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ipsen · 9 months

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Blank Canvas Chapter 6

Read on AO3. Summary: Kaneki breaks the law to see a serial killer. Word Count: 4183 Chapter 7 Chapter 5 Master Post

Kaneki left his and Hide’s apartment at midnight.

What was he doing?

He caught the final trains to travel from the 12th ward to the 23rd.

What was he doing?

Armed with little else but his wits and his bag, he crossed the now-empty streets and into dark alleys as per Takatsuki’s helpful, if cryptic, directions.

What was he doing?

And that was how he, Ken Kaneki, also known as Haise Sasaki, came to stand in front of the fence around Cochlea, the prison for life-sentence and death-row inmates, at 2AM on a midsummer night with Sen Takatsuki.

Apparently, she had a contact on the inside that could get them a conversation with certain inmates, but they had to visit outside of operating hours to do it. Which was definitely illegal and, worst case scenario, could land them in the very prison they were about to enter.

“Um, T-Takatsuki…” He swallowed. “When I said I was ‘curious’ about meeting a serial killer—”

“No time like the present!” Before he could continue, she, in a surprising motion, scrambled up the fence and landed safely on the other side. Oh, she was athletic too. Huh. Wait, this was not the time for that. He— They— really shouldn’t be here.

She wiped her hands on her skirt and glanced up. With the addition of the lights around the prison, he saw she had low-hanging pigtails for tonight. It was a cute look stop. “You coming, Haise? I’m leaving you behind if you don’t.”

“I-I—”

“If you’re worried about getting caught, I’m pretty sure we can take a guard or two.” The burning lights of Cochlea cast a sharp shadow over her face, but Kaneki knew she was grinning. “‘Strength in numbers’ and all that.”

“B-But—”

Takatsuki turned on her heel and started walking away, forcing him to choose between leaving her alone and standing in the dark and quivering in his boots alone.

With his fists like iron and an utter of something between a groan and a warcry, he ran at the fence and scaled it with ease, though he landed with an uncomfortably loud thump.

She whistled. “Impressive. You honestly didn’t strike me as the athletic type.”

“M-My friend’s always dragging me to her judo classes,” he admitted, rubbing his neck.

“Huh…” There was a beat as she digested the information. Was there something weird about that? He hoped not. “I see. Well, come on, then. Don’t wanna be caught with our pants down.”

Right, right. She led him to the side of the visitors’ center. The whole time, his gaze darted this way and that, half-expecting a security guard to round the corner and ruin their lives forever. The past few months had been one thing, but breaking into Washuu property was an entirely different thing. And the way Takatsuki talked about it made it seem like she’d done this before.

Who was she?

They arrived at a small door with a ‘STAFF ONLY’ sign on it. Takatsuki boldly reached out to turn the handle when she noticed something.

“Shit, they added a keypad,” she muttered. “Well, he probably knows it’s us.”

Who was ‘he’? Before Kaneki could ask, she cleared her throat and rapped her knuckles on the door, nearly making him jump out of his skin. “Big Bin!!” she called way too loud. “It’s me!”

“What are you doing?” he practically hissed. “What if someone hears us?!”

She laughed. “We’ll be fine.”

It did nothing to assuage his fears. She took the time to inhale the scent of their new surroundings and did a twirl. It would have been mesmerizing in any other setting. “Exciting, isn’t it?”

Was it? His pounding heart and sweaty feet begged to differ. “We could get arrested…”

“And?” She glanced at him. “They won’t catch us if we’re smart. Plus, Bin will cover us when it comes to security footage, so I wouldn’t worry.”

If everything went according to plan, then yes, Takatsuki made a good point, but—

“You’re already in; I really don’t see the point in lamenting it now.” The door made a clicking noise and she opened it, giving him no choice but to follow her in. “And it’s not like we’re stupid enough to take anyone with us.”

They seemed to have entered some sort of electric room based on the unpainted walls and the loud hum of a large metal box nearby. The lights were dimmer than outside but no less white, and Kaneki occasionally had to duck to avoid a stray pipe going from wall to wall.

They came to another door, and she led him into the main hall, which looked much more visitor-friendly than the outside. He felt a bit more at ease in the space, and took a moment to calm himself and breathe.

There was a reception desk, and manning it was a man with sunglasses and wild black hair, which clashed with the collar shirt and belted pants expected of security guards. “Hey, Sen.” He yawned. “I see you’ve brought company this time.”

