Please Don't Let Your Beautiful Eyes Cloud Over

by starRunner000

Summary:

After years of homeschooling and keeping his world confined, he was ready for a new beginning at Kamiyama High. With a heart full of ambitions and a sincere passion for music, Akito set his eyes on becoming an idol—like an angel who spreads hope and makes everyone smile. Simple, right?

Except that life had different intentions.

Making Friends? Not at the top of his priority list, yet he managed to attract a chaotic circle of individuals who liked him for who he was. Typical high school struggles? He could manage them.

Seeing ghosts, though?

Yeah... that was absolutely not in the plans.

Chapter 1: Prologue : "I wish... I could spread hope too."

𝄞 November, 12th. 

Wednesday.

12.11 a.m.

 

Dear diary,

 

I've always been super unlucky. 

'Maybe you are destined to be unlucky,' they say. 'Perhaps you're making your own bad luck.' If that's the case, wouldn't I be able to create good fortune for myself too? 

I did, though, telling myself to stay positive. Not allowing myself to feel down because of my luck. 

But everything changed on that day... 

That day... fire. Fire was everywhere. I didn't quite remember. It was night, but the flames shone prettier than the moon. A house... was on fire. 

But whose house is it...? 

"Akito, it's fine. Your sister is here. We will be fine," a young, brunette girl embraced me. She was crying, but she smiled, probably to reassure that everything would be fine for her. For us. 

"Mom and Dad said that we will be alright. So don't blame yourself, okay?" Blame myself... for what? 

Did my luck just do this? 

Did I set the house on fire? 

All of the questions were left unanswered. I barely remember what happened after that. There were too many people. The noise is unbearable. Perhaps this is what drives me to tend to ignore things.

 

Then, I stopped going to school. 

Everyone's eyes never leave me at ease. They were bothering me so much. I hate, despised dislike it. Why did they look at me like that? Did I do something wrong? 

"Shino- Shiraishi, it's nice to meet you again. This is our-" 

"-Our second session. Yes, I know that, sensei." I met a teacher- the school counselor, who heavily convinced me to see him after class and said that I need help after living with adoptive parents. 

They have a daughter, named An. She was just 5 months older than me, but she already called herself a big sister. The parents- Shiraishi Ken and Shiraishi Yuka, took me and nee-chan in their care. 

"Shiraishi mommy... I want to quit school." 

Shiraishi Yuka was shocked. Well... not only her, but others too. Nee-chan knows exactly why, but since they didn't pry for further details, I did not tell the actual reason to them. 

Shiraishi Ken, however, did not agree. He said education is important. Yet I don't have the hope to study when my grades fall so bad. But after a few days, he gives me another option. Which is, homeschooling. 

I've never accepted an offer so fast in my life. 

To me, learning from home sucks. But it's better than going outside. An once joked about me looked like a vampire because I basically prevents to go outside. Nee-chan, on the other hand, loves going to school. 

Of course... she has many friends. 

The most important part is that her good luck is insane. 

No matter how hard I try, I will never be as good as her. Clever, creative, talented... I'm just living in her shadow. The gap between us is wider than my empty heart. It's meaningless. It doesn't worth it. 

 

Why am I even alive?

 

I was starting to lose hope... but then. But just then... a song. A song that I've never heard before, displayed on the TV screen. It was nothing like nee-chan's music practice. 

"Geez... Did An forget to switch off the TV? Seriously... and it was kind of loud too..." On the screen, where the loud music was being played, attracts my attention when a girl my age was singing together with a... A hologram girl...? 

I was about to turn it off, but- 

"Hello, everyone! Hoshika's here today!" The girl, presumably my age, brightly smiles at the camera. "Meet my lovely partner; Hatsune Miku!" Her little hands politely gesture over the hologram girl. 

They happily chat, like it was normal to talk with a hologram artificial intelligence. 

"Thank you for listening to my first solo with Miku-chan today. I'm a little nervous... But I am glad it turned out well!" The girl with dark blue hair says - named Hoshika. She was nervous...? But her performance feels like it's beyond a beginner...! She was born with talent. Probably good fortune too... 

And the song. 

It was so good. It makes my body move automatically with the music.

I wanted to dance and sing like that too... But knowing my luck, I... would never stand on a stage. The last time I did, I tripped over the wires, and they strangled. Somehow, it also broke. I don't know why. 

Forget it. Even if I work hard and do my best, my luck always does the worst. I'm just gonna end up- 

"-After all, you can't have a better tomorrow if you keep thinking about yesterday, right?" 

Huh? 

"There's no such thing as bad luck! It exists because we believe in it. So, just trust yourself and step forward. A good day will be waiting for you!" 

...To be honest, I can't either laugh or feel sad hearing this. 

Everything seems to be easy after her words engraved in my mind. Leave yesterday and believe in tomorrow... What a childish naive thinking. 

But I can understand why that makes her shine the brightest. 

Being simple-minded and happy in what you do... is not an easy task. Her mentality is stronger than the kids of my age. She's possibly an older sister or something... but that was absurd too. Nee-chan's mind is probably different than this Hoshika girl's thinking. 

"This is my wish... a hope that I wanted to deliver to everyone." 

 

Working hard without giving up... that 'someday'. Will it be a good day for me? Is it really that simple to think of...? 

