Evolution of a latent psychic

by Littlefoxlife

Summary:

Mai resolved herself that S.P.R was over. The team had left, Naru and Lin had left to bury Gene but she was left in her place.
She thought that moving forward would work but it could never be that simple...
Suffering was at the core of being psychic, but sometimes an extra push was needed.

Chapter 1: Unknow desire

Everything was going wrong.

Her life had been turned upside down since the day she left. The man she loved had broken her heart by asking, "Me or Gene?"
She had pondered the question a thousand times, but the answer never seemed to come. How could she pick between indivisible people? Gene was a part of Naru just as much as Naru was a part of him.

She had cried and screamed over the unfairness of his expectations, the impossibility of his demands. To her, Naru was everything, but Gene still remained a part of him. Naru was reality, Gene her dream. The man had sold her the world while pulling the carpet from under her feet. Everyone had left after that.

Within a month of Naru leaving, Bou-san and Ayako had decided to go travelling together under the guise of discovering the world as a miko and monk. Masako had been dragged further into her TV shows, absorbed by her popularity. Yasu was doing well in university, his time consumed by studying and his newfound love for partying.
And Mai? Life dragged on, struggling for money to survive in her near uninhabitable flat full of mould and damp. She had at least graduated high school and was currently working towards a diploma in psychology.

However, none of that contributed to her current predicament. Sat on the dirty carpet in her flat, she knelt helplessly in pain. Her body tensed with every wave of pain, her mind racing to understand what was happening to her.
Her groans of pain went unanswered as she tried to survive. There was no point calling an ambulance; she couldn’t afford it. Even if she could, they would probably call her a liar again. The pain and bleeding had been ongoing for weeks, but every time she reached out for help, no explanation was found, and she was told it was "normal."
She knew what a fucking period was; there was no need to pay $350 for a doctor to tell her. Besides, her periods weren’t like this—clots and pain that were unheard of for her. She was sure that something more serious was happening.

This evening was proof. It was only as she sat on the toilet that things came to a head. The pain, which had been consistent and repetitive, turned unbearable as she sat, the intervals now gone, the pain becoming unending. She screamed as it started to burn between her legs, her hand reaching down to feel.
Hair. There was hair, her mind screamed. As the next wave came, she felt more and more until her hand supported a body.
A small baby, much smaller than expected, rested in her hands. She remained stock still as she stared at the child. Dark hair, eyes closed, not breathing. Purple, nearly grey in the body—she could tell the child was dead. Stillborn.

 

She didn’t know what to think or feel. Her body exhausted, she panted as she looked on, unfeeling to the pool of liquid growing beneath her.
The little boy looked peaceful as he rested in her arms. She hadn’t known, hadn’t felt any different. Tears slowly rolled down her face as she realised that she was witnessing the next tragedy of her life. Her child was dead, and there was nothing she could do about it. More pain to add to her ledger of suffering. Bringing the little boy to her chest, she wept as she kissed the top of his head.

“You are loved,” she couldn’t help but say as she caressed his cheek. It was unacceptable to think that her child would leave this world believing he was unwanted. She had no signs of being pregnant, but that didn’t change the fact that he was here. Pulling the quilt she had knitted months ago off the sofa, she wrapped it around the child.
Warmth continued to spread beneath her as she realised she was now sitting in a pool of her own blood. What had started as a small trickle had grown to a steady stream of her lifeblood leaving her. She lacked the energy to care as she hugged her child closer to her body, trying to keep him warm, even as her body chilled.

Her body was racked with chills, her mind becoming fuzzy. She was bleeding out, dying, and no one was going to save her.
“I’m here,” a voice soothingly called. A familiar voice.

“Gene?” She hadn’t seen him since Naru left. She had assumed that proximity to Naru was what allowed her to access the spirit realm. Deliriously, she admitted that death clearly worked too.
Resting his hand on her cheek, Gene called her name, “Mai.” He turned to the bundle in her arms, “Riel.” He smiled.

“Riel?”
“Riel, wasn’t that the name for a boy?” Gene must have been listening to her thoughts. Her drowsy mind couldn’t help but agree that this boy was Riel. Riel was one of those names that didn’t have a particular meaning but had always felt right. She had never expected to have a child so soon, even less for it to go so wrong.

“Yes, Riel…” she croaked. She could feel herself fading, but she couldn’t spare the energy to care.
“Mai.” He slapped her cheek. Should she be able to feel a ghost tapping her? Probably not. “Mai!” he shouted, grabbing her attention back from the depths of tiredness. His gaze locked into hers. “You will live for him, sorry.”

Thrusting his arm into her stomach, she screeched as her body shivered in pain. She saw a faint light as Gene pressed down the bottom of her stomach.
“I can’t do much; my energy isn’t enough. A second chance should be enough,” he told her in a low voice.

It was as if a bolt of energy passed through her body. The bleeding stopped, and suddenly the world came back into focus. Gene’s silhouette faded from view before she could even utter another word.
Shivering, she remained seated, bloodied and cold, for the last few hours of the night. Hugging her unbreathing baby to her chest, she sat, unable to cry or speak.

 

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Morning came harshly. Whatever Gene had done had saved her, but it did nothing for the pain.
Having wrapped her child in a small blanket to keep him warm, she had tried to clean herself up. Numbly sitting beneath the spray of the shower, she just watched as red-tinged water pooled at her feet. She felt her flat stomach, still in disbelief that a child had been hidden within. But there was no future for this little one.
It was only as she stepped out the door, walking to the nearest church, that she realised what she was going to do. The bundle in her arms needed to be released to the peaceful afterlife, lest he be stuck in limbo.

Some would say it was a brisk decision, but she couldn’t bear the idea of her child’s body lingering, tethering him to earth. He deserved peace. Every second that he remained on this earth was another second of tarnishing his memory.

Stepping through the threshold of the church, she couldn’t help but glance at her child once again. It would have been easy to say he was sleeping, had it not been for the fact that he did not breathe. His black hair, button nose, and the small peek she had taken beneath his eyelids confirmed that the child was a copy of his father through and through.
The demure priest, fiddling with some candles, was pulled from his reverie by her presence.

