LONG CHAPTER IS LONG.

Miharu's just a pissy little shit (and, like, seriously overdramatic). Ah haha, ah hahaha, ah ha, yeah, this kid's nowhere near okay. Like, the space between letters compared to the size of this chapter can describe how not okay he is.

So, like...ah, suicidal thoughts, dangerous obsession, and violence?

I don't own Tokyo Ghoul or Harry Potter.

Miharu could hear them. Whispering, muttering, as if they were sneaky and quiet. As if he was still asleep, still unconscious.

"–be best if you were not in the room, Kaneki." An old weary voice. It wasn't The Gourmet, the traitorous beastling that he was. No, it was the older ghoul, the one who smelled of sadness and death, who held the reins of the corpse-eaters and lowered himself to a mere scavenger for his pathetic pity.

"He deserves to know what happened," a weak voice, the imposter, the fake, whispered. "He's Rize's little brother. I can't just leave him tied down like this." There was a strange distant – weak, weak, disgustingly weak – steel to the other one-eyed ghoul's voice.

Miharu breathed in, scenting the air with the ease of an experienced predator. Humans, ghouls, blood, meat, his sister. Why, why, why, did that pathetic meat sack of a hybrid smell like his Big Sister? Why did her scent trail after him, clinging to his form as Miharu clings to her memory?

"Sayuri is dangerous, Kaneki. He is not a ghoul to be pitied," the wingless Owl murmured.

"I thought Anteiku exists to help ghouls," the imposter commented, bland and as threatening as a butterfly.

"Yes, it does," the old man paused, clothing rustling as he stepped towards the bed. "But the Kamishiro's have never needed our help, have they, Sayuri?"

Miharu graciously took the cue, lunging forward to snap his teeth at the imposter, his eye still closed. The Woman in Red crooned, whispering soothing nothings into his mind to swirl around with his rage. The fake yelped, startled backwards, away from Miharu's clicking teeth. The one-eyed ghoul jerked to a stop before he could follow the fraud, before he could leap from the bed and tear out his throat, bathe in his bleeding crimson as Big Sister held him tightly, praising him and together with him again – his wrists pulled back, his body arching over the mattress before falling back with a grunt.

Miharu tugged at his wrists, his single hellfire eye glaring at the intricately designed handcuffs tying him down. They buzzed with a familiar warmth that caused the teen's upper lip to curl in disgust. (damn you, Toshiro, damn you, damn you).

"Fuck your help," he snarled, yanking his wrist sharply, the Woman in Red smothering any bubbling pain as his bones creaked and his skin rubbed away.

"Don't hurt yourself!" the imitation shouted, rushing forward, his heart beating loudly in Miharu's ears, a mockery of his sister's strong rhythm.

He clicked his teeth threateningly, eyeing the disgrace to his sister's scent as he faltered, shuddered back in confused fear. (weak, disgusting little halfling didn't deserve the gift of his sister's scent, didn't deserve her life)

"Rize left us your guardian's number, should anything happen to her," the manager twisted the knife, his precious sister's name a joke on his tongue. Miharu's lower back burned. "Mr. Toshiro was gracious enough to give us cuffs to hold you. He seemed fascinated by our Kaneki, but resigned to his death. It seems Mr. Toshiro has a strange amount of faith in your abilities, Sayuri."

The old man's words mixed in with Miharu's rage, each syllable bending and breaking down into disgust and anger. He ignored it, the only sound in the dim room being their breathing and the loud clanking as he frantically tried to break the chains. (get them off, get them off, he needed them off, they burned, more than the fire that raged and burned and seared his veins)

"We don't want to hurt you, Sayuri," the ghoul continued, his voice deceptively pained. Miharu scoffed, gritting his teeth as the chains didn't even bend. He was stronger than he once was, capable of tearing through metal with his bare hands, what did Toshiro do to make these chains different? (This ghoul, with his gentle face and grandfatherly smile could kill him with barely a blink. Strength oozed from his dying shell like blood from his prey. Miharu wouldn't be fooled. He refused to be fooled.)

"You're Rize's little brother, right?" the pretender asked, skittering towards the bed. "Is Sayuri your real name?"

"I'm gonna rip you apart, tear you down and break you. I'll free her, she's just inside, I can smell her, she's right there, beneath your disgusting skin. You can't keep her from me," Miharu hissed. He could feel the cold creeping over his heart, the darkness folding in on the bright and warm Woman in Red. He didn't want to return to being numb, this spark served him better than the cold ever could. But, his sister was warm, his sister held him and murmured their promises to keep him warm and she wasn't here. "I won't let you keep her from me."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Sayuri," the ghoul tried to sooth his hatred. Tried to calm him as if Miharu gave a flying fuck for his piss-poor sympathy.

He smiled. It wasn't a pretty smile, his teeth gritted and framed by his chapped lips as his hell-fire eye lit up his entire face eerily. "I'm going to kill you," he cooed.

He let it sink in, continuing to smile as the old man sighed, nodded, and turned away, waving his little pet towards the door.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" he repeated in a shriek, arching off the bed enough that his kagune slipped from his kakuhou, his three trusty red appendages slicing through the air with the sharp determination of his desperate bloodlust.

