Think.
Just think, me.
There has to be a way to get out of this crisis.
It’s fine. It’ll be fine. Eto just has something reddish appearing in her right eye, that’s all. A chronic condition, maybe? If I explain it as some rare disease that causes this sort of thing...
I tried my best to conjure a viable escape plan, but the cold, rational part of my brain rejected it immediately.
Do you really think something like that would work? Look at your father’s face. No excuse is getting past that look.
Damn it, don’t give up. I haven't given up until now, even when I wanted to. There has to be a way.
There isn’t. You already know what your father’s “hatred” looks like, and you’re still trying this?
Shit! Then what am I supposed to do? If this keeps up, we’re one second away from a bloodbath.
Forget about persuading Father. Right now, protecting Eto comes first.
Eto... right, I have to protect Eto.
If this goes on, Eto will be—!
“Koma.”
A single, cold, dry voice carried enough force to sweep every thought from my mind in an instant.
I was afraid to look Father in the eye.
I felt that the moment our eyes met, the version of Father I remembered would vanish completely.
“I’ll say it again. Put ‘that’ down. Now.”
Ha... So the moment the "child" he was just doting on turns out to be a Ghoul, he switches to calling her “that,” as if she were a mere object? How typical of him.
I wanted to let out a dry laugh, but my lips were clamped shut with tension, and nothing came out.
It's impossible.
Maybe at any other time, but persuading Father when he's blinded by his obsession with Ghouls is a lost cause.
Facing him head-on would be suicide, too.
He was a veteran Ghoul Investigator with sixteen years of experience; I was just an ordinary civilian boy who had been feeling under the weather lately. I wasn't even in the same league.
That left only one option.
Okay, let's run.
First, I need to hide Eto somewhere safe. Then I can worry about talking or whatever.
My gaze shifted toward the front door. Roughly six or seven meters. It wasn't an impossible distance to cover if I committed to it, but Father standing right in the middle was the fatal flaw.
Thud!
Clatter, clatter, clatter!
An open steel briefcase hit the floor with a heavy thud.
He must have read my eyes and realized exactly what I was thinking.
In Father’s hands, something resembling dark red metal rapidly assembled itself.
Even though it was my first time seeing it today, I knew that butcher's knife—the kind that looked like it could slaughter a bull—was the Ghoul-subduing weapon used by investigators: a [Quinque].
The giant blade, large enough to cover Father’s entire upper body, pointed straight at me.
Perhaps sensing the chill radiating from a weapon forged to hunt Ghouls, Eto clutched my collar tightly, her face twisted in fear.
Rumble...
Thunder rolled overhead, a warning that the rain was about to pour in earnest.
“That you’re her father is likely a lie as well. I have never heard of a child being born between a Ghoul and a human.”
“Who knows? Maybe you're the only one who doesn't know. There might be more than you think.”
“I am not in the mood for word games.”
“I’m not joking. There really are heartbreaking love stories between Ghouls and humans, you know.”
“Enough of this nauseating talk.”
I tried to distract him, but he wasn't biting. Forget the front door; I had to find another way.
Scanning the room rapidly, I hooked my right foot over a folding table and kicked it hard toward Father.
“Pathetic—!”
CRACK!!
I heard the wooden table being cleanly sliced apart by the [Quinque], but I didn't stay to watch. My body was already diving through the open window.
“What!?”
Father’s shocked voice receded rapidly.
I hugged Eto tightly to my chest, feeling the dizzying rush of acceleration.
“Damn it! I can't believe I'm actually doing this!!”
This was the absolute last resort of the plans I'd made for Father's surprise visits: abandon everything and flee with only Eto. The legendary "Thirty-Six Stratagems"—run for your life!
Now that I was actually in mid-air, I wanted to punch the version of myself from a few days ago who thought this was a good idea.
It was the movies. Watching action movies and thinking I could pull this off was the real problem.
CRASH, BANG, BANG, BANG!!!
Directly below the south-facing window was a fairly large garden tree.
I gritted my teeth as the branches battered my back like clubs. Then, as if for a final blow, I slammed into the garden floor. The impact was so great that it knocked the wind out of my lungs, leaving me paralyzed for a moment.
“Waaah~! Waaaah~!”
As the world blurred and warped, as if my face were buried in jelly, I heard Eto crying.
Since her voice was so loud, she wasn't hurt, but she was clearly terrified.
I shook my head violently to clear my mind.
