This city had a district that was like a fortress of safety for humans and a living hell for ghouls.
It was the 1st Ward, home to the CCG headquarters.
As if proclaiming itself to every ghoul hiding in the city's shadows, the CCG headquarters building towered so high it seemed to pierce the sky.
Hitokawa spotted a man standing and smoking at the main gate of the headquarters and hurried over.
"Sorry I'm late, Mr. Hashimoto!"
"No, you came at just the right time."
The man who greeted Hitokawa pulled out a portable ashtray, dropped his cigarette in, and crushed it.
Senior Investigator Shinichi Hashimoto.
He looked young enough to be Hitokawa's peer, but he was a seasoned pro with seven years on the job and countless battlefields under his belt.
He had been promoted to Senior Investigator two years ago and had spent the following year guiding rookie Hitokawa through his first investigations as both mentor and teacher.
"So, what's this about? You summoned me out of the blue."
"Hmm… I wanted to talk about yesterday's murder case. Something about it is bugging me, so I thought we'd look into it."
In Hashimoto's hand were the documents on the ghoul-related murder case that had been transferred from the police to the CCG yesterday.
It turned out to be the case in which Koma was the prime suspect. Tucked among the papers was that eerily familiar—yet somehow different—composite sketch.
Hashimoto pulled out the sketch and said,
"This composite sketch… I think it might be someone I know."
"Huh?"
Hitokawa was about to bring up that sketch himself, so he was thrown when Hashimoto beat him to it—and uttered the same thought he'd been having.
"Mr. Hashimoto, do you actually know Koma?"
"Hmm? Koma… you mean Takaki Koma?"
What the—? It was the kind of coincidence that made you think the world was incredibly small.
To think my first boss as a ghoul investigator turned out to be an acquaintance of my friend.
'Well, I guess it makes sense—his father was a ghoul investigator….'
Strictly speaking, he was a ghoul investigator. He isn't anymore.
After all, you can't fill a ghoul investigator's badge for someone who's already dead.
Hitokawa could never forget how Koma had struggled after his father's death, to the point that Hitokawa had hesitated about becoming an investigator himself.
"He's the son of my former boss… He died in the line of duty, and I met Koma over the funeral arrangements."
Of course it all connected that way…
Understanding that, Hitokawa said it was perfect timing and told Hashimoto about the meeting he'd just had with Koma.
Hearing the story, Hashimoto shook his head sympathetically—mourning a respected superior lost and feeling for the child left grieving behind.
"So he was suffering from a mental disorder… Unfortunately, that's not something we can help with. Unless he overcomes that on his own, there's no fixing it. If we meddle, we'll just make him suffer more."
"That figures…"
"But if that's the case, something about this doesn't add up."
"What do you mean?"
"We know Takaki isn't a ghoul. That he bolted because he couldn't handle the police interrogation due to his condition is odd, but not impossible. Then what about the 'human blood' found at the spot where Takaki was? What exactly was that?"
"…!"
Hitokawa realized he'd failed to ask the most critical question and berated himself.
Although it was unlikely that blood had anything to do with Koma… he should have nailed down the details. He needed to prove that blood was unrelated to Koma.
"We analyzed the blood and confirmed it wasn't from the murder victim. It belonged to someone else. Judging by how dried it was, it seems to have been shed roughly ten minutes before or after Takaki fled the interrogation. Was he injured at that time?"
"…He didn't seem to have any obvious injuries."
"If it wasn't his blood, then who did it belong to, and why was it there? That's what's bothering me."
Hearing that, Hitokawa also felt the unease grow.
There were too many oddities to dismiss this case as completely unrelated to Koma.
"And according to the police statement, he ran when they tried to inspect the contents of a guitar case. Does Takaki own a guitar?"
"Ah, now that you mention it, he's had a guitar case for some time… huh?"
Hitokawa frowned and hand to his chin.
He'd glimpsed the guitar case at Koma's house but had never once seen him play it.
And Koma had said he'd gone to a famous suicide spot to clear his head—but why would he bring a guitar there?
If he'd leisurely played rock music at a suicide site, he really ought to be committed.
"What the hell…"
The more he thought, the more everything felt off.
The story's beginning and end didn't connect smoothly.
It was as if something crucial was missing or distorted…
Missing? Distorted? Because of what, exactly?