The old man blocked with a single arm, wrapping all three kagune around his bicep. "Are you alright, Kaneki?" he asked the intended target as he ignored the bite of the one-eyed ghoul's extra limbs and the blood that now stained his pretty white sleeve.

"Me? Sir, are you bleeding?" the boy with one red eye floundered, fluttering his useless hands around the bloodthirsty kagune.

Before the waste of space could touch him, his three petals bloomed, spiking out threateningly as they hungrily bit into the flesh beneath them. The old man sighed as if disappointed.

"I am fine, Kaneki. However, it might be best if you leave the room. I feel your presence is angering our guest." The thief hesitated, his fear and disappointment stinging Miharu's sensitive nose.

"Don't–" he fled, clicking the door shut as he left Miharu in the dark, chained down and hungry. Big Sister's scent lingered, weak and filled with fear. Miharu needed her, needed her more than he needed the Woman in Red or the warmth or the heat. He would give up his gifts, his precarious tether to sanity to see her again, to hear her voice. "Go," he finished, feeling the world closing in around him, the reality of being so damn alone, crushing him against the lumpy bed.

He was gasping, struggling to draw breathe. His faithful kagune slipped off the watching old man, feeling the walls for an escape, for space, for a moment to breathe. He needed to get out, to kill the fake (to save his sister), to break the Gourmet (save her, he needed to save her), he needed out of his chains.

"Yomo will bring you food tomorrow, Sayuri," the old man spoke up. "We won't hurt you, child. We want to help you heal from this blow. But, we can't help if you don't want it. You must let us in."

His extra limbs abandoned their search for an exit, finding nothing other than the door, not even a window to mark the passage of time. They drifted towards the hyperventilating hybrid, two cocooning him as the last kagune fiddled with his right cuff.

Miharu didn't hear when the old ghoul stepped forward or when he reached the bed. He was too caught up in his memories, his wants, his needs, to notice until the wingless Owl rested a chilled, crimson stained hand on the one-eye's forehead.

Miharu froze, terrified, his breath locked in his throat as he stared up at twin hellfire eyes, older and stronger than his precious sister. His camellia scent surrounded the younger ghoul, smothering his senses and suffocating him as surely as a hand against his throat. The older ghoul was smiling. A true monster.

Miharu threw himself into the Woman in Red's arms, his body slumping into the sheets as his kagune dissipated into red mist.

He wanted no part in this world without his sister. He wanted everything to just stop.

"–There with fantastic garlands did she come. Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples. That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, but our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them. There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds. Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;–"

He could smell her. She was home and happiness and safety. She was love and hope and the light. She was everything he needed to continue living. Her voice could call him back from death.

"–When down her weedy trophies and herself, fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; and, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up: Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes; as one incapable of her own distress–"

Miharu's eye slipped open, drowsy and lethargic. He scanned the room – dark, a single desk and chair set, a bed he was lying in, no rug, no windows, soft light spilling in from the bottom of the only door – and saw no one. The voice, male and vaguely familiar, continued.

"–Or like a creature native and indued, unto that element: but long it could not be, till that her garments, heavy with their drink, pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay, to muddy death.–"

Miharu groaned, twisting to get pressure off his numb back, preferring to sleep in a ball, tucked against his sister's side. The chains, those damn despicable chains, held him back.

The sounds disturbed the voice.

"Sayuri? Are you awake?" he called. Miharu could hear him snap a book shut before shifting to block out the sliver of light. "Sayuri?"

It came flooding back; his sister, the Gourmet, the Ghoul Restaurant. The fake that scrambled his senses, who dared to fill up Big Sister's spot and smell like her. The same fake who was whispering, muttering outside his door as if he had a right to calm him.

(The serpent lurked, laughing and twining around his throat, hissing as the cold bit at his thoughts. Coiling around the Woman in Red, the serpent laughed and laughed and laughed – Miharu could hear the high-pitched cackle as his world trembled.)

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Miharu shrieked, squirming violently as he tried to clasp his hands over his ears and block out the out-of-place voice (and the serpent, just make them stop, make them shut up). Maybe…maybe, when he got free, Miharu would keep the fake. Just, rip out his voice, make him shut up. Then, it would be like Big Sister never left. As if everything was back to normal and they could be happy. Happy and together and alive.

He just wanted his sister back. He wanted the woman who raised him, the first person to look at him, to look at a freak and love him. (He knew better now. The world saw fit to teach him freaks were not supposed to be loved. Freaks deserve loneliness. They deserve to be chained up and locked away, forgotten and forsaken.)

"My name's Kaneki Ken," the fake continued, a worried waver throwing off any similarities he had to Miharu's stubborn, strong, predator sister. "I knew Rize. Actually, I was the last person to see her alive."

Miharu froze, his wails locked down with a choke. He didn't want to hear. He didn't want to listen to whatever this weakling, this disgrace had to say. He meant absolutely nothing. But, he smelled like Big Sister. He knew what happened to Big Sister, why she was gone.

"I…" the fake trailed off, his heart beating quickly. "We were on a date."

("I have a couple of hours before I have to get dinner," she grinned.)

