Title: Pale Fire

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Rating: M

Fandom: Tokyo Ghoul

Characters: Yamori, Goumasa Tokage, Naki, Kaneki Ken

Words: 2,026

Genre: Angst/Horror

Summary: A dark cloud was hard not to notice; they blocked out the sun. People didn't like them. Yamori character study.

Disclaimer: I do not own any component of Tokyo Ghoul or Friday the 13th.

When he had moments of reflection to himself, Yakumo sometimes wondered about the origin of his name or why his parents had picked it.

Eight clouds. It was a rather ambiguous if not poetic name. Yakumo didn't like the sound poetry. It was too...idealized. Hell, he couldn't even read it, so he couldn't know if he liked it or not. He couldn't know. That was a recurrent theme in his life.

Yakumo didn't feel like a cloud. He didn't resemble a cloud. Clouds were airborne. They were weightless without a care in the world. And, he was well rooted to the ground.

All he knew that mashed potatoes looked like clouds. Human food was so interesting. It had such variety.

One afternoon, he mentioned it to his mother, his confidante, one day. It was a raw gem of a thought that hadn't been polished, and as it turned out, he would regret it.

His mother didn't appreciate it, and demonstrated that fact by slapping his face after he had mentioned the fanciful idea. Oh, though she could punish him without hesitation, he loved her all the same. She was all he had.

She grabbed his shoulders then and gazed deeply in his eyes.

"You'll never survive if you can't accept what you are."

It was a promise as she died five weeks later, and the world was anything but kind to an orphaned ghoul.

As a rather imagined normalcy was torn away from him, it was as if Yakumo was monster that had spawned from the void. And there was no one to protect him. He would have to protect himself.

His tears were blown away by the wind as he forced himself to march ahead. He couldn't go back home. The Doves had burned it to the ground.

And so, he sought to stay out of sight, but that tactic only worked for so many years. A dark cloud was hard not to notice.

They blocked out the sun.

People didn't like them.

Yakumo now knew what a bird house felt like. But, he made of flesh, not built out of wood.

Still, wood would have been more merciful.

So many nails protruding from his shoulders, back, arms, everywhere. He was like a damned porcupine.

A sweep of tongue confirmed that he was missing teeth. Luckily, they would regenerate. If he lived long enough, that is

However, his regeneration had turned into a curse. This human in had succeeded in turning his body against him. All accomplished with a single injection in the vulnerable membrane of his eye. Medical science was fiendish. It was mankind's own godly weapon.

In the past week, he had become little more than an inanimate object that got beat, smashed, and slashed. The interregator chided Yakumo that it was his own fault that his body was so strong and tough to break. An axe lay strewn on the floor along with a hammer, a scythe, and other tools that were painted with Yakumo's blood.

Yamori knew that all ghouls were hated in Cochlea, but he had the inkling that he was particularly despised by this...interrogator. This prick.

The chair was his prison. The longer he sat, the darker it got. So, at this moment in time, the world was shadowy and red. Threatening. Yakumo knew that his mind was collapsing-it was becoming modeling clay for the sadist-and help was not arriving. It was no surprise after all. No ghouls were present or would ever be present. None that were roaming free anyway. He was alone.

Again.

He would have to save himself, yet it was turning into a damned near impossible task.

The light of consciousness was growing dim in his head, and Yakumo knew that his will would disappear along with it. With no power or sense of self, he would be Tokage's dog. As he had intended.

Yet, some of his remaining focus shone bright when reciting the hated numbers that he was forced to spit out. He had no choice but to focus on them to seek a refuge from the pain. Counting down from seven was his only respite. However, for anything else, it was damned useless.

Yakumo wanted to spit out chunks of the interrogator's intestines out instead.

"Yamori!" Tokage snarled.

The bastard was addresing him again. He knew that he called him gecko only to further dehumanize him. To remind him that he wasn't human. Yet, no matter how beaten down he already was, Yakumo would always react anew to the same four words.

"...let me take more...

Even a ghoul could shiver in abject terror. Tokage wanted everything. His existence now was that of a pathetic shuddering mess, and all he could do was cringe and wrench away as the interrogator approached him with a nefarious smirk. But, Yakumo knew that Tokage eventually wanted his life.

This human was... evil. More evil than some ghouls could dream to be.

He already knew that he was losing too much blood. Yakumo's body couldn't sustain much more damage. He had three days at the most before he became a casualty, and he was sure the lizard would enjoy every one of them.

No. He would never touch him again.

A burst of anger lit within him then in the form of a white flash of a pale fire.

All of a sudden, miraculously, the chains gave way. He could feel them snap. It seems that his wild cannibalistic struggles paid off in the form of a chance break.

Yakumo got up and Tokage went down.

Then, the real fun started.

Yakumo changed two things. He changed his name and his look. He was Yamori now. The Gecko in White.

After his captivity, Yamori surprisingly and every so suddenly identified with the color white. He had never worn the hue before his...metamorphosis. Before, he had been partial to dark clothes. But, white was so clean. So pure. So honest. In his new life, it was only fitting for him to clothe himself in blank white. But, why stop there? He even went as far to dye his hair blond. Yamori was finished with darkness. Now, he wanted to be seen and heard in all of his glory. He had been cleansed. Purified. He had reentered the world new man.

