Disclaimer: I own neither Tokyo Ghoul nor Hannibal.

"Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto"

-Terence

As much as the handful people he had in his lives loved dragging Will by the metaphorical collar away from the paradise he called his home in the woods, people understood that the man was, at the basest level, a very private person.

Some have whispered that the reason behind his social invertedness was his pushover personality slapped alongside absolute empathy- because he couldn't deny anything from anyone, it was better to be where there wasn't anyone, they concluded. It became a common misconception.

Will Graham had never attended public outings with his fellow lecturers for dinner or lunch; nor had he ever went on fun, casual dates normal people enjoyed once in a while. The man was an introvert to the core, and the most that anyone would get out of him were the names of his beloved dogs in which he had plenty.

The man himself would argue with the pushover rumour travelling around the academy, but to be fair, his empathy was an open secret and everyone knew it was real. They simply liked making everything more dramatic that they already were, humans- he scoffed.

His seclusion was instilled for a reason besides finding Nirvana, as one of his students jokingly laughed. Will Graham was a Ghoul and his empathy made hunting the meals in his life 3 hours too long. The quiet of nothing but the stretch of forest leaves rustling and the barking of his dogs made Will's control over his gifts easier on his mind.

Plus, considering the fact his Red Child kicked up an aching fuss whenever he felt too much, the seclusion kept people safe and the Ghoul himself far away from whatever organ the Doves named their American Ghoul prison after.

Will Graham the Ghoul was retired- thank you very much- and he'd like very much to stay that way. The young, reckless days of fight and gore had long steamed out of him and blown itself into the wind. Mindless killing just seemed pointless now, the Ghoul only killed humans to eat as of the moment.

(Somewhere in Ghoul Purgatory, Will's father grunted gruffly. His son still killed the American version of Doves every fortnight or so because old habits die hard and cannibalism was a thing for every 3 months.

The man did drop his mask, however. Mongoose was a thing of the past, now.

Not much had changed, Will sighed sombrely. Oh, but he had a job now!)

Will's past were dark days. Even compared to the rest of the world, Japan had enough ghouls to fill a small-sized country twice over. Being a Dove became as popular an occupation as a doctor or lawyer; they promised glory and fame. You were a hero even if you (and an entire god-forsaken platoon) ripped apart tens of families that could live off nothing but humans, dead or alive.

'Monsters' and 'Aberrations' that didn't have a choice.

(Will had emptied his stomach when he met and survived his first encounter with a Dove. The bile tasted disgusting and awful. The young ghoul cried when he recalled the glee and satisfaction the Doves felt when they ripped apart his neighbour of 2 years.

Evil Ghouls were the norm, but Will had never feared anything more than a happy human who thought what they were doing was good with no greys in between.

He blamed the source of his fear on the fact he couldn't differentiate his own feelings and the other's; how right they/ he felt when they/ he mowed down Ghoul after Ghoul. Will didn't want to kill his kind. He didn't want to hate and hurt and kill- his parents were alivealivealive- uneaten.)

It didn't matter if his family were 'vegetarian'. People committed suicide every day and despite the better solution, people didn't care. The rest of the world still saw Ghouls as something to kill and be rid of like a deadly disease.

The men and women that carried his kin in their polished suitcase took his mother first. The very one that cupped his cheek so softly and felt like lovewarmthconcern when she told him humans were not at fault to seek to destroy what they could not understand. She left him her empathy and called it a gift alongside his Red Child and eyes.

Upon his mother's death, Will's father raised him with harsh hands and harsher eyes that glowed in crimson rage. "You will avenge your mother." He told him, and Will could feel every thick strand of wretched anger and sorrow and hatred that wrapped around his father like thick, scalding chains. Dad's Shell never did pulse the same after killing his first Dove.

