The days following the battle with the giant were filled with uneasy silence. Despite the victory, there was a tension in the air—something unspoken that both Touka and I couldn't fully ignore. We had fought side by side, and for a moment, everything had felt like it was falling into place. But now, in the quiet aftermath, the reality of the world around us began to set back in.
The ghouls were still being hunted, and rogue groups continued to rise. The CCG remained a looming threat, as did the unknown forces that seemed to be orchestrating everything from behind the scenes. Every day felt like a delicate balance, with no guarantee of tomorrow.
Touka was as distant as ever, her eyes betraying a mixture of worry and frustration. She'd grown even quieter, especially around me. I knew it wasn't just about the battle anymore—it was about everything else. About her fears for me, for herself, and for the fragile bond we had started to build.
I tried to talk to her, but she always found a reason to pull away. Whether it was training, missions, or simply her need for solitude, she seemed determined to keep me at arm's length.
One afternoon, as I was leaving Anteiku, I saw her standing near the entrance, her posture rigid, her eyes focused on something distant. She didn't notice me at first, and I took a few moments to observe her, wondering what was going on inside her mind.
"Touka," I called out gently.
Her body tensed slightly, and she turned toward me. Her face softened when she saw me, but there was still that guarded look in her eyes.
"What's wrong?" I asked, taking a step closer.
Touka didn't answer immediately. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder toward the horizon, as if something out there was pulling her attention.
"I've been thinking," she finally said, her voice quiet. "We've been getting closer, haven't we?"
I nodded, my heart pounding a little faster. "I think so."
She paused, taking a slow breath before speaking again, her words laden with uncertainty. "And I don't know if that's such a good thing."
I felt a sharp pang in my chest. "What do you mean?"
Touka met my gaze, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that almost took my breath away. "I don't want to drag you down into this mess. You don't deserve to be caught up in all of this. You're stronger than I thought, but there's still so much about this world that I'm not sure you're ready for."
Her words cut through me like a blade. I wanted to tell her she was wrong, that I had already made my choice. But something held me back—the truth behind her fears. She had seen so much pain, so much loss, and I knew it weighed heavily on her. Her fear of losing me, of pulling me into something I wasn't ready for, was real.
"I know you're scared," I said, my voice steady but filled with emotion. "But I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. We're in this together. Whatever happens."
Touka shook her head, a sad smile flickering across her lips. "I'm scared, too. Not just for you… but for me. And for everyone else. I don't know what I'm fighting for anymore. Is it survival? Revenge? Or something else?"
Her vulnerability caught me off guard. For the first time, I saw Touka for what she truly was—someone caught between duty and desire, someone struggling with a world that had broken her down but never fully taken her spirit.
I reached out, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "I don't have the answers either. But I know one thing: you're not alone in this. I won't let you fight alone."
She looked up at me, her eyes softening for just a moment, before her walls returned. "You don't get it. You don't know what it's like to carry the weight of all this… and to watch the world burn while you're powerless to stop it."
I could feel the sadness in her words, the raw pain that she tried so desperately to keep hidden. But I also felt something else—a deep, burning desire to help her carry that burden, even if I couldn't completely understand it.
"I don't have all the answers," I said, my voice low, but steady. "But I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to carry this alone."
For a moment, Touka remained silent, the weight of my words settling between us. The air around us felt heavy, charged with the unspoken emotions that neither of us had fully acknowledged before.
Finally, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. "You're a fool, you know that?"
I grinned, a small spark of hope igniting within me. "Maybe. But I'd rather be a fool with you than without you."
Touka didn't respond right away, but there was a softness in her eyes that I hadn't seen in a while. And for the first time, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I had found a way through her walls.