"Did you really have to drag us out at the crack of dawn?"
"The body collectors are usually active in the evening. The extermination operation is scheduled around then too, so we don't have much time. I want to get this done before that."
"Didn't you say we were just going out for fun?"
"I said we were going out for fun."
Hitokawa Tomoru wore his shamelessness like a second skin.
Hirako Take trailed after him reluctantly, while Arima Kishou followed behind them, his face a mask of expressionless silence.
They were all off duty today, but Hitokawa had practically forced them out of the house.
He insisted they weren't out for work, but Hirako didn't buy it for a second.
Ward 20.
Wasn't this the very area where rumors of the body collector were swirling?
He suspected that "going out for fun" was merely a ruse to drag them into a Ghoul extermination matter, but...
"Are you sure this is okay? We're out here without our Quinques."
"We're off duty, so we turned them in. Besides, carrying a Quinque would be dangerous. The body collector hates Ghoul Investigators with a passion; it would only provoke him."
"Even so, our clothes..."
For the same reason, they weren't wearing the white coats that served as the symbol of the CCG.
Instead, they were dressed in ripped jeans and shirts with skull designs—a style Hirako had never touched since his disastrous attempt at a high school debut. It was a look that tried too hard to be edgy yet remained stubbornly ordinary.
"Why? We look exactly like young punks killing time on a weekday afternoon. It's much more natural this way."
"Maybe for us, but doesn't it look a bit ridiculous for someone your age, Hitokawa?"
"What's wrong with my age?! Early thirties is still young!!"
"At that age, even high schoolers start calling you an old man..."
"Shut up!! If I say I'm young, I'm young!!"
The very fact that he was insisting on his youth made him the quintessential middle-aged man, but Hirako decided not to push further.
It was only a matter of time before he ended up in the same territory.
Then Arima, who had remained silent, asked, "So, where are we going?"
Hirako was wondering the same thing.
It was obvious they were here because of the body collector, yet they were unarmed.
And yet, they had gone to such lengths to disguise themselves.
Where exactly were they planning to go?
In response, Hitokawa rummaged through his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.
It was a map of Ward 20.
Hitokawa studied several marked locations on the map before speaking.
"There's an arcade called Gensei right up ahead. Let's start there."
"...?"
Hirako and Arima both tilted their heads at the unexpected answer.
"Is this guy insane?!"
A curse full of sheer disbelief erupted.
"Ten straight Shippus? How is that even possible?! Is the game glitched? Is this a bug?!"
Hitokawa slammed his fist onto the table, glaring at the fighting game screen where the words "You Lose" were displayed.
Across from him, Arima—whose screen proudly displayed "You Win"—spoke calmly.
"Since it was my first time, I focused on learning the inputs for the strongest and most useful techniques."
"How is that even possible?! You said you've never played a fighting game in your life until today!!"
"It just worked out."
"You heartless monster!!"
The shock of being pummeled in the air without landing a single counterattack in the final round seemed to have traumatized him; Hitokawa began frantically raking his hands through his hair.
"But I still won, didn't I?"
"Beating a scrub isn't something to brag about!"
"My apologies for being a scrub."
Hirako had played this game back in his student days, and while Hitokawa had plenty of experience—treating this as a mere warm-up—Arima had completely demolished him on his first try. It was only natural that Hitokawa was losing his mind.
Trying to clear his head, Hitokawa looked around, then checked his watch.
"Alright. That's enough. Let's move to the next spot."
"What?"
Hirako was bewildered.
They had just arrived and played a single round of one game.
And they were already leaving?
"Next is the Ootama arcade. They have the same game there, so let's have a rematch, Arima!"
"Understood."
If they were just going to play the same game, why the need to move?
Arima seemed indifferent, but Hirako's curiosity had reached its limit.
"Why are we going there? Does switching arcades actually serve a purpose?"
"It's a secret for now. If I tell you and you start acting suspicious, it'll interfere with the job."
Acting suspicious?
Did that mean there was someone they needed to hide their intentions from?
But as he scanned the room, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
The arcade was filled with the usual crowd: idle loafers and delinquent punks who looked like they had ditched school.
"See? You can't even control your behavior for a second, can you?"
Hitokawa pointed out Hirako's nervous glancing.
As Hirako flinched, realizing he'd fallen into a trap, Hitokawa continued.
"For now, just focus on having fun. I'm graciously giving my time to help boring idiots who only know how to work and have forgotten how to enjoy life."
Hitokawa glanced between Arima and Hirako before leading the way out of the arcade.
Arima followed in silence, and Hirako, bringing up the rear, muttered to himself.
"Am I included in those boring idiots...?"
He gaped, seemingly more shocked by that realization than anything else.
"Damn bastard... He actually landed thirteen straight Shippus at the end..."
Hitokawa lowered his head in misery, gulping down a drink from a convenience store.
He desperately wanted a beer, but alcohol was strictly forbidden since they were due for deployment soon.
In total, they had visited five different arcades, and in every single game, at every single location, he had failed to beat Arima once.
They were now resting in a quiet playground.
