Bubble, bubble.
The rich, savory aroma of soybean paste soup wafted up from the pot at a rolling boil.
The evening glow streaming through the window added a touch of warmth to the kitchen. It was the quintessential scene of an ordinary family preparing dinner.
I ladled some out to taste the broth.
It was a bit blander than I had hoped, but I decided it was good enough and turned off the gas. Since I was the only one eating it, I had developed a tendency to be a bit lax with the cooking.
I pulled a plastic-wrapped plate from the refrigerator.
Inside lay a slab of meat with a vivid, crimson hue. Unfortunately, it wasn't beef or pork.
I placed the meat on the cutting board, clasped my hands in a brief moment of silence, and then sliced it thinly.
Seven pieces, cut into bite-sized morsels perfect for a child.
I was about to wrap the remainder in plastic, but considering Eto's recent growth spurt, I sliced one more piece.
I arranged the meat on the plate and carried it to the table.
Once I confirmed everything was ready, I called out to her.
"Eto, dinner's ready!"
"Coming~!"
Eto came trotting over, the book she had been reading tucked under her arm.
To an outsider, it would have been a bizarre sight.
A father and daughter sitting across from one another.
Before me sat a mundane meal of steamed rice and soybean paste soup; before Eto sat nothing but a plate with eight pieces of meat.
But to us, this was normal. Eto looked at the meat and started to smile, but then she glanced at my meal and her expression suddenly turned gloomy.
"? What's wrong?"
"Dad... I told you before, I really don't mind eating separately."
Here we go again.
Of course it bothered her. She was a Ghoul, and what she was eating so heartily was human flesh. She understood exactly what it meant for a human to share a table with her.
A meal with a "monster" who consumed the "meat" of her own kind right before his eyes.
It was the kind of thought that could kill anyone's appetite, making them wonder if their food was going down their throat or their ears.
However.
Thwack!
"Kyah!"
I delivered a light chop to the crown of Eto's head.
"Families always eat together. That is a universal truth across all times and places. Any objections?"
I wasn't dining with a monster; I was dining with my family. To maintain distance despite knowing that was no different from denying our bond.
Eto rubbed her head—which had suffered no real damage—and looked up at me.
Only after I gave her a reassuring smile did she finally relax and settle into her seat.
We clasped our hands together, chorused "Let's eat," and picked up our chopsticks.
"Oh? There's an extra piece of meat?"
Eto noticed the slight increase before she even took a bite.
"You've grown lately. You need to eat more to keep growing."
Eto was the type of child who would suffer in silence even if her portions were insufficient.
She did this because she knew that not only the meals but the "procurement" of food was a burden on me. To me, however, it was an unnecessary worry; I had long since grown accustomed to it.
At the very least, she no longer suffered from the panic attacks she once had.
Still, Eto seemed determined not to be a burden.
Seeing that I had increased her portion without warning, she puffed out her cheeks and grumbled.
"Hmph. I don't need this much. I'm going to leave some."
"Leave it and you'll be punished."
"Do you want your daughter to get fat?"
"Being a bit plump is much healthier than being scrawny."
"Maintaining a figure is important for a girl!"
"What are you talking about 'maintaining a figure' when you're a brat who hasn't even hit puberty yet!"
"Then if I eat too much and get fat, will you take responsibility and keep me with you for the rest of my life?"
"Go live on your own."
"You're so mean!"
We continued our dinner, trading our usual playful banter, when suddenly—
Ding-dong!
"Hm?"
"Who is it?"
The sudden ring of the doorbell caught us off guard. Just in case, I gave Eto a sharp look.
Eto quickly grabbed her plate of meat and scurried into the back room. Once I confirmed she was hidden, I rose from the table and headed to the entrance.
"Yes? Who is it?"
When I opened the door, I found a man holding a small box. Upon closer inspection, he was a delivery driver.
"Delivery for Mr. Takaki Koma. Is that you?"
"A delivery?"
Had I ordered something? Nothing came to mind.
Relieved that he didn't seem suspicious, I accepted the package. I was slightly surprised by its weight, which felt heavy for its small size.
