by Shin Towada
The man stopped short and backed away from Asa. She couldn’t understand why, but then, across the street, she saw a figure emerge from the shadows.
“I’d appreciate it if you stopped that.”
Asa could hardly believe it. “Uta?” But he’d already gone off.
“Uta, from the 4th Ward, huh? Hmph. This doesn’t look good …” The man looked over at Tsumugi as he backed away from his intimidating foe. The old woman wasn’t moving at all. “Well, guess I accomplished what I came to do. No point in sticking around. See ya!” The man then leapt into the air and darted off.
Ordinarily, Asa would have given chase, but now wasn’t the time for that. “Old lady!” She rushed to Tsumugi’s side. She had injuries all over, and was bleeding out. Asa tried using both hands to stanch the bleeding, but all she succeeded in doing was getting them soaked red. Her own Ghoul body had already begun to recover, whereas Tsumugi’s life was draining away.
“Th-that’s right! The hospital!” If she took Tsumugi there, they could help her.
As Asa was about to lift Tsumugi, the old woman managed to croak out some words. “You fool. I told you …”
“Old lady!”
“How do you plan on explaining this? With all these strange punctures … the doctors will realize … I’ve been attacked by a Ghoul … ”
“So what? You have been attacked by a Ghoul!”
“And then the Ghoul investigators will come. If they investigate me … they’ll find out about you. Worst case, you might be killed …” With that, Tsumugi coughed, a large amount of blood spilling from her mouth.
Asa had killed countless people, had seen blood so many times before, but the sight of Tsumugi’s blood now made her tremble in fear.
“You can’t save me … I’d hoped for things to end this way.”
“You … you wanted this?”
Tsumugi’s eyes narrowed, and she stared up at the nighttime sky. “Yujiro raised two Ghouls … one who did the kidnapping, the other who did the butchering. The one who died was the kidnapper, so the one just now must’ve been the butcher …”
“There were two of them? But wait, why did you want this?” Asa couldn’t make sense of any of it.
Tsumugi went on, her voice halting. “He was long afraid that I might expose everything. He behaved while Yujiro was around, but now that Yujiro’s not long for this world … I suppose he decided to take action.”
It was visibly painful for her to talk, her upper body heaving with each raspy breath. The sight of her suffering like this brought a pain to Asa’s chest. “Why didn’t you say something before? I could have done something! This didn’t have to happen to you!”
Asa’s shouting made Tsumugi narrow her eyes again. “I just wanted to take responsibility for the life I’ve led.”
“Old lady …”
“This is fine …”
In the hospital room, Tsumugi had murmured something about deserving judgment. It seemed she hadn’t been referring only to Yujiro, but to herself as well.
Her eyes grew heavier, her pupils disappearing behind her eyelids. She was dying, about to drift off into the dark. It hadn’t been a long time, but the days she’d spent with Tsumugi flashed through Asa’s memories.
“No,” she said, feeling a heat growing in her chest. “Don’t you die on me, old lady! I’ve had so much fun … I’ve had so much fun spending time with you!” She was a human, and an elderly woman, at that. She would have been completely beneath the old Asa’s notice; now the girl was despairing so much that she found it hard to breathe. “Your masks were so amazing, and your embroidery is amazing too! I mean you were a pain in the ass at first, but at some point, I … I started having fun, and …”
Tears fell from Asa’s eyes, one after the other.
“There was a warmth inside me, and sometimes even a tightness in my chest … and right now it just hurts so much … Don’t die, old lady … You can’t. You still have so much more to teach me!”
Uta silently cast his gaze aside as Asa shouted. There was a sudden warm sensation on her cheek. She watched as Tsumugi took the palm of her hand and roughly wiped away the tears.
“You’re getting all sentimental on me,” the old woman said, tears streaming from her own eyes. “Don’t do shoddy work now, Asa,” she added with a tiny smile, her wrinkled face wrinkling up all the more.
With that, her hand limply fell away.
