Tokyo Ghoul: You're a ghoul!? What am I supposed to do now???

The apartment building's roof was empty at 6 AM, just how I liked it. Tokyo sprawled below in the morning haze, peaceful and still half-asleep. I worked through basic forms—stretches, footwork, the kind of maintenance training that kept reflexes sharp without exhausting myself.

In this massive city, here I was, just me on the rooftop, enjoying the morning air, with movements that kept my body ready for threats that hopefully wouldn't be needed in Ward 20.

An hour later, showered and changed into civilian clothes, I stared at my phone. The karaoke group chat had exploded overnight with plans, song lists, and arguments about which venue had the best sound system.

Still coming? Yui texted.

I'll drop by for a bit.

Normal student activities. Right. I could do this.

The karaoke place was already loud when I arrived at noon. Our group had claimed a large room, and someone had ordered way too much food.

"Sota!" Kenji waved me over. "Perfect timing. We need someone who can actually carry a tune."

"I make no promises."

But it turned out years of controlled breathing for combat translated weirdly well to singing. I managed a decent version of some rock song before my phone buzzed with a "work" reminder I'd set.

"Already?" Mai pouted as I gathered my stuff. "You just got here!"

"Sorry, government statistics wait for no one," I lied smoothly. "Have fun with the Disney medley."

"Your loss!" Yui called as I escaped.

Truth was, I'd rather spend Saturday afternoon at Anteiku than pretending to enjoy oversinging pop songs. The coffee shop had different rhythms on weekends—families with kids, older couples reading newspapers together, a calmer energy than weekday rush.

The bell chimed welcomingly. Only a few tables occupied, perfect for settling in with my assignment.

"You're here early for a Saturday." Touka appeared at my usual table, order pad ready. "Let me guess—coffee and turkey sandwich?"

"Actually, maybe I should try something different. What do you recommend?"

She tilted her head, considering. "The ham and cheese is good. Manager makes the bread fresh on weekends."

"Sold. And coffee, obviously."

"Obviously." That almost-smile appeared. "Escaping from something?"

"Karaoke with classmates. There's only so much enthusiasm I can fake."

"Not a singer?"

"I can sing fine. I just prefer the silence." I pulled out my sketchbook. "You work every Saturday?"

"Most of them. School clubs are off, and I'm covering for other workers, so..." She shrugged. "Extra money for university savings."

"Smart thinking."

She started to respond when the bell chimed again. A girl about Touka's age bounded in, all energy and bright smile.

"Touka-chan! You didn't tell me you were working today—" She stopped mid-sentence, eyes landing on me. "Oh. Oh hello."

"Yoriko." Touka's voice carried a warning. "This is a customer."

"A customer you're actually talking to!" Yoriko slid into the seat across from me without invitation. "I'm Kosaka Yoriko, Touka's best friend. And you are?"

"Sota Nakamura." I glanced at Touka, who looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise! So you're the art student Touka mentioned. The one who comes here every day and draws things."

"You mentioned me?" I asked Touka.

"Only because you're here constantly," she muttered, face reddening. "Yoriko, don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Nope! Day off from cram school." Yoriko studied me with uncomfortable intensity. "You know, Touka never talks to customers this much. Usually she just takes orders and glares if they're too loud."

"I don't glare."

"You totally glare. But not at him!" Yoriko's grin widened. "Interesting. Very interesting."

"I'm going to get your order," Touka said quickly. "Yoriko, behave."

She fled to the kitchen. Yoriko immediately leaned forward conspiratorially.

"So. Sota. You come here often?"

"Most afternoons after class."

"And Touka always serves you?"

"She's the only one working the afternoon shift."

"Uh-huh." Yoriko's expression was pure mischief. "You know, she mentioned you draw really well. She never notices stuff like that about other customers."

"I just showed her some sketches of the shop—"

"She said you explained painting stuff in a way that made sense. That's basically a love confession from Touka."

I coughed. "I think you're reading too much into—"

"Am I, though?" Yoriko tilted her head. "Let me guess. You like that she's straightforward, doesn't do the fake cheerful thing most coffee shop workers do. She probably likes that you're quiet and actually work instead of using this place as a social club."

The accuracy was unsettling. "That's very specific."

"I'm good at reading people! Especially my antisocial best friend who finally shows interest in someone."

"One ham and cheese sandwich." Touka appeared, setting the plate down harder than necessary. "Coffee coming."

"Touka-chan, why didn't you tell me he was this handsome?" Yoriko stage-whispered. "Look at that jawline!"

"Yoriko!"

"What? It's true! And he's got that whole mysterious quiet artist thing going. Plus he's tall! You like tall guys."