“Big Bin!” Takatsuki waved back, trotting to the desk. “This is Haise! He’s my artist.”

“Oh, this is the artist, huh?” Big Bin looked him up and down. “Name’s Bin.”

“P-Pleasure,” Kaneki gave a quick bow.

Big Bin wore a sympathetic smile. “First time, eh? Sen, you sure you shoulda dragged him here? I mean—”

“He’s here, isn’t he?” Takatsuki tapped Kaneki’s arm and made him flinch. “It means he’s got guts.”

Kaneki scratched his head. “I guess…”

Big Bin looked between them for a moment, then shrugged. “Alright, I’ll get you set up with the… Priest, was it?”

Kaneki blanched.

“Yep!” Takatsuki chirped.

—

The Priest, an infamous serial killer otherwise known as Donato Porpora. An immigrant from Russia, his M.O. was an unmarked cross atop the victim’s neatly folded clothing. The body itself was butchered and fed to the orphans he cared for. In a strange twist of fate, that same act of taking lives was the one to save his own; he had taken such good care of the orphans that he was not placed on death row and instead placed in Cochlea for the rest of his life. That was thirteen years ago now.

He was also the one responsible for killing Kurona and Nashiro’s father.

Kaneki and Takatsuki were taken directly to Donato’s cell, where the only thing separating them was a makeshift desk and a sheet of glass with holes on top for ventilation. The rest of the room was made of solid steel. Peering behind the glass, Kaneki noticed the tiny bed Donato slept in, along with a small table against the back wall with various books and writings organized neatly on top of it. For a crazed killer, he was surprisingly organized.

“Sasaki, just so you know,” Big Bin’s words echoed in Kaneki’s head, “he may be out of practice, but he ran a confessional at his orphanage. So whatever you do, don’t let him get inside your head.”

Donato was doing some stretches when Kaneki and Takatsuki walked in.

“Well, well, look who it is,” Donato said, grinning as he took his seat. “I was told I had a visitor, but I suppose it was only ever going to be you.”

Takatsuki gave a practiced smile: the one Kaneki knew as fake. “Hello, Donato.”

He crossed his legs and chuckled. “Come to pick my brain again, then? Though I can’t help but notice you’re not alone this time…”

“This is Haise; he’s my new assistant for my next story.”

Donato made Kaneki feel as though he were being undressed by gaze alone. “Oh? And here I was, thinking you had retired; I’m glad to be wrong. These last three years have been rather… lacking without your work on the shelves.”

“You’re too kind.” She took out her notepad and sat down.

“I must know: why go to me again? I thought everything I told you last time went into The Black Goat’s Egg and The Hanged Man’s MacGuffin.” He grinned.

Kaneki swallowed. He thought the mother’s murders in the story were familiar. The gruesome descriptions when she cut up her latest victim evoked almost a sort of ritualistic carving, like a butcher brutally but cleanly severing a pig’s head. Now he realized those descriptions had had a primary source.

Takatsuki’s expression shifted to one of rare annoyance. She spun her pen between her fingers to focus. “You didn’t tell me everything, so I’m back. Simple as that.”

Donato, brow raised in amusement, gestured for her to continue.

“What’s your opinion on people in your profession getting hired?”

Kaneki gaped at her. Just like that?

Donato just chuckled. “You certainly come up with interesting ideas.”

“I am a writer,” she quipped, returning to that pleasant but tight smile. “I just want to make sure I’m representing your trade properly. Nobody likes a fish out of water unless they want to eat it.”

“Well, I suppose I would be lying if I hadn’t received my fair share of offers in my time,” Donato checked his nails, recalling what might be considered better times, “but if you’re going to ask who those might be, I cannot help you.”

A shadow crossed her expression. “Oh, I don’t need names. I just need to know what sorts of targets you got. Were they political figures? Celebrities? The homeless? Were you offered anything overseas? How about—”

Donato listened carefully to each query, but his gaze wandered to Kaneki soon enough, and Kaneki shifted in his seat.

“Sen,” he said, putting up a hand to stop her. “I will answer your questions, but I will require something in exchange.”

Takatsuki’s brow furrowed, almost like she was glaring. “Depends.”

“I’d like to ask your assistant a few questions. Preferably alone.”

