Akira approached at her father’s grave with trepidation. A gray-haired man knelt there, and as far as Akira knew, her father had had no old friends. 

“Who are you?” she demanded.

Donato Porpora turned around.

“Jesus Christ!” she yelled, deliberately. Father had taught her well – her hidden quinque soared towards the ghoul. Don’t you dare disgrace Dad’s grave.

 Donato laughed and easily sidestepped her blow. “My, my, you’re a fiery one. And here I thought graveyards were sacred.”

“Then why are you here?” 

“Touché.” He leant against the gravestone of someone she didn’t know, but her ire burned all the same. No corpse deserved his filthy hands on their final memorial. 

“I came to see the resting place of my future in-laws.” Donato smirked at her, and Akira’s cheeks turns pink.

“You leave Amon out of this,” she hissed. “You aren’t his father. My father was like a father to him. He didn’t trick him into silence while killing children.” 

“No, he just convinced him to help kill ghoul children, am I right? I know about the Fueguchis.” Donato enjoyed her discomfort.

“He’s not yours.” 

“Would you like to see pictures of him as a kid before you fail to kill me? He used to love the donuts I bought him.” Donato smirked. “Don’t worry, I can’t kill my future daughter-in-law.”

——————————————————————————————-

“Have you seen Akira?” Amon paced in front of a bored Seidou and amused Touka. “She won’t pick up her phone.”

“Nope.”

“She said she was going to visit Mayo’s grave,” Kaneki said, entering.

“Thank you for being helpful, Eyepatch.” Amon nodded curtly at the three ghouls – fellow ghouls – before heading out. He’d gotten her engagement ring fitted, and he wanted her to have it immediately. 

He didn’t see anyone in the graveyard, though, and suddenly Amon’s intuition – the one her father had taught him to listen to – told him something was very, very wrong. 

He wanted to call her name, but if something was wrong, that might be the wrong move. Amon scanned the hills of the dead to see a lone figure standing below a tree.

He jogged over, desperate to ask if someone had seen her. 

“Hello, Amon.” The man turned around, and Amon froze.

“Where is she?” He clenched his fists.

“Up here.” Akira waved from the tree, where she was nestled in its branches, quinque ready. “He wanted to tell me all your fun childhood stories. I said I’d listen only if I could hold a quinque at his throat.”

“I like her,” Donato said.

“I don’t like you.”

“That’s why I like you.” Donato held out a picture to Amon. His face was smeared with chocolate frosting. “I held onto this the entire time I was in jail.”

“That’s nice,” Amon said stiffly.

“Of course, you can’t eat those now, can you.” Donato looked sad. 

“No thanks to the likes of you.”

“And the likes of you now. Think on that.”

“If you think on the trauma you caused me and everyone else.” Amon crossed his arms. Akira nodded with approval. 

Donato raised his eyebrows and melded into the twilight. Both former investigators just watched him go.

“There will be a time for justice,” Akira said finally. “Now isn’t it.”

“He’ll hurt someone else!” Amon gasped.

She leapt to the ground. “And you’d never forgive yourself if you were the one who killed him.” 

He swallowed and stared at the ground. 

“Stop being stubborn.”

Amon half-smiled. “You’re one to talk.”

She took his hand, and he slipped on her ring.