White Suit Tokyo Ghoul Novels & Stories

Now… It felt like a tomb. He looked different now. Gone were the suits, the silk ties, the polished cufflinks. Instead, Ryuji sat in shiro-muku—a white mourning kimono. A traditional sign of grief. It was pristine, perfectly folded around him, but something about wearing it made him look younger. Smaller. Like grief had carved out pieces of him and left only the shell behind. “I can’t believe he’s gone,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse as he sipped his tea. His hands didn’t shake—Ryuji was too disciplined for that—but I could see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

she smiled before walking away too. ••• Toxica was led in with her group of three guards, her purple lips giving out ominous energy as her heels clicked the ground under her white palazzo. Her hair was dyed to complete grey with few sprinkles of black, and a cigar stick is in her mouth as she settled on a couch The room is just beside the neon room, only for important meetings like this, but even at important meetings, no one sees Godzilla's face.

Itachi complimented them. "We bought it last Christmas" Itsumi replied. Both girls wore a shorthand fled gown stopping midway down their thighs, a purse to match their outfit and matching black shoes. While Itsumi's gown was green in colour with her purse, Sakiko wore a sapphire blue gown with a blue purse to go. Their hair was let down, Itsumi's had hers near her breast while Sakiko's flowed behind her below her butt. The pair were a sight to behold. Sasuke walks to meet Sakiko, "You look lovely as always" he winked at her.

Mo Zihan knew very well what she would like and she felt her mood improving immediately. She wondered if Mo Yuhan would remember her birthday since it has been over thirteen years that she had once mentioned it to him. ... A luxurious black Rolls-Royce ghost pulled off in front of Ash Corporation. Li Han opened the door and Mo Yuhan stepped out of the car. His one hand was elegantly tucked in his pocket as he took unhurried steps. The man was wearing an all-white suit by Giorgio Armani. The suit had a fluid drape and soft shoulder line and an elegant V-shape silhouette.

There were no guards in the hallway, of course, for the privacy reasons of the family. I thought he left yesterday. What the hell was he doing there? Maintaining our eye-contact, we stepped closer to one another. Finally, we stopped at a hand’s distance from each other. I smiled, “greeting alpha Hikari.” He peered at me with an unruffled face. He was wearing a black shirt and pants with a white belt and shoes. A white kimono coat with wind patterns on the back and on its long sleeves fluttered around him while he strutted.

he said pointing at Ron. "Fine, give me a minute" She said and knelt down next to the body. The police captain now out of her direct conversation breathed a sigh of relief, something about this woman sent chills up his spine, she wore a black leather trench coat, with a wide hat matching the coat, quite awkward, she looked exactly like that undertaker guy from wrestling, or Van Hellsing himself, accept she's short and skinny. And if that wasn't enough, her eye colour was almost yellow.

After that, we went back to our room to take a shower and get ready. When I finished taking a shower, I took out my uniform, gosh, it's so simple but she's beautiful, because it's just Coak with a Color gold lining on the side of its sleeve and a Campo de Iris Academy logo on its heart, she By the way, the cloak that serves as our uniform has three colors, black, white, gold, when you wear black it means you are a man, when it is white it means you are a woman, and when you wear gold it means you are one of the royalties, as for the interior, they say we will take care of our interior, even if you don't have an interior you can hahaha...

Out of the car stepped Grey. He wasn’t the reckless troublemaker he used to be. He wasn’t the expelled student people whispered about. He was wearing a tailored black suit that clung to his body like it was stitched directly onto him. His shoes were polished, his hair slicked back, his jaw set. His eyes carried death in them. The room went silent as realization rippled like cold water. And behind him...appeared a man. Silent steps. Regal posture. White hair tied back. Wrinkled skin, yes...but every wrinkle carried power like ancient carved runes. His eyes...pure white...pupil-less. Unreadable eyes.

It was melodic, cultured, and entirely devoid of soul. A man stepped into the circle of light. He was dressed in a pristine white suit that seemed to glow against the grime of the room. This was the Gorgon. He didn't look like a monster; he looked like a plastic surgeon or a high-end tailor. "I wasn't hiding," Julian rasped, his throat feeling like he’d swallowed glass. "I was retired."

Then I sensed him. Not in the circle with the others, but across the room, half in shadow, watching. A boy. No. A presence. He wore the same base uniform as the rest of us, a tailored black coat, crisp white shirt, dark slacks, and boots. But his cloak was lined in deep forest green, the silver thorn patterns barely catching the light. A polished wolf sigil gleamed at his shoulder, unmistakable even from this distance. Hawthorne House. Werewolf.