"Afterwards, she asked me to walk her home. She- She led us to construction site. There was no one around and I…well, I didn't suspect a thing. Ghoul attacks always happen to other people, a distant horror story for wayward children. She was smiling the whole time. She was still so beautiful."

Miharu knew all too well how beautiful and kind his sister was. Smiling and drenched in blood, and Miharu would find her more beautiful than any goddess. Miharu could picture her, her kagune flared out behind her as she hungrily eyed the one-eyed ghoul who smelled eerily like her. (She once told him how dangerous a smile was. Humans were less wary of those who wore their hearts on their sleeves. Smiles could be as dangerous as a knife, if used right, she told him.)

"I tried to run. I really tried, but humans were not designed to be faster than a ghoul. She- I was dying. But something happened. The girders fell, crushing her. We were found and taken to the hospital. Rize was deemed a lost cause by the doctor, and they used her organs to save me. They turned me into a ghoul and desecrated your sister's body. I'm so sorry. I felt you had the right to know what happened –"

The world blurred out. There, there was the confirmation Miharu never wanted to hear. Rize, his Big Sister, dead. Dead and never coming back. The human, the fake's monologue became white noise, even as he sighed and left, taking the scent of Rize with him. (The cold looped around his heart, the serpent cackled, delighted)

She was gone. She was gone and he was left behind, all alone. She promised him they would be together forever, until the end. She swore nothing could ever separate them. She was stronger than nearly any other ghoul the duo knew, and she was taken down by girders. (it would have been a slow death, a death she didn't deserve.)

He didn't have a guiding hand to support him, to show him the way.

("Family protects each other, Miharu. Even if they're dead, we protect their memory and their honor. Okay?")

He took a deep breath, determined. There was only one thing he could do, one answer. (Lies, lies, lies. He had so so many options left. Big Sister was merely the only one that mattered.)

Stop it, he ordered the Woman in Red. Stop all of it. Stop healing me. Stop protecting me. Let me die. Let me join her.

The Woman in Red buzzed, disagreeing.

Please, he begged. Don't make me live without her. I don't think I can. He had nothing else. He had no one else.

He took another deep breath and another, his breathing speeding up. The mere idea of living without his sister, of continuing on all alone was horrifying. He was getting dizzy, his mind becoming fuzzy. His eyes stung. He hiccupped, his breathing stuttering, shuttering as the world caught up, crushing down on him, without his sister's protective embrace–

He was alone, in a dark room, back in chains. His chest hitched, faltering with a loud sob. Miharu bit his lip, determined not to let another sound escape his mouth. He was strong. Stronger than so many ghouls, stronger than those that dared to chain him down the first time. He was…he was strong enough to…he…

He didn't want to live without her. He couldn't bear to stand alone. (the chains. were. so. heavy.)

Another sob slipped past, his sister's smile plastered behind his eyelids. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears came. First a sting, then an itch. He blinked, staring up at the ceiling as fat droplets burned their way down his face. He couldn't stifle the accompanying cry.

I have to see her again, he pleaded. She's all I have!

Live, the Woman in Red hissed back, her fury turned against him for the first time. Her poison green eyes, so like his own, blazed. Live. Live. Live. Live.

"Let me die," he beseeched. "I'll die without her, please. I just want to die. Let me die. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me!"

She hissed back, throwing his sister's wish for him to survive, to live at him.

Miharu thrashed, screeching incomprehensibly. He didn't notice when the door to his room opened, allowing a single ghoul in. He watched the younger ghoul writhe, limitedly, in agony. It stung him to see the brother of his heart in such pain.

He watched, even as the flower-themed ghoul tired himself out, slipping quietly into a restless sleep.

"Oh, floricică, what have they done to you?" the Gourmet wondered, his hellfire eyes soft as obsidian.

"And how is our guest, Tsukiyama?" Yoshimura asked with a smile.

With the café closed and all of their patrons home for the night, the lingering ghouls felt it was safe to talk about their little fugitive. Touka was just happy Sayuri's strange guardian somehow made it so the customers didn't hear the younger ghoul's little hissy fit. It was bad enough that Hinami had to listen to it.

Though, she really didn't think it was a good idea to call in the bastard as backup.

"My floricică is completely grief-stricken," the infamous ghoul stated, dabbing at his dry face with a bright handkerchief. "Oh, surely it would be better if I took him back to my manor. I could care for him properly there!"

"Unfortunately," Yoshimura refused. "Rize asked Anteiku to take care of her brother should anything happen to her."

"Her exact words were that 'even a den of corpse-eaters would be better than a skivvy food snob,'" Touka added helpfully.

Tsukiyama gritted his teeth. "Yes, Rize made her opinions quite clear. However, Sayuri would recover better the further he is from dear Kaneki."

"What? Me?" Kaneki piped up, blinking in wide eyed confusion.

"Yes, you, dumbass. Keep up or leave," the ukaku snarled. The one-eyed ghoul nodded, shrinking slightly. Touka sighed. Really, why was the idiot even involved in this conversation?

