Today was the day Hitokawa Tomoru was taking the Investigator exam. I sent him rice cakes as a token of support—hope he enjoyed them.
After buying groceries for dinner and returning home, I noticed a white paper envelope tucked inside the front‐door mailbox among the flyers.
On the front, I saw the recipient's address, but no sender's address—definitely suspicious.
But as I examined the inscription "To Takaki Koma," I couldn't help but be startled.
"…Mister Kuzen?"
Because it was unmistakably Mr. Kuzen's handwriting.
Now then, how should I interpret this?
One thing's for sure: this letter was meant for Mister Kuzen. Even Eto must have caught a familiar scent, because she kept reaching out toward the letter.
But when I actually unfolded the paper, I couldn't help feeling bewildered.
It was just blank.
I held it up to the fluorescent light, rubbed it, even sniffed it—no matter what I did, the only conclusion was that it was ordinary blank paper.
"What on earth is he trying to say? Is it some kind of code? Blankness… whiteness… nothingness? Is it a way of saying everything's fine?"
But why a letter?
He's stuck and can't come see Eto because of those so-called "organization" guys… So does a letter mean he's got some breathing room? If that were true, I'd rather he came in person than sent some cryptic note.
No.
"…Is it because he simply can't come?"
I gaze out the window. The sun was nearly set, and the chill of night was settling over the city.
Let me think.
I'm no expert on Ghouls, but even I could tell Mister Kuzen was exceptional just by the aura he gave off. If someone like him claimed he couldn't guarantee Eto's safety—or even his own—that's a testament to the power of that "organization."
He's probably somewhere in this city, fighting just to survive even now.
Yet he found a moment—a fleeting opportunity.
And in that brief respite, all he could think of was his daughter's well-being.
Is she doing okay? Is she growing up well?
But he can't go see her himself. Sure, he got this little window, but it's far too short to slip past the organization's watch and visit his daughter in person.
So he sent a letter.
He sent it to let me know he's still alive.
As for why it was blank…
"Mmmmm!"
I'd been racking my brain for a while when suddenly I glanced back at Eto.
Drawn by the familiar scent from the envelope, Eto had nestled against the blank paper and fallen asleep. Her drool had seeped down, smudging Mister Kuzen's handwriting beyond recognition.
"…All right."
U0FiZzMyYXNXYlFqV3lBdkFEWXh6R1NRQ3hUV3hKWWV3ajVtTEIyM2xwTkhud3JNQnUyWTJKK29ROGFvT1Vzbg
I can't tell if I'm just chasing too many theories in my head.
But this was the only thing I could do with that blank sheet.
I grabbed a pencil and doodled across the blank sheet for a while. A moment later, I set the pencil down and carefully folded the paper into a paper airplane.
Yap
I opened the window and sent the paper airplane off, aiming to catch the wind.
Of all days, there was a fair breeze. The paper airplane drifted smoothly in a lazy arc between the buildings.
What if I'm wrong? Please, let this be right. Since Mister Kuzen was the one who sent that cryptic letter, maybe there's no telling… Still, I hope I'm correct.
With all these thoughts swirling in my mind, I watched the white paper airplane embark on its journey into the darkness.
Deep in the heart of Tokyo.
A narrow alley just a little way off the brightly lit, ever‐bustling streets.
There, the stench of blood was so thick you'd doubt it was part of the same world beyond the alley.
Lying there were bodies, their torsos grotesquely mangled.
Surrounding them, men dressed just like the victims, exuding a menacing aura.
And at the center of that circle stood a bowler hat–clad man, battered and bloodied. It was unmistakably Kuzen.
He unfurled a wing-like Kagune from his back and let out a slightly ragged breath.
"This is as far as you go, Kuzen."
chomp chomp
A man chewing gum with a nasty grin loosed a steel-scraping snarl at Kuzen.
"No matter how much you thrash about, you're just a bird in a cage. You can't escape the organization. Now, give up and tell us where your child is."
Kuzen, who'd been listening in silence, looked up at the sky and spoke.
He gazed at the sky, now shifting to a purple hue as the sun set, and said,
"…I see. I suppose it's time I gave up."