“Hello, how can I help you? Are you perhaps looking to book an appointment for a christening?” The priest was trying to be friendly, but the simple act of suggesting that her child would become old enough to be blessed for his future left her empty inside. He had clearly seen a woman carrying her newborn child wrapped in a blanket, not reality.

Unable to cry, she responded, choking on her words “My child requires your help, Father.” Pulling the blanket slightly aside, enough to show Riel’s face, the priest seemed to suck in a breath. Pulling a small vial of what she assumed was holy water, he spread a drop along Riel’s brow, praying to the Holy Spirit.

 

She would struggle to describe the next few days to anyone as she put her first child to rest. From the moment she put him in his final resting place, the weight of his soul was lifted off her shoulders, but not without leaving her empty inside.

This child was unknown, unheard, but to think that he so quickly became something she wanted was…painful. Motherly love was something she thought was developed, but she could feel her body wanting to love, care and comfort her child. But her mind grieved.

It would only be a week later that she would manage to pull her head out of the sand, to realise that things had changed. For one, a spirit now sat before her clearer than ever, to the point where she had to act as if she couldn’t see them lest they try and reach out to her.

 

Secondly, a child was now following her. A very familiar child, who seemed to fill her empty heart with something.

Chapter 2: Salvation isn't that easy

Summary:

Salvation is a difficult request.

It would only be two weeks later that her life tipped once again.
Another early morning found her on the sofa, nursing a cup of coffee while absentmindedly flipping through the newspaper. The days had dragged by, a monotonous blur that left her feeling listless, struggling to find the energy to keep up with the routines of life.

The newspaper, as always, was filled with prying stories and tales of tragedy—a murder here, a serial killer there, and yet another scandal rocking the political world. It was all so repetitive, so predictable, that she could hardly muster the focus to read more than a few lines.

"A tragic death? May that person rest in peace," she thought absentmindedly.

"Another presidential scandal? Again? Don’t they have anything better to do?"

Some of the articles were so vague, she couldn’t even see the point of their inclusion in the newspaper. It felt as though the world had run out of new tragedies and was merely recycling the old ones.
The only article that piqued her interest was a poorly written wanted ad, one that seemed to stand out only because of how absurd it was:
**'WANTED: Psychic, able to find lost items. Please call: +86 *******'

The ad didn’t mention where the person was located or even what item was lost. Whoever placed it wasn’t going to get very far—looking for a needle in a haystack might be more efficient. She scoffed at the thought. The bracelet would probably be lost forever at this rate.

 

It felt like divine intervention when, not even hours later, she spotted a familiar black van during one of her daily walks. Her phone rang insistently, buzzing in her hand. She knew who it was without even looking at the screen. No one else had her number anymore.
The people in her life had slowly faded away, one by one. It hadn’t even been a year since SPR had disbanded, five months since she’d left high school. Her high school friends had drifted away, scattered to different universities far from home. Everyone had moved on, leaving her behind.

The shrill ringing of the phone pulled her out of her reverie. With a sigh, she answered it.

“Mai?” The voice on the other end was demanding, abrupt. She struggled to keep her breath steady, forcing herself to sound calm.
“Yes?” she replied, congratulating herself for not stuttering.

“Are you busy today? Could you pass by the old office?” The voice was emotionless, almost robotic.

“Yes. When?” Why did she say yes? Why couldn’t she just refuse, avoid dragging herself back into the heartache? But instead, she had unconsciously agreed.
“In an hour.”

“Sure.” The line went dead before she could even process what had just happened.
Mentally sighing, she realized she better get on the train now.

 

The bus ride to the office was filled with a whirlwind of thoughts, fears, and questions. Why was he back in Japan? Why did he need her? And most of all, why had she agreed to come?
Walking into the office felt surreal. Dust sheets still covered the furniture, the floor was filthy, and yet the man himself sat at his desk in the back room. She could just about see the peak of his black jumper from the doorway.

As she stepped further in, she saw John and Yasu seated in the common area, watching Ayako and Bou-san bicker. John smiled indulgently at the group, as usual, while Yasu seemed to eagerly anticipate the impending clash—such a familiar sight. Yet, oddly, no one seemed to acknowledge her presence. Usually, someone would at least greet her.
She glanced back towards Naru, who was digging through papers, oblivious to her entrance. Lin was nowhere in sight.

Before she could think about interrupting Naru or the others, she was startled by Lin, who was shaking the dust sheet off the sofa.
"Wasn’t he just here?" she thought, her mind struggling to focus. She suddenly realized she was still standing at the threshold, frozen on the top step of the stairs. The SPR logo on the door was still visible, not enough time having passed for it to fade under the sunlight.

But had they been sitting and talking? Was the gang really here? Where was “here”?

Before she could delve too deeply into her confusion, a hand came to rest on her shoulder.
“Hiya, Mai. How have ya been?” The voice was unmistakable—John's. The surprise of his touch jolted her out of her thoughts.
“John! It’s been such a while! I thought you’d gone back to Australia?”

“I decided to stay in Tokyo. Father Toujo has been housing me for the last few months,” he replied with his usual warm smile.
As if nothing had changed, they fell into easy conversation, chatting about this and that. It was only when Lin interrupted them that the bubble burst.
“Would you make Naru some tea, Mai?” Lin’s voice was calm, but hearing him call her by name after so long felt oddly jarring. She wanted to feel offended at being asked to make tea without so much as an explanation for why she’d been called, but she knew it would probably ease the tension. Sensing her hesitation, Lin added a rare “Please?”
That sealed it.

The kitchen was grimy, the cups stained from months of disuse. She was forced to clean the kettle and the cups before making the tea, the mundane task bringing back memories of her early days with SPR. Making tea had always been her way of smoothing things over, especially when Naru grew frustrated or angry at her misfiling something. Tea had been her ‘sorry’ card.
She deposited the tea on the table, then turned to the three men who had gathered in Naru’s office. Her patience was wearing thin.

