The Closed Ward | Tokyo Ghoul

Chapter Twenty | What You Need

  "...What."

Shin's derisive tone snaps Rui from her fragmented thoughts, and before she's even realized what she's doing, she's rounding on him, hands raised in a show of surrender - already forgetting the warmth of his hand on hers. Her cheeks darken as her eyes widen to comic proportions, but though her mouth opens no sound comes out. She swallows thickly, cutting her eyes to the woman leaning against the door frame.

"I-I can explain," she rushes, her tone pleading, a wildfire of anxiety flooding through her veins. She doesn't need Shin turning on her, thinking she's some crazed fan of his (do investigators even have fans?) that's done all this just to get his attention. Rationally, she knows Shin isn't that kind of person; he may be an ass, but she hasn't found him all that vain. But Rui's still running on fumes, having only slept a few fitful hours the night before, and the terror and grief of Akane's death has yet to release her heart. She's panicking unnecessarily, but it doesn't feel that way to her.

"Then explain," Shin says, deceptively neutral in his wording, at least to Rui; she's half-recoiling already, waiting for the reprimand she thinks is well on its way.

So she does. It's a quick story, made a tad more pathetic when told through Rui's uncontrollable stuttering, and by the end of it Shin's sister is laughing, bent halfway over the bed now that she's moved closer. Shin himself remains unamused, and he's sunk further into his pillows as though trying to escape his sister's boisterous presence.

Rui, even in her state of near-hysteria, reflexively moves to adjust his pillow to prop up his head (she imagines his neck wound is far from pleasant when the muscles beneath it stretch, and she wants to keep him from moving his head as much as possible). Shin doesn't react beyond flicking a glance at her, and she tries to act like she's allowed to treat Shin as she would any other sick person.

"You sure there's nothing going on?" Emi asks, brows lifting suggestively. She laughs again when Rui draws her hands against her chest, cheeks blistering; she doesn't leave the bedside, though, as she knows her guilt would only double if she abandoned Shin now.

"Emi, you're here because...?" Shin drawls, ghosting over her question, to which she puffs out her cheeks and narrows her eyes at him. "Weren't you working on... whatever the hell you're painting right now? Don't you have a commission?"

"Finished it," she says with a shrug as she drops onto the end of Shin's bed, her weight sinking the mattress and causing Shin to hiss as his bad arm is jostled. Emi winces apologetically, her smile somewhat sheepish. "When that kid called - Amon or whatever - I really didn't think it was anything that bad. You're always getting into scrapes, aren't you, Shin?"

"My subordinate wouldn't lie about his superior almost getting killed," Shin replies dryly, his voice so raspy and apathetic towards his sister that Rui wonders if she should ask the woman to leave for the time being. Anything that spikes Shin's blood pressure or makes him uncomfortable should be removed for a while, herself included. If he asked to leave she'd do it in a heartbeat - and not just because of their history together. "Former subordinate, anyway," Shin adds after a short, contemplative pause.

Rui's heart feels as though it's being crushed in an iron fist.

Shin may never show it, but he must care for Amon, if only because the man was entrusted to his care for the duration of his stay in the eighteenth ward. And now he's having his prodigie ripped away from him as a result of circumstances he can't even help.

Did Amon tell him? she wonders, fiddling with the hem of her jacket while Shin and Emi talk. Or did he figure it out for himself? It couldn't have been that hard... with Shin as injured as he is, there's no way he can fulfill his duties as an investigator... and Amon wouldn't get much guidance stuck here in the hospital...