Regardless, considering here and there. Following Hoshika's official account on NicoNico Douga's application... her songs give me motivation to start turning my bad days into brighter ones. 

"I wish... I could spread hope too." 

Thus, I decided to try my best from that day.

 

Goodluck, me. 

ɑꮶıꞇᴏ

Chapter 2: Chapter 1 : "It's... you..."

𝄞 April, 1st. 

Tuesday

8.00 a.m.

 

As dawn broke in Japan, the sleepy Shibuya city town stirred to life under a canopy of cherry blossoms in full bloom. Soft hues of pink and white adorned the streets, painting a picturesque scene against the backdrop of clear, azure skies. 

Today seems to be good weather. Just great for the students who will be enrolling in school starting today. 

Akito's day began with the gentle rays of the morning sun filtering through his window, casting a warm glow upon his room. With a yawn, he stretched and rose from his futon, feeling the excitement of the new school year coursing through him. 

Stepping outside onto his balcony, he was greeted by the sweet fragrance of cherry blossoms carried on a gentle breeze. The air was crisp and invigorating, promising a day filled with endless possibilities. 

He widely smiles, eyes sparkling with hope. The ginger takes a deep breath before yelling determinedly, "Good morning, world!" 

He swore his voice shook the house, the birds also leaving their nest in shock, maybe. 

A loud knock could be heard from his door. A brown-haired girl appears, her face decorated with concern. "Akito? Keep it down, you're scaring us down there." 

Akito nervously laughs. "I didn't mean to be that loud..." The boy murmured, embarrassed. 

He noticed his sister in her different school attire. "Are you performing at our orientation today?" The brunette tilted her head before remembering she was holding her bass case. 

"Yeah. The principal requested us to do an opening show for the new freshmen. He didn't stop coming to the studio until we agreed to it," she sighed. Akito now imagined the principal as a stubborn character. 

Ena cleared her throat. "You were starting today too, right? If so, you better start changing." 

"O-Oh, right!" Akito finally realizes that he has wasted a little time. He makes his way to the bathroom, takes a fast shower for the sake of his health, brushes his hair, conceals his little visible freckles on his face with Ena's makeup, and wears the uniform. 

Before leaving the bathroom, Akito catches sight of himself in the mirror and takes a moment to adjust his school uniform, straightening his tie with care and running a hand through his orange hair. 

He slaps his cheeks. 

Akito is ready to get back to school. 

Breakfast was a simple affair of rice, miso soup, and pickled vegetables prepared by his mother, who wished him luck on his first day back at school. Her face tinted with a worried expression, but then her husband appears, trusting in Akito's decision. 

"Are you sure you want to walk to school alone? I think it will be safer if we went with you," the girl with navy-colored hair states, preparing her bento on the table. 

Akito smiled gratefully, but he turned down the offer. "It will be fine! I've memorized the streets!" He exclaimed, looking confident. 

An looked a little horrified hearing that, but she shrugged it off. 

Akito savored the familiar taste of home-cooked comfort before grabbing his packed bento on the table and heading out the door. 

"I'm off!" 

With his backpack slung over his shoulder, Akito set off down the cherry blossom-lined streets, the soft petals dancing around him like confetti. The promise of a new school year hung in the air, and Akito couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement and anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead. 

Today's going to be a good one. He knows it! 

While humming a familiar song, Akito started his journey. His first destination today: Kamiyama High School! 

The ginger-haired boy could not help but feel a little nervous seeing other students walking to the school too. He secretly observes everyone. Some were wearing a little fancy, others were focused on chit-chat with their close friends, and more usual activities he has seen. 

It feels a little nostalgic. 

Akito is glad he decided to begin his new story today. This is the beginning of his colorful youth! 

...or so he hopes.

He shakes his head, remembering the encouraging words of a celebrity that he has been actively following since his darkest days. It has been two years since the day he discovered Hoshika and Virtual Singers. 

Akito learned to sing a lot. Secretly. 

But dances, ugh. He didn't have the chance to polish his choreographies because An always barged into his room, leaving him no other choice but to practice outside. 

He hummed one of Hoshika's songs again, making his steps bubbly and full of energy. Akito hoped it didn't make him look weird and funny, yet he was pretty embarrassed if people saw him like this. He continued to walk. 

Until he realized that he bumped into someone. 

Oh, sheesh. What a great start. 

Fortunately, they did not fall. Hey, that's good news! He drew an apologetic smile on his face, met the other's gaze, and bowed a little. 

"I'm sorry! It's my fault... I didn't focus on my way." He genuinely apologized to the blonde girl he bumped into. 

The girl's eyes were pink-colored, just like the fluttering cherry blossom petals in the air. They widened in shock, and the girl did not respond to him, which made him feel weirded out. 

Before he could add anything, he heard the school bell from afar. 

"Shoot. I'm late!" He broke into a run, guiltily leaving the unknown girl behind. Akito ran as fast as he could. Then, sighing in relief when he had time before the gate closed for good. 

He felt a little bad for being rude to the girl he met earlier. 

But Akito is truly in bad time if he didn't follow the schedule that has been written for the newly students. The gingerhead spotted some students queued up in front of a building, seemingly the school's auditorium. He rushed there to follow them inside. 

When he arrived, there was an upperclassman beside the door. Probably one of the students from the Student Council, Akito noticed the armband she wears. 

The upperclassman has pink hair, which she tied into a ponytail. She had a matured aura. 

