The first rays of dawn slipped through Irimi's curtains, painting the small apartment in hues of gold and soft orange.
The morning sun spilled over the rumpled sheets where Kirishima and Irimi lay, skin bare and warm, tangled together in a quiet that felt sacred.
Neither had slept—not a moment, not a blink.
The night had consumed them in a wildfire of need that burned through hours, their patience unfolding like a dam breaking.
They'd poured everything into each other—every unspoken word, every fear, every hope—until the sun's gentle nudge slowed them, leaving them breathless but not sated.
The horny was still strong here!
Irimi rested against him, her cheek pressed to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under her skin.
Her dark hair fanned out, catching the light like a halo, and her fingers traced the lines of his arm.
The ruby ring on her finger shined, a quiet vow binding them closer than she'd ever thought possible.
She'd spent years as Black Dog, hard-edged and solitary, hiding her ghoul heart behind Anteiku's counter.
Trust was a risk she didn't take—not until him.
Last night, when he'd knelt with that ring, when he'd kissed her with impossible strength, it had left her confused but equally horny.
She tilted her head, looking up at him.
Her eyes softened, unguarded in a way they rarely were, reflecting the dawn's glow. "I was scared, you know," she murmured, voice barely audible, like a secret she hadn't meant to share. "Before this... Scared I'd hurt yousomeone… or lose you to someone else."
Her fingers paused on a slight blemish on his abdomen which was previously a scar.
"But tonight you… you made me feel like I don't have to be."
Kirishima's hand stilled in her hair, where he'd been combing gently, almost reverent.
His eyes met hers, holding her gaze like she was the only thing in the world.
last night, giving himself to her completely was the bewt decision he made in his two lives combined.
"Irimi," he said.
"You're my reason at this point.... For all of it—fighting, living, everything."
His thumb brushed her cheek, catching a stray tear she hadn't noticed. "I was a mess....Still am, probably. But with you… I wanna be better....For us."
His lips quirked, a ghost of his usual smile, but his eyes stayed serious, pouring out what words couldn't hold.
Kirishima at his core used his outwardly expressive personality to isolate his feelings from others and didn't really have a positive outlook on himself or the life he was leading.
Irimi was a very effective remedy for that.
She swallowed, her throat tight.
Emotion welled up—trust, fear, love, all knotted together.
She shifted, propping herself up to face him fully, the sheets slipping slightly.
Her hand found his, fingers lacing tight, the ring pressing between them. "I never thought I'd have this," she said, voice stronger now, but trembling with feeling.
"Someone who sees me—all of me—and stays. You're… you're mine, Kirishima."
He leaned in, forehead touching hers, breath warm against her skin. "Always will be," he whispered, like a vow deeper than the ring.
His free hand cupped her face.
They stayed like that, locked in the quiet, the sun wrapping them in gold.
---
Kirishima shoved through the CCG headquarters' glass doors, morning light glinting off the polished floor.
His coat hung open, red hair wild, boots stomping hard enough to echo.
The lobby buzzed—investigators chatting, phones ringing—but he didn't look at anyone.
Not the rookie waving, not Taro at the desk shouting, "Yo, Kirishima where have you been?"
He ignored them all, even Taro, who was a solid bro, always down for a break.
He took the stairs two at a time, badge heavy in his pocket.
Up to the top floor, no hesitation.
The hall was quiet, just the hum of AC and his own steps.
Tsuneyoshi Washuu's office doors loomed—dark wood, no nonsense.
Kirishima pushed them open, hinges groaning, and stepped inside.
The room was bare: one desk, one chair, one old man. Tsuneyoshi sat there, white hair neat, eyes sharp like knives, alone with a stack of papers.
He didn't blink as Kirishima marched up, yanked the scratched CCG badge from his pocket, and dropped it on the desk.
It landed with a dull thunk.
"I quit," Kirishima said, voice steady, hard, no room for argument.
Tsuneyoshi leaned back, hands folding, stare cutting through him.
"You don't get to do that," the old man said, voice low, edged with steel.
Kirishima didn't care.
He turned, boots scuffing, already walking away, done with listening.
"Boy!" Tsuneyoshi called, sharper now, but Kirishima was gone, doors swinging shut behind him.
He hit the stairs, steps heavy, mind racing.
He knew the Washuus were tied to him somehow—had to be.
The CCG let him slide too often, overlooking every screw-up, every missed report, every botched patrol.
Nepotism, plain and simple.
Not his dad, though—Reiji was a beast, but no Washuu.
Kirishima was 90% sure it was his mom.
A ghoul, maybe half-ghoul, probably one of them.
It fit too well: the favors, the way the higher-ups never pushed him too hard.
His dad was something else though.
Reiji's files called it "an extremely rare RC cell mutation"—strength, speed, defense beyond human limits.
Kirishima had seen it: Reiji smashing through walls, shrugging off kagune hits like they were nothing.
But he wasn't a ghoul.
