For When Your Heart is Broken

6: Who?

【❦】

Same day, back in Tokyo:

Kaneki was still diligently mulling over where Tsukiyama could be.
It was the least he could do. Tsukiyama had been so diligent to help and care for him from the very start... well, after he'd decided to not eat him.

Who could help?
Who knows him well?

Ouch, that kicked me in the fucking esteem... "who knows him well?" He attacked himself mentally. Because I sure as hell don't.

He had his nose shoved in a book that had belonged to the other, one that he'd given him just after his wedding.
He flipped the cover.
A very noticable note was written there in purple ink.
It wasn't addressed to him, though.
It had been a note to himself when Tsukiyama still had the book.
It was a phone number, belonging to...

Little Mouse.

Who is that? Ken was half offended.
Little Mouse.
He stared at the number.
The nickname.
The number.
Back and forth again once more.

Should I call it? His eyes scanned along the cover, which was speckled with notes here and there. On the back cover too, along with many pages. But it was a book, not a journal.
They were stupid notes, too.

Don't open the glovebox :'c
Kanae can't be trusted with dishes anymore.
Third rosebush needs trimming.
Hori needs film.

Ken then noticed his name was in several of the notes.

Kaneki, training.
Kaneki, suits.
Kaneki, meeting.
Chess charm for Kaneki.

Wow... he made himself a reminder to buy that.
"I'm an asshole." Kaneki concluded.
I wonder what's in the glovebox. He thought vaguely.
He knew who Kanae had been, but who's this Hori and why do they need film?
Film for what? Processing photos? He hummed.

Maybe he should read the letter that he was told to read in Bittersweet.
Under the assumption that it holds an obvious label, he hopped up and walked briskly out of his room to see Hinami.

【❦】

Meanwhile:

Tsukiyama was neat.

Taking the body with him, he went back to his rented room.
There, he removed his shirt and vest to avoid soiling them, then proceeded to go about the process of dismemberment. Drainage was collected in a large plastic bin, which sat within the bathtub, where he was dividing the body into separate sections for consumption.
His Kagune, unique in itself due to the coil it held and the versatility of thickness, was the main tool used to do the majority of the cutting. He had mastered it even further in his personal time when he had gotten the chance. He had it wrapped around his arm as per usual, the end of the coil extended to assist with the task of preparing his meal.
Rips and tears would splatter the walls, and he did not have time for that mess.
It was already going to take too much time to finish this. Contrary to what he would have preferred, he had to eat without his typical poise.
Fucking starving... he was irritated with the fact that his body required him to eat at an inconvenient time like this.
Bones snapped beneath his teeth as he tore through to the meat, ligaments, and cartilage of the forearm.

It was a delectable flavour he had selected.
His nose would never be able to disappoint.

Sitting in the floor with his feet tucked close to his body in a yoga position, he tore flesh from muscle, muscle from bone. Chomping down an adequate amount to curb his hunger, he set back to his task.

Once the tough work was complete, he then brought his meal to his private jet– which was piloted by an acquaintance– well, the acquaintance's footman/servant. He offered to share but was refused, so he now sat in the back, eating to his heart's content.
He had needed this.

Glancing at his cellphone before take off, he saw that he had 9 missed calls from his Little Mouse.
Hori Chie.
He wasn't going to return them.

"Fifteen hours to go, Shuu-sama." The pilot said through the speaker system.
"Thank you..." Shuu replied. His tone was slightly higher than usual, but he knew he would be heard. The pilot was fairly new to flying private, and they just thought the speakers were cool and wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to fuck around.
If that was all he had to allow, Tsukiyama was thankful.
"You're welcome." Said the other, still using the intercom. The gender was rather androgenous, so Shuu didn't really wish to jump to conclusions and make an inaccurate assumption that made his entire existence questionable. An image flashed. It was expected, of course.
The voice sounded similar to someone who he had known and cared for deeply.

Karren von Rosewald.

A moment passed, then the pilot came out, "Fix your face, sir, you'll wrinkle." They said, rather informally, while snatching a meal container that had been prepared for them in advance, even after the initial refusal.
"Ah, sorry... I've a lot to think about."
"Don't apologise to me, Shuu-sama." Popping a piece of flesh in their mouth, they said, "Apologise to yourself."

That held a double meaning.

"Mm, I don't deserve the apology." Said the Gourmet, scraping the silver fork against his teeth as he pulled it away, a making sharp shing sound. He held a cynical smile, which was responded to with an eye roll.
"Strap in." The pilot waved a hand without replying and went back to the cockpit.
Tsukiyama sat back, sighing while pushing the plate away from himself before doing as he was told.

It had been a very long week.
It would be an even longer continued existence.
There wasn't much of a meaning to anything anymore.
There had been, but he was going to be a long, long way away.

Kaneki-kun...

【❦】

Tsukiyama-san...

Kaneki couldn't find a letter resembling the one he had read about in the other from before.
He was finding them in this order for a reason, he knew.
He pulled the box out of the chest, wanting to prowl more thoroughly, when his attention was drawn to a thick, light pink envelope.
It was labelled:

The story of your absence.

Flipping it over to open it, he read another writing along the seam of the unsealed envelope:

Do you like the colour? I found it while looking for violet but decided that it would be too expected. Instead I tried to pick a colour that represents how I feel when I look at you.
The name makes sense.
Its colour is called:
Blush pink.
Enjoy.

He wanted to ugly laugh/cry again.

Shaking off the intense feelings he was given, he placed the box back where it was, moved the chest off of his lap, leaned back onto the couch, then opened it and began reading.

The Day You Left:

...