“Old lady?” Asa looked at Tsumugi in disbelief. But she wasn’t moving anymore. She wasn’t answering. “Old lady!”
Asa drew the body up into her arms and held it close, unable to hold back her scream. “Tsumugi!”
“Uta, did you know all this from the beginning?”
They were back at Tsumugi’s house. Asa had washed the blood away and lain her out atop the bed. She looked into the dead woman’s face, her voice dry. “That someone was after her, I mean. And if I’d known, would there … could I have protected her?”
Uta shook his head. He looked back and forth between Asa and Tsumugi, and then calmly muttered, “All I wanted was to take a look at Tsumugi’s embroidery. And …”
“And what?”
“And I thought you two would have really good chemistry, so …”
Asa looked back at Uta.
“I wanted you two to meet each other.”
Asa’s eyes went wide. Then she bit her lip hard as she looked at him.
Even though the loss hurt, even though there was sadness in death, even though Tsumugi was a human and Asa was a Ghoul …
… she was glad to have met her.
She truly felt that, deep down.
VI
Several days after Tsumugi’s passing, Asa stood outside the 8th Ward police station in the full glow of the streetlights. A man stepped out of the station and came over to her.
“Sorry I haven’t been in touch. Did you happen to find who made that mask?” It was the detective, Morimine. Asa had been in contact with him.
“I didn’t, no. I asked around, but none of my contacts had any hunches to go on,” she lied blithely.
“I see. Well, I mean, thanks for taking the trouble to look into this for me. I appreciate your cooperation.” Morimine was at least quick to thank her for the effort. He was probably a decent guy. Which meant he might do what humans would call “the right thing.”
“I do have some other information, though.”
“Other information?”
Asa nodded. “Promise not to ask too many questions?” she asked.
Morimine regarded the serious look in her eyes, and steeled his resolve. “Sure.”
“You’re working on the Yujiro Utsumi case, is that right, detective?”
Shock spread out across Morimine’s face. He was about to ask something, but closed his mouth, swallowed, and gave a simple, “Yes.”
Asa continued. “Apparently, Yujiro Utsumi used Ghouls to abduct young women, and then he ate their flesh.” She shouldn’t get this involved with human affairs, and there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t hang for the decision at some later point. But Asa was willing to take the risk.
“You’re saying that Yujiro Utsumi ate human flesh despite being a human himself?” Morimine asked in disbelief, rubbing at his forehead.
“I don’t have any proof, so whether you believe me or not is up to you, detective.”
Asa was surprised at how quick Morimine was to respond. “No, I believe you,” he said. “Thanks to you, all the pieces have come together. Guess this maybe was a human’s doing after all.” Then, something else appeared to click inside his head. “In that case, then Otokaze might … Oh, this is bad. I’ve got to stop her!”
Morimine turned on his heel, clearly unable to hold back his racing thoughts, but stopped long enough to look back and say, “Thank you so much for all your assistance.”
The corner of Morimine’s mouth curled up slightly at Asa’s inordinate forthrightness. “You’ve changed your face,” he said.
“Huh?”
“A bunch of stuff happened to me a little while back, so I get it. It’s a good look for you,” Morimine said. Then, he offered a casual “See ya!” before heading off.
Left by herself, Asa reached up to stroke her cheek. “What’s that about?” she muttered quietly to herself. “Well, I guess it’s to be expected.”
The day Tsumugi died, Uta had told her, “Tsumugi said she wanted to leave this house to you. And she told me to list you as one of her family members. I’ll see about having Itori handle the relevant paperwork for that.”
“She wanted me to have the house?”
“Way back when, this used to be Tsumugi’s dressmaking shop. She said she wanted it turned back into a shop, whether it’s a mask shop or whatever else.”
She didn’t have the skill to open a shop. But someday, once she’d gotten better, she would open one there. She couldn’t do shoddy work.
Wound around her arm now was the scarf Tsumugi had embroidered. She clutched it tightly and turned her gaze back ahead. “All right, let’s go home!”