The more he thought, the less clear the answer became.
Noticing Hitokawa's frustration, Hashimoto spoke up.
"Shall we go? To Takaki's place."
Hitokawa nodded.
He had to go back and check with his friend one more time.
'Koma, what are you hiding?'
My part-time job is at an izakaya called Belly-Bursting Fireworks. Blame the manager for the godawful name.
Apparently, he's equating bomb shots—one drink that detonates your liver or whatever—but as someone who stares at corpses for a living, all I picture is someone's belly exploding like fireworks.
I'm convinced that if my panic disorder ever gets worse, that stupid name is partly to blame.
Even though it was broad daylight, I came to work at the izakaya because it doubles as a restaurant.
Originally it was just a restaurant when it opened. The manager hated opening in the morning, so he turned it into an izakaya instead.
Still, they kept serving food, so plenty of people came in for lunch.
The manager's ideas are questionable, but the drinks, snacks, and other dishes are impressive enough to keep regulars.
One of those regulars was my father.
He and the manager were high school classmates. My dad couldn't drink, but he worried about me being alone, so he'd bring me here for meals—ever since then I'd been on good terms with the manager.
After my father died, he hired me when I was looking for work.
During the day I helped out as a restaurant, then once night fell and the izakaya opened, I'd finish the prep and hand off the rest to the night crew before heading home.
I could make more money if I worked nights, but then Eto would be stuck alone at home for dinner, and I couldn't allow that.
At least I knew how lonely it was to eat by yourself.
After parting with Mr. Kuzen, I arrived at the restaurant.
The moment I slid open the door, I saw a woman in her forties turn to look at me. She was well-built, and her eyes were raised like a harpy's.
Kazama Tokie.
She's the manager of Belly-Bursting Fireworks, and she spotted me and hollered.
"Hey, you! Koma! Why are you so late? Service has already started!"
"Yes, yes. But I'm here now."
"How shameless—just like your old man. Makes me wanna smack you!"
"Please don't assault me in front of the customers."
Truth is, when she hits you as a joke, it still packs a wallop.
Last time she praised me by smacking my back so hard I was left with a blue bruise.
When Eto saw the bruise in the bath she whimpered, "Daddy, they're bullying you at work?!" But that's another story.
I didn't want a beating, so I hurriedly grabbed my apron and started taking orders, helping Tokie in the kitchen.
While chopping onions, I mumbled complaints about Tokie.
"No matter what, don't threaten my house with calls again. You scared Eto."
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
Tokie, spinning pots and flames like a character from some cooking manga, lifted an eyebrow and said,
"I haven't called your place today."
Clang
The kitchen knife stopped mid-slice.
Did I hear that right? I turned to look at her again.
"You say you haven't called my house today?"
"Nope. You've bailed shifts on me all under the excuse of taking care of Eto. I was just gonna let it slide."
"…So you didn't call to talk to Eto?"
"Like I said, I didn't. What are you fishing for? Hey! Why are you spacing out? Don't you see the orders piling up?"
Even though the manager was yelling, I wasn't listening.
I remembered what Eto had said at home today.
-When you weren't there, the manager at my workplace called our house.
That means… she lied?
Eto? Why? What reason would she have to lie?
Countless questions came flooding in, and I sorted them out fast.
What does she want? She wants me out of the house.
Why? I still don't know.
What triggered it? The trigger…
The conversation between Hitokawa and me, which I'd moved away so Eto wouldn't hear.
Did she… hear it?
Probably using her ghoul-hearing, far sharper than I expected.
Probably crouched under the hallway railing so I wouldn't notice.
She… heard that conversation.
She heard it.
Whoosh!!
"Hey, wait!? Koma!!"
Tokie's shout didn't faze me as I yanked off my apron and bolted out of the restaurant.
I ran.
I retraced my steps at full speed.
What had been a leisurely stroll only moments ago now felt like an interminable gauntlet.
I caught sight of my apartment building.
I pressed the elevator button. The countdown felt agonizingly slow.
I couldn't wait, so I sprinted for the fire escape.
First floor, second floor, third floor… I emerged into the fifth-floor hallway.
I saw my nameplate on the door.
I stopped there and turned the knob.
"Eto―――!!!"
Before I even stepped inside, I leaned forward crying out her name. And…
.........…
Only the silence hanging in the house greeted me.