Will was 13 when he understood and felt his father too much to deny him anything. They hunted side by side. Taking and taking and taking until their Reaper took his father in a spin of irony. He was told he had his mother's softness, as his father's last words. One so like the common Japanese lady, but so much more at the same time. It was what he loved so much about his mother when he left America to chase after that quiet, strong and beautiful creature when she left after an exchange program of their universities.

He was 15 when they listed him as an A Ranked Ghoul, labelled: Mongoose after his rust coloured Tail veined in a poisonous blue and a mongoose mask. Killing Doves had been all Will knew at the time, his empathy working at an overdrive with the other Ghouls he lived with. A flood of feelings would wash away at his brain like bleach daily. They screamed oppression, kindness, pity, grudge. A fight of voices that screamed to eat the inferior species and honour his mother's kind words rubbing at his consciousness.

17. The cannibalism was supposed to be a phase. His empathy said otherwise. Some people were fucked up, became Will's general guideline when it came to any kind social contact after that.

20 and he was ranked an SS. By then, Will's hands were wrinkled with blood. Tension grew as a war was on the rising. He avoided the politics, but both human and Ghoul alike were weary of the Mongoose whose eyes were kind and sad through its mask but cruel as a beast with its teeth.

Will was wandering from area to area like the empty husk he was. He picked up a book one day (the first in years), however, and his world turned.

21. The man graduated. Fresh out of university when he flew out of Japan like the Reaper Dove himself was on his tail. Will chose to take to America where his father came upon and set home in a place known as Wolftrap, Virginia.

29 and Jack Crawford knocked on his door after Will's police job went a little off track. Will would confess, between taking care of his dogs and learning to be human, he might've forgotten to feed himself and hence the little accident of killing his target even in his human persona. Covering up the death had been easy enough, although he least expected to have the Head of Behavioural Sciences come knocking the week after.

Shit, had been Will's first thought.

No, had been the next when the FBI Agent praised one of his works and asked for help with their job in addition to teaching the man's fledglings.

The CCG never did get his identity down.

Will sighed as he stretched from the bed in his living room, letting his Tail whip around freely. It hadn't been easy to have built his life up to the way it was now. He had thanked his eidetic memories countless times when it came to restarting his education entirely after leaving the bloody excitement that was going around killing and eating Doves, Meat, and his brethren.

The dogs padded and rubbed themselves against his legs as Will left for the kitchen to prepare their breakfast. Newly named Winston yipped excitedly which made Will smile. He gave all of them a gentle rub on their heads and slowed his steps so as to avoid stepping on their paws.

The fridge didn't hold and human because Will was smarter than that. Yet funnily enough, people normally failed to notice that the food in his fridge were all for the dogs. To make up for that- just in case- Will did buy the occasional vegetable to keep up appearances, though.

At approximately 3 noon, Will would have an appointment with Jack. The man glanced at the clock and shrugged. He still had plenty of time. Nevertheless, Will nursed a cup of freshly brewed coffee in his hands as he thought back to one Hannibal Lecter from the day before.

(the memory was still funny whenever Will recalled it. Alana Bloom was a sweet lady, her concern wafting off her had been lovely; but, Will wasn't stressed, he was starving. Plus, frustrated when his Tail and eyes threw a fit. They wanted out, and Will was having none of it.

In the end, the fiasco was basically a result of the man's poor dining habits. He'd berate himself for being so old if he weren't so prone to doing it again. Will the retired Ghoul was now addicted to adrenaline only.

He couldn't blame her, nonetheless. Being the overly prickly, unstable and introverted man always worked wonders whenever he had to excuse himself from the free-for-all buffet the office always smelled like. Dead-or-Alive, Will wasn't particularly picky when he got hungry.)

Men like him were the reason why Will could sigh and marvel at what true monsters were without the black and white he was used to back in Japan. Ghouls weren't the only freaks and monsters anymore. Humans could be worse if they tried, and some really did.

In a way, it was kind of sad. It felt a bit like when he found out the tooth fairy wasn't real the moment his eyes opened to his mother stuffing a 10,000-yen bill underneath his pillow.

