Despite my reluctance to help Mado against Touka and Hinami, I was still heartbroken when he died.
I hadn't expected it to hit me that hard. But after the mission, when everything quieted down and the news spread, it was like something hollowed out my chest. I cried. Not just a tear or two—but really cried. Even now, the memory stings. For all his eccentricities and brutal methods, Mado was my mentor.
The funeral was massive.
All the Special Class Investigators were there: Shinohara, Houji, Mougan, Kuroiwa, Aura… even Kishou Arima made an appearance. The entire CCG came out that day, from Associate Special Class to Rank 1s and even the green Rank 3s, all dressed in black and standing in silent respect. It seemed Mado had been more beloved—and respected—than I had ever realized. For someone who carried such chaos in his wake, his absence brought a painful stillness.
After the ceremony, I noticed Shinohara speaking quietly with Amon. Probably some kind of pep talk. He looked tired, grieving in his own way. I was sitting off to the side, trying to steady myself, when I felt a presence approach.
"Hello, Urie-kun," the man said. "My name is Kuroiwa. How are you holding up?"
I turned to him and nodded respectfully. "Good afternoon, Kuroiwa-san. I'm… managing. And no need for introductions. I know who you are."
He chuckled at that—though it was more tired exhale than laugh. There was something heavy in his eyes as he sat beside me with a sigh.
"Hahhh… I'm getting old now," he muttered. "Mado, huh? He was one of the veterans. It's sad to see someone like him go."
His voice softened, and after a pause, he continued.
"Urie-kun… I served under your father for a while. Mikito. He was… so proud when he found out your mother was pregnant. Wouldn't stop talking about it." His eyes clouded for a moment, staring ahead at nothing. "I'm sorry I couldn't save him."
I stayed quiet for a moment, his words sinking in.
"It's okay, Kuroiwa-san," I said at last. "I forgive you. It wasn't your fault."
The truth was… the original me—the Urie from this world—harbored resentment toward this man. But I wasn't that Urie. I understood loss in a way that allowed me to let go of that anger.
"My father gave his life to save yours and Shinohara-san's," I said. "If I held that against you… wouldn't that be disrespectful to his sacrifice?"
Kuroiwa turned to me, eyes softening. A smile touched his face, thin and bittersweet.
"Hm… Mikito would be proud of you."
"Thank you," I said, my voice catching as a tear slipped from my eye. I never knew my father—not really. But in this moment, I felt his absence like a deep ache in my ribs.
He let the silence linger before speaking again.
"Mado was proud of you, too, you know. Always bragged about how his new student was a prodigy. You and Amon both… fine Investigators.
He stood up slowly and gave me a respectful nod before walking away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The funeral had been bittersweet. The story's events had stayed the same—Mado died just as he had in the original timeline—but I had changed. I'd grown. I'd earned the respect of my peers. I had taken my first real steps toward becoming something greater than just another cog in the CCG machine.
And then… I felt it.
As I sat there on the stone bench, Kisho Arima walked past. We locked eyes—just for a second. A momentary jolt ran through me, like electricity under my skin. Cold, calculating, intense. The famed Reaper of the CCG. The man who stood atop this world like a god.
And then, just as quickly, he looked away and continued walking.
So that was him.
The Reaper, huh?
Interesting.
After the ceremony, I didn't speak to anyone else. The air still felt heavy with grief. I slipped away quietly, finding a cab waiting just outside the CCG building.
For a second, I hesitated. Normally, Mado would've driven me home. He was always there with some offhand comment, some bizarre piece of advice. As much as I hated his antics, I had come to rely on them. On him.
But he wasn't here anymore. And he never would be again.
I opened the door and slid into the back seat. "Take me to this address," I said, voice low.
The cab pulled off into the quiet city night. The hum of the tires on the road filled the silence for a few moments before I glanced at the driver in the rearview mirror.
What I saw made my blood run cold.
Short. Chubby. Grey hair and fat cheeks Taxi Driver? No way.
"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," I muttered under my breath.
"Hm? Did you say something?" the old man asked with a cheerful blink.
"Nothing. Just talking to myself."
I stared at him. Akashi Kobayashi. I remembered now. This was the ghoul I—well, the original Urie—had arrested in the very first episode of the Re timeline. Bikaku type. tier. B+, maybe A- on a good day.
He kept driving, humming some old tune under his breath. The city passed by in blurred streaks of light as we approached an underpass on the Shuto Expressway.
"Pull over," I said, voice sharp.
"Huh? Here?"
"Now."
Something in my tone made him listen. He pulled off to the side, slowing the car to a halt just beneath the overpass. I stepped out slowly, closing the door behind me.
"Akashi Kobayashi," I said, loud enough for him to hear as he opened his own door. "I'm a Ghoul Investigator. And you know… if you don't wash properly, you can still smell it."
He froze.
"The smell of blood," I finished.
In an instant, he bolted. His kagune erupted from his back, a metallic, twisted bikaku type that scraped against the concrete as he lunged at me.
"LET ME DEVOUR YOU!" he howled, voice raw and feral.
I cracked my neck, crouching slightly.
Finally, I thought. A warm-up. I need a new quinque anyway.
I drew Tsunagi and inhaled deeply—Total Concentration Breathing. Sun Breathing: Fifth Form… Solar Heat Haze.
I moved. To him, it must've looked like I was still a couple feet away from him. I swung my katana in a wide, arcing blur of motion.
"Huh? Your sword is nowhere near my hea—"
His head tumbled from his shoulders and hit the pavement with a dull thud. The body dropped seconds later.
I stood still for a moment, letting the breath out slowly.
Reaching into my coat, I pulled out my phone and dialed the CCG's dispatch line 224
"name and location," came the operator's voice.
"Urie, Kuki," I said calmly. "I've got a body. Shuto Expressway, near the Second Ward exit. Coordinates: 35°40'23.0"N 139°45'48.8"E. Look for a taxi pulled over on the side."
"Understood. Body collection team is en route."
I hung up and looked down at what remained of Akashi Kobayashi.
"What are the odds?" I murmured. "Lucky or unlucky?"
well lucky for me but for him? Honestly, I wasn't sure. But I did need a new quinque. And now… I had one.
My gaze shifted to Tsunagi in my hand—still humming faintly with residual energy. Almost as if it were tired. Or maybe… begging for rest.
"I'm sure Mado would've been proud… that I took down a ghoul just hours after laying him to rest. Twisted as he was, that was the kind of justice he believed in. Messed up in the head, no doubt… but damn it, I loved the guy all the same."
The night wind stirred my coat as I stood beneath the overpass, waiting for the CCG van's headlights to break the dark.