Disclaimer: I do not own Tokyo Ghoul. It belongs to its rightful owners.

CHAPTER ZERO: PROLOGUE

NANA

"To gain everything and lose everything in the space of a moment. That is the fate of all princes destined for the throne."

— C.S. Pacat

THE WAY THE story went, there was once a brilliant prince from a kingdom not too far away.

He was the youngest and smallest of four sons—the timid one was what they called him. He earned the name through his constant acts of kindness and beauty. His radiance had captured the hearts of many, for his own heart was crafted of the finest gold. His selflessness won over the affections of many civilians. Because of that, it didn't take long for him to be chosen to rule the kingdom.

Everyone thought that they understood the young prince. However, he had yet to understand his own self.

The story went on to tell of great suffering. It told of loneliness, fear, and pain otherwise hidden behind the prince's false smiles. It told of everything that happened in his ever-running thoughts. Perhaps that was the reason why the prince was so hard on himself. Though he tried his best for his loyal subjects, he still felt as if no one was ever trying their best for him.

The second youngest son was nothing like his brother. A wolf in sheep's clothing—he was ruthless in the name of war. He didn't cower where most men would have ran. Danger didn't terrify him. He welcomed it, in fact, for strength was what he prided himself on. And when their kingdom entered a great war, he was the one who stepped up on his brother's behalf.

The unstable prince was what they called him. While the timid prince may not have been able to handle calamity, he was. Yet, that, too, was a facade to hide his inner turmoil.

The story told of four princes. She had never gotten around to learning about the eldest two. The younger ones were what always caught her attention. In a story meant to cater to children's fantasies, she found herself captivated in the minds of the two princes. Despite having a kingdom to love and protect, they still felt they had nothing . . . no one . . . and covered up that loneliness by smiling or subtracting themselves.

Even though they weren't the same, they felt the same way. They shared the constant sadness that came with years of ridicule and second-guessing. A responsibility had been set onto their shoulders at a young age. They had people to protect, and they would . . . even if that meant faking happiness for the sake of others.

Her heart yearned for those fictional characters. It wasn't fair that they had to suffer alone. Regardless, it was only an old story. There wasn't much she could do about it.

It was a shame that she never got around to finishing the book.

Stories arise from two sources: imagination and experience. What stories one told depended on their stories and actions. It was her mother's choice to explain the two princes' journeys to her. And years later, it was her choice to experience them.