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

The CCG branch office buzzed with unusual energy for a Saturday morning. Investigators who normally worked solo crowded around the assignment board, discussing crowd control patterns and pickpocket hot spots.

"Nakamura, you're on reports," Yamamoto called out. "Lucky you, getting the desk job."

"Yeah, lucky." I glanced at my phone. 9:47 AM. We'd agreed to meet at the festival entrance at 10:30.

"Hot date?" Yamamoto appeared at my shoulder, grinning.

"What? No. Just—"

"You've checked your phone six times in two minutes." He lowered his voice. "And you actually combed your hair. Dead giveaway."

My hand went automatically to my hair. "It's not a date. Just meeting some friends at the festival."

"Uh-huh. Friends." He studied my face. "Wait, is this with the coffee shop girl? The one whose place you haunt every day?"

"I don't haunt—"

"Oh man, it is!" Yamamoto laughed. "Our little prodigy has a crush. This is adorable."

"Can we please focus on work? I'm still technically your superior"

"Oh come on, work?" He gestured at the mostly empty desk. "Kid, nothing's happening yet. Festival doesn't really kick off until noon." He grabbed his jacket. "Go on, get out of here. I'll cover your reports."

"Yamamoto—"

"That's an order from your senior in life. Besides," he pushed me toward the door, "when I was nineteen, I definitely wasn't filing reports when I could be at a festival with a pretty girl."

"She's bringing a friend," I protested weakly.

"Even better. Shows she's serious about you meeting her people." He made a shooing motion. "Go. Be young. Have fun. Try not to analyze her coffee preferences or whatever weird thing you do."

I grabbed my jacket, embarrassed but grateful. "Thanks."

"Kids these days," he muttered as I left. "Casually finding girlfriends in coffee shops. In my time we had to work for it..."

A/N: Shoujo manga... sigh*

Touka's POV

"You changed outfits three times," Yoriko announced as we walked toward the festival. "That's a new record."

"I didn't want to wear white to a food festival. It's practical."

"Sureeee... Nothing to do with meeting Sota." She linked her arm through mine. "By the way, excellent choice on the blue sweater. Brings out your eyes."

"I hate you."

"You love me. And you'll love me more when I conveniently remember urgent business after about an hour."

I stopped walking. "Yoriko, no."

"Yoriko, yes! You two need alone time. Can't build a relationship with your best friend third-wheeling constantly."

"We're not building anything. We're just... friends. Who happen to text about vegetables."

"You smiled at your phone for five minutes last night over a message about stir-fry."

"He successfully cooked dinner without burning it. It was a milestone."

"You're hopeless." She tugged me forward. "Come on, he's probably already there being all punctual and artistic."

The festival had transformed the shopping district. Colorful banners stretched between buildings, stalls lined every available space, and the smell of grilling meat mixed with sweet cotton candy. Families wandered between vendors while children ran around with masks and cheap toys.

"There!" Yoriko pointed. "By the takoyaki stand."

Sota stood exactly where we'd agreed, hands in his pockets, looking slightly lost among the chaos. He'd worn jeans and a black sweater that fit him perfectly—not that I was noticing.

"Sota!" Yoriko waved enthusiastically.

He spotted us and smiled—a real one, not his usual quiet half-smile. My stomach did that annoying flutter thing.

"Hey. You made it."

"Yoriko insisted on being early. She has a whole plan mapped out." I tried to sound exasperated, but his smile was contagious.

"Efficiency is important!" Yoriko declared. "We need to hit all the best food stalls before they run out. Come on!"

She grabbed both our arms and dragged us into the crowd. The first hour passed in a blur of food samples, Yoriko's running commentary, and trying not to notice how Sota naturally positioned himself between us and the pushiest crowds.

"Ooh, candy apples!" Yoriko darted toward another stall. "Touka, you have to try one."

"Too sweet for me."

"I'll split one with you," Sota offered. "Cut the sweetness in half."

And that's how I ended up sharing a candy apple with him, taking alternate bites while Yoriko took approximately fifty pictures "for memories."

"My teeth hurt," I complained after my third bite avoiding eating any further, although for once I didn't really notice its horrible flavor.

"Quitter." But he finished the rest, grimacing slightly at the sweetness.

We tried yakitori (properly seasoned, we agreed), competed over who could handle the spiciest sauce (I won, though Sota put up a good fight), and watched Yoriko somehow charm free samples from every vendor she approached.

"Oh no!" Yoriko checked her phone with theatrical concern. "I completely forgot I promised to help my mom with something. Family emergency. So sorry!"