"So you've finally come to your senses. Yeah, stop the useless struggle…"
"And expecting someone to decipher that cryptic blank letter—that was too selfish of me…"
"…?"
The man had no idea what Kuzen was talking about.
He wondered if Kuzen's mind had snapped under pressure—but just then, in his gaze lit by the sky, a white dot appeared in his Kakugan.
"…!"
Swoosh!!
Kuzen spread his Kagune like wings and soared into the air.
The man, stunned by the incredible speed that surpassed everyone else's reaction time, shouted too late,
"He's escaping! Get him!!"
The others rushed after Kuzen, but he wasn't running away.
With acrobatic leaps between the walls of the buildings, he reached the sky and snatched the paper airplane carried by the wind.
There was no doubt. Faintly, he caught the scents of 'friend' and 'that child' from the paper airplane.
As he unfolded it, a warm smile appeared on Kuzen's lips—one unknown to the men who'd once called themselves his comrades.
"…Thank you, Koma."
When he opened the paper airplane, he saw… his beloved daughter, sleeping peacefully with drool on her cheek.
Flap-flap!!
The men in black leaped into the sky in pursuit of Kuzen.
Kuzen gently refolded the paper bearing his daughter's image and tucked it into his chest, then wrapped his wing-shaped Kagune around his arm.
The Kagune encircling his arm hardened into a blade-like form, drawing a straight line toward his enemies.
Fwoooaahk!!!
At the center of that drawn line, the men's misaligned bodies all erupted in sprays of blood, combusting like fireworks.
Piercing through the explosive spray of blood, Kuzen hurtled toward the remaining foes on the ground.
"Alright, time to give it another go."
Having seen his daughter's face, there was no trace of fatigue left in him.
"I—I tanked it… it's all blank…!"
Hitokawa Tomoru, having finished the written exam at the Ghoul Investigator School, lay on a nearby park bench, fighting off fatigue.
I think I did okay on the exam. But no one knows the results yet.
What if I fail? Will I do well on the practical test?
Lost in such worries, he gazed up at the purplish sky.
"Huh? What's that?"
Just above the skyline toward the city center, a shadow appeared, birdlike yet human, then vanished.
He rubbed his eyes, thinking he'd imagined it, but instead of the strange silhouette, a red haze flickered into view and then, like an illusion, faded away.
Though exhausted, curiosity got the better of him, and Hitokawa started to head toward the spot where he'd seen the shadow.
"Hey? Isn't that Mister—!"
He spotted a familiar face on the way and changed course toward it.
It was none other than Koma's father, Takaki Harima.
A few days ago, the investigator school had asked him to give a guest lecture, so Harima had come by to make preparations. Hearing the familiar voice, he turned around.
"Hitokawa? What brings you here?"
Harima knew Hitokawa's face well—his son Koma and Hitokawa had been friends for years. Admittedly, he hadn't seen him much since Koma started living on his own.
"You came here for the exam? Trying to become a Ghoul Investigator?"
"Yes!"
At Hitokawa's confident answer, Harima let out a rueful sigh.
"When someone I know wants to become a Ghoul Investigator, my instinct is to talk them out of it… It's an extremely dangerous job."
"I know. But I still want to become a Ghoul Investigator."
Was that resolute look in his eyes born from ignorance of the real dangers of ghouls, or simply youthful vigor?
For Harima, who could no longer recall his own reasons for becoming an Investigator, there was no way to answer that.
"I see… Have you eaten dinner yet? If you don't mind, let me treat you."
"Ah, I'm fine. I just want to rest a bit, then head home to prepare for the next practical exam."
After chatting about this and that, Hitokawa, glancing up at the sky now fully dark, was the first to speak.
"Oh—well, I should get going now."
"All right. And keep on looking after my son."
"Of course. Please send my regards to Koma and the baby too."
"…What?"
Harima frowned at the odd request, but Hitokawa didn't notice. He simply bowed and then dashed off toward the train station.
Missing his chance to call after him, Harima muttered the words Hitokawa had just left behind.
"The baby…?"