"Your presence will only remind Sayuri of everything he has lost, Kaneki," Tsukiyama told the delicious boy. "And, if there is anyone who would kill you in the name of Rize, it's Sayuri. Rize hung the sun and the moon to him. She was all he had. I understand that she practically raised him."

"But, we can help him, can't we?" Kaneki looked between the two ghouls who saved him. Who taught him and gave him something to look forward to in this new life. Surely, surely, they can help Sayuri too. No one deserved to be alone, after all.

"Sayuri doesn't want, or need, our help," Touka said firmly. The manager shook his head in disagreement.

"Not necessarily," he said. "You heard it, didn't you, Tsukiyama?"

"Yes," the elegant ghoul confirmed. "Sayuri wants to die to be at her side. In this desperate state, he might do something stupid. Reveal himself in the middle of Anteiku, for example."

Touka's eyes flashed. "He wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, you underestimate him," Tsukiyama stated, a smug smile twisting his lips. He side-eyed the aggressive girl. He wondered what Rize thought of her, the little corpse-eater who had the heart of a lion. The voracious witch probably got a good laugh at the ukaku's expense. "Sayuri has never been logical in the matter of his sister. If he feels death will reunite them, he will happily do anything. And, if he happens to bring down the ghouls he feels might have had a hand in her demise…well, Sayuri is a vindictive child."

"What are the chances of Sayuri learning to live without Rize, Tsukiyama?" Yoshimura inquired, dragging the Gourmet's attention from the nearly-frothing Touka and the deliciously pale Kaneki. With the girl's long-standing grudge against the older ghoul and Kaneki's new fear, the manager would have preferred to keep the eccentric ghoul away from Anteiku, at least until everyone had the time to calm down. With the situation as it was, Yoshimura needed to work with what he had to keep his companion's safe from the grieving child.

"Slim, I am afraid to say," he responded, his smile dropping to a serious frown. "The only other ghoul Sayuri has bonded with that I know of is his father, Shachi."

"And Shachi is in Cochlea, where he can't be of any help," Touka crossed her arms. "Can't we just kill the brat before he screws us all over?"

"Touka!" Kaneki exclaimed, his wide grey eye focused on the disgruntled ghoul.

"We are not going to kill him, Touka," Yoshimura scolded. "As with Kaneki and even yourself, Sayuri is in need of our help."

"Yes, Manager," she muttered, gritting her teeth. "Do we have any other ideas?" Tsukiyama opened his mouth, only for Touka to cut him off. "Any ideas other than handing the brat over to the bastard?"

As Tsukiyama swooned, Kaneki checked around the room. With Yomo, Irimi, and Koma out on business, the group of four took up very little space in Yoshimura's office. The one-eyed ghoul made sure to stick close to the two ghouls who saved his life as the one ghoul who tried to eat him paced and lurked and twirled his hands. He almost wished the stoic Yomo was in the shadows, with a slice of advice or even just a watchful eye.

"Why can't his guardian take him?" Kaneki wondered. When the strange human arrived, the college student was blown away with his knowledge. The man tossed around information about ghouls like candy as he locked Sayuri to the bed before breezing out of Anteiku.

"Mr. Toshiro was only Sayuri's guardian in name. Once Rize was of age, she took her brother and traveled the Wards. He has no desire to be involved with Sayuri at this point in time," Yoshimura provided. "Perhaps it is best to simply follow Mr. Toshiro's lead and allow Sayuri the time to calm down. He knows the child the best."

Kaneki bit his lip. He remembered Sayuri's screams and his cries. The pure horror and heartbreak on his face. How his first reaction was to hurt those around him, even as he was in pain. No, he didn't think Sayuri needed to be left alone. Sayuri needed someone to live for, something to hold onto with both hands.

But, before he could argue, Touka was expressing her relief, annoyed, and storming out the door as Tsukiyama stalked around, his nose up in the air, to thank Yoshimura for housing the younger ghoul.

He stood up quietly and slipped out the door, heading up rather than back towards the café.

Miharu wanted to die. It was a strange want. He's always only wanted to live, to survive.

First, he wanted to see what he had never known, to experience what he only caught glimpses of in his reaches.

But, then, he wanted to live on with the vibrant girl who loved him.

Now, he's seen the outside of his grey room. He's lived past his sister. What does he do now?

Death is really his only answer. With death, he could be with her again, forever. He refused to allow something as trivial as death keep them apart. They were siblings, partners, they needed to be together. It was an injustice that they had been apart for so long. It was only right for Miharu to fix everything.

"Sayuri?"

Miharu jolted, his head snapping to stare over at the closed door. It was the fake again. Did he come to tell more stories about Big Sister?

No, no, that would be impossible. He already told Miharu about what happened. There was nothing else he could tell Miharu. Unless, he came to laugh about the great and feared Binge Eater being taken down by mere metal or how the monster Sayuri was a little boy easily chained down (damn you, Toshiro, damn you, damn you, damn you).

"It's okay, you don't have to talk," the fake (Kaneki Ken?) continued. "I just thought you might lonely. I brought the book Rize was reading the day we met, I thought I could read it to you. I mean, it's not much, but Mr. Yoshimura told us not to open the door and…well, when I'm feeling lonely, I read. It makes me feel closer to my dad. He liked to read. I think he did, at least. He left me an entire library of books. Not that you would care about all of that."

