"Fuck this shit."

Shin dances back, his quick, nimble reactions only just saving him from being skewered through the stomach. He brings his staff forward, clashing against the sword-like kagune once more, his breath hitching as he locks eyes with the ghoul. A violent swirl of unrestrained insanity radiates out from just behind the crimson veil, and another shiver ripples down Shin's spine as he shifts his staff, managing to scrape the end just over the side of the ghoul's neck; without wasting a breath, he activates the staff, and dozens of glass-like shards erupt from the end, shooting outwards.

The ghoul grunts, shoving Shin away with the broad edge of its kagune; Shin's only too happy to comply, putting as much distance between the two of them as he can.

The ghoul doesn't immediately lunge at him again this time; instead, it stands in a half-crouch opposite him, bleeding eyes watching him intently from beneath the shadow of its scraggly bangs. A hand rests against its neck, and Shin can see rivulets of blood welling up from between its thin fingers. Soon, though, the steady red river slows to a crawl, before disappearing altogether. The wound's already closed up. Still. The ghoul's wary of him now.

I suppose it's safe to say this thing's come into contact with quinques before, Shin muses, twirling his staff around his hand and settling into something of a ready stance. Narrowing his eyes, he adjusts his already too-tight grip on the staff, and it changes again, with each end growing a jagged, prismatic wing that extends out into the early morning air, casting a faint red glow across the ground.

Skinner does little more than frown at this development.

Its kagune slithers out further, encasing its left arm now, spiralling around until it settles round its wrist, and Shin, seeing the blunted edges and rather wide casing, imagines this is meant to serve as a shield. A sword and a shield. Shit. Shin's not equipped to handle a koukaku-type ghoul in the first place, and he'd been hoping the ghoul would try to maintain an offensive tactic against him. If it's already moved onto to matching him in defense...

Shin inches a hand towards his pocket, fingers reaching for his phone; but the ghoul must read his intentions in his face, as it suddenly rushes him, sword and shield equally deadly, and Shin has no choice but to wrap both hands around his staff if he wants enough power behind his strike to block the incoming blow. He hisses out a slow, volatile string of curses as he feels the soles of his shoes giving out, unable to find sufficient traction on the beaten asphalt. Desperate, certain that if he doesn't move this ghoul is going to be chowing down on a hardy investigator quite soon, Shin acts rashly - something he knows will get him scolded by Takashi is he makes it out of this alive.

The ghoul refuses to budge no matter how much force Shin puts into his staff, and the glowing kagune wings don't seem to be as much of a deterrent as he was hoping they'd be; worse, he's steadily being pushed back, and if he's not mistaken, at the rate this is going he'll be backed against the wall of a long-abandoned laundromat. Sucking in a sharp breath, Shin flicks his eyes away from the kagune currently aiming to slit his throat (and very nearly succeeding in doing so, as his staff is only managing to keep the lethal point a few inches from his neck) and swiftly assesses the ghoul's form.

Alright. Well, at least this has a chance of working.

Shin twists his staff, breaking apart the pointless shoving match he's gradually been losing, and hooks the curve of his quinque's wing over the ghoul's shield. He's not strong enough to tug the ghoul off balance, but the sudden shift is enough to distract it for a moment, and Shin takes advantage of that as best he can. Bracing himself against his staff (and offering up a silent prayer that this idiotic move doesn't get him killed), Shin bends his knees for a moment, then jumps up, angling himself back so that he can slam his feet forward into the ghoul's wide-eyed face. A smile quirks at his lips, just for a second, as satisfaction surges through him; cartilage crunches beneath his shoes, and a gasp of surprise escapes the ghoul, which is a nice bonus.

But then Shin's falling, hitting the ground hard, flat on his back while the ghoul staggers, caught off guard. A split-second decision has Shin rolling onto his stomach and pushing upwards, leaping to his feet, already swinging his quinque before he's fully upright.

The world goes blank for a few, breathless heartbeats.

There's blood, gushing out of some unseen wound; there's pain, though Shin can't tell where it originates from, seemingly pulsing out from every nerve of his body; a sound, a scream, a wail of agony, hollow and inhuman. Then, silence - pure and simple silence, allowing Shin to think.

They're standing apart again, feet and feet of distance between them. Shin grips his staff, peering past the rippling glow at the shadow-drenched ghoul. Crimson puddles at its feet, dripping down from somewhere among the folds of oversized clothes it wears. It's retracted part of its kagune but elongated the sword; fresh drops of blood fall from the tip now, and Shin risks a glance down at himself, searching for the source.

He swallows thickly.