Now, he not only resembled a bright cloud, he was as high as one too.

Without any restraint, he went cleaning down every street and collected every bit of waste he could fit into the gutter. His service to society. He was only paying it forward after all. Cochlea had taught him too well.

He no longer was hardwired with the mere desire to survive. Yamori would rule. He would not be passed over again. He would be a king.

He knew that he had enough yen for a crown now.

In time, all his efforts were rewarded with a gang of his own. The White Suits. His own personal squad. Now, he could call the shots. His underlings were all too eager to obey.

Eventually, he discovered the ones who had sold him out to the CCG. He burned with white power as his teeth severed their veins. However, he saved his true hatred for the CCG itself. The ones he had both ruined yet defined him.

For his mask, Yamori looked to his adolescence for inspiration and found inspiration in a certain movie. It was just as obscene as it was fun. It was a look. His look. Perfect for Jason of the 13th Ward.

Oh, yes, the white Jason mask was the last thing the CCG saw...

Naki flushed in concentration as Yamori nursed a blood wine.

Suddenly, there was silence in the room. If Naki had given up, Yamori didn't like that. Naki knew that.

Yamori's other hand tapped the marble table. "Try it again."

Bemusedly, he swore that Naki cowered in his seat. Still, Yamori couldn't blame him. He could admit that he did get...hostile at times.

"Kurr-rus," he sounded out. "Circus?"

Yamori chuckled as he set down the crystal goblet.

"No, Naki. A circus is for clowns."

The image of Nico came to mind, but the wasn't here at the moment. Just as well. He didn't want...an interruption. Or an idiotic rivalry.

Yamori bent down and pointed to the character.

"Sear. It's pronounced sear-us. A sear-us cloud."

"Oh." Naki looked down at the book. "What's does a cirrus cloud look like?"

Yamori held his tongue. Ghouls were often uneducated and ignorant, and Naki had been raised no differently. No matter how much Yamori knew that he had deserved more.

How should he put it?

Yamori's tongue poked out in concentration as he pointed at the ceiling. "They're really high up there. They're like feathers, and they're made out of ice."

Naki's jaw dropped. Was this truly a marvel for him? It must have been as Naki never lied. Yamori himself discouraged him.

"You're so smart, aniki!"

Yamori smirked. "I know."

Yamori had never set foot in a classroom. He had been self-taught in most respects. All he had ever learned had been through painful experience.

So, from now on, he would focus on what felt good.

Raising Naki.

Yamori lurked behind Kaneki and stroked the lad's hair. The fear seeping from him was intoxicating. It was in his rights to do whatever he wished to him. After all, the weak were trampled. That's what the lizard had taught him. Hell, sometimes Cochlea felt like an academia more than a prison. Yamori had graduated there, and Kaneki was just fresh meat.

Yamori already knew that he was pathetic, and he had a feeling that is he asked the boy, he would agree. The boy shuddered in his seat as if to illustrate that point. By the time Yamori was finished with him, he would be sorry that he had ever been born. He was pathetic.

All sniveling cowards in this world had to be erased.

And, against all odds, Yamori found out that he had underestimated him totally.

When Kaneki's had turned white, Yamori should have backed down when the color of power mirrored his own. He should have listened to his intuition then and not to his pride.

He should have ran.

But, Yamori hadn't.

When Yakumo awoke, he was surrounded by clouds; mashed potato clouds that glowed with light not butter.

His mother sat near him and gifted him with a radiant smile on her face that he had never once seen on earth.

All at once he was in tears. Not from agony, but rather, he just overcome with joy.

Perhaps he had born only to die. But, at the moment, everything was fine.

At last, he collected himself. He had to be rational to reason with the universe.

"Though, it's a little boring here," he admitted.

At least hell, he had to admit, would have been a little more interesting. But, it seemed that the universe had a sense of humor.

Well, then.

Then, Yamori was distracted by a blur of glitter showers and streaks of brilliant effulgence. Yamori hadn't had the opportunity to appreciate the pure aesthetic or any sort of beauty when he had been on earth. He already knew that he didn't deserve this, but Yamori never turned down a gift.

So, all that remained was to wait for Naki.

Unfortunately, Naki arrived too soon. Still, truth be told, Yamori was only too happy to see him.

Naki was the only good thing he'd done with his life now. Now, he didn't have to cry anymore alone.

"Naki," Yamori called out to him.

The boy, no, the man ambled towards him before throwing his arms around his middle. In answer, Yamori ruffled his hair.

Yamori flexed his fingers. "I know that I was a jerk at times..." he started.

"Nah, it's all right. I did...my best."

Even now, he was humble. Naki was such a good boy.

But, the conversation itself could wait because it was going to be another wonderful day in paradise.

And, this time, he could share it with Naki.

A/N: The sections of the fic are based on the words: cloud, wood, white, cirrus, run, joy and soon. It was my own writing exercise. For the most part, this fic tries to follow canon in the anime and manga including the last two sections where Yamori goes to paradise. I also assume at this point Naki is still dead. :( For some reason, I wanted to post this on Halloween.