Today was the day Hitokawa was scheduled to take his investigator exam. I had sent him some rice cakes as a supportive gesture, though I couldn't be sure if he'd actually had the chance to eat them.
Returning home after shopping for evening groceries, I noticed a white envelope tucked between the advertisements in the mailbox by the front door. Upon checking the front, I saw my address clearly written, but the sender's section was left suspiciously blank.
However, as I scrutinized the words "To Koma Takaki," I couldn't help but gasp in surprise.
"...Mr. Kuzen?"
There was no mistake; it was Mr. Kuzen's handwriting.
Now, how exactly should I interpret this?
I was certain the letter had come from Mr. Kuzen. Eto, perhaps catching a nostalgic scent, kept reaching her tiny hands toward the paper. Yet, when I finally unfolded the letter, I was struck with utter bewilderment.
It was a complete blank.
I held it up to the fluorescent light, rubbed the texture, and even tried to catch a scent, but no matter what I did, I reached the same conclusion: it was nothing more than an ordinary, empty sheet of paper.
"What is he trying to say? Is it some kind of code? A blank page… white… 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴? Does it mean nothing is wrong?"
But why send a letter at all? He was in a position where he couldn't even come to see Eto because of those people—the 'Organization.' Does a letter arriving mean he has finally found some breathing room? If that were true, it would have been better to come in person rather than send a cryptic message like this.
No.
"...Is it because he 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 come?"
I looked out the window. The sun had nearly set, and the chilly night air was beginning to saturate the city.
I thought it over. I didn't know everything there was to know about ghouls, but even I could tell just by his presence that Mr. Kuzen was an extraordinary one. Even a man like him lacked the confidence to ensure Eto's safety—or even his own life—against the power of the 'Organization.'
Even now, he was likely fighting just to survive somewhere in this sprawling city.
And yet, for a brief, fleeting moment, he had found a gap. In that short reprieve, his thoughts must have turned to his daughter's well-being. Is she doing well? Is she growing up healthy?
But he cannot visit. Even if a window of opportunity opened, it was likely far too brief to meet his daughter while evading the watchful eyes of the Organization. Therefore, he sent a letter. He sent it to let me know that he was still alive.
And the reason it was blank was…
"𝘏𝘮𝘮𝘮𝘮𝘮!"
After agonizing over it for a while, I suddenly looked back at Eto. Perhaps finding comfort in the scent lingering on the paper, Eto had pressed her cheek against the empty envelope and fallen fast asleep. A trail of drool escaped her mouth, completely blurring and erasing Mr. Kuzen's handwriting.
"...Alright."
I wasn't sure if the hypothesis forming in my head was correct. But this was the only thing I could do with this blank slate.
I grabbed a pencil and spent some time scribbling back and forth on the white paper. After a moment, I set the pencil down and carefully folded the paper into a plane.
"There."
I opened the window and launched the paper airplane in a direction where it could catch the breeze. Fortunately, a favorable tailwind was blowing today. The paper airplane traced a leisurely arc, gliding between the tall buildings.
What if I'm wrong? Please, let this be right. Mr. Kuzen was the one who sent such a cryptic letter in the first place, so I suppose I couldn't be blamed if I misunderstood. Still, I hoped I was right.
With a heart full of lingering thoughts, I watched the white paper airplane embark on its journey into the darkness.
Deep within the heart of Tokyo.
Just a few turns away from the streets filled with multicolored lights and the endless footsteps of the crowds lay an alleyway. The stench of blood was so thick it made one doubt if this place belonged to the same world as the streets outside.
Strewn across the ground were corpses, mutilated beyond recognition. Surrounding them were men dressed in the same uniform, radiating a sinister aura as they hemmed in their target.
And standing in the center of the circle they had formed was a man in a fedora, covered in wounds. It was, without a doubt, Kuzen.
He had manifested his wing-like 𝘬𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘦 from his back, his breathing slightly labored.
"This is the end, Kuzen."
𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘸. 𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘸.
A man chewing gum spoke with a grating, unpleasant voice that sounded like metal scraping together, a mocking smile on his face.
"No matter how much you struggle, you're nothing but a bird in a cage. You cannot escape the 'Organization.' Give up and tell us where your child is."
Kuzen, listening in silence, looked up at the sky. He watched the heavens as they bled into shades of violet with the setting sun.
"...I see. You're right. I should give up."