Crawling like a baby who hadn't learned to walk, I waited for my consciousness to stabilize before pushing myself up from the ground.
Throb...!!
“Tch... Guess it doesn't work like in the movies.”
My clothes were shredded, exposing several small cuts, and a branch was lodged in my lower right side. It was embedded quite deep, so I decided it was safer not to pull it out.
Vowing never to let action movies influence my decision-making again, I forced my heavy legs to move and tried to make a break for it.
BOOM!!!
A heavy impact landed directly behind me.
I thought, No way... but then I remembered who I was dealing with. Without looking back, I sprinted.
Just as I expected, Father had jumped from the five-story building and landed in the garden right after me.
The experience of a veteran really is different. Unlike me, who had ended up a wreck trying to imitate a movie, he had landed steadily and without a scratch.
Father yanked his [Quinque]—which he had apparently used to break his fall—out of the ground and roared, “Stop right there, Koma!!”
“No!!!”
Did you think my rebellious phase ended in middle school? Not a chance. I'll show you what peak rebellion looks like.
SHAAAAHHH!!
The rain began to pour in earnest. It was the worst possible weather for someone fleeing while carrying a baby with a weak immune system.
I tore a piece of my already ruined shirt and wrapped it around Eto to keep her from getting soaked.
I could hear Father closing in.
He was nearly fifty, but his body, honed as a Ghoul Investigator, showed no signs of aging.
At this rate, he'd catch me. I quickly thought of a plan and headed toward the shopping district.
Despite the rain, there were several people walking the streets with umbrellas. It wasn't as crowded as I'd hoped, but it was better than nothing.
As I dove into the crowd, people gasped and scrambled to get out of my way.
It won't be easy for him to swing a [Quinque] around with people watching, right?
A Ghoul Investigator is still a public servant.
He knew that brandishing a [Quinque] in a crowded area would cause a scene, and since his target was a baby, it would look terrible to bystanders. To them, it would just look like a man attacking a child.
This environment was my advantage. I needed to either hide Eto or create a standoff where I could negotiate while ensuring her safety.
However, there was one thing I had overlooked.
...Father’s obsession with Ghouls was far more dangerous than I had imagined.
“...?”
When the sound of Father's pursuit stopped, I turned back in confusion.
He was gone.
What? Did he back off because of the crowd?
Just as I stopped running to consider this...
KWA-BOOM!!!!!!!!
Right in front of me.
A dark red butcher's knife, looking as if it were soaked in blood, flew like an arrow and smashed into the concrete, embedding itself deep in the floor. It was definitely Father’s [Quinque].
Goosebumps erupted across my skin.
The [Quinque] had flown on a trajectory that would have cut straight through my path—and straight through Eto in my arms.
If I had taken just one more step, that blade would have cruelly impaled Eto...!
“Ghk...!!!”
Shuddering at the horrifying thought, I tried to pull the [Quinque] out.
I wanted to hide it so Father couldn't use it again, but it was driven too deep into the concrete. Even if I had managed to pull it free, the weight of the weapon would have slowed me down too much.
How could he use a lethal strike in public!? Father, have you completely lost your mind!?
Grab!
“!?”
I clenched my teeth as I felt something yank the back of my neck.
My own strategy had been turned against me. I had chosen a crowded place to restrict Father's movements, but he had used the crowd to hide his presence and ambush me.
Father, who had slipped up behind me unnoticed, gripped me and swung a heavy fist.
POW!!!
...How long had it been since Father last hit me?
The impact felt as if it were rattling the contents of my skull, leaving me dazed. I collapsed onto the rain-slicked concrete, and the branch in my back dug in even deeper.
As I groaned and crawled on the ground, I saw Father retrieving his [Quinque] from the corner of my eye.
His gaze fell upon me—a look so cold it could have turned the falling rain into ice.
“Hand her over.”
“....”
I wanted to scream "no," but the shock had stolen my voice.
Instead, I expressed my resolve by hugging Eto even tighter.
Father’s brow twitched with rising anger. He reached out to forcibly tear Eto away from me.
In that instant, while pretending to struggle on the ground, I threw a chunk of concrete I had secretly hidden in my hand at his face.
“!?”
Startled by the sudden attack, Father recoiled a step.
Without missing the opening, I bolted, diving into the crowd that had gathered to see the commotion.
“Tch!”
Wiping the concrete grit from his eye with the rainwater, Father clicked his tongue, his face twisting in frustration as I vanished into the throng of people.
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