“Haaah……”
He let out a heavy sigh. He was so sleep-deprived from pulling an all-nighter that he felt like he could die on the spot, but his mind was too restless to let him sleep.
Hitokawa lay face-down on the cold desk, cheek pressed against the surface, narrowing his dark-ringed eyes as his pupils darted back and forth.
Random paperwork was scattered across the office desk.
Half of it consisted of reports on damage caused by Ghoul incidents. The other half was a collection of intelligence on various Ghoul criminals—their habits, appearance patterns, usual locations, and details about their Kagune.
A Ghoul Investigator lives every waking moment facing vicious Ghouls.
Sometimes they even haunt their dreams, making it practically a twenty-four-hour war.
The “war of nerves” spent enduring each other’s threatening presence; the “psychological war” of tracking down hiding places and chasing those who try to flee; the “slaughter war” where, the moment they clash, all mercy is discarded and they fight until one side is dead…….
This was why Ghoul Investigators were required to receive regular psychiatric counseling. Fighting Ghouls was no different from being in a real war.
He had seen countless people retire while carrying trauma heavy enough to crush them.
Forty percent of rookie investigators couldn’t bear the pressure and quit.
But Hitokawa had survived and climbed the ranks to become a second-rank investigator. There was only one way to escape the pressure.
Blind faith.
Ghouls were the source of all evil. Humans suffered because Ghouls existed. Only by exterminating Ghouls could the world be set right…….
Without a level of self-suggestion bordering on brainwashing, no one could endure it.
Hitokawa had lived by that belief, hunting and killing Ghouls.
And then, something like today happened.
Eto was a Ghoul.
He didn’t know the circumstances, but the child his old childhood friend had cherished and raised was a Ghoul. The shock was beyond words.
Even in the middle of the most grueling battles, Hitokawa had sometimes drawn strength by recalling one particular scene.
The walk home, exhausted after being dragged into the war of paperwork.
He would stop by the shop where that bastard Koma worked and order the manager’s special oyakodon. The manager, treating him as a regular, would always pile on extra egg. Whenever he ate there, Eto would appear.
She would launch herself into Koma's arms, chat with the manager like they were girls sharing secrets, and treat Hitokawa with the cool distance of a wary cat…… all while smiling. They would all talk and laugh together.
He loved that everyday life.
Because he loved it, he wanted to protect it.
And because he wanted to protect it, he hated Ghouls even more, exterminating them with a fervor born from the fear that they might one day ruin that ordinary peace.
But…….
“Don’t make me laugh, damn it……”
He was furious at his own ignorance, disgusted, and clawed at his hair in frustration.
Then, a cold voice cut through the air and stabbed into him from above.
“Oh? Have you developed a hobby of ignoring your superior’s summons and cursing while self-harming, Hitokawa-kun?”
“Huh!? N-no, sir!”
Hitokawa shot upright on reflex and snapped to attention.
His superior, a man with sharp, unpleasant eyes, tossed a document envelope onto Hitokawa’s desk.
“The materials we requested from the police station where the pistol and Q Bullet were stolen have arrived. CCTV footage from the theft and a suspect sketch. This is the case you’re handling, right?”
“Ah, yes! Thank you very much!”
“Though shouldn’t this be the complaints team’s job? The field team should be busy enough just running around on-site.”
“It was a friend’s…… request.”
“Hmm. Don’t let it interfere with your main work. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.”
His superior, who looked fierce but actually took good care of his subordinates, gave him a stern warning and left.
“Hoo…… come to think of it, this was here too.”
The origin of the pistol and Q Bullet delivered to Koma. He had completely forgotten about it because he hadn’t had the mental bandwidth to care.
He still didn't feel particularly focused, but he figured he should at least check the suspect sketch, so Hitokawa tore open the envelope.
Just as he was about to pull out the papers and photo—
[Ring ring ring!]
“Hm?”
The office phone rang. The number displayed on the handset was definitely the one for the reception desk at the first-floor entrance.
Hitokawa set the envelope down and picked up the receiver.
“This is the first-floor reception desk. Am I speaking with Mr. Hitokawa Tomoru? We have a visitor requesting an interview.”