"Finally, you've come to your senses. Yes, stop this useless resistance—"
"Indeed… it was likely too selfish of me to send something so cryptic and expect the meaning to be understood..."
"...?"
The man couldn't comprehend what Kuzen was talking about. Just as he began to suspect that the pressure had finally broken Kuzen's mind, a small white speck entered the reflection of Kuzen's eyes as he stared at the sky.
"...!"
𝘍𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩!
Kuzen spread his 𝘬𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘦 like wings and soared upward. Startled by a speed that surpassed anyone's reaction time, the man belatedly screamed.
"He's fleeing! Catch him!!"
The other men scrambled to pursue him, but Kuzen wasn't running away. Vaulting between the outer walls of the buildings with acrobatic precision, he reached the apex of his jump and snatched the paper airplane drifting on the wind.
There was no mistake. He could smell the faint, unmistakable scent of his 'friend' and 'that child' on the paper.
As he unfolded it, a warm smile spread across Kuzen's lips—a smile his 'former' colleagues would never understand.
"...Thank you, Koma-kun."
Visible on the unfolded paper… was a drawing of his beloved daughter, sleeping peacefully with a bit of drool on her face.
𝘚𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩!
The men in black leaped into the air, pursuing Kuzen into the sky. Kuzen carefully folded the paper with his daughter's image and tucked it into his breast pocket, then wrapped the wing-like 𝘬𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘦 around his arm.
The 𝘬𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘦 surrounding his arm sharpened into the likeness of a single blade, and he drew a straight line through his enemies.
𝘚𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳!!!
Centered around that drawn line, the bodies of the men came apart, spraying blood in unison as they were reduced to nothing like a morbid firework display.
Plunging through that firework of gore, Kuzen dove back down toward the remaining enemies on the ground.
"Shall I find the strength to go once more?"
Having seen his daughter's face, there was no longer a trace of fatigue left in him.
"I… I burned it all… to white ash…!"
Having finished the written portion of the Ghoul Investigator Academy exam, Tomoru Hitokawa lay on a nearby park bench, battling exhaustion.
He felt he'd done well enough on the test. But as they say, you never know the result until it's out. What if I fail? Will I do well on the practical exam?
It was while he was staring up at the twilight sky, filled with such anxieties, that he noticed something.
"Huh? What was that?"
For a moment, a silhouette—something that looked like a bird but also a person—had soared into the air above the central district and vanished.
He rubbed his eyes, wondering if he'd misseen it. When he looked again, the strange shadow was gone. Instead, a faint, red mist-like haze lingered for a moment before disappearing like an illusion.
Though his mind was weary, his curiosity won out. Hitokawa was about to walk toward the spot where he'd seen the strange shadow when he stopped.
"Oh! If it isn't Mr. Takaki!"
He spotted a familiar face and changed his course.
The man there was none other than Koma's father, Harima Takaki. He had been invited to give a guest lecture at the Academy in a few days and had stopped by to make preliminary arrangements. Hearing a familiar voice, Harima turned his head.
"Hitokawa? What are you doing here?"
Since Hitokawa and his son, Koma, had been friends since they were young, Harima knew his face well. Though, they hadn't seen much of each other since Koma started living on his own.
"Don't tell me you came for the exam? You're trying to become a Ghoul Investigator?"
"Yes, sir!"
At Hitokawa's confident reply, Harima let out a bitter sigh.
"I'm of the mind to dissuade anyone I know from becoming a Ghoul Investigator if I can... It is a very dangerous profession."
"I know. But even so, I want to be an investigator."
Was it because he didn't know the true danger of ghouls that he could have eyes filled with such unwavering resolve? Or was it simply the heat of youth? To Harima, who could no longer remember with what heart he himself had become an investigator, it was a question without an answer.
"I see.... Have you eaten dinner? If you're free, I'll buy you a meal."
"Ah, no thank you. I was planning to head home after a short rest to prepare for the practical exam."
After sharing a bit more conversation, Hitokawa glanced at the sky, which had now fully transitioned into night, and offered his parting words.
"Oh, I should get going."
"Right. Continue to get along well with my son."
"Of course. Please give my regards to Koma and the baby as well, sir."
"...What?"
Harima's brow furrowed in confusion, but Hitokawa didn't see it. He gave a quick bow and ran off toward the train station.
Missing the timing to catch him, Harima stood still, ruminating on the words that had just been left behind.
"A baby...?"