Kirishima remembered dinners—Reiji eating steak, rice, normal stuff, no problem.
Ghouls couldn't stomach that, no matter how strong.
Whatever his dad was, it wasn't that.
---
Kirishima stormed down the stairs of the CCG headquarters, the echo of
The lobby loomed ahead, glass doors catching the gray morning light.
He was halfway across when he slowed, eyes catching Taro at the receptionist desk.
Taro was flipping through papers, his usual grin half-there, probably waiting for Kirishima to toss him a joke like always.
Kirishima paused, then turned back, boots scuffing the floor.
Couldn't just leave like that—not with Taro, the one guy who'd stuck by him through every screw-up, every late-night smoke break rant.
"Hey, Taro," Kirishima said, stepping up to the desk, voice softer than usual. He leaned an elbow on the counter, red hair falling over his eyes.
"Well, this is goodbye, friend. I suppose we won't be seeing each other much, but… let's try to hang out when we get the chance, okay?"
Taro froze, pen hovering over a form, his grin fading. "You're leaving?" he asked, voice cracking with surprise.
He pushed his glasses up, staring like Kirishima had grown a kagune.
He'd known Kirishima always talked about quitting—bitching about the CCG, his dad, the grind—but it was just talk.
Seeing him now, all sappy and serious, hit different. "Like, for real?"
"Yeah," Kirishima said, nodding, a small smile tugging at his lips. "For real."
Taro leaned back, whistling low. "Won't your dad be angry? I mean, Reiji's… y'know, Reiji."
He mimed a punch, half-laughing, but his eyes were wide, worried.
Kirishima's smile turned sharp, a flash of defiance. "Let him be!" he said, louder, like he was daring the world to stop him.
He straightened, clapping Taro's shoulder. "I'm out, man. Gotta do this—for me, for someone else."
Taro nodded slow, processing. "Damn… okay.. You better call me for that hangout, though. Don't ghost me, asshole."
He smiled, but it wobbled, he knew this was big.
"Deal," Kirishima said, chuckling.
He gave Taro's shoulder one last squeeze, then turned, heading for the doors.
---
The bell above Anteiku's door jingled late in the morning, sunlight streaming through the windows and warming the polished counter.
Irimi stepped in, her usual apron swapped for a loose sweater, her dark hair catching the light.
She was late—rare for her—but nobody could miss the glow on her face, like she was carrying a secret too big to hide.
Her left hand sparkled, a ruby ring glinting proudly on her finger, telling a story louder than words.
She moved behind the counter, tying her apron with a small, unstoppable smile.
The café was quiet, but Enji Koma, wiping down tables, spotted her right away.
His eyes locked on the ring, and he let out a low whistle, like he'd won a bet.
"Well, damn, Touka!" he called, nudging the purple-haired girl stacking cups nearby. "Can you believe that guy finally did it? Kirishima pulled it off!"
Touka glanced over, her sharp eyes flicking to Irimi's hand.
Her lips twitched, almost a smile.
"Tch, about time. Didn't think he had the guts," she muttered, but there was a warmth in her tone.
She was secretly impressed and Jealous!
Irimi froze mid-motion, her cheeks flushing red for no reason at all.
She shot them both a glare—half-hearted, more flustered than fierce—her usual cool cracking under their teasing.
"Quiet, both of you," she snapped, but the blush deepened, betraying her.
She straightened, crossing her arms, the ring catching the light again.
Then, like she couldn't help it, her glare softened, and her voice came out proud, steady. "We're… we're going to host a marriage soon... Me and him."
Koma's grin widened, and he slung his rag over his shoulder, leaning in. "A wedding, huh?...Gotta say, Irimi, didn't see you as the type to go all mushy. Kirishima's got some kinda magic to get you glowing like that."
Touka snorted, setting a cup down with a clink.
Irimi's blush didn't fade, but she lifted her chin, smiling , bright and unguarded. "He's worth it," she said simply, her fingers brushing the ring.
Touka shook her head, staying silent.
She was happy for Irimi—really, she was—even if deep down, she thought their relationship was a dead end.
A ghoul and a Human? It screamed trouble.
But she'd never say it out loud.
Secretly, buried where she wouldn't admit it, Touka hoped someone might crash into her life like that someday—someone who'd see her, stay, no matter what.
She pushed the thought away, focusing on the cups.
The bell jingled again, snapping her out of it.
The door swung open, and a woman stepped in—Rize.
Her purple hair caught the light, her smile sharp and lazy.
Irimi froze, her hand gripping the counter edge so hard it creaked.
Her kakugan flared for a split second—red bleeding into her eyes—before she forced it down, remembering Kirishima's story.
The dumpster, the bite, the blood—Rize had nearly killed him.
Her jaw tightened, every thought screaming to act, but she held back.
Two human boys sat at a corner table, chatting over coffee, oblivious.
She couldn't risk it, not here..
Rize sauntered toward the counter.
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Power Stones and Reviews please