A gash has been carved into his chest, long and with more width than he's comfortable with; it cuts down from his left shoulder and hooks around his waist on the right side, staining his white jacket with malicious blossoms. He doesn't remember the feeling of the kagune slicing through his skin, his muscle, but this he sees with perfect clarity. A wet gasp builds in his throat, but he presses his lips tight together, lifting his gaze to meet the unyielding stare of the now panting ghoul.

He can still fight like this. He has to.

It's true, he doesn't have a choice. Not out of some moral obligation - he's more than aware that there are investigators far more capable than him that could be called in to deal with this ghoul - he simply doesn't want to die. That's it, that's all. Shin's no coward, and anyone who's ever worked a case with him can attest to that, but he's not above prioritizing his own life over his job if he feels it's too much for him. Now would be one of those times - if he wasn't fucking pissed off.

So he's going to fight. Maybe he'll get lucky and some passerby will phone in to the CCG, get him some backup. Or perhaps he'll find a lull in the stand-off and he'll be able to call in himself. Either way, he doesn't honestly see himself getting any feasible help any time soon. Which is just grand.

Shin grunts a curse as the ghoul shifts, preparing to move, preparing to lunge, and he only just reacts in time, managing to twist out of the way and slash out at the passing ghoul. The feeble swipe does little more than irritate the ghoul, though, as it instantly changes gears, spinning on its toes and striking out with its sword, hardly off-balance and terrifyingly precise. White-hot fire zips through Shin as he feels the kagune tear across his shoulder. He throws himself back, landing awkwardly on his heel; his staff settles in front of him, defensive and useless while the ghoul lets loose another bloody grin

It's toying with him.

Fuck.

Just fuck his entire life.

Blood trickles down his arm in a slow, grueling procession, until his hand is slick with it. He grits his teeth, a muscle ticking in his jaw; his shoulder already throbs, and every miniscule movement sends electric bolts of pain down the length of his arm and down his back. Shin ignores this with every fiber of his being - but acting can only get him so far.

He stiffens as a low, chilling sound drifts away from the ghoul. Laughter, he thinks, or a disgusting facsimile of it.

"Weak," it mocks, its voice rough, thick with something Shin has trouble identifying. Maybe that's the blood loss getting to him.

God, is it mortifying to be ridiculed like this, by a killer, a murderer, scum of the earth.

What's worse, is that he knows it's right.

Shin is pathetically weak in this situation.

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Shin breathes, one eye closed in pain, the other narrowed to settle his spinning vision on the ghoul. Yeah, blood loss could potentially become a problem at this rate. The wound on his chest is bleeding more profusely than he guessed it was, and the new scratch on his shoulder isn't doing him any favors. He clenches his hands tighter around his staff.

"Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

The ghoul takes the invitation without hesitation, rushing Shin with both arms bared, and it's all Shin can do to block the kagune from reaching anything vital on his body. They trade blows in rapid succession, their movements a blur to the untrained eye; but soon, anyone could see that Shin is faltering. Sweat beads his brow, runs down into his eyes, tracks lines down his pale, taut face; the rising sun peaks out above the buildings surrounding, painting Shin in its soft, golden light, highlighting the extent of his injuries. One could mistake the original color of his jacket for a haunting crimson at this point.

He's expecting it this time, the mistake. But Shin still howls out a wordless curse the moment he loses his footing (the result of and crashes down, shoulders brutally maimed by the uneven asphalt beneath him; his head bounces once, twice, then settles with a decisive thud, followed by a wet sound that makes Shin's stomach churn with anxiety. Head wounds are dangerous - but, he supposes, he should probably be more concerned with the ghoul leering above him.

Shin's done some damage, at least. His eyes flick over the various scrapes he's managed to inflict upon the ghoul, just little nicks across its cheeks, its forehead, a gash along the curve of its forearm; tattered clothing hangs off its skinny frame, bloodied a bit from both the ghoul and Shin's misfortune, and rather ruined thanks to Shin's haphazard staff-swinging. That's something in his book, a reminder of his efforts.

His proudest achievement, though, has to be the three fingers he lopped off from the ghoul's left hand.

Not that that really did anything; they're already growing back, as nausea-inducing as Shin finds that, and the other little wounds are on their way to scabbing over. Soon they'll be nothing but smooth skin again.

Shin wishes he could say the same for his own sorry state.

"Weak," the ghoul repeats, running its pink tongue over its red teeth, matching eyes gleaming with malicious intent as it grinds its heel into Shin's wrist, stopping his attempt to reach for his lost quinque and earning a strangled hiss from between his clenched teeth. "So very, very weak. Hope you taste better than you fight."

