"...a string of supposed ghoul sightings has followed the incident. We go now to our resident ghoul-expert, Kanemoto-san, for more details on the attack."

Rui doesn't like the man's face.

It's not a matter of vanity, though he isn't particularly appealing either way. No, it's the little things that make her skin crawl as she sits atop her bedspread, knees tucked under chin and hands linked at her ankles.

The shine in his eyes seems ghastly to her, far too bright to be natural (she supposes she could blame that on the news station's poor lighting, but her imagination's already running rampant, and she has no real desire to staunch its creative musings); his lips turn up at the corners whenever he talks, regardless of the subject matter, like he's perpetually smirking at the world. She also happens to be fixated on a stray strand of his thick black hair that curls upwards, tentacle-like with its tenacity to escape the man's head. She wishes she could reach through the TV and pluck it right out of his skull - mostly for the purpose of spite.

"Ghouls can be voracious with their appetites, as you well know," he's saying when she tunes back in, disengaging herself from the matter of his unkempt hair for the time being. Her toes curl with displeasure; seems she likes his voice as much as she likes his looks. "It's in their nature to hunt until they're full."

"So you're saying these possible-attacks - the ones recorded after the initial death - could be the work of a single ghoul?"

"Quite possibly. However, I don't believe it's attacking for the sake of satiating its hunger; aside from the first body, there have been no reports of actual victims. This ghoul may not even be attacking."

"Then what would it be doing?"

"Observing us? Honestly, Akihiko-san, this case is as strange to me as it is to you. Among those of us in the ghoul-investigation community" - Rui can't suppress a snort of laughter at that - "we've never encountered a ghoul that doesn't simply hunt for the sake of hunting. This one is an anomaly."

"An anomaly? Do you think the CCG in our ward have the capabilities to handle this new ghoul?"

"That, too, I can't answer. Our CCG are quite secretive, mind you; even I don't know the full extent of their abilities. As such, I can't make a fair assessment of how well they can handle such an unprecedented ghoul."

"You're heard it here first. Until this situation is resolved, we advise everyone to accompany at least one other person while out at night. Lock your doors. If you see anything suspicious, please either contact our hotline or call directly into the CCG. Now, onto sports..."

Rui mutes the TV. That's enough of that for the evening.

A ghoul in the eighteenth ward is nothing new. It'd be more surprising to hear that the CCG actually managed to flush out and apprehend a ghoul in this ward.

Still...

It's disconcerting to hear that even the esteemed ghoul-investigators are stumped by the new arrival. Rui's brow creases in thought. Surely if this is such an enigmatic ghoul, they'd be record of them in other wards? It's not terribly uncommon for ghouls to disappear from one ward and find a new for themselves in another; their monikers follow them wherever they go, keeping tabs on them when the CCG apparently can't. But she hasn't heard of an entirely new ghoul suddenly popping up like this - at least not one as strange as what they're saying on the news.

Ghouls, huh?

Rui buries her face in her knees, skimming her fingers up her legs until she can tangle them in her unbrushed hair. She can imagine the face Kaori'd make after hearing Kanemoto-san "uselessly flapping his gums," as she'd put it. She really has no respect for anyone in his profession. To Kaori, ghouls aren't the end-all, be-all of evil; she looks at them the same way some people look at wild tigers. Dangerous, yes, but perfectly natural. Kaori's of the mind that anything on this earth has a reason to be here, as much as humans do. She wouldn't ever subscribe to being called anything as outlandish as a ghoul activist, but she's unafraid to shout her opinion from the rooftops, if need be.

Not that the need has ever arisen before.

She'd still do it, though, of that Rui's certain.

So, even if Kaori... even if she's gone because of ghouls... does she expect Rui to just forgive them? Just like that? Because it's natural?

Yes. However Rui looks at the situation, turns over possibilities in her mind - it's a resounding yes from Ikehara Kaori. In the same way that shark attack victims sometimes fail to blame the shark for shearing off one of their limbs, Rui can't for the life of her see Kaori having a ghoul pay for the cost of her extinguished life.

And somehow, Rui hates her for it.

What's she even doing anymore?

Shin hasn't called in days - she's heard nothing from Amon, either. Akane, respectfully, has backed off, and while Rui's gotten calls every morning recently asking if she plans to come into work, her phone has been utterly silent. And Hinata...

Her gaze falls on the change she's piled up atop her nightstand, a persistent reminder of her debt to him. She hasn't seen him at all - in the hallway or the elevator, even though she lingers a bit before disappearing into her wing of the apartment on days she returns from going out, infrequent as they are.

This isn't healthy. Cooping myself up in here...

She tells herself that, but she's no more inclined to get out and immerse herself in the outside world as she was this morning. She's no more interested in inviting human interaction, or throwing herself into her work. It all seems so pointless to her - everything's lackluster and gray. She wishes she didn't know the reason but it's painfully obvious.

Without Kaori, who pulled Rui up from the wreckage of her foolish mistakes, made her more than she ever was - she's back to being Rui, that girl who doesn't know what to do with her life.

That's it.

Rui's never been fond of recounting the past. She's a very here-and-now type of person, but you wouldn't know it looking at her recent turmoil. The loss of Kaori shook something deep inside of her, cracked the foundation on which Kitamura Rui was built. It terrifies her to only now learn the hold Kaori has over her, unintentional as it probably was.

A groan vibrates in her throat as she clenches her hands into fists, tugging at her hair until it hurts, until it's enough to make her gasp. Her eyes crack open, and she blearily lifts her head.

Across the TV screen flashes a warning.