Exhausted from the trek, they had bought some beers and were taking a moment to breathe.
"It's already afternoon, so we should head back... We didn't really find anything."
"Can you tell us now? Why you dragged us across town to all those arcades? We even stopped by a playground and a playroom."
"Well, you see..."
Just as Hitokawa opened his mouth to answer, a childish voice drifted up from beneath the bench.
"Mister, please move your feet."
"Huh? W-what?"
Startled, Hitokawa quickly pulled his feet back.
There, crawling on the ground, was a little girl who looked about seven or eight years old.
Hitokawa asked, confused, "What are you doing, kid?"
"Picking up earthworms."
True to her word, the girl was picking up a worm near Hitokawa's feet and placing it in a container.
"Earthworms? What for?"
"I'm giving them to Chunta."
"Who's Chunta?"
"A sparrow we found. It's hurt and can't fly, so we're taking care of it."
As they looked on, touched by the child's kindness, a young boy who resembled her came running over. He looked to be around the same age, perhaps slightly younger.
"Big sis!"
"Ayato! Look! I found an earthworm!"
"Gah! Don't shove it in my face!"
"Why are you so scared of a little worm? You're a boy!"
They were clearly siblings.
Hitokawa watched the heartwarming scene, but suddenly, his eyes sharpened as if a puzzle piece had fallen into place.
Maintaining his casual tone, he asked, "So, why are you at the playground at this hour? Shouldn't you be in school?"
"We don't go to school."
The moment those words left her mouth, a complex emotion flickered across Hitokawa's face.
Then, a man's voice called out from the edge of the playground.
"Touka! Ayato! What are you doing? Let's go home!"
"Dad!"
"Coming!"
It was the children's father—a lean man with a gentle, unassuming impression.
Assuming Hitokawa and his companions had simply been playing with the children, he gave them a polite nod before taking the kids' hands and leading them away.
"...That's enough. Let's go."
Satisfied that he had seen what he needed, Hitokawa hurried to leave. Arima and Hirako exchanged a glance and followed.
They headed back toward the CCG branch, cutting through a narrow alley to avoid the main roads. As they walked, Arima spoke.
"You were trying to determine if the body collector had children."
"Yeah."
Hitokawa nodded in confirmation.
"The body collector was known as a Ghoul with a hobby for collecting corpses because he took far more than a normal Ghoul could ever eat. But what if it wasn't a hobby? What if he had someone to share the food with? Specifically, children who were too young to help with the collection?"
Hirako finally understood the purpose of the arcade tour.
"That's why we visited so many places. Arcades, playgrounds, empty lots, playrooms... Children can't mimic humans perfectly, so you were looking for kids who didn't attend school and wandered the streets."
"Exactly. And most importantly... I could smell blood on them. Faintly."
It was a specific scent he had learned to recognize through his proximity to Eto.
Young Ghouls often need high amounts of nutrients but cannot eat as much as adults in one sitting, so they feed in small, frequent increments. Consequently, the scent of blood often lingers around their mouths.
"Then that man is the body collector?"
"I can't be certain yet, but I suspect he's involved. Once we run the description through the database, we'll find something."
"But why go through all this trouble just to find the children?"
"And do what? Catch the parents and let the kids starve to death? Or just watch as they start attacking people out of hunger?"
Hirako lowered his head, realizing how naive the question had been.
"...My apologies. I wasn't thinking far enough ahead."
If a Ghoul has a family, they must be accounted for. To ignore them is to invite a new tragedy.
However, the CCG was not so idle that it would deploy a full squad based on a hunch. That was why Hitokawa had used the "spare" manpower of Hirako and Arima.
"Ghouls and humans are destined for conflict, but the CCG's official stance includes Ghoul protection. We can't hold an innocent child accountable just because they were born with a body that must eat humans."
Hitokawa muttered bitterly before turning to the others.
"Let's get back to the branch and regroup. You two can just give the descriptions to the intel department and call it a day."
"Hitokawa-san."
As he was wrapping up, Arima stopped in his tracks.
Hitokawa and Hirako stopped as well and turned back to him.
"You should not have brought me here."
"What?"
Hitokawa's expression hardened. He looked back toward the end of the alley.
There, in a spot that should have been empty, something stood.
It was human in shape, but it radiated a strange, oppressive pressure that seemed to cling stickily to the skin.
"I remember that man. A couple holding two children who were too young to understand what was happening. The woman told the man she was stronger—that she could handle herself—and urged him to flee. The man took the children and ran, and the woman stayed behind to block me."
Arima closed his eyes for a moment, as if recalling the scene, then opened them again.
The same man from that day was standing there.
The same man they had seen moments ago, looking almost exactly the same.
A lean man with a gentle impression.
But the gentleness was gone.
In its place was a monster with crimson eyes, his face twisted in a mask of pure hatred.
"Arima Kishou...!!!"
The man spat Arima's name, as if he had never spent a single second forgetting it.
Arima remained utterly calm under the gaze, as if he had seen this look a thousand times and had grown sick of it.
"And I killed that man's wife."
With those words, the alley sank into a suffocating void of killing intent.