Back home, where some trace of Tsumugi still lingered.
The tiny archivist reveals the truth through snippets cut from the flow of time.
“Idol Fest?” Chie Hori repeated, curious. It was eleven o’clock at night, and the crowds around the 20th Ward station were beginning to thin out.
“Yeah, tomorrow in the 1st Ward, apparently,” affirmed the familiar street musician.
Chie stroked the camera that hung from her neck as she murmured the words to herself one more time. “Idol Fest, huh?” She had close-cropped black hair and bright, round eyes that darted this way and that in no real hurry. By outward appearances she looked like a grade-schooler, though in fact she was a grown young woman attending university. She devoted far more time to her hobby than her schooling, however, and rarely even went to campus.
That hobby, as the camera that hung around her neck made clear, was photography. She’d long had a love for taking pictures, the thought of it occupying her every waking hour. While her height never increased, her fervor for photography did, and now she scurried about to and fro in search of interesting pictures to take.
She’d returned to the 20th Ward several days ago, but here and there she still asked her acquaintances if there was anything interesting going on when she ran into them.
“Abrupt as ever, Chiehori,” the musician laughed as he resituated the guitar that hung over his shoulder. “I hear some big-name idols have been invited. I’m going too!”
“You’re an idol singer now, Ikuma?”
“Oh, no, no! I’m just going to help load stuff.” His name was Ikuma Momochi, an affable young man who’d moved to Tokyo at age twenty to follow his musical aspirations. By day he worked for a shipping company, and by night he took his trusty guitar out by the train station to sing. “Apparently it’s an all-female idol event. But you don’t strike me as having much interest in idol singers.”
He then handed Chie a piece of candy he’d received from a fan. Though he’d gotten used to life in Tokyo, he still had his old accent, along with a big secret.
“It’s too bad you can’t eat candy,” Chie said.
“It’s too bad I can’t eat any human food.” While Ikuma appeared to be a typical young man in pursuit of his dreams, he was, in reality, a Ghoul. The only thing he was able to eat was human flesh, and his eyes would go awash with red when he was on the cusp of danger.
But although he was a Ghoul, he was a more gentle sort, one who tried his utmost to live as a part of human society. Evidently, he didn’t kill people, and fed only on the flesh of suicides.
“So anyhow, how’s Tsukiyama doing?” Ikuma said, asking about one of his fellow Ghouls.
“Tsukiyama? He’s out being a stalker right now.”
“Man, Tsukiyama’s got this weird ability that, no matter what he does, it just comes across as such a ‘Tsukiyama’ thing to do, y’know?”
And Tsukiyama didn’t do things at all like Ikuma did. No, Shu Tsukiyama was a belligerent Ghoul, and no means were too craven for him to obtain the fine meals he constantly sought. As someone who enjoyed the act of hunting, he was certainly a very “ghoulish” Ghoul from a human perspective, but his very particular tastes evidently made him something of an oddball maverick even to his own kind.
Tsukiyama and Chie Hori had been inseparable since high school, ever since Chie managed to snap a photo of him feeding. Her nose for a good scoop had led her to follow her classmate in secret, and she’d gotten the picture she’d been after.
At first Tsukiyama had wanted to kill Chie for taking his picture, but his interest in her seemed to grow upon seeing her unflinchingly taking photos of whatever situation she encountered. Since then they’d been close associates, despite the lack of desire to actually interact.
And lately, Tsukiyama had been absorbed by thoughts of his current prey.
“He says he’s found some super tasty-looking prey, but there’s some trouble in actually getting to eat it.”
“Huh. Sounds like someone’s in a bit of a bind.”
Chie popped the candy she’d gotten from Ikuma into her mouth. “Mm-hmm,” she agreed. “But more importantly, you said this Idol Fest is tomorrow, right?”
“Oh. Yeah. Wait, are you going?” He didn’t think Chie would have any interest in an idol festival.