After sending the driver on his way, I examined the box, and my gaze stopped at the sender's name.
"...!!!"
The name left me stunned.
That shock quickly curdled into a quiet, simmering rage.
"Which son of a bitch...?"
Unconsciously, my grip tightened, crumpling the cardboard box.
Still, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the name.
「Takaki Harima」
A package from a father who died four years ago. It wasn't even funny. If this was a prank, it was a truly vile one.
Whoever sent this, I felt a surge of pure hostility. Using a pseudonym was one thing, but choosing my dead father's name was crossing a line.
"Dad?"
Eto's cautious voice drifted from behind me.
She had likely been hiding from the stranger and only peeked out once she knew the coast was clear.
...What kind of face am I making right now? I didn't have a mirror, but I knew it wasn't a pleasant one.
I pressed my palm against my face, forcing my expression to soften.
My insides were still boiling over at the malicious joke, but there was no need to let Eto see that.
"Is something wrong?"
"It's nothing. Just a package."
"But the box is all squashed."
"The delivery guy did a terrible job."
Maintaining my usual composure, I set the box on the floor. As I tore open the packaging, I tried to deduce who the sender could be.
Who could it be?
It was impossible for a package to arrive from my father in the afterlife. If it was a pseudonym, Mister Kuzen came to mind, but he wasn't the type to play such cruel games.
Hitokawa wasn't that kind of person either, but if he actually was the culprit, I would run over and punch his face in this instant.
Regardless, I needed to check the contents.
When I had crumpled the box earlier, I felt something hard inside.
At least it's not a dead rat...
Besides, I didn't think I had made enough enemies to receive such a "gift." ...Probably.
I tore away the wrapping and flung the flaps of the box open.
"Eh...?"
"...Whoever this bastard is, I'm going to find them."
Eto stared at the contents with a look of shock. I steadied my breathing and reached inside.
The cold, heavy sensation of steel bit into my skin.
Two years ago, I had felt this exact same sensation. The "thing" I had used to blow through the head of a Ghoul who had posed as a policeman to hunt me.
It was a handgun.
A revolver, just like the one from back then. Though this one had a five-round cylinder instead of six. I slid the cylinder open to check the ammunition.
The bullets were stained red. On the side of each casing, the letter 'Q' was embossed.
"[Q Bullet]... Why would a weapon designed for Ghouls be...?"
I could feel it—something was moving to shatter this peaceful daily life.
***
"That concludes the briefing on the 'Artist.' Investigators assigned to teams are to focus their search for traces of the Artist in the previously mentioned sectors. The Artist's actions are becoming increasingly violent. I expect every single clue to be uncovered within five days. Dismissed!"
Shuffle, shuffle!
Following the commanding voice, the personnel in the conference room filed out in a steady stream.
Hitokawa remained in the now-empty room, letting out a long, heavy sigh.
As expected, being squeezed into a meeting with the CCG's formidable veterans was still a living hell for a low-ranking officer like him.
"You look exhausted, Hitokawa-kun."
"Ah, Hajimoto-san!"
Hitokawa sprang to his feet as a man in his early thirties addressed him.
Shinichi Hajimoto.
Hitokawa's former superior, the man who had passed down various techniques to him.
Though he had recently been promoted to Special Class and was no longer his direct supervisor, Hitokawa still held him in the highest regard.
Incidentally, he had also been the former partner of Koma's father.
Hitokawa had assumed he wouldn't see him for a while, so he had been genuinely surprised to see him in the conference room.
Hajimoto was also participating in the hunt for the Artist.
"I didn't expect to see you so soon. I heard you've been incredibly busy since your promotion to Special Class."
"I have. But I couldn't simply overlook the Artist case, so I volunteered despite my schedule."
"What? Hajimoto-san, do you know the Artist?"
"Whether I 'know' him or not... let's just say there is a matter from my past that needs to be settled."
As Hajimoto spoke, his eyes held a flicker of grim determination.
"Regardless of what anyone says, Mr. Takaki... my former superior lost his life to that bastard while trying to protect me."
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