There hadn't been any movement from the 11th Ward for the time being, so the matter of the raid could be set aside.
Tokyo was such a tiny place anyway. If he really wanted to go, he could leave at any time.
Hiro stretched lazily and decided to head out for a walk. Partly to observe recent developments, partly just to clear his head.
The afternoon streets were quieter than usual. Sunlight slanted across empty benches, and several shops had already pulled down their shutters.
With both hands in his coat pockets, he walked at an unhurried pace, his soles scraping the pavement in a steady rhythm.
Rize walked slightly behind and to his side. After a long silence, she still couldn't help voicing the doubt that had lingered these past days. "Hiro-kun, by helping me... what exactly do you gain?"
Her voice lowered. "You know what it means to make an enemy of the Washuu, don't you?"
Hiro stopped and glanced back at her. Rize's brows were faintly drawn, worry hidden in her eyes.
He suddenly laughed and casually kicked a small stone by the roadside aside. "The Washuu? They've squatted in Tokyo so long they really think they're somebody."
There wasn't the slightest tension in his tone. Instead there was a lazy ease. "I do things only for the sake of my own good mood."
"Rather than thinking about that, you'd be better off figuring out how to provide me a bit of emotional value and keep me entertained."
Sunlight fell perfectly across his smiling profile. He turned and kept walking, as if what they'd just discussed were nothing more than what coffee to drink tonight.
Rize watched his side profile, momentarily lost in thought. When he spoke, that habitual curve at the corner of his lips carried an utterly unfeigned lightness. As if the crushing weight contained in the words "Washuu" truly were, to him, just a pebble he could kick away at will.
The fear that had long taken root deep in her heart, under his casual words, suddenly seemed... somewhat insignificant.
She had always tried to calculate gains and losses, weigh advantages and disadvantages, consider his deeper motives in helping her, even prepared herself to pay some price.
But now, looking at his utterly unconcerned demeanor, the taut string in her chest loosened in a strangely effortless way.
Yes. He really didn't take the Washuu seriously. That realization brought her an unprecedented sense of relief.
If he himself didn't care, then her own futile anxiety about the future here became almost laughable.
Since she couldn't reason out an answer, she might as well live simply, just as he said.
Hiro's careless attitude was like an invisible wind, dispersing the gloom in Rize's heart.
The worry in her eyes receded quickly, like a natural ebbing tide. Her characteristic composure and elegance returned to her.
She lightly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her posture restoring its usual captivating grace, lips curving into a faint smile. "If you're not worried, then what do I have to worry about?"
There was lightness in her tone, as if a burden had been lifted. "If the sky falls, you'll hold it up anyway. I just need to stay comfortably behind you."
She paused, then shifted topics, tilting her head slightly toward him. "By the way... do you think this outfit looks good on me today?"
Hiro's brows lifted unconsciously. He muttered inwardly that this woman's emotional regulation was truly top-tier. Just moments ago she'd looked burdened and heavy with worry, and now she could speak and laugh as if nothing had happened.
His gaze swept over her without leaving a trace. Today Rize wore a knee-length dress. Her legs were bare, without stockings.
He stroked his chin and said in an offhand tone, "Looks good. But if you paired it with black stockings, it'd be even better."
Rize paused, then as if discovering something amusing, her eyes shimmered and her smile gained a teasing edge. "So Hiro-kun has such a special fondness for black stockings."
She laughed softly and followed along. "Mm, I'll remember that. I'll pay attention next time."
...
"Ding-ling-"
The wind chime rang crisply as the door to Anteiku Café was pushed open.
"Welcome."
The familiar greeting sounded, though the shop felt unusually empty today.
Only Touka Kirishima was there, wiping cups. The manager and other staff were nowhere to be seen.
Touka looked up. Seeing Hiro and Rize enter side by side, surprise flickered in her eyes.
Her gaze lingered subtly between them for a moment, as if probing why they seemed so familiar with each other.
She recalled their chance encounter that night a few days ago, and also the regular customer Ken Kaneki, whom she hadn't seen in a long time.
Judging by appearances, Hiro was likely a ghoul too. She wondered whether Kaneki had been eaten by them, and sighed inwardly.
"What would you like?"
"The usual. Blue Mountain," Hiro said.
Rize's face immediately showed just the right touch of delight, her voice soft and charming. "Oh my, Hiro-kun, I didn't expect our tastes to match so perfectly. Blue Mountain is my favorite too."
She smiled at him, meaningfully. "Looks like we really are... destined."
Hiro gave no particular response.
Touka looked at Rize, so different from the rumored image of the "Binge Eater," astonished inside but outwardly calm. She nodded. "Please wait a moment."
While waiting for the coffee, Hiro asked casually, "The manager isn't here today?"
"Mm. The manager and Yomo-san went out on business," Touka replied briefly.
Hiro lifted his cup, understanding.
Right. According to the original plot, at this time Manager Yoshimura Kuzen had gone with Renji Yomo to investigate the disturbances in the 11th Ward, fearing they might spill into the 20th.
He took a sip. The taste seemed slightly different from when the manager brewed it himself.
The aroma of coffee drifted slowly through the air. Hiro and Rize chatted idly, and a subtle calm settled over the shop.
"Ding-ling-"
The bell rang again, breaking the quiet.
Four people entered. Leading them was a tall young man with neatly trimmed chin stubble and defiance written across his brows.
Behind him followed three companions dressed oddly, all wearing gas masks, like a troupe of performance artists.
The young man had barely stepped in before blurting, "Is the manager-"
He stopped mid-sentence, eyes locking onto the purple-haired figure by the window. The arrogance on his face instantly turned to excitement. He rushed over in a single stride. "Rize-san!"
Rize frowned slightly, impatience in her voice. "Banjo? Why are you here?"
This youth named Banjo had crossed paths with Rize in the 11th Ward before and held an almost obsessive admiration for her.
Banjo gathered himself and said urgently, "Rize-san, you need to run!"
Hiro set down his coffee cup and looked at him with interest. "Run? Who's running? Where to? Why?"
Only then did Banjo notice Hiro sitting opposite Rize. Seeing their intimate posture, irritation flared in his chest. He snapped, "Huh? Who the hell are you, punk?!"
As he spoke, he even reached out to grab Hiro's collar.
Hiro's eyes turned cold. He was just about to teach this fool who didn't know the height of heaven or depth of earth a lesson.
"Hm?"
Suddenly, he sensed a presence rapidly approaching from above.
Then with a crash, a figure descended from the sky and smashed through the window with a clean, decisive kick.