It's hot.
It is dreadfully, agonizingly hot.
I know summer is the season when the sun transforms from a gift of nature into a lethal weapon, but this level of heat so early in the morning is simply excessive. Has global warming truly become this dire? If it's this stifling before the sun has even fully climbed the sky, humanity will go extinct within a few years—no ghoul war required.
"𝘔𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩, 𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩... 𝘻𝘻𝘻..."
"Hm...?"
The moment I opened my eyes to the strange sound vibrating against my chest, I discovered the true source of the heat.
I saw Eto, who turned five this year, nuzzling her cheek against me like a cat that had found a patch of silvervine, mumbling in her sleep. I see. You were the culprit. Do you simply lack the sensation of heat entirely?
I gently shifted her aside so as not to wake her and stood up to stretch. The moment I escaped Eto's stifling, sweltering expression of affection, a cool morning breeze washed over my sweat-slicked skin. It seemed there was still some time left before the end of the human race.
Lost in these idle thoughts, I scanned the room to jumpstart my sluggish brain. Many things had changed since the days I raised Eto as an infant.
The baby bottles and diapers had been cleared away once Eto learned to eat on her own and use the bathroom. Other items, like the rattles and teddy bears, were too precious to throw away; I had tucked them into the far corner of the closet we used for bedding and storage.
In their place was a new computer—purchased to replace the laptop Eto had once broken—along with various anime CDs popular with children, and a large, heavy guitar case. And then, there was...
I allowed the corners of my mouth to soften slightly as I spoke.
"...Good morning, Father."
In a corner of the room stood a small Buddhist altar. There, alongside a memorial tablet bearing his name, was a photograph of my father, smiling brightly.
I opened the refrigerator.
We'd finished the last of the curry a few days ago, and it was still several days until my next paycheck. As I stood there debating whether to settle for simple toast, my gaze froze on a specific spot.
In the deepest corner of the fridge, tucked away behind various leftovers, was a package of 'meat' wrapped tightly in plastic. Seeing how little was left, my eyes narrowed instinctively.
"...I'll have to go for a 'procurement' soon."
"For what?"
"No, I was just saying I need to go grocery shopping."
"Really? I want to go too!"
From right beneath my chin as I peered into the fridge, Eto popped her head out, immediately applying for membership in the shopping party. My attempt to cover my slip of the tongue had just tightened the noose around my wallet.
Cursing my own carelessness, I began to draft a shopping list that hadn't been in today's plans. While I circled the apartment checking for dwindling necessities like detergent and soap, Eto sat and read to pass the time. My eyes happened to catch the cover of her book, and I blinked in surprise.
"Hm? Eto, you've read that far already?"
"Yeah! This book is really fun!"
I agreed that it was a good book, but wasn't her reading speed a bit excessive? If she finished that series, she would have officially conquered every book in this house. For as long as I could remember, Eto had shown a profound interest in learning to read and write.
Reading inevitably led her to difficult kanji and complex idioms, but her resolve was immense—if I gave her a dictionary, she would sit and look up the definitions herself. Consequently, despite her young age, she had become capable of navigating reasonably difficult literature without much trouble.
While I was proud of her, it also gave me pause. Reading is important, but if one becomes immersed in too narrow a selection, their thinking develops a 'frame.' One only needs to look at the various conflicts in the world to see how dangerous a fixed mindset can be.
Buying more books from the bookstore presented its own problems—mostly regarding the lack of space in our home and the state of my finances. After a moment of thought, I looked up at the clock. It was 7:48 AM. I had about three hours before I had to head to my part-time job.
"Eto. Shall we go to the library today?"
"The library? I want to go!"
Eto shouted, hopping up and down like a small animal that had just spotted a treat.
Taking Eto by the hand, I led her to the municipal library closest to our home. It wasn't particularly large, but it boasted a surprisingly wide range of titles, from aged classics to the latest young adult novels.
As we passed the entrance, I saw an elderly man, likely the librarian, dozing off at the counter. I had used this library many times back in high school, and even then, this same old man had been dozing in the exact same spot. Seeing him unchanged after all these years made me wonder if he wasn't actually a mannequin designed to look like a sleeping senior.
Regardless, as we moved past the counter and deeper into the stacks, we were greeted by the pervasive scent of paper and a collection of books so vast it would be an insult to compare them to my humble bookshelf at home. Eto's eyes sparkled like someone who had just discovered a treasure hoard.
"You can pick out whatever you want to read."
"𝘠𝘢-𝘩𝘰𝘰~!"
"Silence in the library."
"𝘠𝘢, 𝘺𝘢-𝘩𝘰𝘰...!"
Eto lowered her voice at my light reprimand, though she couldn't quite stifle her excitement. I sat down in a nearby chair and watched her bounce silently through the aisles as if she were at a theme park, a small chuckle escaping me.
To any onlooker, she was simply a bright, cheerful child who loved books... but because of one single 'difference,' she cannot easily reach out to others.
This child is a 'Ghoul.'
A being that cannot survive without consuming human flesh.
For Eto, social experience carries a severe risk that normal people never have to face. They say the failures of youth are natural, but for Eto, failure means ostracization—or death. If she takes even one wrong step, tragedy is all that awaits. That is the life she must lead from now on.
Books will surely become her weapon...
The power of a book is not to be underestimated. It is more than just a record of facts. Whether it's a novel or a textbook, a single volume contains the values and experiences of the person who wrote it. Hidden behind the words are the lives of those who experienced the world, its failures, and its successes long before Eto.
Currently, Eto can only read the text and the surface-level information, but as she grows, she will learn to interpret the author's perspectives—to accept them or to refute them.
Grow alongside the characters in those pages, Eto. Fail with them, and rise with them.
So that when you become an adult, you can use that knowledge as a weapon to withstand this cruel world without breaking...
"𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦-𝘩𝘰!"
Eto returned, carrying a stack of books so high her upper body was almost invisible, and set them down on the table where I was sitting. She then picked her favorite from the pile and sat across from me. Her expression was incredibly serious as she looked at the book she'd found.
Curious, I peeked at the title.
"...."
I froze with my chin resting in my hand, unable to speak for a moment. Feeling a mounting headache, I finally managed to open my mouth.
"...Eto, what exactly are you doing?"
Eto looked up from the book and gave me a beaming smile.
"I am inheriting the knowledge of adults, Father."
The title of the book Eto was currently reading was as follows:
『𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘚𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘞𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢 𝘔𝘢𝘯 𝘖𝘧𝘧 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘍𝘦𝘦𝘵』
...Just what kind of collection is this library keeping? Sweep him off his feet? How? I certainly hope she doesn't think it involves a literal leg sweep.
I returned the book to its shelf and carried Eto out of the library under my arm. On the way out, I had to work quite hard to soothe her as she squirmed and whined, "𝘕𝘰𝘰𝘰-! 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘵-! 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯-!"