It took all of Kaneki’s willpower not to point at himself. Him? Alone? With a serial killer? Sure, there were measures to make sure Donato didn’t strangle him through the glass and use his bones as a lockpick, but— alone?

“No.”

“No?” Donato repeated.

“You heard me. No.” She stood up. “I guess I’ve wasted my time. Come on, Haise.”

“You haven’t even given him a choice,” Donato pointed out. “At least hear him out.”

She hesitated, but glanced at Kaneki. “What do you think?”

Kaneki frowned. It seemed unlikely they would get another opportunity like this; Donato clearly knew something about what she was asking. It would be key to progressing the story forward. While the main character, Fushimi, and his investigation were generally laid out, the nature of the antagonists— the mysterious lobbyist organization called the Hierophants— and their serial killer partners were still a mystery. If Donato could be of any help, then a simple request seemed paltry in comparison.

Yet for some reason, Takatsuki was ready to give up that information. All because of Kaneki’s inexperience. It was his fault. As usual. Hide still paid Kaneki’s half of the rent. Touka and Yoriko still gave him free pastries. Even at his own job, he still got free meals out of it when he went with— no, he didn’t go with; he followed, like the mindless sheep he was— Takatsuki. He was still a burden.

No more. She needed answers, and he was tired of being helpless.

Takatsuki shrugged. “I guess that’s no deal, Donato. We’ll just be—”

“I’ll do it.”

Now it was her turn to gape at him. “Haise—!”

“I-I’ll do it!” Kaneki declared a little louder.

“What’re you—”

“The boy’s spoken, Sen.” Donato grinned a little wider. “I think we should respect his… tenacity.”

She lingered on Kaneki for a bit longer, searching for something or trying to decide what to say. But nothing came out of her mouth.

“I-I’ll be okay. Really.” Kaneki hated how he stammered, but he wanted to make her feel a bit more confident in him. He had to be his own person.

Eventually, she relented, and she stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be in the waiting room. Don’t stay any longer than you want to.”

It was reassuring at best, and frightening at worst. “I-I won’t.”

“I mean it, Haise.” There was a strange aspect to her voice, like a trembling tower before it collapsed.

He nodded and gave her his best smile. It was returned half-heartedly.

She shot a look at Donato he couldn’t decipher before stepping out of the room. The light in the room hummed above them, and without Takatsuki’s voice and energy filling the air, Kaneki realized just how suffocating it really was. This atmosphere would drive him crazy if he stayed long enough; he couldn’t even begin to imagine how Donato could live here.

“She’s charming, don’t you think?” Donato looked amused.

“I-I suppose so.” Kaneki rubbed his chin idly. That was an understatement, in his opinion.

“This is your first time in Cochlea, isn’t it? What do you think?”

He shouldn’t answer the first question, but the second one was probably okay. “It’s large.”

“Hm. So it is.” Donato glanced down at Kaneki’s bag. “What do you have in there?”

Definitely don’t answer that.

“Allow me to guess: books.”

Kaneki tensed up, and it was over.

“It was an easy guess, don’t worry. Sen prefers company with other readers.” He stood and walked to the back of the room, picking up one of the books there. “I find myself agreeing; intelligent company is often more pleasing than not.”

Kaneki hated how much he agreed. People who read books and understood their content were surprisingly few and far between. It was why when Rize left him— No, stop that. That’s in the past.

Donato chuckled and took his seat again. “There’s no need to be so tense, Haise. You can be honest with me; it is not as if I will be leaving this place.” He gestured to the egregiously shiny walls and thick glass separating them. “And even if I could, I doubt there is a comfortable life awaiting me. Always on the run, with no way to truly and peacefully enjoy my favorite pastime… No, those days are long gone, and wishing for them will not bring them back.”

Pastime, as in murder. Cannibalization.

“It is better here, where I get two meals and an hour’s worth of exercise a day. On weekends, I even get taken to see the sky.”

And he would repeat this until he died in this very cell. At that thought, Kaneki’s brow furrowed; even for the man who made Kurona and Nashiro’s lives miserable, it seemed a bit much to treat anyone like that. At some point, even the death penalty seemed more humane. “Is… Is that all…?”

Donato laughed. “Is that pity I detect, Haise? Sen certainly has a strange taste in friends.”

He cradled his hands, and started pressing down on his knuckles, one at a time, with the opposite thumb until it cracked. Kaneki winced each time. He wondered if Donato had strangled Mr. Yasuhisa with those hands. What did it feel like, taking someone away from everyone they cared about? What did it feel like, knowing that one action could permanently change someone you’d never met?