Miharu blinked, a soft huff escaping his lips. The scent was soothing, the sister who held him close to her heart and, while the voice was off (so very, very, off), it was calming in its own way.

"Book?" he asked, his curiosity raising its ill-timed head. His sister read many books, eating through a novel almost as fast as she ate through a body. He couldn't recall what book she was reading before she died. That night (and all of the nights afterwards when the only thought on his mind was where?) was a blur, blending together into a confusing mesh of warm and cold, purple and blood red.

"Oh!" the fake gasped, startled out of his tangent. "Um, The Black Goat's Egg, by Takatsuki Sen. We met at Anteiku actually, and started talking when she noticed we were reading the same book. I…haven't had the heart to reread it again since, but now is as good a time as any, right?"

Miharu was silent. He never cared for reading, there was always too much to do, too much to learn. Survival was his concern first and foremost.

He continued to be silent as the fake started reading, letting the words run into his thoughts, painting images as he realized his sister read this, loved this, took time away from living to throw herself into this other world of murders and blood (he didn't understand why, they killed more than they could count, tearing apart minds and families with a smile and a joke. The only difference between humans and ghouls to the siblings was who was safe to eat. Everyone was an enemy, everyone but each other.).

He feel asleep to the sound of the fake's reading.

(Let me die, he begged, feebly. Live, the Woman in Red purred.)

They followed this pattern for three days before the fake switched it up.

Miharu flinched when the door to his dark (grey, why is it always grey. Miharu hated grey, hated it as much as he hated humans and chains and the cold) clicked open, harsh light spilling in. The fake eased in, the light haloing behind him as he checked to make sure no one noticed him breaking the manager's no-enter rule.

"What are you…?" Miharu asked, his voice not rising above a whisper. The fake jolted, snapping the door shut as he turned a wide eye to the younger ghoul.

"Oh, sorry!" he apologized, striding to the bed to click on the bedside lamp. Miharu had to bite his lip to stifle his cry at the light. It illuminated the room, banishing memories of a cement room of boxes and cruelty. "I just…I thought you might be getting lonely in here. It's not very comfortable."

Miharu blinked up, confused, at the fake's soft smile as he sat on the edge of the lumpy bed, perfectly at ease.

"You're all kinds of stupid," Miharu noted. He shifted his hips, lifting them so his kagune had an easy escape route if the fake made a single bad move. The Woman in Red clucked, tethering down the heat even as the chains weighed down his warmth – he could feel it sluggishly covering his sewn eye, guarding it from interference. No one was allowed to take the last piece of his sister. Sometimes, the fourteen year old wondered who the real child was.

The fake huffed out a laugh. "I guess you can say that," he agreed, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "I'm still getting used to this whole 'being-a-ghoul' thing, though. I like to think everyone is cutting me some slack."

"Stupid," Miharu reaffirmed, nodding to himself decisively.

"I think you're trying to hurt my feelings now," the fake added. "Hey, is your name really Sayuri? Tsukiyama and Touka both talk like it is…."

Miharu hummed, eyeing the older one-eyed ghoul. He still didn't understand why the ghoul was lavishing him with so much attention. Without Rize, Miharu was practically useless, especially chained down as he was. Sucking up to him served no purpose. And yet, this baby-faced ghoul, with little to no idea of the mess he was in, was throwing away his free time for the ghoul who dreamed of his death. "Kamishiro Miharu."

"Miharu," the fake tried, the name falling of his tongue with little fanfare. "Springtime beauty?"

"Springtime fascination," Miharu corrected. He let the words hover in the air, the room descending into silence when he didn't continue.

"You don't talk much, do you, Miharu?" the fake remarked. Miharu stared up at him, blankly. He laughed nervously, looking to the side. "That's okay. I usually don't talk much either, but I think I can fill up the silence enough for the both of us."

And, for just a moment – a moment of weakness as the Woman in Red cooed and Miharu's heart bled – everything seemed okay.

"Miharu!" the fake cried, bursting through the door a week later.

"You're early," Miharu muttered, sitting up as his wrists strained awkwardly in their chains, his arms pulling to their limit behind him as he leaned forward. "Something wrong?"

"Ah," the fake panted, leaning against the frame as he puffed in each breath of air. "Tsukiyama…Tsukiyama has taken Kimi. I'm going to go save her with Nishio. I'm sorry, I won't be back in time to read to you tonight."

Miharu blinked, blind-sided by the situation. He didn't know who Nishio or Kimi were – friends? Other corpse-eaters? It didn't matter, either way – but Gourmet was defiantly worth the little ghoul's attention. He still needed to have a conversation with that bastard (for daring to harm his sister – but it was the fake who the Gourmet tried to devour, who the Gourmet was hunting, not Rize – he tried to eat Big Sister-the fake-her-him – the Gourmet knocked him out, cast him into the darkness without Big Sister and left him to be chained down).

Miharu's head itched. The Woman in Red purred, nudging at the lingering traces of insanity, plucking at memories of his sister as she folded his focus back on the ghoul before him. (He could feel her, shuffling and searching, stitching together the yawning gaps in his mind as she cooed. He wasn't worried, not when the Woman-With-His-Eyes, the Woman who always protected him, was meddling. She knew what was best, she heard-saw-knew everything he did and more.)

