Mourning Doves | Tokyo Ghoul

21 | F r e e

She was weeping, but not from the pain that had embedded itself into her torso like knives.

Blood spilled from the wound, with her own kagune stuck in her flesh like shards of glass, and the tears tumbling down from her eyes as the thick blood splattered against the black, stony walls. Her chest heaved, and with every breath another mass of blood splattered against the wet ground, staining her feet an inky dark crimson.

She coughed out another quantity of blood, sputtering it out like trapped words, and collapsed to her knees. With her remaining strength, she tugged the four legs out from her body, a sickening squelch sounding from the gruesome extraction, and flopped on the floor in front of the man, her massive tail falling limp to the side with a thud before slowly slinking back into her lower back, slithering like a snake.

There was a moment of silence, the seconds ticking by painfully, excruciatingly, like a knife being stabbed and yanked out of your body over and over and over again.

Then, like the song of angelic voices from the heavens, he broke the spellbound silence.

"Etsuko-chan!" he cried, fumbling towards her on his hands and knees. He heaved up her body and cradled her in his lap, lifting her head so she could look up at the face that was drenched in blood, sweat, and tears. "Oh God, please no!"

She struggled with her throat, but managed to only squeeze out grunted whimpers.

"Don't speak," he pleaded, his eyes flashing around frantically, desperately for anything that could stop the bleeding. He stripped his body from his t-shirt, which clung to him with the blood and grime that smeared against its surface. He huffed. "Don't talk, you hear me? And don't you dare close your eyes!"

His desperation stuck her like an unanticipated strike of a hammer; she was confused. She was a ghoul, and he hated ghouls. He should hate her right now, spit at her and yell at her for deceiving him. She wanted him to kick her, treat her like the scum she was, and throw her in the dumpster to wither and die and rot for the rest of eternity.

It didn't make sense. He hated ghouls.

"Why...?" she whispered, her voice scraping against the bloody walls of her throat.

His breath hitched; was he really sobbing?

"I'm gonna get you out of here," he said, his voice shaky with anxiety, fear. "You're gonna be okay, Etsuko-chan."

Etsuko blinked, feeling the warm liquid from her torn torso trickle and plop onto the blood-soaked ground, the ooze still flowing from the gaping wounds that ripped open her flesh. He took his t-shirt and ripped it down the middle, creating a massive sheet and folding it in on itself multiple times. Taking the rather useless makeshift bandage, Ichijou began wrapping it tightly around Etsuko's waist, closing the holes and tightening the fabric even more as if it could though it could somehow plug up the bleeding. He tugged and grunted, the sweat beading down the side of his face as he fell totally immersed into saving her. Stop the bleeding. Stop the bleeding.

She tried putting the pieces together, staring blankly up at the night sky with her blurring vision, completely starless and void, and attempted to somehow arrange the facts so they could explain the phenomenon that was unraveling before her now.

It didn't make any sense.

"You...hate me..." Etsuko huffed, her chest heaving from the massive effort that it took just to breathe. "Why...?"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Ichijou insisted upon at her with desperation, his brows furrowed so deeply it seemed as though his fragile face would shatter like glass. "I'm not leaving you. I love you, Etsuko-chan, and nothing in the world could ever change that."