“Why did you call me? Aren’t you supposed to be in England?” she asked bluntly.

Naru didn’t bother to respond until he was seated in the lounge, tea in hand.
“We need your help with an investigation,” he said, his tone dismissive.

“You’ll need to give me more than that,” she replied sharply. “You’ve managed just fine without me until now. What’s changed?” She wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily. She wasn’t someone who could be picked up and put down at his convenience.

“It will only take a few days,” he said, brushing off her concerns. She glanced at Lin and John, noting the knowing looks they exchanged.

“You think I’m that easy?” she snapped. “You think you can just waltz back in here and expect me to drop everything?” She stared at Naru coldly. “I’ve got a life, you know?”
Naru looked taken aback by her anger, as if he hadn’t anticipated it. He should have.
Her anger, however, was a mask for the truth she didn’t want to face. The reality was that she had no life—she was merely existing, living day to day in a fog of grief. But it was easier to lie, easier to pretend she had something worth protecting, than to admit how hollow she felt inside.

 

The last week had felt like a relentless kick to the gut. After everything that had happened, she had tried to reach out, desperate for some semblance of support, but time after time, she was left to suffer in silence.
Her visit to the registry office had been particularly harrowing. She had brought all the necessary paperwork related to Riel, but the bureaucrat behind the desk had coldly informed her that since her baby had never drawn breath, there would be no birth certificate. The words echoed in her mind like a cruel mantra: “Your child doesn’t exist.”
She had also gone to the doctor, hoping for some relief from the pain and the constant bleeding. But as soon as she mentioned she had experienced a stillbirth, they dismissed her concerns as mere emotional grief and typical postpartum symptoms. Every morning, she struggled just to get out of bed, the bleeding making her dizzy, and the pain seizing her breath, as if her body was betraying her over and over again.

The realisation slowly dawned on her: she couldn’t possibly feel more alone than she already did. She wasn’t rich enough, important enough, or, apparently, even good enough for anyone to care.
The only person who seemed to understand her plight was Father Furukawa. He hadn’t hesitated to offer his help, whether it was with Riel or anything else she needed. The church he tended was often empty, a relic of a time when religion held more sway in people’s daily lives.

Mai wouldn’t have called herself a believer, but her experiences with ghost hunting had opened her eyes to the existence of something beyond this world. She had walked in that other realm, seen it, and lived it. What Gene did had confirmed to her that there was much more to this world than she could have ever imagined.
She couldn’t deny the feeling of peace that enveloped her whenever she stepped into a church or shrine. Nor could she ignore the profound sense of salvation she felt when Father Furukawa celebrated her baby’s life for the first—and perhaps the last—time. In that moment, she felt a sense of solace she hadn’t expected.

“You’ve got psychometry, if I remember right? What do you expect me to do?” she had asked, trying to mask her uncertainty.

“Dream, if you agree to help,” he had said, his words hanging in the air like a question she wasn’t sure how to answer.

She left the office without giving a clear answer, neither confirming nor denying her willingness to help. She had tried to listen to the rest of the team’s explanations, but it was hard to focus when she was blinded by frustration. They wanted her to dream? A part of her wondered if they were even thinking straight. Her dreams were never predictable, never had been. Yes, she dreamed every night, but her dreams were often fragmented narratives, following the lives of animals or humans that had crossed her path or died recently.

Sometimes, she would read an obituary and that very night, she’d find herself staring into that person’s home, witnessing one of their most intimate memories—whether it was lovely or gruesome.
Asking her to dream was an incredibly complicated request, one she wasn’t sure she could fulfill. Could her powers even be focused that way? And anyway, her dreams were currently dominated by the grief she felt; sleep had become a rare and precious commodity. Nightmares, haunted by what Riel’s life could have been, choked her imagination and left her gasping for breath.
What had truly shaken her earlier was seeing the team—or more precisely, the members who were absent. They had been there, she had seen them, but like sand slipping through her fingers, their images dissolved into nothingness.

A deep disconnect formed between what she had seen and the reality she now faced. Only when she looked back over the past few weeks did she realize that her perception of reality had been frequently disrupted by something inexplicable.

She was no longer seeing the present as it was, but rather, a different version of reality—images not from today, but from what had been. During the conversation in the office, she saw Lin, his hair long and disheveled, exhaustion etched into his features. But in the next blink, the man before her was refreshed, his hair neatly tied back. Naru’s cup of tea shifted between full and empty, as if time itself had become fluid, slipping between moments.

It didn’t take much for her to understand that her dreams were no longer confined to her sleep. They weren’t dreams anymore—they were visions. Visions that had once only visited her in the quiet of the night had now invaded her waking world, blurring the lines between the past and the present.

Chapter 3: A hoax?

The hellish morning she had dragged herself through only seemed to get worse. Against her better judgment, she’d decided to show up at the address scrawled on the scrap of paper.

No matter how many times she told herself it wasn’t worth her time—that it was a pointless endeavor she could easily ignore—the thought of it wouldn’t leave her alone. Avoidance wasn’t helping; staying home only trapped her in the suffocating echo chamber of her own mind. At least going there would give her some illusion of control, fleeting as it might be.

She hadn’t expected the address to lead to them. The familiar sight of Naru and Lin’s flat stopped her in her tracks, and for a moment she considered turning back. But when Lin opened the door, there was no turning back—just the reality of seeing Naru, the man she simultaneously longed to hate and couldn’t muster the energy to. Perhaps it was the fact that he was her boss, perhaps the memories of them, or even the story she had to tell. Either way, she hated how tired she was of carrying even that much anger.

“So, you came.” Naru’s tone was neutral, a blend of indifference and faint expectation. As though he hadn’t summoned her here.
She squared her shoulders, refusing to let her trepidation show. “You piqued my interest,” she said coolly, though the truth was far more complicated. Admitting as much wasn’t something she would say.