She's cute... Akito thought. She looked like an idol. The ginger imagined if the girl wears other attires than a school uniform. She will definitely catch other eyes a lot. 

"Is there anything wrong?" Akito's head immediately looks up upon hearing a voice close to him. He is shocked to see the girl in front of him. 

"N-No, it's nothing! I was just stunned to see a person so beautiful..." He trailed off, feeling a little embarrassed to word it out so honestly. The girl looked flabbergasted by his reply and broke into a big laugh. Her face suddenly changed into a friendly one. 

She patted his arm and pushed him inside. "Shiraishi-kun, yeah? Nice to meet you too." 

Oh. His name... She knows him? "U-Um. Nice to meet you too-" The pink-haired girl just grinned. "Momoi. Momoi Airi. Now, you'll be late for the principal's speech. See you later." She closed the door, apparently, it seems like he was the last one queuing. 

He finds himself smiling in satisfaction. 

Akito gets a new friend!! New side mission accomplished! He's glad that Momoi is actually very friendly and kind. But though, he can't help if Momoi finds him weird or something... 

Yet anyway! She probably likes the compliment, Akito believed so. 

He finds a seat quite fast. Although it was located far from the stage, Akito could see everything from behind. It's a good spot for him, to be honest. 

The ceremony starts with a male teacher greeting the students and introducing himself. He talks a little about welcoming students back to school, then invites the principal to the stage. The man surprisingly didn't look like an old geezer, unlike most of the school principals. 

"Good morning, dear students," he began, and paused for a while to allow the students to respond to his greeting. The man introduces himself as Mr. Kamishiro. Apparently, in truth, he just started to become a principal three years ago, yet Akito has heard a lot of good reputation about the school. He must be a kind of genius guy... or maybe he has a good amount of luck by his side!

"I hope you are all doing well and are ready to embark on a new academic journey. Today, I am here to welcome all of our students to Kamiyama High School." He then explains the importance of education, the clubs, the school sessions during the day and night... it was too much for Akito's brain. 

Ugh, too much information makes his head spin. Oh, but the most important thing that he heard is about clubs. 

His father reminded him a lot that he just started attending school after years, so for starters, he wasn't allowed to join one. Mmm... he was hoping this school had a dance or music club somehow. 

Akito's dazed mind snapped when it suddenly got dark. 

He let out a gasp to see some students on the darkened stage, holding instruments. He recognized two of them. In a second of silence, the keyboard started playing with a clear vocal. Then guitar, followed by bass and drums. 

The performers were performing a familiar song he had heard when he knew Hatsune Miku. 

An's voice truly shines. Her voice is powerful yet soothing to his ears. So she's the lead vocal... Akito could hear their other two bandmates' voices. He didn't know them. But he was glad An and Ena enjoyed themselves so much on the stage. 

As far as he remembered their story, his two sisters met another two at the same kindergarten. So they're basically childhood friends who have one goal: to surpass a dream... 

How admirable. 

Akito, who is always out of luck, wishes that someday he could form a group of friends too. He did not expect much. 

But happier days for his youth. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

"Settle down, everyone." 

Akito's homeroom teacher, named Mr. Gai, guides his students to their classroom after the ceremony ends. The ginger feels relieved to get a seat at the row back, closer to the door and window. Another one luck on point, check! 

"Today, we'll be selecting our class representative and assistant," Mr. Gai announced, his words barely audible over the cacophony of eager voices. 

Instantly, hands shot up all around the room, a sea of students vying for the opportunity to take on the prestigious roles. Some stood on their desks, waving their arms wildly, while others shouted out their qualifications at the top of their lungs. 

Amidst the chaos, Akito found himself swept up in the frenzy, unable to resist the urge to join in. It looks so fun! 

"Me, me! I'm not that great at organizing things... but I can help a ton!" he exclaimed, his voice barely audible amidst the clamor. When he was being stared at by some students around him, Akito forced a shy laugh. Maybe they heard him loud enough... how embarrassing... 

Mr. Gai attempted to restore order, raising his hands in a futile attempt to quiet the rowdy classroom. "Now, now, let's all take a deep breath and—" 

But his words were lost in the chaos as the students continued to clamor for attention, each determined to prove themselves worthy of the coveted positions. Mr. Gai found himself cornered. 

Akito, seeing this, felt a little bad for the old man. Though he's a teacher, wasn't his voice supposed to be louder? 

A girl beside him let out a loud 'tsk'ed sound. Her table fell to the ground, thunderous, because of her leg pushing it down, silencing the class. The ginger was shocked to see her face, full of a pissed expression. Despite having short hair like a boy, she wears a long skirt and jacket—along with some fancy hair clips. Akito imagined this in his head, reminded of an image of a delinquent girl. 

"Ya'll finally shut the hell up. Good." Her voice, surprisingly like whispering, but menacing to others. "Continue your work, sensei. We have another class after this." 

Mr. Gai cleared his throat, taking his students' attention. "Thank you, Yoisaki." So the girl's name is Yoisaki... somehow, it fits her. 

"As I was saying about assigning a class representative... How about we do a draw to decide that?" And so, 29 students put their names in a box, each of them seeming eager to know the results. "Hmm..." Mr. Gai scanned his students, looking like he was searching for a person who will pull a name from the box. 

