In a Ghoul’s life, unfairness always clings like a shadow.
Born into a body that cannot survive without consuming human flesh, rejected by society, and nearly killed countless times—he had survived only by clawing his way through the dirt.
Koma Enji was just one of the many Ghouls living such a wretched existence.
But this was the first time he had ever encountered *this* kind of unfairness.
KWA-GA-GA-GA-CRACK!
The moment he kicked off the ground, he became a blur of chaotic lines. The concrete floor, the walls, the pillars, the ceiling—there wasn’t a single surface that didn’t bear the mark of his footprints.
Moving with frantic speed, Enji hurled himself toward the surface with ferocious momentum.
His target was the nape of the enormous shadow standing tall above. To Enji, it was the spot where the man’s guard was most dangerously lowered.
Power surged from his shoulders, flowing down his arms and concentrating in his fingertips.
Koma Enji had been born with a naturally weak Kagune. Because of this, he had perfected a combat style that used his Kagune merely as a support to maximize his raw physical strength.
At this moment, his arm was a weapon that could rival any Kagune. As he swung it toward the man’s neck, he felt a surge of absolute certainty in his victory.
Puhah!
And then, in the next instant, Enji’s body was sent flying as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll.
He couldn’t even perceive what had attacked him. By the time he regained his senses, he was already rolling across the ground, coughing up blood.
This was it. The first true unfairness Enji had ever witnessed.
The man had simply stood there, motionless. Yet, that alone had been enough to overwhelm him.
Every movement was heavy yet sharp, impossibly fast yet fluid.
Speed and weight, sharpness and blunt force, flexibility and toughness—it was a paradox where contradictions coexisted. It was a level of strength so absurd it felt like a cheat.
“Khh...!”
Enji groaned as he struggled to rise. However, both of his arms hung uselessly at his sides.
Blood streamed from deep, carved wounds at the ends of his collarbones.
The previous attack had severed the tendons leading to his arms with surgical precision.
It would take considerable time for such wounds to heal. With his arms neutralized, Enji had only one option left: flight.
Grit.
Enji ground his teeth, his [Kakugan] blazing with a burning intensity as he glared at the man.
“You still didn’t kill me. You had plenty of chances to rip out my throat or crush my kakuhou. You’ve always been like this! Even when you had me dead to rights, you let me live! What, are you some kind of pacifist? A Ghoul born to kill, playing the saint? Don’t make me laugh!!”
“......”
The man did not answer. He was always like this.
The stranger had begun appearing around the 20th Ward some time ago.
For a Ghoul of unknown origin to wander freely through their territory was an intolerable insult to the faction's leadership.
Consequently, Enji had sent his subordinates after him—to recruit him if he was useful, to drive him out if he wasn't, or to eliminate him if he refused to communicate.
But the results were never what Enji expected. They didn't recruit him, they didn't drive him out, and they didn't kill him. Instead, his men returned in a state of total wreckage.
It was baffling. The subordinates he had sent were seasoned fighters who had survived encounters with Special Class Investigators.
Yet they returned with injuries that were precisely calibrated to render them combat-ineffective. It was proof that the man had not only dominated them but had intentionally shown mercy.
From then on, Enji’s group clashed with the man frequently. Each time his men returned alive, Enji realized the man was an anomaly.
With tensions rising with the neighboring 'Black Doberman' group, war felt inevitable. Enji couldn't afford a wild card like this mysterious man during a full-scale conflict.
He had been preparing to mobilize his entire force for a coordinated hunt, but the man had caught wind of the plan and stormed Enji’s hideout first.
It was a perfect ambush. His subordinates were dismantled in an instant.
Even then, the man adhered to his strange code, breaking limbs but refusing to take lives.
Though he felt humiliated, Enji focused on salvaging his group.
Knowing his men would only continue to be slaughtered, he ordered an immediate evacuation and stayed behind to stall the man.
The result? As seen here.
Enji, feared among Ghoul Investigators as the 'Butcher' for his brutality, had been utterly dismantled without a chance.
