Mix lies with truth to create a new "truth."
Hide the truth you wish to keep secret behind a veil of truth laced with falsehood.
To protect the hand that held the ultimate truth, I was forced to play the card of an imperfect reality. The things I told Hitokawa were, in fact, real. The diagnosis I'd received at the hospital was a form of panic disorder. Extreme bouts of anxiety would seize me without warning; though my body was physically sound, my heart rate would skyrocket and I would break into cold sweats, reacting as if I were in the throes of a terminal illness.
The trigger for my panic attacks was 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩.
Every concept associated with dying stimulated my anxiety. I first realized the extent of my condition shortly after my father's funeral. The images of the corpses I had faced since Eto's teeth began to grow were superimposed over my father's face. The accumulated imagery of the dead—shattered skulls, burst entrails, rotting skin, broken bones piercing through flesh, maggots feasting on eyeballs—all of it came rushing back like a tsunami, triggered by his passing. For a long time, I couldn't sleep.
I became the corpse; then my father; then Hitokawa; then Mr. Kuzen... eventually, I even saw dreams of Eto as a cold body. I would wake up screaming, over and over again. I was terrified of death—of the very concept. It was as if the instinctive human aversion to dying had been amplified a hundredfold within me.
I shared this burden, which I had carried alone for so long, with Hitokawa. I hadn't wanted to tell him, knowing it would cause unnecessary worry, but I couldn't hide the more significant truth without revealing this one.
"I went to a known suicide spot."
"...! Hey, you...!!"
As Hitokawa's face began to contort with rage, I quickly raised my hand to cut him off.
"Calm down. I didn't go there to die. I went there to try and fix myself."
Here, I wove in the lie. I reframed my pilgrimage to the suicide hotspots—which had a very different purpose—as a form of exposure therapy.
"Suicide victims choose death because they've given up on living, right? I thought if I could stand in their shoes and see through their eyes, maybe this extreme fear of death would vanish. That's why I went."
"Even so... why would you go to a place like that..."
"I was desperate, Hitokawa. I didn't know what else to do."
"Then why did you run from the police?"
"When they mentioned a murder, I had a panic attack. I intended to comply with the search at first, but I felt like I was suffocating. I couldn't breathe. So, I just... bolted."
"𝘚𝘪𝘨𝘩..."
Hitokawa grimaced and scratched his head vigorously. He clearly wanted to pry further, but he hesitated to push a conversation that touched on such a sensitive nerve. Unless he dug deep into the specifics, the lie hidden within my words was nearly impossible to detect. I felt a surge of relief in my chest.
"I know it was my fault for letting the CCG get the wrong idea. Is there no way to clear this up?"
"One drop of your blood is enough to prove you aren't a ghoul. I'll pass your story along to the higher-ups, but whether they'll believe it or not is..."
"I hope they do. I hate being bothered."
"For a guy who hates being bothered, you're throwing away your youth to raise a kid."
At those words, my expression hardened instinctively.
"Hey."
"...Sorry. That was out of line."
Sensing the shift in my mood, Hitokawa apologized immediately.
"Don't ever say that in front of Eto."
"I'll keep that in mind. ...Hm?"
[𝘙𝘪𝘯𝘨~♪]
At the sound of the electronic ringtone, Hitokawa pulled his phone from his pocket and turned away.
"Yes, Senior Investigator Hashimoto. What? Right now?"
Hitokawa straightened his posture, clearly talking to a superior. Wait, Hashimoto? I wondered if it was the same man I knew.
𝘉𝘦𝘦𝘱.
Closing his phone, Hitokawa turned back to me.
"Sorry, Koma. Something urgent came up. I have to head back to the CCG immediately."
"Is it about the ghoul case?"
"That's a professional secret."
Hitokawa rarely discussed CCG business. Since he believed I was a normal civilian, he wanted to draw a firm line to keep me away from anything dangerous.
"Anyway, I'll explain things to the higher-ups for you. Someone else might drop by just to confirm the facts, so don't be too uncomfortable if they do."
"...I'll try."
A visit from the CCG. Could there be anything 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 uncomfortable? I decided I would have to escalate the security status of the apartment for a while, just so I'd be ready if an investigator showed up.
I saw Hitokawa off and returned to the apartment. I found Eto sitting exactly where I'd left her, obediently reading a book.
"What did you talk about with Uncle Hitokawa?"
"Grown-up stuff. Children don't need to know."
"𝘉𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶... You always treat me like a baby!"
Eto puffed out her cheeks in protest, but that only served as further proof of her childhood. Watching her, I decided to ask a question I'd been pondering for a while.
"Eto. Do you dislike Hitokawa?"
"Yes."
That was fast. If Hitokawa had been here, he'd have been crushed. He was the type to be surprisingly sensitive about that sort of thing.
"Uncle Hitokawa isn't a bad person, but... he has an unpleasant scent."
"...."
I could explain that scent. It was the lingering aroma of ghoul blood and flesh that naturally clings to an investigator. Even a rookie like Hitokawa couldn't avoid the reality of ghouls as long as he carried that steel briefcase. Perhaps he had already killed several without my knowing.
Eto was smelling the scent of death—the death that could eventually be intended for her.
A ghoul and a Ghoul Investigator.
A relationship destined for eternal opposition.
"But Papa."
"Yeah?"
"Aren't you going to work today?"
Eto's sudden question snapped me out of my musings on ghouls and investigators. It was unexpected. Usually, she'd be jumping for joy on my days off because she hated being home alone while I worked.
"I was thinking of calling in sick and resting today..."
"Are you faking it?"
"...I just don't feel like going today."
"A grown-up shouldn't tell lies!"
Kid, adults are creatures who chew on lies more often than they chew on rice. Regardless, why was I being lectured by a five-year-old?
"While you were gone, the manager of the place you work called."
"What? Why did that loudmouthed manager call here?"
"She told me to tell you: 'If you keep skipping work, you're dead.'"
"Where does she get off threatening me!?"
The problem was that it was a very effective threat. Dammit, the life of an employee is truly sorrowful. In the end, I was forced to slowly change into my work clothes like a schoolboy who didn't want to go to class. If it hadn't been for Eto's cheering, I might have stayed home and had it out with the manager.
Stepping out of the house with little enthusiasm, I was immediately faced with a problem.
"...Dammit. Right. I threw my bike away."
It had been less than twenty-four hours since I'd tossed my partner and primary mode of transport into the river. Without the bike, I had no hope of reaching my destination on time. Deciding I was already destined to be late, I started walking, figuring I might as well take my time.
Thinking back on it later, I should have turned my head to check the house one last time. If I had, things might not have spiraled so out of control.
If only I had discovered Eto... looking down from the balcony railing with that complex expression, watching my retreating back as I walked away...