@ofgourmet
It was time.
The evening had come to grip all of GOAT and their comrades, evening defense shifts were up and luckily neither Naki nor Shuu were on those teams tonight. That could change come tomorrow, but for now there was no way in hell Naki was going to not take advantage of this lucky situation. Tonight he was clean --- From head to toe, everything was clean. He had bathed himself, crawled back underground for a spare suit that had been tucked away from the suits operations, just a TOUCH too big, but not enough to be an issue, not enough to look bad. His hair was slicked back neatly, and after a lot of rubble digging he had even found a perfume he felt smelled rather nice. A scent of Dark Amber. There were building and facilities that had been destroyed that were of worth. Clothing department stores, beauty supplies, you name it. It was enough for Naki to crawl through the shattered world to find such treasures beneath crushing concrete. He put his world into this one thing, and he could only hope that it would work. That it would be nice. Morbidly romantic? Possibly. For once --- For the first time in his life --- He had stared in a mirror for more than a quick slick of his hair. He’d stared his own image down for an hour, adjusting lapels, adjusting his hair, even attempting the use of some make up he’d found to try and lessen the bruising around his eyes. Yamori-aniki had said to be himself, but it was difficult to simply leave it at that. He wasn’t as strong as Yamori. He could be confident, but he couldn’t be impervious to nervous thoughts. He had to be better than Naki, because no one wanted Naki. No one wanted the idiot, the uneducated buffoon who could barely speak proper japanese. Words he recited in that mirrior, “Be a better Naki, be a Naki that he would want more than anything else.” To be wanted... That was the goal. To make himself, his company, his person --- Wanted above all else. Overcoat, suit jacket, a single thistle in his lapel --- He was ready. Even though by the time that everything had finally rolled around, his fingers, his palms --- They were all wrapped to the wrist in bandages. The source being a bouquet he held to his chest. It was sloppily put together, it wasn’t anything fancy, there wasn’t a special placement, but he had been crawling the city since that morning to find these flowers. He had plucked them himself, roses and thistles, in bare hands. He had gloves, but the flowers deserved the chance to fight for themselves before hand. Before they would become nothing but corpses at Naki’s hand. Pretty corpses but corpses nonetheless --- Maybe someday he would be a pretty corpse as well? His approach was slow, cautious, he didn’t want to be seen by anyone, not even Hooguro or Shousei. They didn’t need to know right now, nor did Miza, or anyone else, especially out of the suits or the leaders. He didn’t want that in the slightest, especially after his sit down with Kaneki. Luckily that thing he wanted to write... It wasn’t something that he would be handing over tonight. Avoiding eyes, the presence of others, attention that could stall his intentions --- He found himself at Shuu’s ‘room’, where he had told the man to wait for him. But he couldn’t speak up, couldn’t knock, couldn’t move. Was he getting cold feet??? Maybe... Everything up to this point had been flings and moments of banter and fun and fucking around -- literally. This... This had more intense implications. He had to move. He couldn’t stand there forever... With a deep breath, his hand rose and finally wrapped against the door. “Oi! Toochikama, ya in here? Ya better be!” Good start. Whatever. He held that mess of a bouquet behind his back and waited, heart hammering against his ribs with a desire to flee. He could do this though. Yamori-aniki had faith in him, he wouldn’t let him down. It’d be fine.
It would go the way he’d planned. It had to right? Since he never went by his own plans before, the one time he did it should go well...