BEWARE OF GHOULS

Rui reaches for the remote, wanting to change the channel, to escape the constant tragedy of the news, but before she can squint through the fast-approaching dark to pick out the correct button, something thumps in the hallway.

No.

More like a...

Thud?

Yeah. A thud.

She's tempted to ignore it; after all, the business of her neighbors doesn't really concern her. She hardly even knows any of their faces. What's more, they probably wouldn't accept her "charity" anyway.

That's heartless, though. Someone might need help.

Who really cares?

You should.

Rui's face pinches with distaste, finding she rather dislikes her pushy conscience in her current state. There was a time, not so long ago, where she wouldn't have needed to be prompted to make sure whoever'd made that noise wasn't desperate for assistance. Now, now she's far too caught up in her own torment - initially, in any case.

There's another sound, this one much less substantial but no less grating on her laboring conscience; something not unlike the sliding of a body across padded flooring. It's the weight that worries her; whatever's fallen is too heavy not to arouse her concern.

Rui slides from her bed, bare feet soundless on her hardwood floors as she makes her way to the door, taking little leaps over the things strewn about her apartment she can't be bothered to put away properly.

Hesitation rushes through her the moment her fingertips brush the cool metal of the doorknob. Biting her lip, Rui lifts herself on her toes to peer through the peephole. Nothing in particular screams of an emergency; she can see the opposite door, closed as usual; an empty hallway, motionless and cream-colored. She sweeps her gaze across the still scene, wondering in the back of her mind if she imagined it all. It wouldn't be the first time her mind's played cruel tricks on her, and she doubts it'll be the last.

But...

That can't be it. Not in a time like--

Red.

Spots of red, fresh and so overtly crimson Rui questions how she could have missed them on her first sweep of the floor.

She's out the door before she's consciously aware of her movements, dropping to her knees to inspect the splattering of blood dotting the hall. Her heart stutters in her chest, threatening to crawl its way into her throat, but she swallows it down, hands hovering just above the floor - too close for her liking but not nearly close enough. The trail doesn't lead in from the main hall that divides the two wings, much to Rui's confusion. Tipping back her head, her eyes widen as she spots a gruesome smear of blood across the half-open window at the end of her wing, with just enough definition so as to give the impression of a handprint. She thinks, anyway; from this distance her mind is wholly preoccupied with the idea of just how much blood went into staining the glass.

The trail starts at the window, then.

Rui looks down, surprised to see her hand clutched over her heart, surprised to hear it beating like thunder in her ears. Surprised she hasn't passed out yet. It isn't her first skirmish with ungodly amounts of blood (God knows she's joined Kaori on several inauspicious outings) but it is her first time dealing with such insanity in her own home - or just beyond her own home, to be exact. The red exists in her peripheral vision at all times, whichever way she turns her head or averts her eyes; she can't escape it.

And that little voice in her head - the one that sounds so much like Kaori at the worst possible times - urges her to swallow back her fear along with her raging heart, because this is a potential story, a mystery that's fallen into her lap, and she'd be a damned fool not to take advantage of it.

She wonders now how she ever overlooked Kaori's obvious instability.

She also wonders if she's already so far gone herself that it doesn't even matter anymore.

Rui picks herself up, stands on trembling legs; she flexes her fingers at her side, struggling with the temptation to fist her hands and wishing she had pockets to shove them into. She breathes in for a moment, just breathes, gathering a sliver of courage, turning a blind eye to the monstrosity of doubt that lingers at the edge of her thoughts, swelling with her indecision and the fear that settles like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach.

She takes one step down the hall, draws in another deep breath - and then she's running.

The blood trickles down the hallway in a haphazard pattern, droplets scattered here and there, streaks of it clawed into the walls. A definite handprint stands out among the mess, settled directly over a veritable puddle that Rui skirts around with a repressed shudder raking down her spine.

She observes it all in snapshots, brief, flickering glances. If she lingers any longer, stares for a moment more than necessary, her resolve will crumble and she'll turn back, just like that.

Rui comes to a door; an ajar door, speckled with red, the handle slick and dripping gore onto the carpet just beyond the doorway.

Everything in her (aside from that voice) screams that this is a terrible idea, that with such carnage before her eyes she should just call for help, leave everything to those actually capable of handling it. But that voice - that neurotic, insatiable voice she's never quite noticed and never been without - it's singing to her now, injecting false courage into her veins and telling her it's excitement pumping in her heart not indefinable terror.

And the worst part?
She's captivated.

Before her backbone reverts to gelatin-like consistency, Rui pushes open the door, nudging first a toe and then both feet altogether into the apartment.

"H-Hello?" she calls out softly, wary of her voice cracking into heavenly octaves, as she squints through the overhanging darkness.

At first, nothing. Just a breathless silence that even she contributes to.

Then comes the faint sound of a wet, guttural gasp.

"Oh, God, you need help..."

Rui runs a hand along the wall, fingers desperate for the feel of a lightswitch. She doesn't want to see it - see them. Warm liquid squelches beneath her bare feet, and she doesn't dare to wriggle her toes, to arch her feet and rock back on her heels even as her disgust demands it. Her heart rams into her ribcage with every chaotic beat; her breathing's become so shallow and quick it barely ever registers to her. She doesn't want to see them - but what other choice does she have?

A gurgled noise cuts through the thick silence, not quite a word or a shout, but a thought. A plea.

Steeling her nerves, Rui threads her way further into the apartment, both hands searching, until at last she finds the switch flicks it on before whipping around.

But she is so very unprepared to see Hinata lying there in a pool of his own, viscous blood.