King Kaneki [Kaneki X Fem. Reader]

Chapter 44

THIRD PERSPECTIVE}

The children loved the river like their mother.

They kissed it. Indulged in it's warmth on the most stressful evenings. Made them feel good watching the moose, quietly, drink their fill.

The river catered to everyone; like women who cater with unmatched diligence. Children knew that.

One girl, along with a boy, accompanied themselves by this famed stream. It's alright that they stuck their toes frostily down her throat, or borrowed palms of her liquid body as a weapon, so the kids could trade playful blows with one another and laugh.

It was alright because these two knew the river more than anyone else, loved it more...

A small bird joined them. Flapping about the still woods with thin arms, it seemed to point its beak, poking the craw of their belly before shifting against a branch underneath and taking flight. The boy looked to the bush warbler comprehensively. Taking this faint signal quite seriously, he swept his soaked strands back, sighing.

"I've brought a gift."

"...a gift?" She had to hold back her hand seeing that the child turned around with such sentiment, wiping the water off on her leg disappointedly.

"Here," he struggled to settle his breath, quickly managing out the chain from his pocket and giving it to her. The boy forced her fingers over the necklace seeming to avert his sight as if it were a ticking bomb, he spoke softly, "T'was my mother's, she'd be happy I gave it to someone I cared about."

What was a girl supposed to make of this?

Of course, she accepted the gift gratefully, but worry had risen after considerable thought when she took a steady glance at her friend. His high cheeks fell so low with sorrow, his eyes were null and grey in comparison to the shiny pigment of silver she'd usually see on better days.

She wanted to say a few words, but couldn't since the boy fastened his nails in the dirt, supporting himself up to a stand he wiped off any soot that may have been clinging to his laces.

Not that it really mattered anymore if mother or father saw, for they couldn't lecture him any more.

If there was anything to dread, it'd be the mocking voices of the servants and maids; stressing how hard responsibilities will be as an early usurper of the throne.

Some under shallow breaths, whispering their nasty opinions and complete dismay.

The girl followed his movements but stood idly, waiting for what'd happen next like a simple game of gauge then guess. Wasn't much of a fun game, so she pretended to understand her friend, wrapped her arms around him tightly for a long embrace, speaking, "I'll see you tomorrow."

No... she wouldn't.

Lonely by the river, she excused his absence for the importance of being a prince, a title she often forgot about and has only ever acknowledged a second time. The bronze necklace though old and rough—-was a beautiful pendant. She admired the gift all night and the next carrying months onwards didn't stop her.

One evening stopped her. One winter. One horrible day.

The village kids grew bored of the girl's constant flaunting. Yes, they've seen the old grimy thing countless of times and lost interest on the third. The hour came around where children scattered back to their homes. Little girl, gleeful as was proud, did the same—-but found no mother or father to welcome her.

She scavenged the house, picked every corner from it's kitchen and living space to the cattle's nests and bedrooms where she finally collapsed with frustration and began looking under the feathered headrests.

Maybe they've turned small, and need help.

Children's imagination aren't always so good.

There she was, sprinting across the forests path, grasping dead leaves between her toes on the way and wet nails nearly frost bitten with snow.

'Did they leave to the markets without me?... but they would've said so before!' She knew she'd made it to the village's central square when light began to break through the woodsy tunnel. She ran head first into the blinding gleam and like a harsh, burning flash; a crowd of townspeople were there, gathered round.

"Steady your eyes on this woman and man, steady them closely swine!"

It was a man's voice speaking over that crowd. She maneuvered between legs longer than tree stumps, upon making it into the inner ring of spectators, her skin turned to ice.

Her eyes flayed open and froze.

"Crimes committed under Komaji's rule don't go unpunished no matter where you are, who you are, what... you are. A peasant is no more free than a worker in the royal halls, any citizen against the king's wishes are to pay with their life!"

HACK

The child could barely remember her mother's crying face, begging for her to turn around and leave. Her father looked the same. Even at the distance that she'd been standing from them, she could see when his jaw crushed against itself with anguish—-completely helpless.

"AHHHHH!" Her father's shrilling scream pushed the townspeople back on impact. The little girl didn't know what to do when she watched his eyes glance over to his half-decapitated wife, both kakugans were present.

Another swing and her nape tore away. The forehead hit the snow first, and it wasn't long until the executioner shut the wailing man up next. His neck was much easier under the blade of his bikaku, it rolled off, side by side the woman's.

The man next to the executioner began his speech once more, "If you wish to keep your head... stay in line," a ball of spit hit her mother's open eyes, leaking out to pass the paling cheek, he grasped his belt and jerked his head only once for the executioner to follow. "...pigs~"

What was a girl supposed to make of this?

"(Y/n)!"

...(y/n) didn't know. Her eyelashes fluttered to a close and she collapsed.

"Jackson, stop boy, DON'T!" A boy's warning father rushed out to grab him by his collar. If not for that, he'd of been killed just as brutally. Both kingdom workers glared down to see the hard-headed male thrashing about in his father's grasp. Surprisingly, Jackson sank his teeth into the older man's hand, charging full force for the two.

A boy could only muster courage when in battle; it didn't guarantee he'd win.

"Ough!" Plummeting across the cobble, his mother dragged him up to his feet and forced his tiny hands behind his back to allow her husband room for negotiation.

"This peasant girl fell here, were those her parents?-"

"Yes!" He answered quickly, lending out either hand with caution he continued, "We'll take her off your hands gratefully, she won't be trouble we promise."

The executioner seemed to pay no mind, stuffing a brittle piece of royal paper in his pocket, the other man shrugged. "Go on you old bastard, we'd of left her here regardless."

They nudged the child with the spade of their heels, laughing as they left.

What (Y/n) learned later, was that this would be the beginning of her path. Either to greatness or doom. It will be a choice made by no one else.

Only her.

1212 words