I was terrified.
I was terrified that Daddy had vanished, terrified of what might have happened to him.
The memory of that nameless woman—the one who had briefly offered me an affection so like a father's before she died—resurfaced. Driven by the fear that the same irrational concept called "death" might swallow Daddy whole, I sprinted through the streets.
Death is the theft of a loved one by the irreversible currents of the world. It is the end of shared conversations, the end of laughing together, the end of crying together—the end of ever feeling the warmth of another again.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
I don't want him taken away.
Daddy. He's my Daddy.
I won't let anyone take him.
Don't take him. If you take him, I will never, ever forgive you.
I won't forgive anyone.
Don't take Daddy from me. If you do, I will become something more terrifying than death itself. I'll become something more horrific than death and I'll be so, so angry. I'll pour out everything boiling inside me and I'll break you. I'll hold everything responsible for failing to stop Daddy's death.
I'll break it. I'll break it. I'll break it. I'll break it. I'll break it.
I'll break everything until there's nothing left in this world.
So don't take him. Give him back.
Daddy. Where are you? Give him back to me!
Daddy.
Daddy.
Daddy.
Da—
"E-Eto!?"
The magma flowing like a violent torrent through my mind finally stilled at the sound of a single voice. My vision was blurred—not because of the darkness, but because of the transparent tears pooling in my eyes with nowhere to go. I hadn't realized I'd been relying entirely on my sense of smell to find him.
I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, and finally, I saw him. He was staring at me with wide eyes, his mouth agape as if stunned by my appearance. He looked broken; blood flowed from the gash on his forehead, and there wasn't a single part of him that didn't look battered.
But he was alive. He was alive!
"Daddy! 𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺!!!"
𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩!!
I ran with all my might and threw my arms around him. I forgot his constant warnings about controlling my strength because it was greater than other people's. Right now, I just wanted to feel with my entire body that he was truly alive. My impact was so great that for a moment, Daddy's eyes seemed to roll back into his head.
A moment later, he regained his senses and began to soothe me, but my sobbing wouldn't stop.
That was when it happened. Daddy suddenly pulled me into his arms and threw our bodies to the side.
𝘒𝘢-𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘰𝘮!!!!
"𝘒𝘩𝘩𝘩!!!"
"Daddy?!"
The relief of our reunion was instantly erased by his pained groan and the arrival of a foul, suffocating presence. Daddy ignored the fresh scrapes on his arms—worsened by the fact that he'd shielded me from the bare ground—and forced himself up. He stood in front of me, shielding me, and glared at the man who had dropped down from the roof of the alley building.
He was wearing the police uniform I often saw on TV. Though the fabric was torn and stained with blood, the moment I realized some of that blood belonged to Daddy, something hot and searing surged through my mind again.
The man's eyes glowed with the dark crimson of the Kakugan, proving his Ghoul nature. It was the first time I had ever seen a Ghoul other than myself. But the look in his eyes held none of the warmth of a kindred spirit. There was only mockery. Only contempt.
"'Daddy,' is it? I thought it was pathetic enough when I found out you were raising a Ghoul, but seeing it in person is even more revolting."
"Say one more word about Eto," Daddy's voice was terrifyingly sharp. "And I will kill you."
I had never seen him this angry. But the Ghoul didn't seem to find Daddy frightening at all; instead, the sneer on his face only deepened.
"Kill me? You must have forgotten your place just because you managed to catch me off guard a few times."
𝘛𝘩𝘸𝘢𝘤𝘬!!!
"?!!!"
My world inverted in an instant. Daddy was suddenly slammed backward, his weight knocking me off my feet, and then he was gone. I whipped my head around, searching for him. I saw the Ghoul gripping Daddy by the throat, hoisting him up and slamming him mercilessly against the wall.
Inside my brain, the flames of magma erupted once more.
𝘚𝘭𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘮!!!
"𝘒𝘢𝘩…!!"
The brutal hand clamped around my throat, cutting off both my breath and the flow of blood, while the concrete wall delivered an unyielding shock to my spine. The air in my lungs screamed to escape, but with my throat constricted, it had nowhere to go. I felt as though my internal organs, lungs included, were on the verge of rupturing.
"This is what they call a rat in a trap. I hope you're the last human who gives me this much trouble before I kill them."
"𝘒𝘩𝘩…!!"
I tried to pry his hand away with both of mine, but it wouldn't budge. I changed tactics, thrusting one hand toward his eyes.
𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘣!
He caught my wrist effortlessly. His grin widened as if he were now certain I was out of tricks.
"Feel it. This is what it means to be a 'Ghoul.' And this is what it means to be 'human'."
𝘚𝘯𝘢𝘱!!
For a moment, I didn't recognize the sound. It was the short, sharp crack of a dry branch breaking. Then I saw it: the wrist he was holding was bent at an impossible angle.
My right wrist was broken. It happened so easily, it made me doubt if my body had always been this fragile.
"...!! ...!!"
I couldn't even scream. As the oxygen supply to my brain was severed, my vision began to be consumed by darkness. The pain began to fade along with it, but I knew this wasn't a good sign.
"Humans and Ghouls are different. A human cannot raise a Ghoul. Even if they try, that Ghoul will grow up forced into a world built for humans. I've seen Ghouls like that before—creatures taken in by human pity, learning their weak ways before being thrust out into the world. Do you know what happened to them?"
The darkness was swallowing everything now. Yet, his loathsome voice reached my ears with terrifying clarity. I was furious at my own powerlessness, but I couldn't even express that rage.
"They all died. A bird raised in a cage can't survive for a single second the moment it leaves that cage. Do you think you're protecting that child? Don't make me laugh. You are nothing but the cage. If that child becomes unable to fly, it is entirely your fault."
I wanted to argue.
I couldn't.
Was it because my throat was crushed? Was it because I was on the verge of losing consciousness? Or was it because a part of me believed he was right?
The one question that had haunted me throughout the time I had spent raising Eto:
『Am I truly raising this child well?』
I couldn't be sure. Wouldn't Mr. Kuzen have done a better job? If I hadn't been so weak, she wouldn't have felt the need to take on so much responsibility. She wouldn't have had to endure the contemptuous gaze and words of this Ghoul.
The world is cruel. It does not allow anyone to find happiness through "affection" alone. I am weak. I don't possess the minimum strength required to protect that child against the tides of this world. I cannot fly. Forget flying—I was nothing more than a rusted birdcage, being eaten away day by day by my own obsessions with death and my paralyzing anxiety.
In such a state, no rebuttal would come. I couldn't even summon the strength for a final curse. All that remained was a pathetic death, swallowed by a sense of utter futility.
𝘊𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩!!
"𝘒𝘩𝘩?!"
A sudden, sharp cry of pain escaped the Ghoul, and the grip on my throat loosened for a heartbeat. My breath hitched, and blood rushed back to my brain, carrying life-saving oxygen. My heart hammered against my ribs, and by reflex, I lashed out with my foot, kicking the Ghoul square in the nose.
The Ghoul reeled back from the impact and tumbled onto the ground.
Clinging to his leg was Eto. Her expression was one of pure, unbridled fury, her right Kakugan blazing as she tore into the Ghoul's flesh like a small, savage beast.
"Eto...?"
I managed to push myself away from the fallen Ghoul, mumbling her name in a daze. Eto stepped in front of me, her small frame shielding mine, and let out a defiant scream.
"Don't you touch my Daddy!!!"