"You, the one that beside the window with orange hair," Akito's shoulders jumped, he immediately looked at others to confirm that he is the only one with bright hair the teacher mentioned. 

"Y-Yes, sensei!" He stood up, a little too hard, making his chair drag behind. 

Mr. Gai gestured for him to make his way to the teacher's table. When he arrived, the teacher asked him to pick one name from inside the box. Akito slowly chose one paper and gave it to the older man. 

"Hoshino..." The teacher mumbled. Akito stayed beside the older man, curious to know whose name he had picked. 

"Hoshino Ichika, please raise your hand." 

There, in the second row, someone raised their hand. A girl. She had black-blue hair and icy eyes... No, wait. Akito's eyes widened. 

No way.... No way! 

It's Hoshika. The idol that he looked up to until this day... is in a class with him?! How could he not recognize her earlier? The way she wears the girls' uniform looked simply stunning yet simple. And her long hair? The real deal is more majestic than looking from a screen. 

Akito feels like he wants to scream. 

"Hello, everyone," the girl began. Her voice still sounds angelic to his ears. "My name is Hoshino Ichika. Thank you-" She faces Akito, hoping to get his name. 

"S-Shiraishi Akito..." 

The girl smiled. "Shiraishi-kun, thank you for picking my name." Akito swore he saw an arrow shoot his heart in an instant when he saw the other thanked him. He feels like splitting in half... because Hoshino thanked him! His admired idol thanked him! He can die in happiness. 

"I will do my best in fulfilling my responsibility as your class representative. Again, nice to meet you all!" Hoshino deeply bows, earning claps from others. 

"So, Hoshino. You can draw a name-" 

"Oh, about that, sensei," the black-blue haired girl interrupted the older man. Still smiling, the girl glanced at Akito, leaving him confused. 

"Can I choose Shiraishi-kun as my assistant?" 

WHAT.

WAIT... WHAT IN THE WORLD- Akito didn't realize that his jaw had dropped hard. T-That-That Hoshika- chooses him to be her assistant... HE IS LIVING IN HIS DREAM. BUT HOLD ON, WHAT'S GOING ON WITH HIS LUCK TODAY? 

Did the universe finally have mercy on him?! 

"Aw, that's not fair." 

"Yeah, we all took time to write our names..." 

"Guess it's all a waste from the start after all..." 

The murmured voices ached his chest. He forgot that everyone was excited to be the class representative... and the fact that Hoshino chose him without picking a name from the draw... Oh no, everyone has a disappointed expression on their faces. He made them lose hope. 

Without thinking any further, Akito blurted out, "I-I refuse!" Oh God, did he say that too loud? 

Everyone's eyes are on him. Startled, confused, and eager, he saw all of it. Hoshika has taught him this. He can't let anyone fall into despair! Akito takes a deep breath, calming himself. 

"Hoshik- Hoshino-san," he stuttered, nervous. "I appreciate that you chose me. But I don't want to break everyone's heart just because of that. I want everyone to feel it's fair." 

Mr. Gai patted the ginger's head. "Like what Shiraishi said, Hoshino, I made this decision so that all my students have a sense of equality." He gratefully smiled at the ginger. "Thank you, Shiraishi. You may go back to your seat." 

His heart feels light. 

Akito was confused himself for letting his chances to know Hoshika more slip away, but he didn't feel guilty. Everyone now seems happy and continued the activity. Though, a pair of blue eyes were staring at him in curiosity. 

He gazed over at Yoisaki beside him. The girl quickly averts her eyes, pretending to be in her own world. 

At the end, they finally agreed with the class representative and assistant who were assigned fairly. Akito goes on autopilot when the lunch break strikes, then the class starts again until it's finally the last period. 

Akito's phone buzzes, and a notification comes in from the chat.

"Ah..." As he reads the messages from his sister, his shoulders slump. It's as if he has no energy left. Ena and An have band practices, so they will be late. The two apologized in their group chat and tell Akito to head home first without them. 

Guess he's going home alone today... 

"-aishi. Shiraishi-kun!" Surprised from his thoughts, Akito looks at the voice calling him. Oh, it's the girl who is seated in front of Yoisaki. What's her name again...? 

"It's Nakamori; please do remember your classmates' names, Shiraishi-kun." The girl, Nakamori, reminds him in a teasing manner. 

"Sorry... I was kind of in the clouds since 4th period started," he pouted, genuinely feeling sorry. Nakamori chuckled, already preparing to leave. "Shiraishi-kun, I'm sorry if this is so sudden, but... could you walk me home? My father didn't have time to pick me up, and it's already this late..." 

The ginger looked at the time and gasped. "No, it's fine! I'm gladly honored to help!" He exclaimed, rushing to pack his things. 

The two then walked out from the class. They bumped into Yoisaki before leaving, but the white-haired girl seemed to only stare at him. Again, what's on his face? Akito wondered what he did to make Yoisaki look at him like that. 

Nakamori sometimes struck up a conversation, and Akito happily joined in. At least he wasn't walking home alone today. Glad he had Nakamori with him. 

However, Akito glanced at his surroundings. He found himself on an unknown street. Oh dear, he may need his phone to get back home later. But why is Nakamori's home this far from school? 

"Nakamori-san, are we close to your house?" 

"Hmm?" The black-haired girl smiles. "Yeah, we are getting closer! We just need to cross the big gutter, and my house is there." Akito makes an understanding noise. 

