “Regarding?” “What you’ve mentioned, actually. Haise investigating things on his own about Amon Kotaro-san and regularly attempting to meet Tsukiyama-san in his free time.” Kuro gestures towards the wall to his right and traces into the air with an index finger a very notable rift that crosses diagonally from the left corner near the ceiling to behind a crooked framed photograph. “The episode just this morning with his outburst against Mado Akira-san about his identity caused some damage throughout the infrastructure of this place. I’d like to call it significant; wouldn’t you?”

“You are asking for my thoughts, big brother? What is this change of heart?”

“‘Exercising patience and the utmost consideration,’” the elder replies, and smiles to veil that he has a fairly elaborate plan in mind. “As Haise continues his venture into digging through his true history, I would appreciate you help make sure he does not do anything out of line and prevent him from killing others dear to us. I can count on you for this, right, Shiro?”

“Yes!” the child straightens his posture and vigorously nods at the name in which he is addressed. “...Yes; of course. I am already so involved in this situation as is…”

“Then let’s work well together from now on, ‘Shiro.’ Haise is in need of guidance through such an obscure maze.”

On the evening Haise delves into the mission of investigating “Rosewald,” Kuro sits patiently by the window and counts the amount of earthquakes and aftershocks that rattle the home in the same manner he counted seconds between rolls of thunder and flashes of lightning years ago in his youth.

Fate is only so cruel that it would coincide “Rosewald” with association to the Tsukiyama residence, businesses, and services. In blur of confusion and bouts of uncertainty, Haise arrives as a storm and materializes into view beneath clouds of black and upon an empty field.

Kuro holds open one side of the window curtain, and nods towards the exit which he cannot pass through.

“‘Shiro,’” he prompts the young boy beside him; little brother flips through a youth’s worth of photographs in the album upon his lap. “{I will be back,}” the child marks where he leaves off in the album and tucks it beneath his arm, then crosses over to the expanse to approach Haise yet again.

Thank you for your work, Kuro contemplates commemorating the apparition in the appropriate time briefly provided before his departure.

You shall find rest soon.

[kaeveeoh]

Haise Sasaki Kaneki Ken

[merzkyi]

sweet emptiness 

[renamamiyya]

Make me choose between: 

@immernochh asked: Kaneki or Haise

[ask-sekigan-no-ou]

PART 1.

PART 2. (((Regarding “Conversation with the corssbreed” and what is happening in :re.)))