12:40 p.m.
It was lunchtime.
At this hour, the school store was always teeming with students.
Today was especially chaotic; a new batch of popular bread had just arrived, making the competition in that corner fiercer than ever.
One girl stood on the outskirts, unable to join the scramble.
It wasn't that she feared she would lose.
Rather, she was afraid that if she joined in, she might accidentally hurt someone with her overwhelming strength.
Gori Misato.
Standing 172 centimeters tall and weighing 58 kilograms, she was exceptionally tall for a third-year middle school girl.
Since she was still growing, there was plenty of room for her to get even taller.
She was well aware that her body was far more robust than those of her peers.
That was why, no matter how much she craved a particular snack, she refused to be the kind of person who shoved others aside with brute force.
I really wanted some...
The rolled omelet bread was supposed to be delicious, but looking at the crowd, her chances of getting one had vanished.
Just as she was about to settle for something else, she noticed a small girl.
While the other students rushed like a flock of birds toward scattered feed, this girl flew solo, drifting silently through the chaos as if she didn't belong.
Misato recognized her immediately.
Takaki Eto?
Eto paid no mind to the crowd.
She headed straight for the section where the unpopular bread—the kind that was too dry or bland—was kept.
Picking up an item that had no appeal other than its low price, Eto paid quickly and strolled out of the store with an air of leisure.
Watching her, Misato made a firm decision.
This time, I'm definitely asking her to have lunch with me!
Eto wasn't particularly famous at school.
However, among those who knew her, she was regarded as a mysterious figure.
Normally, she had almost no presence.
It wasn't that she was mute, nor did she actively shun people.
She spoke as much as necessary, socialized as much as necessary, and performed her duties exactly as much as necessary.
Despite this, she was nearly impossible to find outside of class.
Her footsteps seemed weightless, almost like a drifting haze.
If you didn't watch her with absolute focus, she would slip from your sight in an instant.
Just like now.
"Ah!"
As Misato stepped forward to call out, she nearly collided with a group of basketball players entering the store.
By the time she pushed past the athletes—who were tall enough to block even her line of sight—Eto was gone.
The girl was already so far away that calling out to her now would have been awkward.
"I missed my chance again..."
How could she navigate such a dense crowd so effortlessly?
Perhaps that was why some students compared Eto to a fairy.
The kind of fairy who is rare to encounter, but brings good fortune to those who do.
Rumor had it that if you happened to run into her and shared your troubles, she would offer incredibly helpful advice.
Misato was one of the few who had actually experienced this.
Her large stature had been a source of deep anxiety during her most sensitive years.
In elementary school, she had been saddled with humiliating nicknames like "Gorilla," "Great Buddha," and "Giant"—titles no young girl ever wants.
Even in middle school, things hadn't improved; she was now called "Buddha," "Tathagata," or "Chakra."
Between her distinctive mole on her forehead and an expression that often looked angry, the boys tended to avoid her.
Yet, deep down, she still possessed the heart of a young girl.
She longed to be the kind of woman who could be protected by a strong man.
Having never experienced such a feeling, her yearning only intensified.
During this period of struggle, she had been assigned duty with Eto.
Having heard that Eto was highly intellectual and an avid reader, Misato gathered her courage and confessed her insecurities.
Eto had stared at her blankly for a moment before speaking.
"That's a psychological issue on your end, so it's not something I can solve. If the other person isn't receptive, what's the point of advice?"
Misato had only asked on a whim, but the blunt, negative response almost left her crushed.
However, Eto wasn't finished.
"Still, if you want my opinion: there's no need to force yourself into a mold while denying your own strengths."
"Strengths?"
Misato asked, bewildered.
Eto responded with another question.
"Gori Misato. As far as I know, you aren't in any sports clubs. Yet, I often see you exercising and running laps around the field relentlessly. Why is that?"
"That's... because I think it's good to be healthy, and it makes me feel proud..."
"Then that is your strength. Your natural constitution, your personality, and your environment have made you who you are. Having strengths that align with your nature is a stroke of luck. To expect the side effects of those strengths to also be exactly what you want is simply greed."
"..."
"Not everyone can be an all-rounder. A Japanese sword specialized for cutting has a fragile edge; a shield becomes sturdier as it thickens, but it also becomes heavier and harder to wield. The rest is simply a matter of choice."
Not everyone can be an all-rounder.
For some reason, those words felt like exactly what Misato needed to hear.
"You can live as yourself while maintaining your strengths. You can discard your strengths to obtain what you desire. Or, you can strive to have both."
Eto gave a casual shrug.
"Personally, I think you're fine whether you're training your body or polishing your femininity."
"...Is that really possible? Is there a way to find a man who can look at me as I am and still find me attractive?"
"I wouldn't know. At the very least, look for a career where you'll encounter strong men. A Ghoul Investigator would be a prime example. Though, I wouldn't actually recommend it; it's less about being protected and more of a dangerous job where you'll die if you don't protect each other."
That was where their conversation ended.
Eto had provided advice, not a map. She had simply offered her perspective as someone walking a different path in life.
Whether to accept it was entirely up to Misato.
And Misato had taken that advice to heart.
It might not have been the perfect answer, but it was the one she needed most.