“An interview? Who is it?”
“Well…… it’s ‘a girl who looks to be around ten years old.’ She says she has something important to discuss and wants you to come down.”
“……!!”
A girl around ten years old……? A bad feeling crept over him.
“Um…… could you describe her?”
“Hmm…… she’s wearing a boy cap and red-rimmed glasses. Ah, and she has a bandage on her left cheek.”
A boy cap, glasses, and a bandage…… Those weren’t the features of the child he was thinking of.
No way. No matter how young she is, she wouldn’t come here if she had even a shred of common sense.
Trying to soothe his nerves with that thought, he grabbed his suit jacket and headed down to the first floor to check for himself.
He left the envelope with the photo and sketch lying forgotten on his desk.
***
When he arrived on the first floor and faced the child who had asked for him, Hitokawa’s cheek twitched violently.
“……You really do love betraying people's trust, don't you?”
“If you're talking about last time, I have nothing to say. But if you're talking about now, you're just imagining things, old man.”
Sure enough, it was a girl wearing a boy cap, glasses, and a bandage on her left cheek.
It just happened to be Eto.
Eto was the type to save her allowance rather than spend it, so she had plenty of cash. She had used it to stop by a gift shop and buy a disguise cap and non-prescription glasses.
As for the bandage, she had read in a book that placing one on the face could interfere with a person's recognition of their identity.
Hitokawa sighed and looked down at Eto coldly.
“Do you even know where you are?”
“A tiger’s den.”
Hitokawa’s brow furrowed, and Eto continued boldly.
“I came to catch the tiger. Specifically, you, Mr. Hitokawa.”
“Why? Since I'm the only one who knows your identity, are you trying to silence me?”
“Not with the violent methods you're imagining.”
Eto held out a neatly wrapped box from the paper bag in her hand.
They were handmade manju from a famous nearby wagashi shop.
“I came to talk. Dad and you need to talk, and by extension, the two of us inevitably need to talk as well. This is a gift. You can think of it as a bribe. We can eat while we talk calmly……”
“Cut it out!!!”
Thwack!!
He swung his hand and knocked the manju box away.
The box flew from Eto’s hand and rolled across the floor, the pretty wrapping tearing as several pieces of the sweets spilled out.
“What are you plotting!! Did Koma send you!? No matter what tricks you pull, I don’t trust you bastards!! Get out of here right n……!!”
What stopped Hitokawa from shouting “Get out!” were the large tears suddenly welling up in Eto’s eyes.
“…………I waited for an hour.”
“……What?”
Hitokawa could only blink, his mouth hanging open.
“I waited in line in front of the shop for an hour to buy these…… A kind old lady even gave me her spot so I could finally get them…… I spent all the allowance I’d saved up for this……”
“H-hey, now wait a minute—”
“Hic! Waaaaaaah~!!”
Eto burst into loud, wailing tears. Hitokawa was the one who panicked at the unexpected reaction.
He quickly realized that every single person in the lobby had turned their attention toward them.
The middle-aged man sitting nervously in the waiting area, the security guard standing rigidly by the entrance, the cleaning lady with her mop—all of them were casting looks of pure judgment at the wretched adult who had made a child cry.
The receptionists were the worst; they looked at him as if he were living garbage.
They had been chatting with Eto while Hitokawa was on his way down, and in that short time, they had fallen completely under her spell. Their coldness was razor-sharp.
Hitokawa thought that this was exactly the kind of atmosphere that surrounded Koma whenever he went ballistic over something involving Eto.
“……Hey. Please don't socially execute me. This is my workplace.”
“Hic! Hic! ……Will you talk to me?”
“……Yes, I will.”
“……And the manju?”
“……………………I’ll eat them.”
Eto rubbed her face roughly and gathered the box and the fallen manju from the floor.
As she did, Hitokawa caught a glimpse of the corner of her mouth curling into a grin, as if she had never been crying at all.
He suddenly remembered something his superior had said while they were drinking: “Sometimes, a woman who knows how to weaponize her tears is scarier than a Ghoul.”
Koma, what kind of monster are you raising?
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