"You won't be coming back," Miharu corrected. "You're weak. The Gourmet is strong." He knew the fake was going on a suicide mission and it sent a spike to his heart, a barbed wire around his brain. It itched at his senses, the mere thought that his sister's scent would cease to exist, that the ghoul would vanish, leaving him alone in the dark room once again.

"Wha?" the fake tried. "I'm sorry, I don't have time, Miharu. I'll come back tomorrow, don't worry about me. I just didn't want you to think I forgot."

Miharu was many things. He liked to believe weak was not one of them, not anymore – not for many years, not since the cold and the chains and the kind little girl who welcomed him with open arms.

"Take me with you," he ordered. The fake paused, hesitating. Miharu leaned forward beseechingly, ignoring the sting of his muscles as he pulled his arms the entirely wrong way. "I won't let you take what I have left of her away."

The fake sighed, saddened by his words. Miharu couldn't string together enough cares. This wasn't his sister, but he was all he had left of her. He refused to allow the fool throw it all away. "I'm sorry, Miharu. I'll be back tomorrow."

With that, the fake fled, running away from Miharu's burning glare.

"She's not allowed to die," Miharu spoke aloud to the Woman in Red. Short black hair morphed into purple, a distressed frown twisting until Rize smiled down at him, a gaping red hole where her heart should be. "I can't lose her again."

The Woman in Red, the understanding woman who guarded Miharu from harm no matter the cost, tutted, fluttering with confidence. She let a stream of warmth ease down Miharu's arm, pooling under the cursed cuff.

Miharu refused to twitch as the Woman in Red started to eat Toshiro's magic, tearing it off of the cuff and gulping it down. She hummed, delighted and Miharu copied her, tasting a distant tint of something sweet coat his mouth.

She repeated the action on the second cuff, stripping away the restricting magic and consuming it.

(He could feel the snake as it scuttled away in fear, the yawning void of numb chill twining around it until it was barely a hiss in the shadows of his mind and the Woman in Red smiled and smiled and smiled, her lips stained red and her skin cracked to show glowing poison green roiling underneath).

Tearing off the chains was a simple, and lightening, matter after the dampening magic was dealt with. Miharu let himself take a moment to breath, banishing the memories of grey and hunger away. Without the chains weighing him down, nothing about the room even remotely reminded him of his former prison. Clean and empty, the room was open for anyone to enter and anyone to leave, as if waiting for someone to make a home out of its otherwise lonely parts.

It didn't matter, however. That idiotic fake, walking around with his Big Sister's scent, was going to get himself killed, taking the last of his family away from him. And no one took his family away from him.

(The Gourmet, the Doves, the Humans, all of them will suffer and die and pay for everything they have done to his family, to the ones that loved a freak.)

Miharu eased himself out of the bed, his feet planted firmly on the ground as the warmth glided through his muscles, joints, tendons. It pooled around his skull as well, forming his much-beloved mask, covering his pain and grief with the bubbling bloodlust he was known for.

(She was multitasking; directing the warmth and the heat as she scraped at his insides, flexing her control and twisting until water became ice became steam.)

He wasn't aware of when he exited the room, of when he started trailing along the hallway in search of a way out, the faint scent of his sister all he needed to find his way.

"What the hell?"

Miharu blinked, his focus on the scent fading as the voice cut through his haze. A new scent wafted through the air, the young ghoul frozen before him unfamiliar to his eye.

Blood, coffee, rotten food, lavender.

She smelled familiar, barely. But, she was not one of his, not close enough that he engraved her scent into his heart. And anyone who was not his, who was not a member of his family, was an enemy.

The Woman in Red eeled the warmth through the stranger's thoughts, reaching until she could snap her fingers, breaking the strand of consciousness. The ghoul collapsed where she stood, the warmth muffling the sound from the Wingless Owl.

Miharu tilted his nose into the air, the heat of his blood enhancing his natural abilities. He could smell them, the fake and his companion. It was a straight path, easy to follow.

The one-eyed ghoul took a step, every thought straining to reach the fake's side, to wrap himself around his sister's lingering scent and breathe her in.

The Woman in Red reached, the warmth stretching beyond his mind. It hooked, anchoring on a distant thought and she gave an elated trill as Miharu felt the strand of warmth snap, like a rubber band being let go from one end. The rush was the world passing by, of his body being sucked into a thin tube and then spat out, left the one-eyed ghoul dazed, confused.

He remembered that feeling, from years ago. When his fear and desire to leave clouded everything. Only for him to run head first into the one person who would be the light in his eye for the next eight years. The sole reason for his continued existence.

Big Sister, Miharu thought, breathing in her familiar, if muted, scent. Big Sister, he thought, breathing the scene of a church, of blood and ghouls and pains, a hymn of screams echoing enough to gather the attention of a passing human.

"Ken," he said, stepping forward, cutting through the Gourmet's spiel – it was unimportant; it always was.

(Big Sister, Big Sister, Big Sister, his heart chanted, his lips forming the words his tongue refused to allow passed.)

