The Closed Ward | Tokyo Ghoul

Chapter Ten | Signals

| Excuse the short and shitty chapter - it's necessary for plot reasons. |

The clock ticks relentlessly in the background, scraping towards midnight, and Amon heaves a soft sigh as he leans back in his chair, hands threading through his hair. Mounds of paperwork lay spread out atop the desk Shin had ordered him to inhabit while he went off on his own little escapade to the Closed Ward several days ago; they're finished, too, filled out and dutifully signed with Amon's name at the bottom. 

Meaning he's nothing of importance to do until Shin returns.

Still, being on his own for a few beats isn't terrible. Shin's a difficult mentor to get along with, and sometimes Amon finds himself checking off the days until his three month stay in the eighteenth ward comes to an end. Other days, though... being able to witness what a first class investigator is capable of in the field more than makes up for the menial tasks Amon's frequently saddled with.
Today doesn't happen to be one of those days.

Midnight. What is he even still doing here? Shin had phoned, hours ago, that he was going to try and make it back tonight, but with the weather starting to take a turn for the worse, and the general mayhem of Tokyo traffic, he was betting on getting in tomorrow morning at the earliest. There's no reason for Amon to be here anymore, no logical reason, in any case.

His eyes drift to the cell phone perched at the edge of his desk, and he rights himself in the chair, frowning. He's tempted, unreasonably, to check in with Kitamura Rui. The last time they'd spoken, she'd sounded... petrified, and while he had given Shin her warning the man had brushed it off without much concern. Amon hadn't thought to question him at the time, why he thought Rui might react so volatilely to the news when it seemed she might appreciate knowing something was being done about her mentor's case; now he supposes it's the result of grief. 

From what he understands of the situation, Rui believes she had something to do with Ikehara Kaori's disappearance, and as ridiculous as that is, he knows all too well the illogical, crushing weight of guilt, the all-consuming thought that if you'd only done something, things would have been different.

Pain pulses just behind his eyes, and Amon rubs tiredly at his forehead, kneading tender circles into his temple. 

Don't get tangled in the past.

It's a rule he's come to live by, as best he can, and despite a handful of setbacks, it works well for him.
Rui could probably benefit from it herself.

"I doubt she's awake," he muses aloud, tapping his fingers against the smooth gloss of the desk - consciously a few inches from his phone.

He shouldn't be awake, either, he thinks, his lips curling into a distasteful frown. 

Amon, breathing another short sigh through his nose just as the clock reaches the climax of its journey to midnight, eventually pushes away from his desk. Shin isn't coming tonight. Hopefully he'll be in by the time Amon clocks in tomorrow - or rather, this morning - but at the moment there's nothing Amon can do about it, and certainly not from behind a desk. 

If he was out with Shin, though...

In the midst of gathering his things, Amon lifts his head as he hears a knock at the door.

"Amon-kun, you're still here?"

"Date-san," Amon greets automatically, bowing his head. With a quick glance at the clock, he gestures to the paperwork Shin delegated to him, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips; Takashi chuckles in understanding, nodding.