This Clown wants a Comedy 1 (Patreon)

This Clown wants a Comedy - or ‘Tragedies?! Nay, I will turn this soppy horror tale into a wonderful comedy for my sister’s smile’s sake!’ (Tokyo Ghoul, Souta!SI)

I am the most fucked up being in this world.

Well, I am set to become that, but I am genetically-geared to be a horrible person. My name is Souta Washuu-Furuta, the double surname is bound to the fact my old and decrepit papa is the owner of a harem of women that allowed him to spread his genes.

My mother’s last name was ‘Furuta’, yet I know nothing of the woman beyond seeing her face before she passed away during the delivery. Sadge, but not the worst thing possible. I mean, the Washuu Clan is known to be fucked up to the core.

Imagine Cyberpunk, but centered more on Ghouls and Anti-Ghouls tech. Yeah, it’s a bit more than that, but I am no narrator. I am Souta, and I am a boy of 5 with a dream.

“I’ll make sure that we will be able to be happy out of this fake garden.”

This is the promise I made to Rize, my half-sister, and the rest of the siblings that had rallied to my bed as I told them the news. Many rolled their eyes at the silly promise, but Rize and little Hairu were interested in it. They were hopeful that something could be done.

So…

A month later, we were out of the garden, had outfitted an abandoned warehouse with solar panels, small vertical wind turbines, an independent water supply, a large wardrobe, a good amount of normal food and a nearby source of human flesh.

How did this happen?

This question, I am sure, many would be keen to ask at this sudden and jarring circumstance. I am really tempted to deny this an answer. I mean, it’s fucking ironic and many would cast disbelief on how a mere 5 years-old boy of fragile built managed to create a mini-society of fellow genetic products of an old man obsessed with eugenics.

Still, I’ll be merciful: I didn’t do this truly in a month. That month was ‘the plan being executed’, but the planning came back to when I was three. I could walk, I could read, I could talk and, worst of all, I could climb the library to find the books I needed.

I started clever as I knew I had to appear like a genius if I wanted to get ignored for any ‘brain creep’ moments that could have fucked with my plans. I wanted out of this family as fast as possible, and I wanted to bring my little siblings with me.

Like, the Washuu family is dogshit. Father is the director of the CCG and he was literally the main prey of the company. In fact, the CCG was a fucking scam as it was run by Ghouls even though its purpose was to hunt Ghouls.

I suppose we are special since we are of Middle Eastern descent. How did we get here in Japan? Lots of bullshit happened, that’s as much as I could decipher from both lore of Tokyo Ghoul and other stuff I could put my hands on.

Still, my clever ruse was simple. I was not planning my escape first. I was planning the ‘post-escape’ plan. Books on solar energy and other forms of renewable energy sources filled some of the tables. It was just a kid with ADHD going ham on stuff that seemed insignificant to others.

In truth, I was speedrunning my tactical escape with the rest of my ‘pure’ family.

It took me a year to have a project for the post-escape. And I had the right place to find all the supplies I needed. It proved to be a pain in the butt to get stuff relocated to our base, but it was within reach and possible with the right amount of food.

A map helped much, but it wasn’t what got us out of there. Oh no, that honor was bestowed to the Sunlit Garden itself. Theoretically speaking, this place was a mystery on where it was in Tokyo. But as I was digging around the map and the fact we could hear the sea nearby, I realized where we were. And what path to take once outside of it.

Finally, the sweetest bit: how did we escape Sunlit Garden?

The place is packed with guards and cameras, after all, but I quickly realized that… not all guards were reliable, and the cameras could be manipulated. First, after being known as a social bean that could mean no harm to anyone and was deemed Tsuneyoshi (daddy)’s favorite kid, I kind of found a chance to sneak into the security room and set up a special command within the computer. It was the late 90s, so I was glad basic computing language was something my previous life father had taught me through his experience as a programmer for a business.

The command was that ‘all cameras would stop recording and play the recording of the night before I inputted the command from 2 to 4 in the morning’. So, the night guards would be blindsided by this opportunity.

I waited a few days to make sure it was working, and since I heard no one complaining about a strange sabotage, I assumed that no one had noticed this hacking effort.

Next up was the physical escape. We had their eyes clouded for two hours, but that wasn’t going to matter much against the guards patrolling around. There weren’t many, but Foucault Prison was a good way to describe the distribution of the patrolling officers.

Luckily for me, plot armor is reliable.

…

Just kidding.

I had to look deep into this but found out there was a sewage system that led straight out of the facility. It was closed by a few screws no child should be able to comprehend on how to unscrew. But I am not a mere child, and the screws were unscrewed.

After waking up everyone at an unholy hour of the new day, I managed to lead the small brigade of little kids through the sewage system, out of the garden and into the city.

Well, not the city city. The outskirts to be precise. At this point, Eto should not have access to most of Aogiri Tree’s bases. The abandoned mall had been vacated recently, but most of the stuff that had been dropped in its warehouses were there. And the place could be fitted as a base of operation. Which was how things turned out to be.

After getting the Washuu’s Little Brigade out of the Garden, giving them the chance to enjoy some freedom in their new home, I managed to establish ‘dominance’. Through Rize.

Out of everyone there, Rize stood as my second-in-command, the one with the means to smack idiots and was also weak to headpats. I would call it a mutual exchange agreement for the betterment of our survival- Rize called it ‘her needed headpats’ session.

Hairu would get jelly, but she would get headpats- Actually, all the kids kind of were vulnerable to affection, making them malleable for collaboration to get things done right. Still, Rize and her Kagune were essential in moving big and heavy stuff around.

A month later, I achieved a self-sufficient society… within Tokyo. For the time being, at the very least. Stuff can go wrong, and while for kids like us this was perfect, we will have to get ourselves ready for the big scary world.

So, training was to be implemented once the kids hit 8 and would incrementally expand until they were all able to function as rational human beings with a good understanding on how to win battles with Ghouls.

We had the time, the resources and my brain to rely upon.

Also, in regard to Rize’s diet, we found the local morgue was full to the brim with carcasses that had to go missing so… we kind of helped by fishing a body each month.

Nothing too conspicuous and it would be a clean job. Cutting human flesh is a scary business. I don’t like it, I will never like it, but it was necessary to feed Rize. The girl needed all the strength she needed. Except she had put a considerable effort in using said strength with her Kagune to ‘properly hug Souta and Hairu’ during nighttime. She was a cuddly monster.

And eventually her scent got the attention of someone without the ‘cuddly’ trait.

Shachi is… not the kind of guest we expected to find at the end of the month. Bruised, angry and clearly in need of a place to recover. He literally face planted unconscious the moment he realized how many of us smelled of weird and Washuu.

I guess that’s one way to disable a high-rank Ghoul threat…

—----------d-d-d-d—--------

AN

Souta’s plans to live a simple life away from the V Organization, from all the machinations from Eto and the Washuu Clan may take a major spin in the opposite direction.

Especially when her sister becomes a brocon for him and kinds of plays in reverse OG Furuta’s obsession for her love interest/half brother.