Today was the day Mado, Amon, and I found them quite quickly actually.
We'd been trailing the Fueguchis since this morning moving through the winding alleys behind the city's bustling facade. The Bureau had dispatched investigators in waves, determined to locate the mother and daughter pair. It had taken hours, but we finally cornered them. They'd attempted to flee through a narrow backstreet, weaving through pedestrians, their footsteps echoing against the brick walls. But we had anticipated their route.
While the others chased from behind, Mado, Amon, and I flanked around and cut them off. We emerged from a side alley, blocking their path.
They froze.
Ryoko's face drained of colour, her body tensing protectively around the small girl behind her—Hinami. Mado wore his signature twisted grin, eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. Amon stood beside him, his expression unreadable, stoic as ever. I remained slightly behind them, watching.
And then—for just a second—our eyes met. Ryoko's gaze locked with mine. It wasn't long—barely a moment—but it was enough. Her eyes were full of fear, not for herself, but for the child she held so tightly. She looked away quickly.
Mado's voice cut through the tense air, disturbingly calm.
"Could you spare a little time for us, Fueguchi-san?" he asked with mock politeness, his grin stretching wider. "We'd like to ask you a few questions."
He held something up.
It was a mask—a plain white one, shaped like the Phantom of the Opera's, almost elegant if not for the horror it symbolized. Her husband's mask.
The street had grown quieter, passersby slowing in confusion. Amon raised his voice, addressing the gathering crowd.
"We are CCG investigators. This area is dangerous. Please leave immediately."
His words scattered the remaining pedestrians like dry leaves in the wind.
Ryoko clutched Hinami tighter. She bent down and whispered something into her ear—words only the child could hear. Then, with a sharp breath, her kagune unfurled behind her. A Rinkaku. It bloomed like flower petals, fluid and radiant with deadly grace.
"Run, Hinami!" she shouted.
Hinami hesitated, eyes wide with terror, but her mother shoved her away. Then Ryoko lunged, her kagune slicing through the air toward Amon.
Bullets answered her desperation. The Bureau's investigators opened fire alongside Amon. Ryoko's kagune deflected some, but she was quickly overwhelmed. Her body faltered under the barrage, blood staining the ground in dark, spreading pools.
"Enough, Amon-kun," Mado said, stepping forward, his voice almost giddy. "You've done well—but from here, I'll take over."
Then he laughed. Loud, unhinged, manic.
From beneath his coat, he drew a quinque. My stomach turned.
Fueguchi 1.
It was crafted from the kakuho of Ryoko's husband—the very man whose mask he had just displayed like a trophy. The whip like blade glowed faintly, pulsating with power.
Ryoko's bloodied face twisted in despair. Her knees buckled, but she remained upright, still shielding the direction Hinami had run.
Mado approached her slowly, like a child playing with a wounded insect.
"Anger. Hatred. Despair," he murmured, tilting his head with amusement. "Such great expressions. More—I want to see more!"
He raised the blade, taunting her.
"You're quite an idiot, aren't you?" he said, his voice almost affectionate in its cruelty. "If you had just come quietly, I wouldn't have had to dismantle you here, in the street. Any last words?"
Ryoko's lips moved. Her voice, soft but defiant, managed to shape a single word:
"Hina—mi…"
And then she was gone.
Mado's blade fell in one clean arc, severing her head from her body. Her final breath escaped into silence, mingling with the horrified scream of her child echoing from somewhere nearby.
Mado clicked his tongue and smiled. "Time's up."
I stood still. My face was blank, frozen in emotionless calm. But inside, something churned.
I could only imagine Kaneki was nearby—hidden, perhaps just around the corner. Maybe even watching. A part of me ached to search for him, to turn my head and scan the alleys, to make sure he and Hinami had made it out. But I didn't move. I couldn't. Even the slightest glance might draw suspicion, and the last thing I needed was Kaneki getting caught by Mado—not now. Not ever.
So I stood there, still as stone, my face cold and unfeeling. But inside, something quietly shattered.
This wasn't what I thought it would be. I wasn't just killing monsters—beasts that craved only meat and mayhem. I was hurting innocents now. Mothers. Children. People who just wanted to live.
And that realization cracked through the mask I wore, a quiet tremor beneath the calm. I felt it splintering inside me like ice under pressure.
And yet, I did nothing.
I just stood there.