"Ken, you're hurt," Miharu stated, his attention on the broken bones and winded halfling, superficial injuries for a ghoul but potentially devastating for a human (and which –which, which, which – is he?).

"Mi-Miharu?" he gasped, confused, his single visible grey eye filled with concern.

"Floricică," the Gourmet purred, delighted. He did a ridiculous, energy wasting twirl, his arm raised over his head uselessly. Miharu hated him a little bit more. (Why, why, why did he enjoy his company? Why, why, why did he once look forward to spending time with him? All he can remember is the chill of metal around his wrist and his sister running in fear every time he hears the Gourmet's voice, each crooned word echoed by his sister's (Ken's? Ken's, Ken's, Ken's) whimpers of fear.) "I knew you would escape! Are you hungry? Darling Kaneki and I were just about to starting eating. Oh, floricică, don't worry your pretty little head. I always have space at my table for you!"

Miharu canted his head, his single hellfire eye on his prey (Former entertainer? Babysitter? Oh, oh, save him, sister, dare to say – friend?).

(Big Sister, Big Sister, Big Sister, his heart chanted with each beat, a song for only him. A memory immortalized by his body.)

(She smiled as the world crashed and popped and crackled around them, a war waging against them for being born, for being different, freaks and monsters teaming together to survive. And she smiled till the sun bleed red and the moon wept. She smiled and smiled.)

Miharu took a steadying breath and reined in his emotions. His kagune bloomed, waving a greeting of vengeance to the world.

This was not a fight he could afford to lose, not with Ken on the line.

Miharu closed his eye and smiled.

Outtake: First Family Dinner –

"Here, Miharu," Shachi pointed out, crouched by the corpse of a young man he had downed under the attentive eye of his children. Miharu shuffled forward, hesitant, as Rize nudged him. The one-eyed ghoul went in a wide circle, making it blatant he was looking to avoiding getting too close to the older ghoul.

Shachi tried not to sigh in aggravation. He knew it would only set the younger ghoul into another tizzy. He didn't think Rize would appreciate Miharu's sentient kagune lashing out. Again.

Once Miharu was settled on the other side of the body, his eyes more on his new father than the meal, Shachi continued.

"Every ghoul has a different way of eating," Shachi explained. "Some are wasteful, picky and flippant. Romeo was one such ghoul, preferring the heart of young girls and leaving the rest of their body to rot. We," Shachi stated, his hellfire eyes piercing. "We are not wasteful. We eat nearly every portion of our meal. Too many kills because of incompetence will only call forward the attention of the Doves."

Miharu nodded, silent. Shachi decided that was enough of an agreement to carry on.

"Of course," Shachi said, reaching his hand into the man's torn open belly, riffling around with a practiced ease of experience. "It would be best if you avoided the stomach. There is usually too much human food resting there. Some ghouls have taken a liking to stomach acids, annoyingly enough. They say it's tangy and pleasantly sour. More than one has gotten ill off of leftover human food, however."

Even Rize was listening intently, her eyes on the man's healthy looking organs. It was so rare to find a man fit enough to interest his daughter. Usually, they drank too much or smoked too much or sat too much. As picky as her mother, that one.

"In fact, it is best if you avoid most organs. Too much human food to be healthy. The lungs and heart are the only parts here you would be able to enjoy."

"And the skin," Rize interrupted. Miharu leaned against her side as she saddled up to him, her chin resting on his shoulder to watch better. "Papa told me skin is an organ too. Isn't that just weird, Miharu? Organs are supposed to be on the inside, safe and warm and soft."

Miharu designed to hum in acknowledgement, his new sister chuckling as she nosed his crown. Her movements were slow, cautious, but Shachi knew his daughter all too well. By the time the lesson was over, he would not be surprised to find Miharu on Rize's lap.

It was a novel experience to see his bloodthirsty daughter so soft and affectionate with anyone, even just a tiny beastling like Miharu. She had turned as unforgiving as stone since Audrea's murder. Perhaps she still was, but now there was a seed of warmth festering inside.

Shachi could only hope that seed grew before she got herself killed.

"Skin and muscles are a large part of our diet, yes," Shachi confirmed, tearing away a slab of flesh with a shh-cik, revealing a span of untouched, sinewy abdominal muscle. "It is best to separate the muscles with your kagune or eat off of the bone. Rize can attest for how long it take to get muscle and blood out from under your nails if you try to eat by the handful."

Rize groaned. "Even longer than getting blood out of my hair. It's a nightmare, Miharu, an absolute nightmare."

"Which is why, Miharu," the boy snapped his hellfire eye from the corpse to his new father, listening attentively. "You will have your hair up every time you hunt. No expectations."

Miharu reached back to fiddle with his long braid self-consciously but nodded in understanding.

"Other than skin, muscles, heart, and lungs," Shachi continued, tapping at the body's face to move his children's' focus. "Eyes, tongues, and brains are excellent sources of protein. Cartilage as well. The main thing I want you to remember, Miharu, is that we don't eat bones." He broke off a rib in example, flipping the edge for Miharu to see the dark maroon center. "Bone marrow is another matter entirely."