"I'm going to ban you from the shop," Touka threatened, face now fully red.

"You wouldn't dare. Who else would taste-test your baking attempts?" Yoriko turned back to me. "She stress-bakes. It's adorable."

"I need to check on other customers." Touka practically ran away.

Yoriko watched her go with satisfaction. "She's going to kill me later, but it's worth it. You know she actually smiled when talking to you earlier? Touka doesn't smile at work. Ever."

"Maybe she just likes art discussion."

"Oh please. She likes YOU." Yoriko studied my face. "And you like her back! You keep glancing at her when she moves around the shop."

"I... I was watching the light patterns—"

"On her hair? Yeah, sure, very artistic." She laughed at my reddening expression. "Don't worry, I'm not judging. Touka needs someone calm who won't be scared off by her grumpy face. And you need someone who'll actually tell you when you have pencil smudges on your nose."

"I don't have—" I touched my nose. There was indeed a smudge.

"See? Perfect match." Yoriko stood up. "Well, I should go order before Touka bans me for real. Nice meeting you, Sota. Take care of my friend, okay?"

She bounced off before I could process that. Take care of her friend? We were just customer and waitress who talked about books and art sometimes. Right?

Touka returned with my coffee, avoiding eye contact. "I'm sorry about her. Yoriko has no filter."

"It's fine. She seems fun."

"She's insane." Touka set the cup down carefully. "Just... ignore everything she said. She likes making up stories."

"Even the part about stress-baking?"

A tiny smile cracked through her embarrassment. "That part might be true."

"Well, if you ever need taste-testers..."

"Don't push it." But the smile lingered. "Enjoy your sandwich."

She moved to Yoriko's table, and I heard quiet arguing in rapid whispers. Yoriko kept giggling while Touka seemed to be threatening various forms of violence.

I tried to focus on my assignment, but my concentration was shot. Kept thinking about Yoriko's observations. Did I watch Touka move around the shop? Maybe. Did she really smile more when talking to me? I hadn't noticed, but then I wasn't exactly observant about social stuff.

The afternoon passed strangely. Touka and I kept accidentally making eye contact, then looking away quickly. Every normal interaction—refilling coffee, clearing plates—suddenly felt weird with Yoriko's teasing.

"I should go," Yoriko announced eventually. "Cram school homework calls. Sota, it was lovely meeting you. We should all hang out sometime! Touka needs more friends."

"I have friends," Touka protested.

"Work customers don't count." Yoriko hugged her quickly. "See you Monday at school!"

She whirlwinded out, leaving awkward silence in her wake.

"So," I said eventually. "That was your best friend."

"Unfortunately." Touka wiped down an already-clean table. "She means well, but she gets these ideas..."

"About matching you up?"

"About everything. Last month she decided I needed a hobby and signed me up for flower arranging. I am terrible at flower arranging."

"But good at stress-baking?"

She threw her cleaning cloth at me. I caught it, laughing.

"I should actually go," I said, checking the time. "Assignment won't finish itself."

"Right. Of course." She took the cloth back, fingers brushing mine for a second. "See you Monday?"

"Probably."

"Good. I mean—regular customers are good for business."

"Sure... Business."

We stared at each other for a moment before I grabbed my stuff and headed out. The bell chimed behind me, and I definitely didn't look back through the window.

Except I did, and she was watching me leave.

The walk home felt longer than usual, mind replaying the afternoon. Yoriko's voice echoed: She likes you back!

Back in my apartment, I attempted cooking dinner—rice and vegetables that actually resembled food this time. Progress. While eating, I thought about Touka's embarrassed face, the way she'd smiled about stress-baking, how her fingers had felt warm when we'd touched over the cloth.

"Just a customer and waitress," I told my reflection while washing dishes. "Who talk about art and books together. And she notices... when I have pencil smudges."

My reflection looked skeptical.

I spent the evening working on my assignment, but kept drawing purple bangs in the margins. Eventually gave up and just sketched from memory—Touka arguing with Yoriko, that tiny smile when she'd admitted to baking, the way afternoon light caught in her hair.

My phone buzzed. Classmates sending karaoke photos I'd missed. Another normal Saturday for normal university students.

I counted my knives before bed—ten, all present, all humming with dormant energy. Checked the locks twice. Fell asleep thinking about ham sandwiches and best friends with no filter and the way Touka's face looked when she smiled for real.

Just a customer and waitress.

Right.

__________________________________________

A/N: I honestly forgot to add Irimi and Koma in the start. So I added afterwards the excuse that they had to deal with g-group problems.

Ah... Sweet young love, who didn't enjoy it in his time.

Honestly, pretty dense here, I'll probably not write a good romance, or it may be rushed, so... yeah... you've been warned.