Shin's tempted to spit in its eye, maybe douse the flames of insanity he sees writhing in there, but he doubts he'd make it; more likely, he'd only succeed in spitting on himself, and that's not ideal for him at the moment. Or ever, really.

"I can't wait to see you in Hell," Shin growls, struggling in vain to free himself from the ghoul's grip, nearly bucking from the ground in his efforts; but that only agitates his scarred body, and he slumps to the ground with another breathless gasp.

A small, sly smile curls the ghoul's lips.

"I'm already there, Investigator."

And then - without warning - the ghoul pounces, and there's teeth sinking into Shin's throat, agony spreading through his bloodstream like a wildfire, and he's screaming bloody murder, because, really, that's all he can do. He bucks again, uncaring towards the state of his other injuries, yowling like a cat caught in a vice, flailing limbs and nails scraping hopelessly across the blacktop - but then suddenly the weight's gone and he can breathe, can think beyond the endlessly repeat line of Let this end, let this end, let this end.

Another scream tears through the early morning stillness, labored breathing intermingling with a barrage of hearty obscenities, a woman's voice, pitched low with fury.

Then - silence.

Shin curls in on himself, hands clamped over his gushing throat; his fingers probe at naked flesh and he winces, muttering something under his ragged breaths while he tries to steer his focus away from the needling sting of his chest wound.

"Investigator?"

He blinks open his eyes, tries to see past the blurry haze of pain. A face - no, a mask is only inches from him, and behind it are red eyes, red eyes, red eyes.

He's in no condition to move but he tries anyway, scrambling back, a hand stretched out behind him, groping for his quinque.

The ghoul sighs, rocking back on their heels, hands settled calmly on their knees.

"Don't be such a crybaby," it scoffs, and he realizes it's the voice from earlier, the woman's. "I ain't gonna bother with you. Killing an investigator would ruin the peace I've scraped together after all these years. So quit freaking out and give me your phone."

It holds out its hand, expectant.

Shin stares at them, incredulous.

He goes to speak, realizes belatedly that his throat is currently on fire, and only ends up doubled over again, coughing up blood onto his already splattered jacket.

"The other ghoul took off," it says, off-handedly, like this piece of information is as commonplace as the weather. "Didn't like my company, I guess."

It adjusts its mask, and Shin tracks the movement with his eyes. A beaked mask, colored blue, streaked with white - some sort of exotic bird?

Twin tails curl out from behind the ghoul's back, docile, unthreatening in their willowy dance. Shin averts his eyes anyway.

Bikaku.

"Alright, well, I didn't wanna have to violate you, but since you're being such a stubborn ass..."
He can't move, but he flinches back as the ghoul's hand plunges into his pocket, emerging only seconds later, fingers carefully cradling his phone. He bets the damn ghoul is smirking beneath its mask at the furious look overtaking his pinched features.

The ghoul studies his phone for a moment, contemplating the lock screen, before shrugging and pulling up the emergency call feature and dialing in the required number.

"Got a dying Ghoul Investigator down here. Probably needs some help. Mmhm, yeah. Still conscious. Bleeding a lot. Huh? Oh" - the ghoul glances around, head turning this way and that, until it finds what it's looking for and rattles off a street address for the operator on the other end of the line. "Yup, yup, that's it. Great. Stay on the line?"

The ghoul snorts before dropping the phone next to Shin's fisted hand. It stands from its crouched position, arms crossed under its chest, looking down at him curiously. The operator's voice buzzes in his ears but he can't focus on a word they're saying.

"I would say you're lucky, because it was me that found you rather than some other opportunistic ghoul, but..." The ghoul shrugs again. "Really, you're just lucky because I have better self-control than some brats I know. Have a nice life, Investigator - hopefully you don't try to throw it away again."

Then they're gone, vanished without a trace, but Shin's willing to bet that's only because he's hopelessly disoriented. He's growing cold, he thinks as a shiver racks his spine; numb, too. His eyes flutter closed even as his mind races.

A ghoul... saved his life?

Shit. Just... shit.

In the distance, there's the sound of sirens and the shadows of flashing lights.   

Okay guys, be honest - does the ending make sense? At all? With Shin all tuckered out and kinda dying, I figured he wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight if a friendly ghoul stuck around to help him out a bit. And, regarding that, anyone have a guess about who the mystery ghoul is? (I think I made it a touch too obvious, to be honest)

Well... just... any general thoughts about this chapter? I hope it was up to par, but that's for your guys to decide. If you think anything was unrealistic, or incongruent with the rest of the book, please speak up! I love getting feedback from you guys, especially thoughtful criticisms, since I really want to make this book the best it can be.

Anyway! Thanks so much for reading, and for sticking around thus far! Hopefully you'll all stay till the very (bitter) end!