But more than the defeat, Enji loathed the man's refusal to deliver the final blow.
Enji was a survivor. To survive, he had learned to be merciless, both in his own endurance and in the killing of others. His followers were the same.
But this man? He possessed the power to crush everyone, yet he refused to kill. Was he mocking them? Was he simply intoxicated by his own superiority? The thought filled Enji with a nausea-inducing rage.
Survival no longer mattered.
He wouldn't be satisfied until he clashed with this man one last time, even if it cost him his life. That was the only way to validate the life he had lived.
As Enji, his arms neutralized, sharpened his Bikaku for a desperate offensive, the man finally spoke.
“Let’s stop here. You cannot stay here any longer.”
“Ha! Trying to back out now? Not a chance. This fight doesn't end until I tear your limbs off and rip your head from your shoulders!”
“Can’t you feel them? The ones approaching.”
“......What?”
At those words, a chill like ice water poured over his burning rage.
He felt it. The vibration of footsteps, the rhythm of breathing, and a thick layer of killing intent—all heavily suppressed, yet closing in.
How could he not? He had spent his entire life fighting the owners of that specific presence.
Less than a minute later, the windows and doors shattered as unfamiliar figures stormed the hideout.
White coats reaching their ankles. In their hands, Quinques shaped like firearms.
Ghoul Investigators.
They had charged in with murderous intent, but as they surveyed the empty building, their expressions shifted to utter bewilderment.
“Damn it! The monkeys caught the scent and bolted!”
Marude Itsuki, the lead investigator, irritably hurled his helmet aside.
They had spent so much effort controlling the information to wipe out the 'En' group in one fell swoop, yet the leak had happened anyway. The hideout was a ghost town.
“Well, we missed them. It happens, doesn't it?”
“Shut it, Shinohara! I can overlook the small fry, but we should have caught Maen! Capturing him would have guaranteed my promotion! Where the hell did the leak come from?!”
According to his plan, the En group should have been exterminated in their sleep. Marude scratched his head in a fit of neurotic frustration.
From a distant building, two figures watched the scene unfold.
It was Enji and the man, who had slipped away through a secret passage.
Watching the investigators seize the building in an instant, Enji felt a shiver run down his spine. These were the same people the man had effortlessly toyed with during his ambush. If it had been the CCG instead of the stranger, the result would have been a massacre.
Enji kept his eyes on the investigators and spoke.
“So that was it? The reason you attacked me?”
“I suspected you wouldn't believe me if I simply warned you that investigators were coming. Time was short, so I had to use a more... forceful method.”
“Why help us? You knew we wanted you dead.”
To Enji, it was incomprehensible.
Enemies didn't help each other without a profit. His group had been dead set on the man's elimination.
Yet the man had acted for Enji's benefit. He had to know why.
“A few days ago, I witnessed something impressive. A man dove into traffic to save a child who had chased a ball into the road. His movements were not human. He was a Ghoul.”
“Hmph. Some Ghoul with a useless streak of meddling.”
“And that Ghoul is currently standing beside me.”
“......”
Enji turned his head away to hide the flush of embarrassment. He muttered a clumsy excuse.
“That was... just... seeing a dead cat on the road ruins the mood. I just cleared the trash before it spoiled my day.”
“Your reasons are irrelevant. You saved that child, and I saw it. That is why I helped you.”
“That's it? Just because I saved some human brat?”
“Would it be more convincing if I said I was moved? I believe that is reason enough.”
The man continued.
The moonless night obscured his features, but Enji could tell he was smiling.
“Even a life forced to survive by taking from others can still choose to help someone, can it not?”
“......”
A life forced to survive by taking from others... The words resonated deeply within Enji.
It described the man, it described Enji, and it described every one of his subordinates.
Every Ghoul in this world was trapped in that cycle.
Like birds in a cage.
“...Fine. I owe you. I owe you my men's lives, and I'm not the type to let a debt linger. Give me a task. I want to pay you back.”