It only takes them five minutes to arrive at the gutter she mentioned. So her house is just across the town... it makes sense why her father sends and picks her up from school. 

"Hurry up!" Nakamori called after him, already breaking into a run and jumping high enough. Surprisingly, she gets across. 

What an athletic stamina... 

Akito looked under the big gutter. Ugh, smelly and dirty. How did Nakamori live in a bad environment like this? The ginger closed his eyes, bracing himself to jump and follow- 

"Shiraishi?" 

Akito let out an embarrassing yelp. He turns, shocked to see a familiar white-haired girl. "O-Oh, it's just you." He sighed in relief. 

Yoisaki looked around and, weirdly, asked, "What are you doing here?" Akito tilted his head. "Ah, I was walking Nakamori to her home," he answered. Yoisaki squinted her eyes. "Who?" Is that a question or... Yoisaki truly doesn't remember their classmates' names? 

"Nakamori-san. She sat in front of you, remember?" 

Yoisaki's face changed. Akito didn't quite feel good seeing it. "Shiraishi, there's no one sitting in front of me. That's why I purposely pushed my table this morning." 

...What? 

"The number of our classmates is 28, and I can recall each of their names. There's no one named Nakamori in our class." 

A nervous chuckle escaped from Akito's mouth. "W-What are you saying? The seats are all-" Yoisaki glared at him. "Remember when you met me before you left?" The ginger nodded anxiously. "You were talking to someone. Not me. But you were looking at your side. Shiraishi, I did not see you leave with anyone." 

There's no way. 

Nakamori can touch him, and he does too. So what did he actually..? 

"Shiraishi, I will ask again. To whom did you talk?" Akito immediately turns back to the gutter where Nakamori- he sweated in fear to see there's no town across the big gutter. But wait, illusion? Is this some kind of prank? He looks under the dark gutter, it looks like a place for- 

"You were just about to jump," Yoisaki said. "This gutter is the spot where suicides have taken place. I know you weren't that type of guy. So I called you out," she explains. 

So he was about. 

To kill himself?

That's not... no. No, why would he want to attempt suicide? The reason why he wanted to jump is because Nakamori- 

"You can see me... I'm so happy..." 

Startled to hear Nakamori's somewhat... windy voice, Akito's head quickly looked up to where the voice was coming from. 

But, the person he is facing now is not Nakamori.

It... It's a monster. A ghost.

The ghost was a terrible, unnatural monster, with a form that appeared to be stitched together from the scraps of nightmares.  Its skin, or what left of it, was peeling in spots, revealing something raw and writhing beneath—veins throbbing with a sickly glow, twisting like parasitic worms beneath translucent flesh.

Its face was an aberration, alternating between familiar human features and something grotesquely stretched, as if numerous faces were vying for supremacy.  The sockets where its eyes should have been were hollow, spilling an inky darkness that poured down its cheeks like tears.  But then, unexpectedly, pupils formed—rolling strangely in its head, unfocused and jittering before settling onto Akito with a frightening, unblinking glare.

Its mouth was the worst part—far too large, as if someone had ripped it open beyond the bounds of human anatomy.  Its lips cracked, the flesh separating as it twisted into an inhuman grin.  Rows of jagged, uneven teeth protruded, some broken, some excessively long, and some that appeared to belong to no human at all.  A coughing, wheezing sound erupted from its throat, and its breath sounded more like static and gurgling water.

The body was a horror on its own.  Its limbs were stretched and slender, almost as if they may snap at any time.  Fingers extended too far, bent at odd angles, and twitched as they reached for for Akito.  Its nails—or claws—were broken and sharp, coated in a murky, indistinguishable material.  The ghost's entire form shifted between solidity and mist, distorting reality as if it were both present and absent at the same time.

And then it moved.

It lurched forward with a quick jerk, its body trembling like a marionette whose strings have been forcibly pulled.  Its head snapped at an unimaginable angle, and its lips opened further, as if swallowing him whole.  A moist, gurgling rasp pierced the air, mingling with distorted whispers, words forming and shattering apart into nothing.

He can't move. 

Frozen in terror, Akito could do nothing but stare as the ghostly figure loomed closer, its unearthly presence filling him with a sense of dread unlike anything he had ever known. 

With a sudden burst of movement, the ghost reached out its spectral hand and grasped Akito's shoulder with a chilling grip. Ice-cold fingers closed around him, sending a shockwave of terror coursing through his veins. 

Horrified, Akito stammered. "N-N-No. No, no, no-" He couldn't even close his eyes and stared at the unearthly thing. He was shaken so badly. 

"-Shiraishi?! Shiraishi, what's going on?!" 

Yoisaki. 

Yoisaki is here. Scream. Scream for help! She can help! Dear myself... scream! At last, the ginger forced his voice out from being paralyzed by the otherworldly gaze. His voice echoed, probably reaching the ears of the people living here. 

But Akito didn't care. He was too scared. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be safe. So he could only curse his luck, but also wished to be saved. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

Yoisaki Kanade, in fact, was having her precious time and about to go home. 

And yet, here she was, experiencing shock to see her classmate frozen in fear. Shiraishi looked so scared, his face as white as a blank paper, and she could see his hands trembling. 

Just what did he see? 

Kanade is a normal girl. She has seen scenes like this in horror movies. So if that's so, she can't see what thing Shiraishi is afraid of, she can't hear or touch them. Then all of the points lead her to conclude that she is right. 