"Yoriko—"

"Have fun without me! Sota, take care of her!" She vanished into the crowd before I could grab her.

"Really subtle," Sota said dryly.

"Like a brick." I looked around, suddenly aware we were alone. "You don't have to stay. If you have reports to file—"

"Already done. My partner covered for me." He tilted his head toward the game booths. "Want to see if those are as rigged as they look?"

They were definitely rigged. The ring toss defied physics, the basketball hoops were clearly oval, and the goldfish scooping game used tissue paper instead of proper nets.

"This is impossible," I muttered after my fifth failed attempt at the ring toss.

"Mind if I try?"

I handed over the rings, watching him study the setup with that same focus he used for drawing. His first two throws missed, but the third landed perfectly.

"How?"

"Physics. And maybe spending too much time throwing kni—I mean, uh, darts. At boards. Normally." He pointed to the prize shelf. "Pick something."

"You won, you pick."

"Nope. Fair is fair. You bought the chances."

I scanned the cheap prizes, settling on a small stuffed rabbit keychain. Practical. Definitely not because it was cute.

"Good choice." He clipped it to my school bag before I could protest. "Suits you."

"Because I'm fuzzy and have long ears?"

"Because you're both cu—" He caught himself. "Because it's purple. Matches your hair."

We moved through more game booths, taking turns losing money on obviously rigged games. I discovered Sota had terrible aim with water guns but excellent hand-eye coordination at the batting cage. He learned I was weirdly good at the strength test but hopeless at anything requiring patience.

Evening crept in, lanterns lighting up as the sky darkened. The crowd had shifted—fewer families, more couples and groups of teenagers.

"Fireworks start soon," Sota said, checking his phone. "Want to find a good spot?"

We climbed the hill behind the shopping district, finding a relatively empty patch of grass. Below, the festival glowed like a miniature city. Other people had the same idea, but everyone maintained polite distance.

"Thanks for today," I said as we settled on the grass. "Even with Yoriko's abandonment."

"Good different?"

I smiled. "Yeah. Good different."

The first firework exploded overhead, painting the sky in gold and green. I pulled my knees up, hyperaware of how close we were sitting. Not touching, but close enough I could feel his warmth.

"You cold?" He'd noticed my slight shiver.

"I'm fine."

But he shifted closer anyway, not quite touching me but he blocked the wind. We watched the fireworks in comfortable silence, occasional "oohs" from the crowd punctuating the explosions.

"Touka?"

"Mm?"

"I'm glad you agreed to exchange numbers. And to today."

My heart did something complicated. "Me too."

A particularly impressive firework burst into cascading silver streams. His hand was resting on the grass near mine. It would be so easy to—

"That one's my favorite," he said, pointing at a blue spiral explosion. "Looks like van Gogh's Starry Night."

"Everything's art with you."

"Occupational hazard. I see composition in everything now." He turned to look at me. "Like right now, the way the firework light catches in your—"

A massive boom interrupted as the finale began, dozens of fireworks launching simultaneously. We watched the sky explode in color, and I let my hand drift just close enough that our pinkies touched.

He didn't pull away.

When the show ended and people began dispersing, we stayed sitting for another moment.

"We should probably head back," I said reluctantly.

"Yeah."

We stood, brushing grass off our clothes. The walk down the hill was quieter, both lost in thought. At the station entrance, we paused.

"This was fun," I said. "Even the rigged games."

"Especially the rigged games. Your face when that basketball bounced out was priceless."

"That hoop was definitely oval!"

"Sure it was." He grinned. "Same time Monday? At the coffee shop, I mean. Back to our usual."

"You know I always work the afternoon shift."

"Then same time Monday."

He waited until I'd badged through the turnstiles, waving when I looked back. I waved too, probably looking like an idiot but not caring.

The train ride home felt shorter than usual. I touched the rabbit keychain on my bag, smiling despite myself. My phone buzzed.

Just made it home. How about you?

I typed back: Me too. Thanks again for today Sota, try not to burn your vegetables celebrating though.

Medium heat. I remember.

Good student.

Thanks to a good teacher. Goodnight, Touka.

Goodnight, Sota.

I put my phone away, still smiling. Across from me, an elderly couple shared knowing looks. I tried to school my expression but gave up.

So maybe I had a crush on the quiet art student who came to my coffee shop. Maybe he liked me back. Maybe this would end terribly when he found out what I really was.

But right now, with firework smoke still in my hair and his goodbye echoing in my ears, I let myself just be a teenage girl who'd had a good day at a festival with a boy she liked.

The rest could wait until Monday.