Without preamble, Naru tossed a file her way as she sat down. “Read it.”

Mai caught it with a little more irritation than grace, opening it to scan the contents.
‘Married couple report unexplained noise and “incidents” throughout the house. Events include objects moving or toppling, doors locking on their own, water running at extreme temperatures, and flames from the fireplace seemingly reacting without provocation. The wife is the main victim’
‘They believe a lost family heirloom might be the cause’

It sounded absurdly cliché, the kind of tale better suited to late-night gossip than legitimate investigation. She read on, her fingers unconsciously tightening on the file. No discernible patterns, no gradual escalation—the activity was all over the place. Too clean. Too... purposeful.

“You’re sure this isn’t some hoax?” she asked, trying to keep skepticism in her voice, though unease had already wormed its way into her thoughts.

Naru’s unimpressed look was answer enough. “The case came from my mother. From what I understand, she’s not prone to overreacting.”
The detail caught her off guard, though she didn’t dare let him see it. If his mother had deemed the case worthwhile, maybe it wasn’t just nonsense. Maybe it was worse.
Still, she had doubts. Should I even be doing this? she wondered, guilt clawing its way up. The weight of her recent loss pressed on her chest—a reminder of what "dangerous work" really meant.

“You think it’s haunted?” she asked, the words catching on the lump in her throat.

“I think it’s worth investigating,” Naru replied matter-of-factly. His detached tone grated against her nerves—wasn’t anything more than curiosity ever at stake for him?

“Of course you do,” Mai muttered, resisting the urge to rub her face with her hands. Somehow, every SPR case that seemed innocuous on the surface always turned out far more dangerous.
“If it helps you decide,” he added coolly, “the client is offering 80,000 yen per team member, in addition to daily pay. Payment upon resolution.”

Mai stared down at the file again, her thoughts in turmoil. It wasn’t the money that tipped the scales—it never was—but the idea of doing something that didn’t leave her trapped in her mind felt... tempting. Even if it meant another sleepless night, she’d at least be doing something.

Finally, she let out a slow breath. “Fine. When do we leave?”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Welcome! I’m so glad you’ve come!”

A very eccentric man greeted them with an enthusiasm that felt out of place, given the circumstances. His wide grin and eager energy were an odd sight for a family supposedly experiencing a haunting.
“Where can we set up the equipment?” Naru, as usual, was straight to business, not sparing a second for pleasantries.

“We’ve set aside the formal dining room for you,” the man, who had introduced himself as ‘William,’ replied. He was the owner of the grandiose estate, his presence just as ostentatious as the house itself. His accent hinted at a British-Japanese heritage, an explanation, Mai thought, for some of the peculiarities of the household.

Mai found herself swept into setting up base and preparing the cameras. The work was familiar, almost comforting in its routine, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every time she caught movement in the corner of her eye, she swore she saw two young boys playing together. At first, she dismissed it as a trick of the mind—her ability to sense ghosts had always been unreliable at best—but with her recent developments, perhaps she wasn’t imagining things this time?

Still, there was no time to dwell on it. Naru had asked her to dream—that was more her forte, after all.

The interview took place in the main living area, the room dimly lit despite the afternoon sun filtering weakly through the heavy drapes.
“When did this all start?” Naru’s voice was measured and professional as he directed the first question at William.

“About a month ago. At first, it was small things—our kettle always seemed to be hot, but I thought perhaps my wife had just made tea. Then objects in the living room started moving on their own, and the final straw was the whispers.” His expression faltered slightly, as though debating whether to continue. “I can’t always understand them, but the one word I’ve caught clearly is ‘Give.’”

 

Despite the eerie nature of his words, William’s excitement was still evident. “But truly, I see this as an amazing opportunity! When Luella mentioned that her son had a psychic team, I was overjoyed! I’ve always wanted to see one in action!”

 

If he had been a dog, his tail would have been wagging. Naru’s cold, unimpressed stare did nothing to curb his enthusiasm.
“Any ideas on what might be causing the disturbance?”

This time, it was his wife, Kiko, who answered. Up until now, she had lingered behind her husband, her presence overshadowed by his excitement.
“I’m pretty sure it’s my mother.”

“What makes you believe that?”

“All of the affected items belonged to her. The rocking chair, the kettle, the books—things she passed down to me after she died ten years ago. I even considered getting rid of them, but when I tried, the activity worsened.”

Mai tilted her head. “She’s been dead for ten years. What’s changed to make her this upset now?”

Even Naru seemed intrigued by the question, his gaze sharpening as he studied Kiko.
She hesitated before sighing, as if reluctant to share. “I think this might have to do with a family heirloom. When her will was read, there was an item listed simply as ‘emerald jewelry.’ She specifically requested it be placed near her final resting place, but we never found it. She’s buried here on the estate, but without the jewelry, we couldn’t fulfill her wishes.”

Mai had the nagging feeling that Kiko wasn’t telling them everything, but pushing her further wouldn’t get them anywhere.
“Do you have any idea what this jewelry looks like?” Naru pressed.

“All we know is that it has emeralds,” Kiko admitted.
That really narrowed it down.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The search for the missing jewelry took up most of the following day. Outside of a few cheap trinkets, they found nothing.
Frustration settled over the group as they sat in the base for a short lunch break. Casual chatter filled the space, offering a temporary reprieve from the tension.
“I can’t believe you stayed in Tokyo! I was certain you’d be back in Australia by now,” Monk remarked to John.

John chuckled. “I nearly did, but Japan’s religious traditions have such depth. I feel more at home here than I ever have before.”

“And you, Mai?” Ayako turned her attention to her. “Your exams are coming up soon, aren’t they?”

Mai hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. “Classes have been difficult, but I’ve already got enough points to pass this year.” She forced a smile, hoping the answer was satisfactory.
She noticed Naru watching her intently, but whatever was on his mind, he didn’t voice it. Instead, he refocused on the case.

By evening, the house remained eerily calm. No paranormal activity. No disturbances. But the morning brought something new.