“I was given a copy of both The Black Goat’s Egg and The Hanged Man’s MacGuffin when they were released, as compensation for the information I provided. It was… enlightening, so to speak.”

Crack. Crack.

Perhaps Cochlea had served as inspiration for the latter book. Donato’s routine, if it was true, was lifted directly from reality to be placed on the page, though with some minor changes to appear more cruel and unusual.

“For a moment, I almost felt as though there was finally someone on the other side of my cell that saw me—” Crack. Crack— “or at least, they saw my situation.”

With every finger done, he rested his hands back in his lap and smiled. Kaneki was made even more uncomfortable by it.

“They must have caused quite the stir amongst the masses when they released in the order they did. She always has been a bit of a boat-rocker. Ever since she was young…” Donato trailed off, his gaze passing Kaneki and settling elsewhere. “Ah, but that is not my place to say. We are never truly alone except with our thoughts.”

“You… knew her as a child?” Kaneki couldn’t help but ask.

“Just in passing.” Donato smiled back, but there was a thin coat of poison on his lips. “I do not envy her.”

Kaneki briefly glanced behind him, toward the waiting room. Takatsuki having a hard life was a bit hard to imagine, he had to admit. She was friendly, intelligent, and clearly well off. The idea of someone like that falling through the cracks… Well, maybe it wasn’t so hard after all. Failure due to outside circumstances came to people surprisingly easy. As for the nature of that failure, and how a serial killer like the Priest could know about it— that was the difficult part.

“You seem to still be on edge, Haise.” Donato leaned forward. “I may be out of practice, but I know a thing or two about confessing.”

“N-No thank you…” he muttered, curling his toes in his shoes. “Even if I’m… sympathetic to your plight, you still—”

— killed people. Killed Mr. Yasuhisa. Made Kurona and Nashiro miserable for the rest of their lives. Destroyed homes. Destroyed families and friends. Destroyed.

It earned him another chuckle from Donato. “You seem to be familiar with my work. Am I wrong?”

Kaneki shook his head after some hesitation. “I… know the children of one of your victims.”

“A shame, then.” Donato shrugged. “If it is of any consolation, none of my killings were personal. Not really.”

Kaneki grimaced. It meant nothing. He wasn’t even a victim and it meant nothing.

“I am a survivor, first and foremost. I do what I must to feed who I must, and that includes myself.” Donato’s eyes once again wandered over the exposed parts of Kaneki’s body. “And even if I were out and about, you aren’t nearly close enough to my… type.”

‘Type’, as in ‘victim’. The statement made Kaneki want nothing more than to stand up and leave. But he had to stay so that he— therefore Takatsuki— could get what he had.

“What, um… What is your ‘type’?” he asked quietly.

Donato smirked, as though he were waiting for that question. “What else do you know about my work?”

What was it with meeting people who wanted to test him? “I-I know you fed your victims to the orphans in your care…” he mumbled, fighting a queasy stomach. It was on a documentary Hide and he had watched a long time ago.

“Yes, I did. And what do you know about my orphanage?”

“It was the sole reason you weren’t put on death row.” He rested his chin in his hand. “The orphans were intelligent and… well-fed.”

The orphanage was rather sizable, especially for how it was run by not only a single man, but a priest at that. Feeding all those mouths regularly, even with donations and the other components of a healthy meal—

He glanced up at Donato. “You preferred heavier people.”

Yet as he said it, he also knew that didn’t make sense. He had never met Mr. Yasuhisa in person, but he had seen pictures; Mr. Yasuhisa was wiry in every single one, even in one taken mere weeks before his death.

… Takatsuki had asked if he’d been approached for ‘hiring’. Was Mr. Yasuhisa targeted? And if so, by who?

Donato watched the gears in Kaneki’s brain turn. “Sometimes, Haise, when confronting a ‘child’, one must explore the circumstances of the ‘parent’.”

Kaneki blinked, confused. What did that—

“You will find everything you need in my case file.” He smiled venomously. “Good luck, Haise.”

What? What made him think Kaneki could access a government case file? Maybe it was a riddle; Donato seemed the type to like those. How strange that Kaneki would have something in common with a mass murderer.

He went to the door, but then remembered—

“Mr. Porpora,” he turned back around, “I had a question for you.”