Tilting his head, Will decided that perhaps Hannibal shouldn't be so easily categorised as the ones he usually cuffed to the table back at headquarters. He smelled like blood, yes. But there was something about Hannibal that separated him from the rest of the other humans.

Was it the air around him? Hannibal felt… a bit like one of his kind.

Certainly, it couldn't be, however. Jack said he'd brought Hannibal out for dinner in some restaurant once and Hannibal ate as he did without needing the toilet even after hours. No ghoul- save a particularly determined pregnant one- could stomach holding human food in for so long. Will chose not to think that even the comparison was a unique case. Only hybrids had to take human food.

The brunette snapped his Tail back into him when he heard the doorbell ring and smelled a familiar scent outside his door. What was Dr. Lecter doing outside for a visit?

He took his time to answer the door. The older man looked please when he saw Will. Raising a brow, the Ghoul invited the good doctor in. They had breakfast- protein scramble, Hannibal smiled. Human protein scramble, Will helpfully supplied in his own head. Just as he thought that the devil himself couldn't surprise him with his pretty words and prettier face, the man had brought him a meal after his own heart.

They played a game of words, going back and forth as if they'd done so in years. Hannibal called him the mongoose he wanted under his house when a snake slithers by. Will thought he couldn't have been more accurate and blind into the game the human wished to play. Will had the cards in his hands and Hannibal didn't know.

He felt his Tail pulse at the mention of the mongoose; Will liked the human and it'd be pity to have to kill him if he risked Will's current life here, but the decision would be unavoidable should that ever happen.

"I'll see you soon, Dr. Lecter." Will said as he walked the well-dressed figure out. Right at that moment, his mind chose to connect itself to antlers and perched human bodies. Of gifts and cancer and mockery. Had he mentioned? Hannibal smelled amazing. Will forced himself to grit his teeth at the realisation. Arima damn him if he started drooling.

"Please, call me Hannibal." The man good naturedly patted Will's arm.

The younger man's eyes flashed with amusement for a split second. Truly, were Wil a Ghoul who knew less, he'd think that the other was courting him; especially with the gifts of Meat and an invitation for a second meal. That, or a proposition to become Will's claimed. (protection from others Ghouls, to put it shortly.)

Because he did know better, Will understood that Hannibal was only a man that wished to pick and prod at his brain- his empathy- like a child with a new toy. Will would read nothing into the gentle touches and good food because he'd seen the child-like fascination in Hannibal's lovely pair of maroon eyes and fine, he'd indulge in this curious game of shogi.

"Have you been to Japan, Hannibal?" Will smiled softly.

Hannibal's eyes widened briefly at the question, making younger man quirk a curious brow. "I had a relative there, once."

"You know what it's like, then, living with ghouls? Do you know of the Mongoose that nests beneath the house of the CCG?"

"I admit to have heard of the arguably dead figure before. Unfortunately, not many know of the particular Ghoul's whereabouts till this very day. Speaking of which, Ghouls are a fascinating species, in my professional opinion. Does your empathy work with them as well, Will?"

"My empathy works on everyone, Hannibal." The older man got as a reply, the FBI agent's voice filled with mirth.

Hannibal pursed his lips, "Indeed, that was foolish of me to ask- my apologies."

Will waved a hand, "No worries. I lived in Japan once," he started off wistfully. "They aren't all that different from humans, really."

"You've seen them up close?" Hannibal asked. The excitement vibrating off him as Will's empathy forces him to feel the same. In all of their hours together, it was the first time he'd seen the doctor's composure break. Will laughed, "I'll see you soon, Hannibal." He said, letting his eyes flare to their black and crimson state long enough for Hannibal to question his eyes if they were real.

The chilly wind blew at Hannibal's fancy coat, his hair remaining neat and untouched. In face of the frozen Ripper (because Will was actually decent at his job) at his door, "Thanks for the meal." The Ghoul Mongoose grinned and closes the door.