Kiko stormed into base, drenched from head to toe, looking like a drowned rat.

“I expected you to stop this!” she snapped, her voice furious.

“Madame, we can’t work miracles,” Naru replied flatly. “We’ve barely been here twelve hours.”

“That woman cannot be allowed to torment me any longer,” she hissed. “Know that your salary is on the line.” With that, she turned and stormed off, presumably to change.

Naru sipped his tea, entirely unconcerned. “Do not worry about your salaries. William and I have an agreement, and the contract is ironclad.”

Bou-san grinned. “I knew you’d protect us, Naru-bou!” he said with exaggerated admiration.

Ayako rolled her eyes. “Stop sucking up to him. His ego is already insufferable.”

For a fleeting moment, Mai swore she saw the shadow of a smile cross Naru’s face.

 

Two more days passed before they finally found the jewelry.

The breakthrough came unexpectedly when Mai, without thinking, referred to it as a bracelet.
Naru’s sharp gaze locked onto her. “Why did you say ‘bracelet’?”

“I… don’t know? I just thought it was a bracelet,” she admitted, frustration creeping into her tone.

He considered her for a moment before nodding. “It may be your intuition. You’ve been right before.”

Notes:

Hello! I've come up with a diabolical chapter for this, so now I need to fill in the other bits till I get to it.... So here you go, another chapter probably before the twist...

Enjoy :)

Chapter 4: Karma better do its job

It must have been close to two in the morning when Mai stirred, disoriented. Something was wrong. The weight of her blankets, the familiar scent of her room—both were missing. Instead, the air was thick with dust, the scent of aged wood and neglect pressing against her senses. She blinked, her vision adjusting to the dim glow of moonlight filtering through cracked curtains.
She wasn’t in her bedroom anymore.

She stood in a dark, abandoned nursery.

The room had been abandoned, coated in a fine layer of dust. Faded wallpaper, once vibrant, peeled at the edges. A mobile above the crib hung lifelessly, its delicate figures coated in dust. A small bookshelf, still lined with children’s books, stood by the corner, the spines of the stories untouched, waiting for hands that would never turn their pages.

It was the kind of nursery meant for a child who was deeply wanted. A place of love. And yet, something lingered in the air, something sorrowful.

Mai ran her fingers along the crib’s wooden frame, her touch light as if afraid to disturb whatever remained here. There was no fear, only a quiet sadness that settled in her chest. She didn’t know why, but she could feel what had happened in this room. A life meant to begin, never fully lived. An ending before a true beginning.

She closed her eyes, and for a fleeting moment, imagined what could have been—what should have been—if Riel had lived. If her son had been given a chance.
Her heart clenched, but the pain was dulled by something else. Acceptance, maybe.

Then, as if summoned by her thoughts, movement flickered in the corner of her vision.
Two boys stood together, no more than seven years old. One was eerily familiar, the other unknown but unmistakably happy. Their features were obscured by shadows, but something about them felt real, solid. Not like the ghosts she had seen before—those were often echoes, remnants of unfinished business. These boys… they were different.

She should have stepped back, but she didn’t. Something about the first boy rooted her in place. The familiarity of him.
The boy reached for her hand without hesitation. His small fingers curled around hers, warm. A squeeze—gentle, reassuring. A wordless invitation forward.

She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she felt it. The first boy, the one she somehow knew, was introducing her to the second. And the second—he beamed with delight, practically vibrating with excitement.

A happy ghost. That was new.

She had never seen spirits like this before. Most were desperate, empty vessels for their desires—vengeful, sorrowful, lost. But this? This was pure joy.
The second boy turned to the first and, with a silent question, received an approving nod. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out something small—a bracelet. It was delicate, clearly meant for a baby, its silver band adorned with tiny emeralds.

He pressed it into her palm.
The warmth of the first boy’s touch lingered, but the second’s was cooler, fleeting. Mai curled her fingers over the bracelet instinctively.

A single word cut through the silence, clear as a bell.
“Safe.”
And then they were gone.

Mai stood frozen, the tiny bracelet catching the moonlight as it rested in her palm. It didn’t take much to realize—this was what they had been searching for all along.

 

The next morning, as the SPR team prepared to resume their search, Ayako groaned in frustration.
“This is ridiculous. I even tried scrying for it yesterday. Nothing. Maybe I should start bribing tree spirits or something.”
Bou-san snorted. “If you think that’ll work, be my guest.”

Mai, still turning the bracelet over in her fingers, finally spoke up.
“Is this it?”
The room fell silent.

Bou-san and Ayako nearly lunged forward. “You found it?!” Ayako shrieked, while Bou-san gawked at the delicate piece of jewelry in her hand.

Even Naru looked mildly surprised. “Where did you get that?”

“In the nursery,” Mai admitted, hesitating slightly. “I… I think I sleepwalked there. But when I got there, two boys gave it to me.”

Naru’s expression sharpened. “Describe them.”

“They looked about seven. One felt familiar. They were happy, excited—nothing like the spirits we usually deal with. Before they disappeared, they gave me this and said… ‘safe.’”
He considered her words for a long moment before nodding. “Then we return it to the grave.”

That, at least, seemed like the obvious solution.
But the dead weren’t done with them yet.

 

The moment they presented the bracelet, Kiko’s expression twisted.
“Ah! So you finally found it! The wretched trinket that’s been driving us insane.” She reached for it without hesitation. “Well, now that that’s settled, I suppose we can put it up for auction—”
The bracelet wouldn’t leave Mai’s hand.

Kiko tugged harder, but it refused to budge, as if unseen fingers kept it locked in place.
A chill swept through the air.

“My dear… daughter, if I can even call you that…”
The voice was soft but sharp.

The room darkened, shadows stretching unnaturally.
“You dare to sell the last trace of your brother?”

The temperature plummeted. Kiko stumbled back, her bravado crumbling as a figure materialized beside Mai.
An older woman, her gray hair tied back, still dressed in the apron she had likely worn in life. Her face bore deep smile lines, but there was no warmth in her expression now—only cold, unyielding judgment.

