Masquerading Virtuoso【Tokyo Ghoul Fan-Fiction】

x. Lacrimosa

"Perhaps her nature is better left undetermined by others; she is inexplicably unexplainable."

〜〜〜＊〜〜〜

Tsuki sat on her sofa and stared apathetically at the glowing television screen. The news hadn't reported any heinous incidents since the last two men she had killed. She didn't understand what was going on, nor why the criminal activity had seemingly ceased, only that the long wait for her next meal was beginning to take its toll on her sanity and physical appearance.

The dark circles underneath her eyes were taking on a sickly blue and the vessels were more prominent. Her hair seemed more susceptible to breakage, while her skin was flaky and her face decorated with patches of pustules. She had lost approximately fifteen pounds in the past month, which made her appear as though she suffered from anorexia---her frame was already slim, but now it was scrawny.

Her few co-workers had taken notice of her health depletion and reported it to Bunko---the owner of the Nerima Public Library. The elderly woman's only desired choice being to send Tsuki on a sick-leave for a week to build herself back up.

She laid down on her side and listened to the news anchor---a swarthy man with black hair and deep brown eyes---relay a report on a symphonic memorial being held in her honor at the Kyoto City University of Arts.

Tsuki examined the old photo of herself on the top left corner of the screen and scoffed---she remembered taking it. The expression she had held was pleased; she was returning from the stage after performing a piece that had been arranged for the piano. Mozart's Requiem Mass, she thought, smiling from the nostalgia she felt by the solemn piece. "Lacrimosa," she whispered as she turned off the television and looked up at the clock on the far wall---9:38 PM (21:38). Ruffling up her shoulder-length, black tresses, she escorted herself from the sofa to her bathroom for a quick shower to prep herself for an excursion out into the city.

〜〜〜＊〜〜〜

Spring was slowly creeping its way into Japan and that meant a much warmer and wetter climate. Tsuki had snagged a small umbrella on her way out, opening it as she exited her apartment. She locked the door behind herself, then descended the few stairs. The woman blended in well with humans, but only because their senses weren't as heightened and adept as hers.

Tsuki fought rigorously to resist the urge to not partake of their arousing incense, but her nature bested her and left her enamored by their varying, savory aromas. She flinched in her stride as she got wind of a familiar scent from twenty meters ahead: fresh blood.
Though the rain was pouring, she could still discern that smell easily. Tsuki picked up her pace into more of a fast-walk, maneuvering through the bustling crowd as if she were a black mamba in the African bush.

Her hunger was becoming more and more oppressive upon her consciousness---it compelled her to enter the furthest corners of Nerima and sniff out the meal awaiting her at the end of her journey. Once she escaped the horde of people, Tsuki entered the labyrinth of alleyways, breaking into a sprint across the muddy and soaking concrete.

The scent was becoming stronger and more overwhelming with each turn she took. It was closer than ever as she rounded the final corner. However, she paused as she noticed a young girl walking groggily down the lone alley towards her.

She kept her head bowed and arms in front of her fragile chest. Tsuki could tell the child was crying by her low sniffles and heavy breathing.

The woman stared at the young girl, her knees and elbows scraped and bloodied. She was the source of the powerful aroma, there was no doubt about that much. Tsuki dropped her umbrella, allowing the rain to drench her hair and clothes. Her mouth salivated ferociously, like a feral wolf, the closer the child grew to her.