Shiraishi probably is not a normal boy. He has an ability that no normal humans have. 

The girl he mentioned - Nakamori. She knows exactly who this girl is. Hell, the town was in chaos because her suicide case haunted this street. But she didn't know ghosts can do this kind of thing. 

But then, it's not like she can do anything. Kanade isn't an expert at paranormal stuff. She believes they exist, but she is just a normal girl. 

Remembering this, she grabs her phone and dials a contact number. 

"Akiyama. I need your help. My classmate-" Kanade flinched to hear Shiraishi's voice screaming for help. Damn it. Damn it! If only she could do something...! 

Suddenly, a warm, but also chilly wind passes her. Kanade sees cherry blossom tree's petals fluttering like confetti. The panicked thoughts stop as she sees Shiraishi looking like he has been released from something. Before he gets knocked to the ground, Kanade catches him, who is close to unconscious. 

"It's... you..." Kanade looks over Shiraishi after he muttered those words. He's passed out. 

She lifts her head, seeing cherry blossom petals everywhere, as if they protect her from something. Is it possible that a force - no, maybe a kind ghost appears? And helps them? Kanade doesn't know. She can't see, after all. 

When she hears footsteps behind her, a brunette-haired girl swings a thing like a fantasy-cosplay cutesy wand. 

Kanade doesn't know what is happening, but she can tell that the brunette girl looks like she's fighting something. And from the look on her face... she's definitely in a rage. 

"Yoisaki-san!" The white-haired girl turns, she sighs in relief to see her friend - Akiyama is here, with her another friend, Kamishiro. 

She has heard about a girl named Ena from Akiyama before. Maybe the brunette girl was her.

Thank goodness, the day is saved with the three's help.

Notes:

this fic is for april fool's day... maybe i will update it next year at the same day.

Chapter 3: Chapter 2 : "Wake up, Akito,"

Notes:

i lied about updating this only on april fool's day. HAHA

anyways, this is going to be a long ride. take a seat everyone.

i will try to update every week!

𝄞 April, 2nd. 

Akito feels like shit. 

No wait, that's kinda rude.

Okay, he feels a little overwhelmed by the headaches he's getting when he tried open his eyes. 

He dreamed of a girl. Blonde, had pink cherry blossom eyes like in the spring of March... 

He wonders why the girl looked familiar to him. Akito never met her before. 

There's a lot of meanings when you dreamt about a person. One, maybe you missed them. Two, perhaps it's a memory from the past or your past life. Three, something is about to happen. Akito heavily disagreed the first point on the list. He never meet the girl, so why must you misses a person you have never crossed path before? 

"Mmm..." Despite the aching sensation on his head, he still brace himself and gets up. Remembering one of Hoshika's quotes... 'Wake up early because a greater day is waiting for you!' 

Akito yawns, rubbing his eyes. True to his gut, the clock shows 7 am. It's still early. 

But alas, he wants to prepare his day with full enjoyment! Early to class, maybe helping teachers if the class representative is not arrived yet, and he could go to the rooftop, probably exercise his dance moves. Just like yesterday when- 

Yesterday...? 

Akito glances over the calendar on his desk. It says today is 2 April. 

What happens yesterday? Akito frowned, his memory is a bit blurred. As he tried to remember, the headache comes back, making him groaned in pain. How weird. Why can't he remember the first day of his school? 

A knock on his door. 

"Akito?" Ena peek out, looking careful, as she always do before entering his room. "You up?" 

The ginger sighed, smiling. "Yeah, I'm awake," He then yawns before continuing. "Do you need anything before I get ready?" 

Ena shakes her head. "See you downstairs. Mom made pancakes, so hurry up or I will eat your part." Saying this, the brunette quickly closed the door after expecting a pillow fly to her face. 

"Hey! Don't eat mine!" Hearing chuckles as response, Akito groaned. He quickly got up after being motivated to save his pancakes from being eaten by some greedy pancake monster. 

Showering, wearing his uniform, spend about two minutes to styling his hair... although his hair naturally is messy, Akito hates the way it looked like a bed hair. An joked once about it that he needs to wears one bottle of gel hair to styling them, which he takes it as an insult, actually. 

Rushes downstairs, he is greeted with the sweet scent of honey and butter. Akito's eyes lit up at the sight of pancakes on the table, waiting for him. 

"Oh, good morning, Akito." His mom's head perked out a little from the kitchen, noticing his arrival. 

"Morning, mom!" Not going to make the pancakes become cold, Akito takes a seat beside Ena- where he always sits when they're having family time together. He clasped his hand, praying, grateful that his day were lucky to meet his mother's delicious pancakes first. 

When Akito digs in, he can't help but smiling. The sweet taste of honey combined with saltiness of butter melts inside his mouth, earning a long, happy hums after eating the slice. 

He was having his great time until he heard both of his sister's muffled giggles. 

Akito glares in response. "What are you guys laughing at?" An sips into her coffee and replied, "No, it's just kind of adorable when you kicks your legs like when we were still kids." 

The ginger's face heated. Did he really...? He obviously did not remembered he kicked his legs like that! 

"Hey now, don't make a fuss on the table please." Their dad sounded tired when he slid into his chair. The three kids noticed this and calmed down to make the old man appreciating the only family time in the morning they had. 