Kiko’s breath hitched. “M-Mother?”

The ghost’s expression remained unreadable. “I was always just your cash cow, wasn’t I?”

She glanced at Mai, eyes softening ever so slightly. “My cheeky boy didn’t trust his sister. Smart lad.”
The little boy from before flickered into existence beside the spirit, his presence still light, still joyful. But when he looked at his sister, there was a quiet understanding. A knowing.
Kiko’s lips trembled. “Mother, please—”

The ghost exhaled. “I am no mother to a child who would sell away her family’s memory.”
Kiko flinched.

Then, with an almost playful wink at Mai, the woman turned to the little boy. “Shall we go, love?”

The boy hesitated, his gaze lingering on his sister, unreadable. His mother’s spectral hand rested on his shoulder.
“Karma,” she murmured, “will take care of the rest.”

And with that, they vanished, the weight in the room lifting with them.
Mai unclenched her fingers. The bracelet was gone. Images filtered into her head, a small baby and his mother, the short days they spent in that nursery as the boy was fated to die; however the mother refused to spend her days with the boy grieving; they played, she read and hugged her child, until it was time to say goodbye. His last breath taken, the mother seemed to finally breathe as she released him to his next life, whatever that may be. She allowed herself to cry for what felt like a moment, but quickly she put herself back together, because she had a family, a daughter to care for and her sweet boy would never want her to hurt, he wants her to live and take the best from the short life he had.

The memories absorbed her for but a second, but brought up no fewer emotions. Mai didn't have time to sift through her emotions right now, the present was waiting.

By the look on Kiko's face, she would never forget. And seeing the woman’s attitude Mai quite hoped that Karma would do the rest.

Notes:

Hello, another little chapter. Now I will say I like writing cases as much I like writing fight scenes, which is to say I really don't like it. Maybe I'm a bit too straight forward for those kind of things? Probably why I will never be a good story writer.

Anyway, please enjoy :)

Chapter 5: Assuming makes an arse out of you and I

Summary:

The mother of all assumptions.

Why was she currently sitting in the old SPR office? One might ask.

She didn’t have an answer to that. They had left the case that morning with Mr. Withings (William), who, despite his initial enthusiasm about having the team present, had suddenly decided that the incident with his wife was best brushed under the rug.
And so, she sat there filing papers, having spent the afternoon tying up the loose ends of the case, finalizing the invoice, ensuring the conformity of equipment, and making sure everything was properly closed post-case.

Why was she doing this? She had asked herself the same question multiple times over the past few hours. Perhaps it was habit, or maybe duty. Either way, she knew she could complete this task a hundred times faster than Naru or Lin.
The number of times she had fixed invoices written by Naru, some of which didn’t even have a total, was proof enough that it was better left to her.

The rest of the team had gone home, ready to move on with their lives. It irked her how easily they seemed to slip in and out of hers, as if nothing had changed. It was a contradiction to her unwavering loyalty to them, to how much she had relied on them. How could they believe that everything was fine after nine months of abandonment? They spoke as if the dissolution of SPR had happened just yesterday. The only one who showed even a hint of remorse was John, though she doubted he truly lingered on the facts.

As she was finishing up, her thoughts were interrupted by Naru.
“I’ll be heading back to the UK at the end of next week, so send me your bank details before then,” he said plainly, oblivious to the turmoil in her mind just moments ago.

“They’re the same,” she replied without looking up, pressing her fingers into her lower abdomen in an attempt to ease the ache.

“Send me your IBAN again. I’d rather not have to sort your payslip twice,” he said, with little care.

His words rankled her. Deal? Did he think she could be swept aside so easily, used and discarded as if she meant nothing? He clearly didn’t realize who he was talking to, and she felt a sharp sting of vindictiveness.

“Deal with me? Like how you ‘dealt’ with me last time we saw each other?” she snapped. “I think you made your feelings clear, Oliver.”
Finally turning to face him, she saw the flicker of emotions cross his face; shock, irritation, pain.

“I was only telling the truth,” he said blandly.

“You were asking me to choose between you and your dead brother!” she shot back. “You expected me to pick him, forced me to, even! Don’t talk to me about truth.”
Her words were sharp, aimed precisely at his ego. A sharp cramp shot through her stomach, and she sucked in a breath, placing a hand on the desk to steady herself. Naru didn’t notice.

“As usual, you prove your idiocy.” His voice was cold, but there was a tremor beneath it. “How do you think I was supposed to interpret you dreaming about my brother every night, even when I was right beside you?”

For the first time, she saw Naru genuinely shaken. The ever-calm, cool, and collected boss was gone, replaced by a vulnerable man tormented by the world around him. He wasn’t just grieving his brother, he was grieving their relationship.
She hadn’t realized that she actually meant something to him. She had always assumed their love was one-sided, convenient for him. She had been blind to the fact that beneath his cold exterior, beneath his emotional unavailability, was a man weighed down by grief.

“Gene was, maybe still is, my spirit guide. That’s why I couldn’t ‘choose,’” she said quietly. “I couldn’t choose between my lover and my pseudo-brother. You were both important to me. But I don’t think it was ever about choosing in the first place. You and Gene… you’re two sides of the same coin.”
Another sharp pang, this time lower. She clenched her jaw and willed herself to ignore it.

Naru stilled, her words sinking in.
He had never considered it that way. To him, there had always been a comparison, an expectation to be like Gene. The happy one. The friendly one. The one everyone liked.
But what no one realized was that Gene could be just as cold as he was, sometimes even more calculating. He was simply better at pretending. Better at putting up a front.
Naru couldn’t do that. He refused to fake warmth just to be liked. What people saw was what they got. It wasn’t his job to make people comfortable. His time was better spent advancing psychic research, giving reason to the things he and Gene had known and seen since childhood.