The look on Ikuma’s face told Chie that there could be some rare sights, and so she pointed to her camera. “I just have a feeling I’ll be able to take some neat photos!”
Ikuma’s cheeks pulled back at that. “I’m a little scared by anything you’d consider ‘neat,’ Chie Hori.”
II
It was the day of the Idol Fest that Ikuma had mentioned, and the concert grounds were brimming with an unusual enthusiasm. Stalls offering pop star merchandise lined the open plaza, and throngs of spectators were crammed together in front of the outdoor stage.
“Ohhh, I can’t see a thing!” Chie had come all this way hoping to get a look at some idols, but a tall, thick wall of men blocked her view, and given her diminutive stature she had no hope of seeing over it. Taking photos from this vantage would be even more of a problem.
“Hmmm …” Chie scanned the grounds. “Aha!” she said upon spotting a large tree far off to one side. She circled the tree in order to scope it out first, then got up on one of the roots and proceeded to climb up using footholds in the bark. Soon she reached a large branch and sat herself down on it, finally able to peek through her camera.
By zooming in, she was able to get a look at the showily dressed idol singers dancing about. There was a surprising assortment of them, some clad in adorable pastel-colored outfits, others scurrying about like they were in some comedy routine, and everything in between. “Ah, so this is what sort of event this is,” Chie said, whimsically clicking the shutter on her camera.
While she was checking the photos she’d taken, the cheers of the crowd started to die down. It looked as though a minor idol singer, one who didn’t look like they’d be on television, was performing on center stage.
“Huh?” Chie muttered as another meek-looking girl got up on stage.
“Next up, we have college student idol singer Mitsuba!”
Chie readied her camera again. So, even girls like this do idol singing? The music began to play as the introduction finished, and the girl called Mitsuba started to sing.
“Oh wow,” Chie murmured. The girl wore a frilled skirt and a hair band with ribbons. She certainly looked the part of an idol singer, and her voice carried clear and distinct, but here and there her expression looked sad and lonely, contrary to
her cheerful tune.
The time she’d been allotted was short, and before long her song came to an end. Upon finishing, she bowed her head and then hurried backstage and out of sight. Then, a sudden voice jolted Chie. “Hey, you! It’s not safe to climb up there!”
It was one of the venue’s security guards, shouting at Chie up in the tree. Chie slid back down, and then made her way back over toward the stage.
“H-hey!” called the security guard, presumably wanting Chie to stop so he could press for more of an explanation, but she disappeared into the massive crowd near the stage. She then calmly inspected the photos on her camera.
“Whoa!” It was a photo of Mitsuba, who’d just been performing. Despite her flashy title of idol singer, her expression was flat, her eyes vacant. Her lips were faintly parted as if to call out to someone, sadness about to issue forth from them.
“Now just what is the story here, I wonder?”
Slipping her way out of the Idol Fest, Chie made her way to a nearby café and transferred her data to the laptop she carried in her backpack. She sipped hot cocoa topped with a dollop of fresh cream as she reviewed her photos on the larger monitor—specifically, the ones she’d taken of Mitsuba.
According to what Chie could find on the Internet, the girl was nineteen years old. She had a somber disposition and wasn’t very self-assertive, to the point where even her fans seemed perplexed as to why she’d become an idol singer.
Well, that’s certainly begging for a follow-up, Chie thought to herself as she went on to check the other photographs she’d taken that day.
The bell at the café entrance jangled as a new customer came in, and on some curious instinct, Chie looked up.
“Aha.” Her hunch had been right: slipping in through the door was none other than the Ghoul gourmet, Shu Tsukiyama.
He took notice of Chie soon enough himself. “Oddio!” he cried out, his right hand extended, his left set against his forehead as he arched his body slightly. At once, all eyes were upon him. Could he just not stand not being the center of attention? The fact that he could lead such an active life without being caught by the CCG made Chie think that, while the CCG might be made up of professionals, they certainly weren’t perfect.
