Maybe it was the medicine taking effect, but Aoyama Nanami's complexion looked better now—less pale than before. Once the IV drip was finished, the attending nurse quietly packed up her things and left the Nakano residence.
"Aoyama Nanami, I'm feeling a little sleepy, so I'll head to bed first. You can rest here—this is your quilt," Yotsuba said with a soft yawn, placing the folded blanket beside her.
"Okay. Thank you."
Yotsuba shuffled off to her room, leaving Nanami sipping water slowly before lying back down on the sofa.
Seeing that everything was under control and Nanami seemed stable, Shiro Sakamaki stood up and began gathering his things.
After all, this was still a girl's home—and no matter how comfortable the situation seemed, it wasn't right for him to linger too long. He wasn't like those cliché male protagonists who could shamelessly stay the night in a girl's house without a second thought.
"Aoyama Nanami, I'll get going then. If you need anything, just knock on the door next to this one."
"Thank you again, classmate Shiro Sakamaki. I really owe you today."
"It's nothing. Just rest well."
"Mm."
---
Back at his apartment, Shiro found himself unable to focus on writing. The day's events still lingered in his mind. After changing into a loose dressing gown, he stepped out onto the balcony and laid down on the new chaise longue he'd just bought.
Though it was late, Tokyo showed no signs of sleeping. lights painted the skyline, and distant roads pulsed with flowing traffic.
After lying there for a while, letting the cool night air brush against his skin, Shiro stretched lazily and was about to return inside—until something caught his eye.
Whoosh!
On a nearby rooftop, several dark figures darted across the tiles with alarming speed. Even under the cover of darkness, Shiro's enhanced eyesight caught the movement clearly—and his instincts immediately kicked in.
They weren't ordinary people. Their speed and aura matched that of the creature he'd encountered with Tomoya Aki.
Ghouls.
They were hunting. No doubt about it.
His eyes narrowed, curiosity flaring. Should he follow them?
No sooner had the thought formed than the shadows disappeared down the rooftops.
Without further hesitation, Shiro melted into the darkness, activating a technique he'd developed by merging Rashomon with his innate shadow ability—allowing him to traverse between shadows with blinding speed.
The moonlight, combined with Tokyo's vibrant glow, cast endless pools of shadow across the city—perfect terrain for him.
Within seconds, he caught up, silently lurking in the shadow of one of the Ghouls—specifically a female one.
He didn't act. Not yet. He wanted to observe.
From their auras alone, he could tell these weren't weaklings. Each one hovered around Tier 9-mid level, and the leader stood on the Tier 8-low level. These weren't the kind of opponents you'd send a regular squad of soldiers against.
To put it bluntly: a single Tier 10-peak level awakened being could take down a small tactical team if underestimated. At Tier 9 level, it took concentrated firepower and careful coordination to bring one down. Tier 8 level? Conventional weapons barely scratched the surface.
And Shiro? He'd already surpassed that tier.
If categorized by global threat levels, Shiro was the equivalent of a national weapon. And once someone broke through to Tier 6: Tectonic-level, they were considered a strategic deterrent—pillars of power for a nation.
But these Ghouls weren't just powerful—they were organized. And something about their matching clown masks triggered a memory.
Clown Organization?
That chaotic, fragmented group from Tokyo Ghoul. But in his limited memory of the series—he only watched season one and a few episodes afterward—they rarely operated in organized clusters.
Unless…
They were trying to capture someone.
Just as he suspected, the group arrived at an unfinished construction site.
One of them, a tall male with an impatient tone, snapped, "Itori, are you sure that gluttonous girl will pass through here?"
Shiro's eyes shifted slightly. Itori? Wasn't that the bar owner from the first season?
The woman responded sharply, "Doubting my intel? Feel free to walk away if you're scared."
Clearly, even among themselves, tension simmered.
Another voice chimed in—soft, almost effeminate, from a long-haired man. "Alright, alright. Stop arguing. Let's just finish the job. My bar still needs opening."
Then, a petite girl with short brown hair leaned forward. "Ara~ they're here."
The Ghouls all turned to watch two figures approach through the open street.
A poised woman with flowing purple hair walked gracefully ahead, her eyes fixed on a timid young man trailing behind her. They stopped near the center of the lot and began talking.
Suddenly, crimson Kagune burst from the woman's back, serpentine appendages lashing forward as she lunged at the boy. Her lips curved in a predatory grin.
Caught off-guard, the boy screamed as her jaws sank into his shoulder, tearing flesh.
He bolted in terror—running straight toward the Ghouls' location.
"Ara, what a cooperative little mouse," Itori said with a giggle.
The Ghouls didn't move. They wanted to see it play out.
The woman stalked forward, hunger blazing in her eyes. The boy, out of breath and panicking, was about to be caught.
Now.
The ghoul made his move.
A massive steel cable snapped above. He had used his Kagune to slice through it. A bundle of heavy steel pipes, suspended until now, came crashing down.
The purple-haired Ghoul turned sharply—but it was too late.
She dodged one… two… but one thick pipe rammed straight through her abdomen, nailing her to the concrete.
Even the boy wasn't spared, buried under the debris with a final scream.
Silence followed.
Only the low hum of the city and the distant sirens remained.
---
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