 

And now, this, this revelation, made sense. A shocking amount of sense.
Thinking back to her dreams, he realized she had always been vague on the details.
“Why did you never tell me Gene was your spirit guide?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“I didn’t realize until that day we sat by the lake, when you talked about your twin,” she admitted. “I thought it was you in my dreams. I thought the ‘Naru’ I saw was just a figment of my imagination. My spirit guide never really spoke, either.”
She met his gaze, her expression unreadable. Then, almost deliberately, she echoed his own words back at him.
“What was I supposed to think?”

He exhaled, a long pause stretching between them. They had both been teetering on the edge of assumption and reality. Both had made so many conclusions about the other, without ever bothering to talk.
Finally, Naru spoke, hesitant, almost reluctant.
“I don’t know… I’m sorry.”

To Mai, that was a strong statement.
Naru admitting he didn’t know was one thing. Admitting he was wrong, even more surprising.
She almost couldn’t believe this conversation was happening at all.

Maybe, just maybe, things between them weren’t as broken as she thought.

Notes:

This is about to get interesting wink

Chapter 6: Need him, even though I don't want to see him

Summary:

Life is unfortunately not one dimensional.

She was going to make tea. Tea always made things better, didn’t it?

 

Their conversation had been halted by Naru’s apology, giving them both time to process. But where could they go from here?

The kettle was on, the tea steeping, and she finally allowed herself to feel her body again. Pain bit at her, a pain she thought was behind her.

 

At first, it was sharp but bearable, a dull ache she could almost ignore. But it didn’t stop. It kept coming, waves crashing over her, relentless, suffocating.

The cup of tea she had been preparing was now forgotten, cooling on the counter as she gripped the edge of the sink, white-knuckled. She forced herself to breathe through it, but her body betrayed her. Since Riel’s birth, she had experienced lingering aches, ghostly remnants of what had been. But this… this was different. This was worse. This was too familiar.

A shuddering breath left her lips as another contraction rippled through her. Her knees buckled slightly, but she held firm.

Then came the memories.

 

Riel, wrapped in soft blankets, his tiny body so still. His sweet, cold face. Eyes that would never open. Lips that would never cry.

Reality flickered in and out with each blink. She wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. She was in her bathroom, clutching a child that had already slipped away.

 

Another contraction hit her, so vicious that the present yanked her back. A strangled moan escaped her, and she clenched her jaw against the onslaught of pain. It curled around her spine, dug into her stomach, pulsed between her legs.

No. No, this isn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible.

Her body shouldn’t be doing this. It couldn’t be. A little over three weeks had passed since Riel was born. There was no way she was, no. It wasn’t possible.

But deep down, some primal instinct told her otherwise.

Suddenly, the last three weeks made sense; the blood, the pain. But she didn’t want to admit it.

Maybe it was retained products? She’d been warned about that. It had to be, she affirmed It had to be.

Everyone had left the office for the night.

 

Everyone except Naru.

The only person she wasn’t ready to see right now.

He didn’t know about Riel. He didn’t know what she had been through. He didn’t know anything. And now, now was not the time to explain.

Another contraction tore through her. She barely managed to stifle a cry, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. Her vision blurred, and her grip on the counter tightened.

Her body was bearing down.

Her breath hitched in panic as she felt a sudden, undeniable pressure. Her mind screamed at her that this was impossible, but her body didn’t care for logic.

She needed help.

The thought filled her with dread, but there was no other option. She swallowed her pride and called out, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Naru…”

She didn’t want him to come.

But at the same time, she needed him to.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The conversation had left him feeling conflicted.

Where should he go from here?

It would be easy to say that the chapter was closed after what had happened by the lakeside months ago, but that didn’t stop his desires. His love.

He had watched her since his return. Since she returned, she had been quiet, distant, hollow.

And he didn’t understand why.

The Mai he knew was bright, sarcastic, and never hesitated to speak her mind. The girl sitting at her desk now was a shadow, her usual spark dimmed.

The conversation they had just had was proof of that.

He heard her call his name from the kitchen.

Something about the way she said it made his chest tighten.

 

It reminded him of before, before everything fell apart, before he had ruined things between them.

There had been a time when he had let himself get close, when he had allowed himself to feel something for her. That time had ended the moment Gene was found.

He had shut it all out. Locked it away and thrown away the key.

Hearing soft shuffling from the kitchen, he decided to go to her instead of loudly replying.

The office was empty. Tomorrow was Sunday.

 

Maybe, finally, they could talk now that the air was somewhat clear.

That thought evaporated the second he stepped into the kitchen.

Mai was leaning heavily against the counter, panting, her hands trembling where they clutched at her skirt.

Her clothing was dishevelled, clinging to her damp skin.

She was shaking.

The second she looked up at him, he realized something was very, very wrong.

And then,

 

 

"Catch."

What did she mean, ‘Catch’? The word barely registered before Mai’s hands moved aside, and his world tilted.

A baby.

A baby.

His brain short-circuited. The logical part of him screamed that this wasn’t possible. But his body moved on instinct, reaching out just in time to catch the tiny, fragile form.

A baby.

Still attached to its cord.

Mai let out a broken moan, her body finally giving in as she sank toward the floor.

Naru barely managed to lower her down, his hands steady despite the chaos flooding his mind.

Everything was happening too fast.

 

Mai was still panting, struggling to process what had just happened. Her face was pale, her skin clammy, her pupils blown wide as she leaned against him.

Then, hoarse and disbelieving, she whispered,

“Is it breathing?”

 

His eyes snapped back to the newborn in his arms.

For a second, one horrifying second, he thought the answer was no.

But then, movement. A tiny, shallow rise and fall of its chest. A slow blink.

Naru exhaled. “It’s alive.”

His voice was steady, but inside, he was reeling.

“And… a girl.”

 

Mai stared at him.

Something in her expression broke.

“Alive? I… I don’t… understand.”

Her voice was fragile, cracking under the weight of disbelief. As if she didn’t believe him.

The horror in her eyes was not from pain, nor from fear. It was something else, something he didn't understand.

 

Not yet.

But he knew this wasn’t the time to ask.

Firmly, decisively, he said,

“We’re going to the hospital.”