Ken then struck up a conversation about the band- Dear, Polaris which the members is Ena and An along with their two other childhood friend. Akito obviously kind of space out when the three of then happily talked about practices and stuffs, so he did not paid attention to them instead of thinking his lost memories yesterday. 

When he thinks about it... it kind of give him a weird feeling. 

Like, maybe he exhausted so much because he was excited with his first day to school and making friends. But that does not meant he would forget something important... 

Important? Does yesterday's event important to him? 

Akito did not know why his heart tingles in a bad way that he lose his appetite to finish the pancakes he loves. 

"Akito, what's wrong?" The boy looked up to see his mother's worried expression. "You've just stopped eating the pancakes... so I thought you might not like how the texture tasted..." Yuka muttered, genuinely seems afraid to think Akito hates her pancakes. 

"Wh- No, no! I'm okay, mom!" His loud, and quick response catches the other two sisters' ears. 

Now feels bad for worrying his mother, Akito finishes all of his pancakes and hot chocolate in a flash. He coughed after swallows that hot chocolate, not knowing how hot like a lava it is. 

After that, the bell rings. 

"I will get it." Ena offered herself to welcome a guest behind their door. Akito wondered who is it. Maybe it's his sisters bandmates, whose their name always mentioned up when Ken struck a conversation about the band. 

What's their name again...? Mafu and... Nene, if Akito not mistaken. 

They have multiple times visited the house, but Akito always in his room and practice at the park so he did not meet them that much. 

"Akito, your friend is waiting for you!" 

Blinked in confusion, the ginger haired boy eagerly stood up after making eye contacts with his other family member on the table. Somewhat, Akito feels tensed on how their eyes were expecting him to be... like himself. And well, Akito is honestly weirded out as hell this morning, so he can't help but dazed out in clouds. 

As he make his way to the door, he sees a white-haired short girl with long styled Kamiyama High School's skirt. Her blue icy eyes lit up upon seeing him. 

His memory are bit vague, who is this girl? 

"Akito, good morning." 

What...? 

What the HELL? They are on first name basis?! Akito does not even remember when did he befriend this girl! 

"Good... morning...?" He muttered. Akito is still confused, but a slap on his back snapped him out of it. The ginger look at his older sister while whined in pain. 

"See you at school. Don't make her waits you." She said, leaving him at it. 

"I-" Akito wants to scream. He doesn't remember the girl's name, but she called him with his first name. Then seeing she stood in calm, not leaving her eyes on him is making he more anxious than he ever be. 

The two stood face to face without words exchanged. But Akito does know that this tensing atmosphere is... awkward. 

The girl cocks her head at him. "We should get going. Otherwise we will be late, Akito." 

Her whispering-like voice making him shiver in coldness. 

"I- I will get my bag!" He yelp, scared knowing that he cannot stand the awkwardness. 

The two of them began their journey to school in silence. Well, mostly silence. The girl—who Akito still couldn't name despite racking his brain—walked a half step ahead, her pristine white hair swaying lightly in the morning breeze. Akito trailed behind, clutching his bag as though it were the only solid thing keeping him tethered to reality.  

His thoughts were in a chaotic spiral.  

Okay, Akito, think. THINK. Who is she? Did I hit my head yesterday? Did I sleep through an important memory? Is this some weird prank Ena set up? She does this stuff sometimes… right? No, wait. Ena wouldn't—well, actually, she might, but how does she even know this girl? 

The girl glanced at him out of the corner of her icy blue eyes, and Akito stiffened. She tilted her head slightly, a polite yet unnervingly serene expression on her face. "Are you alright, Akito?" 

She said my name again. She knows me. She KNOWS ME. But I don't know HER. 

"I-I'm fine!" Akito blurted out, his voice a little higher than intended. He cleared his throat, trying to sound normal, even as his thoughts screamed at him. Smooth, Akito. Real smooth. She definitely doesn't think you're a weirdo now. 

The girl nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and turned her gaze forward again. For a few blissful seconds, they walked in silence. Akito's mind, however, refused to rest.  

Should I ask her name? No, that's weird. What if she gets offended? What if she realizes I don't remember her and then hates me? He stole a glance at her. 

She seems so… calm. Why is she so calm? Did we become friends yesterday? Did I agree to something dumb? 

Suddenly, the girl spoke again, her quiet, almost melodic voice breaking the silence. "I'm glad we're walking together today. It's nice to start the morning with someone." 

Akito blinked, his mind somewhat ceased to exist. SOMEONE? I'm just SOMEONE? Is this normal for her? Does she do this with everyone? Wait, no—she called me Akito, so we must be close. Or she's just really friendly. Or— 

"Y-Yeah, same here," Akito replied awkwardly, though he wasn't entirely sure he meant it.  

Another pause. 

And Akito could not take it anymore. He needed something to break the tension in his chest. "Uh, so…" he began, fumbling for words. "Sorry, I'm a little hazy this morning. I think I might’ve been more tired than I realized after yesterday." He glanced at her, hoping for a clue.  

The girl's expression remained serene as she nodded. "That's understandable. Yesterday was a lot." 

FINALLY! A clue! The orange head's hope flared. "Right! Yesterday! So… just to make sure we’re on the same page—urm, what exactly happened yesterday?" 

