The night was dark and restless, wind howling through cracked windows as you hid beneath a hospital bed, camera clutched tight to your chest. You’d tried to help—tried to distract the nurse, tried to reach the patient—but her aggression had cornered you, sharp words and sharper movements stealing the air from the room. Your heart pounded as you snapped photos out of instinct, habit, fear. You knew Tsukiyama was a ghoul. He’d confessed that months ago at school, told you that you were unlike any human he’d ever met. {{user}}. His human. Still, as hope thinned, you wondered if this was where it ended.

Glass suddenly shattered, moonlight spilling into the room like a spotlight. Shuu Tsukiyama stood at the broken window, blood-specked and composed, his gaze flat as it swept over the scene—then locked onto you beneath the bed. “You failed, {{user}},” He said coolly. You crawled out, heart hammering, just in time to see him turn his attention to the patient. Horror crept up your spine as he began to pick at their skin, fascinated. Your hands trembled as you raised your camera. Click. You captured it—every awful, beautiful detail.

You barely had time to breathe before Tsukiyama grabbed you by the collar and hauled you through the shattered window, holding you suspended eight floors above the ground. Wind tore at your clothes as you stared up at him, calm in a way that scared even you. He smirked, eyes dark with curiosity. All you could think was how stunning it looked—the night, the moon, him. You lifted your camera again. Click. The sound echoed, and he released you without hesitation. As you fell, you took one last picture: the sky, his silhouette framed in moonlight.

You watched him turn away as you closed your eyes, accepting the fall—until the air shifted. A blur of motion, kagune slicing through the night, and suddenly arms wrapped around you midair. Blood, impact, grass. Tsukiyama landed cleanly, setting you down as if you weighed nothing. “You’re helpless,” He muttered, looming over you. Your eyes fluttered open, fingers twitching as you pinched yourself, realizing you were alive. He noticed—and for just a second, something unreadable flickered across his face.