The rest could wait.

Notes:

Please note that this chapter is highly dramatised, but this scenario definitely exists (unfortunately). Infant loss/stillbirth is something I see in my job regularly, but I've always pondered what goes through a mothers head.
Being a woman unfortunately forces us to be strong even when we don't want to be.

Chapter 7: Validate my truths

She was a funny little thing, rosy cheeks, pale ginger hair, dark eyes that blinked up at the world in quiet curiosity. She wriggled in her cot, tiny hands curling and uncurling, her breath coming in soft little puffs.

She was big, compared to her…. brother…., six pounds, seven ounces but healthy. A good size for a twin of unknown gestational age.

She shouldn’t have existed. Or rather, Mai had convinced herself she couldn’t have.

And yet, here she was. A living contradiction.

 

When a very stressed Naru had delivered her to the maternity ward, Mai had been too overwhelmed to do much of anything.

He had gone with the baby girl, following as the paediatrician took her away to be examined. Meanwhile, Mai had been tended to by the midwives.

The woman who looked her over was sweet, gentle—but she was also ignorant in the way that well-meaning people often were. She had touched Mai’s shoulder, given her a smile, and said, “Well, your age would have made birth easier, dear.”

It wasn’t what Mai had wanted to hear. Not when her body still ached with the weight of what had happened. Not when the loss of Riel was still fresh in her mind.

But there was nothing she could do about it. There was nothing she could do about any of it.

They had asked for her details—when she had first suspected she was pregnant, if she had known she was carrying twins. She had answered numbly, her voice hollow, admitting that she had no clue.

 

The midwife had listened carefully, nodding along, surprised but not shocked.

"Twins are risky," she explained gently. "Particularly risky if undetected. You seem to have had a cryptic pregnancy. That’s when, subconsciously, your body suppresses the signs of pregnancy to protect itself."

She hesitated before continuing.

"That child you miscarried must have been this one’s twin" she said. "From the look of this little one and the history you’ve given me, I believe it happened around thirty-five weeks."

The woman’s voice softened. "I’m sorry for your loss."

The words sank in slowly.

Cryptic pregnancy.
Subconscious suppression.
Thirty-five weeks. Stillbirth.

Hearing it spoken so plainly made it real. It validated what had happened.

 

She hadn’t imagined it. She hadn’t been crazy. Something in her chest cracked, a dam breaking, but no tears came. Nothing could fix what had happened. But at least now she understood. And that—at least—was a small comfort.

"You’ll need antibiotics for ten days to prevent infection," the midwife continued. "But we won’t keep you. You can go home as soon as your daughter is ready."

Daughter. She had a daughter. Mai didn’t know what to feel.

What could she feel? Happiness? Guilt? Relief? Grief?

She wanted to be happy. She should have been happy. But every time she looked at her daughter, she couldn’t help but think of the child who wasn’t there.

Her son.

Riel.

The emptiness was still there. She still felt it, deep inside her, like something missing from the very fabric of her being.

Everything inside her was tangled—grief, shock, disbelief, relief. It was all too much. She felt numb as the paediatricians confirmed that the baby girl was healthy and discharged them home. They were welcome to call if they had concerns.

Naru packed her back into the car. They hadn’t spoken since the incident in the kitchen.

As he reached for the keys, she finally broke the silence.

"Can we go to a church near my flat?"

Her voice was quiet, but firm.

"There’s someone I need to see."

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The moment she stepped through the church doors, time folded in on itself.

She had been here before. She had walked this path once already, carrying the weight of loss on her shoulders.

Once again, she was stepping across the threshold, her breath catching in her throat. Once again, she was walking forward, her heart pounding, her arms cradling something fragile.

The past and present blurred together, her memories bleeding into the moment.

Last time, she had come here to say goodbye. To place her child into the hands of divinity. To surrender what she could not hold.

But this time, this time, she wasn’t returning anything. Because time hadn’t claimed them yet. And she wouldn’t allow it to. Not unless it took her with them.

She wouldn’t let go again.

Father Furukawa was in his office when she arrived. The moment he spotted her, his face brightened. “Mai! So good to see you again so soon.”

His smile faltered when he saw Naru behind her. When he saw the bundle in her arms. His expression shifted. Maybe he saw what she had seen before. The past crawling toward them both.

But this time,

"Can she be blessed?" Mai asked softly.

He looked both delighted and worried, but he nodded. Of course, he would honour her request.

Miracles were the foundation of his faith. But witnessing one…

That was different from simply hoping for one. "Are you alright?" he asked gently. "And… is she?"

Mai swallowed, then nodded. "I am. Somewhat. And yes… she is."

They understood each other well, despite the short time they had known one another. She had cried and prayed over this man’s shoulder too many times to count. And now, she was here again.

"He…" she hesitated, her gaze shifting toward Naru. "He doesn’t know."

Understanding settled in Father Furukawa’s eyes.

"He’s resting in the children’s garden. With the lilies," he said. "I’ll guide you."

 

That was how Mai found herself standing before him again.

Riel.

Her son. A plane of distance apart. Yet here, in the physical resting place she had chosen for him, she felt closer to him than ever. The flowers had begun to bloom. The lilies swayed in the breeze, white petals curling toward the sky.

Her eyes blurred with unshed tears.

"Riel…" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Say hello to your little sister."

The wind stirred gently, rustling through the garden.

 

And it was only at that moment,

That Naru finally understood.

Notes:

Now...I know most of you, who know me, were hoping for a Naruto related story but haha, Ghost Hunt was my first love. The first fanfic I wrote was on this fandom.
The way it ended just didn't sit right with me and honestly I have a collection of these fics on my computer.
Now this still doesn't promise good update times, but hoping having two projets to work on is going to help my slight writer block on Savoury but Sweet, which I think is due to oversaturation of my ideas for the story (I need another faucet).
Anyway enjoy!

P.s At this point I pretty sure birth is a core part of my fanfic brand, sounds bad, but at the same time I'm not surprised.