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Shortly after the briefing, Mado Kureo and Koutarou Amon departed for an operational summit regarding the Aogiri Tree. Facing an organization that brazenly decapitated entire branch offices, the CCG was mobilizing its elite "heavy-hitters" from across Tokyo.
As a Second Class Investigator, Kael was technically excluded from this high-tier deployment. In the eyes of the Bureau, he was still a "green" graduate who needed years of street-level grinding before he could be considered elite material—much like Amon, who had toiled for years to reach First Class.
Without Mado Kureo's obsessive, twitchy presence, Kael turned the Ward 20 office into his personal lounge. He'd even brought in a portable stove, the rich, spicy aroma of hot pot filling the room.
"Hot pot is a winter fundamental," Kael declared, dipping a slice of premium beef.
The Third Class Investigators under his command nodded with religious fervor. "Second Class Kael is a visionary," one chimed in.
"I've also got a bottle of red wine tucked away in the evidence locker..." another whispered.
"Third Class Goro, that is a severe breach of protocol," Kael said, his voice dropping into a mock-stern register. "If you had wine, why didn't you bring it out an hour ago?"
"My deepest apologies, sir! Correcting the error immediately!"
The office atmosphere was officially "corrupted"—or, as Kael saw it, optimized for morale. The revelry was interrupted when the door hissed open. The room went silent, save for the bubbling broth. Mado Akira walked in, clutching a stack of files, her expression as flat as a dial-tone.
"We've been waiting for you, Akira. Make room for Second Class Mado," Kael said, pulling her into the chair beside him. Before she could protest, he was already feeding her a piece of perfectly seasoned meat.
Akira's eyes widened. The sauce was... high-spec. Realizing she was being watched by the entire office, she reluctantly finished the bite. It was a tactical surrender; the "Calculating Survivor" had won the lunch break.
Once the office had been aired out, Akira laid her findings on the table. "I've found traces of the Gourmet. I have the warrant. He's not slipping through the net this time."
"The Gourmet? Shuu Tsukiyama is an S-Rank," Kael noted, leaning back. "A bit aggressive for two Second Class units, isn't it? Should we wait for Senior Investigator Mado?"
"By then, the Gourmet will have changed his 'menu' and vanished. Besides," Akira said, her gaze narrowing, "you and I both know you can handle an S-Rank."
Kael smirked, his eyes drifting to her legs. "It's freezing out, and you're still wearing those thin denier stockings? That's dedication to the aesthetic."
"Focus, Kael," Akira snapped, though she shifted half a step behind him to avoid his clinical gaze.
"Christmas is coming. Want a gift? I'm thinking silk."
"No."
"'No' means 'yes' in my database," Kael muttered. Akira's fists clenched, but she stayed quiet. She couldn't beat him in a fight, and she certainly couldn't beat him in a verbal sparring match.
Akira had profiled Shuu Tsukiyama with disturbing accuracy. His background was aristocratic, his tastes fastidious, and his ego massive. She led Kael to an aged, medium-sized church on the outskirts of the ward.
The gatekeeper, a withered old man, tried to bar their entry. Akira simply flashed the warrant. As they entered the main hall, sunlight filtered through stained glass, casting holy patterns over the empty pews.
"Not going to initiate your ambush?" Kael asked, looking back.
The gatekeeper had already locked the main doors, his eyes shifting into the scarlet-and-black of a Kakugan. "How did you find us?"
Ghouls emerged from the shadows, their hunger apparent. Lately, Ward 20 had been under a CCG blockade, and the local predators were starting to feel the famine.
"Are you looking for me?"
A voice drifted from the second-floor balcony. Tsukiyama Shuu stood there in a bespoke suit, swirling a glass of high-vintage blood. He looked annoyed; he hadn't changed his clothes in forty-eight hours—a true tragedy for the Gourmet.
"Is this the target?" Kael asked. Akira nodded.
"Two Second Class investigators? How insulting," Tsukiyama sneered, manifesting his Koukaku Kagune—a metallic, ribbon-like blade that wrapped around his arm.
War was initiated. The lower-tier Ghouls rushed the floor, but Akira's whip-like Quinque kept them at bay with clinical efficiency. Kael, meanwhile, vaulted over the railing toward the balcony.
He intended to use only a tenth of his "Power of Seven" to keep up appearances. He brought his Quinque down in a heavy, unadorned slash. Tsukiyama parried, but the "human" strength behind the blow shattered the wooden floorboards. The Gourmet fell through the ceiling, buried in a pile of debris.
"My Quinque!" Kael cried out, looking at his shattered B-Rank weapon. "You broke it!"
Tsukiyama scrambled out of the wreckage, laughing with relief. "Unarmed? You're zeroed, Investigator!"
Kael didn't bother replying. He dropped the broken hilt and closed the distance in a single, flickering stride. Tsukiyama swung his Koukaku, but Kael ducked with a velocity that left an afterimage.
THUD.
Kael's fist connected with Tsukiyama's solar plexus. The Gourmet's suit exploded at the back as the kinetic energy rippled through his body. Kael followed up with a second punch that launched Tsukiyama across the hall, embedding him firmly into the stone wall of the church.
"I accidentally used too much torque," Kael sighed. "Really, Tsukiyama, this is your fault for breaking my gear."
The remaining Ghouls fled, seeing their S-Rank leader reduced to wall-art. Akira finished her cleanup and returned to Kael. She stared at him, then reached out and pressed her palm firmly against his chest, as if checking to see if he was made of steel.
"Touch me like that, and I'm touching you back," Kael warned.
Akira froze, realizing her lapse in professionalism. Her face turned a vivid scarlet as she tried to pull away, but Kael was faster. He caught her hand and gently placed his own on her shoulder—firm and steady.
Akira slapped his hand away, her breath hitching. "Now we're even," she stammered, trying to reclaim her cold exterior.
"Sure thing, Akira. If you ever feel the need for a 'hardware check' again, my door is always open."
"Go to hell, Kael."
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