Amano Hiro paused, his gaze falling on the slowly opening alloy security door at the end of the corridor.
Three figures emerged from behind the door. Leading them was a man with silver hair, tall and upright, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.
"Good evening, Dr. Kanou," Eto's voice carried her familiar lightness.
"Good evening, Eto-san," Kanou Akihiro replied politely, his tone warm and courteous, every movement radiating the calm elegance of a scholar.
He wore a spotless white lab coat, hands resting naturally at his sides. From the outside, anyone would think this was a distinguished medical expert.
But Amano Hiro knew better than anyone what kind of madness lurked beneath that polished exterior.
Kanou Akihiro's descent began in the hospital room of his youth, a space forever saturated with the scent of disinfectant, his mother chronically ill, endless visits day after day, and the helplessness of watching life slip through his fingers.
His initial ambition to study medicine was meant to harness the regenerative abilities of ghouls to save his mother.
Yet her death became a watershed in his life.
From that moment, the gentle, kind boy was buried alongside her coffin, replaced by a genius obsessed with the increasingly deranged pursuit of research.
Years did nothing to soothe this obsession; rather, it festered in the dark, growing ever more twisted.
Now, when Kanou's eyes swept over Amano Hiro, a barely perceptible flicker of fanaticism glimmered: "You must be Mr. 'Massacre,' correct? A pleasure to meet you."
Amano Hiro met Kanou Akihiro's unhidden gaze, the fanaticism of a man examining an unparalleled specimen, and snorted coldly to himself.
He could guess this old man's thoughts down to the tiniest detail.
His expression darkened, and his voice turned ice-cold: "Dr. Kanou, I advise you to keep your eyes and your thoughts in check. Do your experiments quietly. Don't entertain any foolish ideas." He paused, emphasizing each word, "Otherwise, I won't hesitate to kill you with my own hands."
Kanou Akihiro's fanatical gleam vanished instantly, replaced by that same gentle, scholarly demeanor, even curving into a seemingly kind smile as if the earlier dangerous exchange had never happened.
Yet the two figures who had stood silently beside him moved in a flash.
One black, one white, they moved with synchronized precision to shield him, forming an unyielding barrier.
Both girls lifted their faces at once, showing beautiful features lined with vigilance, shouting in unison:
"Do not disrespect our father!"
One's hair was as black as ink, the other's silver-white as snow. Each now widened one eye, the left for one, the right for the other, revealing crimson, dripping Kakugan. Their single-eyed features were striking against their youthful faces.
Both pairs of eyes were locked firmly on Amano Hiro, full of hostility and wariness.
These were sisters Yasuhisa Nashiro and Yasuhisa Kurona. Once promising students at the CCG Academy, they had dreamed of becoming exceptional female investigators.
Their parents had originally owned the property in the 6th Ward now occupied by Kanou Akihiro. Their father had been an early investor in the CCG's artificial ghoul research, only to be ruthlessly abandoned.
The sisters, stripped of everything and left helpless, fell into Kanou Akihiro's hands and were transformed into One-Eyed Ghouls.
Because of the shift in their fate, they did not participate in the Quinx gang prison raid and never crossed paths with Juuzou Suzuya.
Now, they stood intact but were also tragic victims of destiny, innocently mistaking a tyrant for a father, caught in a painful drama of misplaced loyalty.
As his thoughts drifted, Amano Hiro realized something: in Tokyo Ghoul, there was not a single character with a truly happy family.
Every fate seemed twisted by an invisible hand, leaving wounds that never healed.
Ken Kaneki lost his father early and then his mother in childhood.
Touka and Ayato Kirishima were forced to grow up after their father was arrested.
Eto Yoshimura, a human-ghoul hybrid, never experienced normal family love.
Even the composed and self-assured Arima Kishou lost his parents at age seven.
Every trajectory began with a broken family.
Tragedy, like a hereditary disease, ran through their blood, shaping a group of people struggling to survive in darkness.
He looked at the two sisters, pawns in a twisted fate, and at the distorted figures in the lab, and sighed inwardly,
In a work filled with blood and wails, a happy, complete family might be the rarest luxury of all.
Kanou Akihiro lightly waved at the sisters standing guard beside him, his tone gentle but carrying undisputed authority:
"Kurona, Nashiro."
Like receiving an absolute command, the girls' tense hostility vanished instantly.
They lowered their eyes obediently and retreated silently, two loyal shadows slipping back behind Kanou Akihiro.
Kanou then turned to Amano Hiro and Eto, his face still wearing that impeccably calm smile:
"Then I won't disturb your pleasure. I need to check the latest data on the experimental subjects."
He gave a slight nod and walked past them, the black-and-white sisters flanking him.
As he brushed by, his seemingly casual gaze slid across Rize, and in that brief glance, a trace of greed and evaluation flashed so quickly it was almost imperceptible.
He had never forgotten losing this "perfect specimen."
Had Furuta Nimura succeeded back then, this flawless One-Eyed body would now lie quietly on his lab table, a cornerstone for advancing his research.
A shame.
Amano Hiro watched Kanou Akihiro's figure vanish at the end of the corridor, then turned to Eto, curiosity in his voice:
"How far along is the research on the 'Dragon' now?"
Eto tilted her head, a playful inflection beneath the bandages: "Hmm~ there's been some progress."
She tapped her chin lightly with a finger. "But we're still far from achieving the goal. Should be... almost there, though."
Suddenly, her tone shifted, curiosity more pronounced: "By the way, Hiro, have you seen the [Dragon] with your own eyes?"
Amano Hiro raised an eyebrow. He had never seen the Dragon in person, only glimpsed its shadow in the past manga, a silhouette blotting out the sky. He shook his head decisively. "No."
"Then..." Eto dragged out the word, as if baiting a hook. "Want to go take a look?"
Amano Hiro paused, a spark of genuine interest crossing his eyes.
He indeed wanted to see the colossal creature known as the "Dragon," lurking beneath Tokyo, to witness its full, terrifying reality.
Yet he quickly shifted, rubbing his brow, a lazy undertone in his voice: "As for that Dragon... let's wait until tomorrow."
He glanced around the vast, oppressive underground space. "We've been at this long enough today."
His gaze casually swept over Rize, the meaning was clear without word..
Compared to chasing an unknown monster, there was more important "personal time" that needed attention and companionship right now.