Bubble, bubble.
The rich aroma of soybean paste soup rose from the pot at a rolling boil.
The evening light streaming through the window warmed the kitchen a little. It was the picture of an ordinary family dinner.
I ladled some out and tasted the broth.
It was a little blander than I expected, but I decided it was good enough and turned off the gas. Since I was the only one who would be eating it anyway, I'd gotten into the habit of making things half-heartedly.
I took a plate wrapped in plastic out of the refrigerator.
Inside was a slab of meat with a vivid crimson hue. Unfortunately, it wasn't beef or pork.
I set the meat on the cutting board, clasped my hands together for a moment, and then sliced it thinly.
Seven pieces, cut into a size suitable for a child to eat.
I was about to wrap the rest in plastic when I thought about Eto's recent growth and cut one more piece.
I put the sliced meat on a plate and carried it to the table.
After confirming dinner was ready, I called Eto.
"Eto, dinner!"
"Yeees~!"
Eto came trotting over with the book she'd been reading tucked under her arm.
Anyone who didn't know better would have found the scene strange.
A father and daughter sitting across from each other.
In front of me were plain dinner dishes like rice and soybean paste soup, while in front of Eto was nothing but a plate with eight pieces of meat.
But to us, it was perfectly normal. Eto looked at the meat on the table and tried to smile, then glanced at my place setting and suddenly went gloomy.
"? What's wrong?"
"Dad... I told you before, but I really can eat separately."
Again with this.
Well, of course this kid would be bothered. She was a Ghoul, and what she was eating so deliciously was "human flesh." She knew exactly what it meant for a human to share a meal with her.
A meal with a "monster" eating the "meat" of its own kind right in front of her.
That alone was enough to make anyone lose their appetite so badly they wouldn't know whether the food was going down their throat or their ears.
But.
Thwack!
"Kyah!"
I gave Eto's head a light chop.
"Families always eat at the same table. That's the truth of the ages. Any objections?"
I wasn't eating with a monster. I was eating with my "family." Even knowing that, keeping your distance from them—how was that any different from denying they were family?
Eto rubbed the top of her head, which had been hit despite the fact that it probably did no damage, and looked up at me.
Only after I smiled at her as if nothing was wrong did Eto finally seem to relax and sit down at the table.
We clasped our hands together and chorused, "Let's eat," before picking up our chopsticks.
"Huh? There's more meat?"
Before taking a bite, Eto noticed there was one more piece than usual and spoke up.
"You've gotten bigger lately. You should eat more as you grow."
Eto was the kind of child who would stay quiet and endure it even if she wasn't getting enough to eat.
She was doing it because she knew that not only meals but also "food procurement" was a burden on me, but by now I was used to it. It was unnecessary worry.
At the very least, she didn't panic like she used to.
Still, Eto seemed determined not to burden me any further.
Seeing that I'd increased the meat without saying anything, she puffed out her cheeks and grumbled.
"Boo. I don't need this much. I'm leaving some."
"If you leave food, you'll be punished."
"Do you want your daughter to get fat?"
"Being a little plump is much healthier than being skinny."
"Body management is important for women!"
"What kind of body management are you talking about, you little brat who hasn't even hit puberty yet!"
"Then if I eat too much and get fat, will you take responsibility and keep me with you for the rest of my life?"
"Go live on your own."
"That's mean!"
That was when we were eating dinner, trading our usual playful banter.
Ding-dong—
"Hm?"
"Who is it?"
The doorbell rang suddenly. Just in case, I gave Eto a look.
Eto hurriedly took the plate of meat and slipped into the back room, and after confirming that, I got up from the table and headed for the front door.
"Who is it?"
When I opened the door, I saw a man holding a small box. Looking closer, he was a delivery worker.
"Delivery. Are you Mr. Takaki Koma?"
"A package?"
Was there anywhere I'd ordered a package from? Nothing came to mind.
For now, relieved that he didn't seem suspicious, I accepted it. I was a little surprised by how heavy it felt in my hand despite its small size.