Since then, she had rarely encountered Eto.
True to her mysterious nature, opportunities to speak with her were rare, even though they shared a classroom.
That was why Misato had wanted to buy her lunch today as a token of gratitude—and why she felt so disappointed to have failed.
But she wasn't giving up.
"Next time, I'm definitely asking her to eat with me!"
As Misato clenched her fist and whispered her resolve, the girl in question heard every word.
***
"I only said something that sounded plausible because I was too lazy to deal with her. Why is she getting so attached?"
Having passed Misato, Eto had already made her way to the rooftop.
The air had grown chilly, enough that her breath formed white plumes of mist that vanished as quickly as they appeared.
Consequently, the rooftop was deserted despite it being lunch break.
Leaning against the railing, Eto looked down to see Misato walking away, still clutching her fist in determination.
For Eto, who valued a strict distance between herself and others, such blatant goodwill was uncomfortable.
"Maybe recommending the CCG was a mistake... That girl is so needlessly earnest that she might actually aim for it. That's a bit worrying."
Muttering to herself, Eto took a bite of the bread she had bought.
It was the kind of bread others described as dry and tasteless, but to Eto, it all tasted the same.
The only reason she bought food she couldn't enjoy was to maintain the facade of an ordinary human student.
Chewing slowly, she gazed out over the school grounds.
She was aware that some students called her a "fairy."
To her, the nickname was laughable.
Bringing good luck to those who meet her...
"They should realize that fairies can bring ruin just as easily as they bring luck."
***
4:45 p.m.
When Eto returned home from school, she was greeted at the entrance by a sight that made her freeze in her tracks.
"...What are you doing, Dad?"
"I am honestly confessing my sins and awaiting punishment."
Sitting solemnly by the door was Koma.
For reasons unknown, he was bare-chested. In front of him lay a single switch and a note that looked familiar.
It was a message Eto had left behind, anticipating that he would inevitably sneak into her desk drawers.
Understanding the situation, Eto let out a small sigh.
She had suspected it, and sure enough, Koma had broken into her room to hunt for Ukina's diary.
"I regret that things have come to this. But please understand, I only did it because I was worried about you... Gah!?"
SMACK!
Mid-sentence, Koma was sent rolling across the floor by a sharp, stinging blow.
Rubbing his reddened side, he looked up to see Eto staring down at him, switch in hand.
"What was that for!?"
"Why? Didn't you strip and leave the switch out specifically so I would hit you?"
"That was for dramatic effect! I thought if I looked solemn enough, you'd let me off the hook!"
"I'm sorry your performance failed. Now, accept your punishment quietly."
Without further discussion, Eto began to swing the switch. All Koma could do was curl into a ball and endure his daughter's violence.
Smack! Smack! SMACK! Smack!
"Now then. This is what you wanted, right? How does it feel to sneak into your underage daughter's room, you perverted father? Tell me, using that mouth of yours!"
"Why do you sound like an S&M queen!? Where did you learn to talk like that!? Gah!! Wait, time out!! This is giving me a strange sense of depravity! If Mister Kuzen saw me like this, he'd actually kill me!! And why are you so good at hitting... Aaaaagh!!"
After playing with Koma for a while, Eto finally set the switch aside, deciding she had had enough.
The thorough torment had successfully vented her anger over his invasion of her privacy.
Koma, meanwhile, lay exhausted on the floor, unable to move.
"Anyway, don't ever do that again. Even if you do, I'm still not showing you the diary."
As Eto turned to head to her room, Koma's voice stopped her.
"I don't... need to see the diary anymore."
"Huh?"
Confused by the sudden change in tone, Eto looked back.
Still sprawled on the floor, Koma turned his head and gave her a faint smile.
"Just tell me when you feel it's okay to let me know. I won't pester you about it anymore."
"...Dad? Did I hit you in a spot that caused brain damage?"
"Not exactly, but we need to have a serious talk later about where you learned that hand technique. The way you hit... it felt weirdly good."
Avoiding Koma's sharp, suspicious gaze, Eto bolted into her room.
She wondered if she had made a mistake by using the technique Kaya had once taught her, claiming that men "die for" that kind of touch.
Once the door was closed, Eto pondered why Koma's attitude had shifted so drastically.
Scanning the room for signs of his intrusion, her eyes landed on the trash can. She hurried over and retrieved a crumpled piece of discarded manuscript paper.
It was exactly as she suspected.
The paper was covered in creases where it had been unfolded and refolded multiple times.
Koma had read her discarded draft.
The content itself was nothing special—just the opening of a story she had abandoned because it wasn't working.
However, that opening had been far too honest.
It described a protagonist who, upon recognizing a sudden enemy, could no longer view the world as they once had.
The confusion, the hesitation, the fear, and the desperate will to protect one's family had been laid bare in the prose.
That was why she had thrown it away.
It wasn't a story about a character; it was a reflection of Eto herself.
Koma must have read her true emotions between the lines.
Having understood her pain, he had decided to step back and wait for her.
Looking at the unfolded paper, Eto covered her burning face with both hands.
"How embarrassing..."
Showing Koma a short fanfiction was one thing, but having her parents discover a piece of writing that exposed her rawest emotions was a completely different level of humiliation.