“Hmm... I've only recently settled in, so I've been wondering what to do. I'm thinking of opening a café.”
“A café? With your strength, you could build an empire that would make the CCG shake in their boots. You really are a weird one. Well, want an employee? I've never brewed coffee, but I'm a fast learner.”
“I appreciate the offer, but first... yes. I would like you to help a friend of mine and his family.”
“A friend? Who? Actually, before that—I just realized I don't even know your name. I can't keep calling the man I owe 'you' or 'sir' forever.”
The man turned to look at Enji.
Up close, Enji noticed that the man's face was lined with gentle wrinkles—a benevolent expression that seemed entirely at odds with his terrifying power.
“Kuzen. Yoshimura Kuzen is my name.”
***
Coming to meet Mr. Yoshimura’s friend was one thing... but...
Enji had arrived at the home of Takaki Koma as requested, but he had no idea what 'helping' actually entailed.
More importantly, the identity of Kuzen’s friend was a complete shock.
Sitting at the table with his arms crossed, Enji glanced toward the kitchen.
The clatter of dishes accompanied the sound of a conversation.
“I know Ghouls can drink coffee, but... should I go with instant, or brew some beans?”
“Instant is fine, isn't it? You drink it all the time, Dad.”
“But Mr. Kuzen is a guest. Instant feels a bit cheap; I think I'll brew some real beans for a change.”
...That guy is definitely human, right?
Enji couldn't hide his bewilderment.
Expecting a monstrous Ghoul—perhaps not on Kuzen's level, but still formidable—he had instead found a man who was human in every conceivable way.
A Ghoul could never emit such a distinct, delicious human scent.
“Which cups should I use... the ones Hitokawa used to use?”
“Dad, there are spares in the ceiling storage.”
The girl calling him 'Dad' was equally baffling.
Her scent was a bizarre cocktail of human and Ghoul.
If he had to guess, she smelled like a Ghoul who had just finished a meal, or a human who had just brushed shoulders with a Ghoul. It was ambiguous.
However, the aura Eto had displayed when guarding the door was unmistakably that of a Ghoul. That created a problem.
A Ghoul who called a human 'Dad' and followed him around? What in the world was this?
Everything happening before his eyes defied Enji's common sense.
Despite his confusion, Enji forced himself to accept it.
Right, this is Kuzen we're talking about. Of course his social circle is abnormal.
Having experienced Kuzen's strength and kindness, Enji decided to trust the situation through the respect he had developed for the man.
Ding-dong!
The doorbell rang. Koma’s voice drifted from the kitchen.
“Ah, sorry! Enji, was it? I'm reaching for something in the cupboard and can't move. Could you get the door for me?”
Is this guy for real? Is he actually this careless?
Sure, he was here on Mr. Kuzen's request, but he was still a Ghoul.
Since when do people ask a stranger of a different species to act as their doorman before they've even met?
“If it’s someone in a white coat, make sure you act human. It’ll be a Ghoul Investigator.”
At Eto's warning, the last remnants of Enji's sanity evaporated.
What the hell is this house?!
What kind of place is this where a human father raises a Ghoul daughter and Ghoul Investigators drop by for visits?!
Stunned into silence by the sheer absurdity of the environment, Enji staggered toward the entrance.
He hoped it was a joke, but just in case, he put on his best 'innocent human' face and opened the door.
Fortunately, there was no investigator. Instead, there was a woman.
She had a short bob and wore black clothing. Her features were delicate and beautiful, but her sunken eyes gave her a gloomy, oppressive air.
“Excuse me. Is this the home of Takaki Koma...?”
The woman's voice trailed off the moment the door opened.
Her expression twisted in horror as she looked at Enji, and Enji responded with an equally shocked face of his own.
“That rotten mountain monkey?!”
“That damn mutt?!”
“Huh? You two know each other?”
“Do you know each other?”
As Enji and the woman screamed at each other, Eto and Koma emerged from the kitchen with fresh teacups, both staring at them with utter confusion.
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