After sending the courier away, my eyes stopped on the sender information while I examined the package.
"...!!!"
I was shocked when I saw the name written there.
For a moment, that shock quickly turned into anger and burned quietly.
"Which bastard is this...?"
Without realizing it, I tightened my grip and crumpled the box in my hand.
Even so, my eyes refused to leave the sender's name.
"Takaki Harima"
A package sent to my father, who had died four years ago, was a joke that wasn't even funny. If it was meant to be a prank, it was a truly vile one.
I didn't know who sent it, but hostility surged up in me. The fake name was bad enough, but the fact that they'd used my dead father's name for it was even worse.
"Dad?"
I heard Eto's cautious voice from behind me.
She must have hidden away to keep an eye on the stranger, then peeked out once she realized he was gone.
...What kind of expression am I making right now? I didn't have a mirror, but it probably wasn't a good one.
I pressed a hand against my face and forced my expression to soften.
My insides were still boiling over from that malicious prank, but there was no need to show it in front of Eto.
"Is something wrong?"
"Nothing. A package came in."
"But the box is all crumpled."
"That delivery guy handled it like garbage."
Keeping my usual tone, I set the box on the floor. As I tore off the wrapping, I kept trying to figure out who had sent it.
Who the hell was it?
It couldn't really have come from my father in the afterlife, and if they used a fake name, Mister Kuzen came to mind—but he was absolutely not the kind of person who would pull a stunt like this.
Hitokawa wasn't the type either, but if by some chance he really was the culprit, I'd go punch his face in right now.
Anyway, let's check the contents first.
When I crumpled the box earlier, I'd felt something hard inside.
"At least it's definitely not something like a dead rat corpse..."
Besides, I hadn't made enough enemies to deserve a gift like that. ...Probably.
In any case, I tore off the wrapping and opened the box wide.
"Eh...?"
"...No matter who it is, I'm going to find them."
Eto stared at the contents of the box with a shocked expression. I steadied myself and took the contents out.
A cold, heavy metallic feel bit into my skin.
Two years ago, I had felt this exact same sensation before. "That thing" that had blown through the head of a Ghoul who had disguised himself as a cop and come after me.
There was a "pistol" inside.
It was the same revolver as before. The cylinder held five rounds instead of six, but still. I pushed it open and checked the bullets inside.
Red-stained rounds. On the side, the letter "Q" was embossed in English.
"[Q Bullet]... Why is a Ghoul-hunting weapon here...?"
I could feel something moving to ruin this peaceful daily life.
"That concludes the briefing on 'Artist.' Teams, focus your search for traces of Artist in the areas mentioned earlier. Artist's movements are becoming increasingly violent. I want every clue found within five days. Dismissed!"
Rustle, rustle!
At the commanding voice, the people in the conference room filed out one after another.
Once everyone had left and the room had grown quiet, Hitokawa let out a deep sigh.
As expected, meetings with all the veteran heavyweights of the CCG were still hell for someone at the bottom rung like him.
"You look tired, Hitokawa-kun."
"Ah, Hajimoto-san!"
When a man in his early thirties spoke to him, Hitokawa sprang to his feet.
Shinichi Hajimoto.
Hitokawa's former superior, and the man who had taught him many things.
He'd recently been promoted to Special Class, so he was no longer in charge of Hitokawa, but he was still someone Hitokawa respected.
For the record, he had also once been his father Koma's old partner.
Hitokawa had thought he wouldn't be seeing his face for a while, so honestly, he'd been a little surprised to see him enter the conference room.
He was also joining the hunt for Artist.
"I didn't expect to see you this soon. I heard you'd just been promoted to Special Class and were busy with all sorts of things."
"Yes. But I couldn't just ignore the Artist case, so I volunteered despite being busy."
"Huh? Hajimoto-san, do you know Artist?"
"Know him, or rather... there's something from the past that needs to be settled."
As Hajimoto said that, his eyes carried a grim resolve.
"No matter what anyone says, Takaki-san... my former superior lost his life to that bastard while trying to protect me."