"Oh, bone marrow is the best, Miharu!" Rize piped up, shifting forward to grab the offered rib, causing Miharu to ease onto her legs. Another push, and the boy would be on her lap. Rize's grin inched into a smug smile. "It's just so sweet," she cooed, sucking on the bone. She hummed in delight, her hellfire eyes blooming across her face in soot black roots.

Miharu watched and made a note of Rize's love of bone marrow. She seemed to love all parts of the human, even the sections Shachi said to keep away from, though. Rize stopped, noticing his attention.

"Do you want to try, Miharu?" she asked, offering to bone to him. Shachi made an aborted movement to break off another rib when the one-eyed ghoul slipped the bone from her light grip to gaze at.

It didn't look edible. Like stone or marble or Rize's shiny white teeth when her lips snapped into a smile. He peered into the break, seeing his Big Sister had consumed most of the bone marrow when she was snacking. Canting his head, he shrugged, directing a half-formed question towards the red haired woman before putting the rib to his mouth and repeating Rize's previous actions.

It was sweet. Sweeter than the large and thin inhabitants' hearts and sweeter than his own eye. He smiled gleefully, eyeing the body with renewed interest.

"Miharu liked it," Rize concluded, snagging the now useless bone from his limp fingers. "Do you want some more?"

Miharu nodded, thinking for a moment. The red haired woman buzzed, reminding him. "Can I have an eye, too?"

"Oh, baby, you can have whatever part of him you want!" Rize promised, tossing him a wink before she continued. "As long as I can eat his heart."

"Troublesome children," Shachi interjected, folding his arms. Miharu froze, his hand resting on his dinner's rib cage. Rize huffed, pouting as she looked up at her father. "Leave the muscles to me."

Miharu didn't relax, but at least he tilted his head in acquisition, agreeing to the older ghoul's demand. Shachi figured that was the best he could expect from the boy for tonight. They still had a lot of moonlight ahead of them before Rize was full and he could only hope the boy etched each lesson into his mind. He didn't need two troublemakers toeing the line, flirting with flocks of Doves.

Rize was more than a handful enough as it was.

But, the boy had promise.

Shachi tore off an arm, observing as his son popped a blue eye into his mouth. As expected, he decided, of Audrea's family.

(When nearly all of the reviews say the story is well-written and I'm left staring at the half-finished next chapter like, ...Is it well-written enough? Is it good enough to update with yet or should I read it all over a couple dozen more times just to be sure? A.K.A. All of you are awesome and I really hope this chapter is all you were expecting and more.) (Side note: I, personally, hate this chapter, oh my gosh.)

Yes, Miharu, learn to love again. And then I'll tear that down too.

Iunno, I feel like Kaneki would read Shakespeare.

Some reviewers brought up that I've made Miharu seem like the Ghoul version of the Boogey-man, only for him to get knocked out by Tsukiyama. One, Aogiri, One-Eyed Ghouls, and Kakuja are closer to Boogey-men than Miharu. Two, Miharu is ridiculously over-powered with his magic, at least compared to non-magical Ghouls. Three, Miharu is the Evil Robin to Rize's Evil Batman. He's creepier cause he's cuddling a damn head while Rize smiles like a brainless bimbo before they slaughter an entire pack of ghouls. Four, word of mouth is powerful as hell and some people will believe a creepy baby ghoul is the real muscle rather than his very pretty older sister. Five, Miharu is literally having a breakdown. His sister is, to his knowledge, right beside him after missing for a month. Instead it's Kaneki and Miharu kinda zones the fuck out. Also, fear is an absolute bitch. To me, Canon!Harry doesn't have the ability to freeze up because he doesn't see himself as significant. He puts others before him, letting him shove his fears to the background, usually. Miharu is big on the survival of himself and his single precious person. He'd die for Rize, but he is number 2# in his priorities. Miharu was denied access to people and his basic rights. Everything he learned about the world, he learned through Petunia and Vernon's minds. He's never had to fear anything, not even them. Because they were afraid of him. He was their boogey-man. So, the rare instances where fear takes control, it's all consuming. Its terrifying and everything is horrible.

I wanna make one thing clear. Harry cannot do Focus-less magic. The Woman in Red can. She is literally Harry's metaphysical, sentient wand. From the beginning, Harry did not have control over his magic. His magic, his warmth, did things without his prompting. That was Lily. Technically, Harry can 'wrench' control from Lily if he used his Focus stones or a wand. But, Lily rarely goes against him, so there is really no reason for him to. It's easier if Lily simply acts as the middle woman. And so, Lily is the most badass character in this entire story. (Another reason Miharu's hype is more hot-air than anything else. JUST LIKE IN CANON. CAUSE, YA KNOW, EVEN HARRY KNOWS LILY DID THE HARD PART THAT FATEFUL HALLOWEEN NIGHT.)

On that note, Touka is gonna be real pissed that she "fainted" when faced with 'Sayuri'. The breaking consciousness trick will only work when a ghoul is surprised, btw. It works all the time on humans and usually on wizards (when they don't have creature blood or training), but ghouls are a bit hardier and only works when they're surprised.

Guest Reviews:

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