“Oh?” Donato, the convicted serial killer, looked surprised. “Ask away.”

“Why do you help Takatsuki?”

A shadow dashed across his face, lancing through Kaneki and exiting through the door. “Vengeance.”

———

Kaneki found Takatsuki swinging her legs in one of the waiting room chairs, playing with her pen between her nose and lip and reading her notebook. On another day, he would have thought it charming, but Donato’s final words rang in his head, coloring his view.

Vengeance. What did that mean? Combined with her pinpoint question about assassination and the disparity between Donato’s ‘type’ and Mr. Yasuhisa… It couldn’t be a coincidence. She knew something Kaneki didn’t, and she wasn’t telling him.

But why? What wasn’t he supposed to know? Who exactly was he working with?

Who was Sen Takatsuki?

When she saw him shuffle in, she shot up from her seat. “Haise!” She rushed over. “Are you okay?”

“O-Oh, um, yeah.” He was on a slippery slope now; to trip would be to lose everything. “I-It was actually pretty alright…” He needed a plan. He needed—

She gripped either side of his shoulders. “Don’t you ever do that again. Okay?”

What? “What?”

“Donato is dangerous; he’s called the Priest because he was one, and that means he has all the skills that come with it! What you did was stupid and reckless and— and pointless!” She was scowling at him, but her eyes gently wavered. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of risk-taking, but he doesn’t need a weapon to hurt you.”

Kaneki pursed his lips and looked away. “I-I’m sorry…”

Takatsuki paused, then sighed. “No, no, stop that; I’m sorry. I… got carried away, inviting you here, and I pressured you into doing something you clearly weren’t comfortable with.”

He shook his head and gave a small smile. “Well, we’re already on the other side of the fence, aren’t we?”

“I—!” She sighed again, a defeated smile on her face. “Alright, fine. You got me. Punk…”

He chuckled. “I’ll, uh, take that as a compliment.”

“Sure.” She took out her pen and clicked it a few times. “So, what did Donato tell you?”

Kaneki explained his conversation with Donato to her, but he left out the last part regarding his question and Donato’s answer. She kept her eyes glued to the notebook, taking notes in disquieting focus. She snapped it shut when she was done.

“Alright, be right back; I still have my own questions,” she said, and marched right back into the lion’s den.

Kaneki stared at her back as she disappeared behind the door. She had worried about him and apologized.

She… She cared about him. Him, Ken Kaneki. On some level. Oh, but of course she did. They were coworkers! Coworkers cared about each other. Stupid…

What was he thinking earlier? Donato was a serial killer who probably made his own fun by sending his visitors on wild goose chases. Kaneki, as a new face, was probably a rare opportunity to conjure up something different, especially with Donato’s apparent history with Takatsuki. He was just trying to turn Kaneki against her.

Well, it wouldn’t work.

Vengeance.

It wouldn’t.

———

“It’s rare for you to be so indecisive.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t want him to find out, yet you brought him here. Counterproductive, if you ask me; it’s new for you. Exciting, even.”

“You’re lecturing me about being counterproductive?”

“… We aren’t talking about me; we’re talking about you. What will you do if he finds out?”

“That’s not important.”

“I thought we promised not to lie in front of each other.”

“It wasn’t a lie.”

“Not to me, hm hm hm… Very well, if you will not tell, allow me to guess. You’re afraid of yourself, yet you want to be known. You want others to know what you are, yet you conceal the truth because you are afraid of being let go. And this boy… You want him, don’t you?”

“…”

“It’s so obvious it’s painful, even to someone like me. You’re so easy to attach yourself to someone who might not even understand you; I thought you would have learned by now. Pitiful.”

“… And what about you?”

“Hm?”

“What. About. You? I know you send Amon letters, and I know he doesn’t respond to you. Why would he? You’re the reason he was sent to yet another orphanage, irreversibly separated from his siblings. You’re the reason he has no father, and you will die as the reason. No matter how many times you get to see the sky, no matter how much you can appreciate that your children are looking at the same sight, you will never see them again. You will die alone and unloved, so really, the only thing pitiful here is you.”

“… There you are, •|».”

“Shut up. Now, about your ‘hirers’…”

———

To: Chie Hello, Chie. Can I ask a favor?

#blank canvas #fanfic #writing #and today's cameo is mr crown the clown himself #donato porpora #it's donato

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