Her steps slowed slightly, and for the first time, her calm demeanor faltered. It was so subtle that Akito almost missed it—a tiny flicker of hesitation in her gaze before she turned her head away. "Nothing too important," she said softly, her voice even quieter than before. "You don’t need to worry about it." 

What. 

WHAT?! How is that not suspicious?! That's the most suspicious thing you could say! Akito's mind practically screamed. Don’t worry about it? That’s what you say when something's super bad! 

"Oh… okay?" Akito replied, his tone unsure. 

He knew better than to push, but his brain refused to let the topic drop. What does she mean, 'nothing too important'? Did I embarrass myself? Did I black out? Did I—wait. Wait, wait, wait. Is she covering for me? 

"By the way," the girl said suddenly, breaking through his spiral of thoughts, "You said your mind is hazy. So you probably don't even remember my name." 

Akito was about to panic when the white-haired girl realizes the fact he doesn't remember her name, but she did not give him the time to process. 

"I'm Yoisaki Kanade. We're in the same class." 

Her words hit him like a truck.  

Kanade. Kanade? Yoisaki Kanade. Do I know that name? He tried to think back to his classmates, but his brain was a foggy mess. Why does this keep happening to me?! 

"Oh! Kanade… right!" he said, forcing a smile that he hoped didn't look as strained as it felt. "Of course. I-I'm really sorry. I guess I'm just… out of it today..." 

Kanade gave him a small smile, one that somehow made him feel even more awkward. "It's fine. You seem tired. Maybe that's why your memory feels unclear." 

Tired? Of what...? 

Her soft tone felt both reassuring and ominous, and Akito couldn’t tell if she was comforting him or subtly warning him. Is she a mind reader? She's totally a mind reader. No, wait, she's not. Right? 

They reached the school gates just as the first bell rang. Kanade glanced at him one last time before stepping toward their classroom. "Let's do our best today, Akito." 

"Y-Yeah, of course," Akito stammered, watching her disappear inside.  

He slumped against the wall, clutching his bag. What the hell just happened? And why do I feel like I missed something important? 

He sighed. But then he shakes his head hard and slapped his cheeks, taking a deep breath. 

It's a new day. Smile, and relax! Akito told himself, before stepping inside the class. 

The classroom hummed with the usual chatter that accompanied with others morning greetings. Akito noticed Kanade already seated to her place, so he slowly approach the table beside her, which is still unoccupied. 

He had barely sit down and organize his notebooks when a group of classmates swarmed his desk like a pack of vultures.  

"Hey, Shiraishi, you finished yesterday's homework, right?" one of them asked, leaning too close for comfort. 

Akito blinked, "Yesterday's homework?" 

"Could you, uh, share it with us? Just a quick look," another chimed in, not even waiting for a reply before trying to peek at his notebook.  

Akito stiffened, unsure how to politely deflect them without escalating the situation. "I mean, I don't think-" 

"Whoa! Shiraishi's notes are perfect!" The boy that peeking his notebook takes it without Akito's permission, startled the poor orange head in confusion. 

So... I do have notes from yesterday's lectures... 

"Shiraishi, your notes are so clean." A girl with light brown hair says after looking at his notebook. Then, she let out a chuckle, joining the boy that holding the book. "He seems like the type who'd get everything right." 

Akito wondered why that sounds so familiar to him. "Ah, urm-" 

"So you're alright if we borrowed your book, right?" 

Before he could respond, a soft voice cut through the commotion.  

"He isn't sharing." 

The group turned, startled, to find Kanade standing there with her usual calm expression. Her icy blue eyes were sharp, though, almost daring them to argue.  

"He did his own work. You should do yours," she added, her tone even but unyielding.  

The classmates exchanged nervous glances, the tension rises. One of them tried to laugh it off. "We were just asking. No need to get all serious." 

"Is that so?" She counters, glared at them. "Then ask the teacher if you have questions," Kanade said simply.  

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Akito's notebook and handed it back to him and stepping closer, silently hisses when others don't move. Thankfully, they didn’t hesitate, practically fleeing from the scene.  

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

Later, after PE class, Akito found himself cornered again, though this time by upperclassmen who were going from class to class recruiting first-years for their clubs.  

"You'd be perfect for the volleyball team!" one of them said enthusiastically, sizing him up.  

Brown eyes watching him eagerly. "You've got the height for it." The senior mutters, before smiling at him. "Ah, and we really need someone with your energy. We've watched how you nailed that spike earlier!" 

Oh right, they were playing volleyball in PE... wait, THEY'VE WATCHED HIM?? How embarassing... 

Akito scratched the back of his neck, trying to come up with a polite excuse, especially when he remembers about his father's warning. "I'm... not sure if I'd be good at—" 

"Shiraishi already has plans after school," Kanade's voice interrupted.  

Both the upperclassmen and Akito turned to find her standing behind him, her presence as quiet and sudden as ever.  

"Really?" one of them asked, skeptical.  

"Really," Kanade said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "He's busy." 

The upperclassmen seemed reluctant to give up but eventually moved on to the next group of students. Akito sighed in relief, turning to Kanade.  

"Thanks again," he said, genuinely grateful. "I don't even know what plans I apparently have, but... thanks." 

Kanade gave him a small nod, as if it were no big deal.  

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

The classroom buzzed faintly with the sound of chalk scratching on the blackboard, chairs shifting against the floor, and pens gliding over paper. 

The chalk screeched softly as Mr. Mamoru wrote a name on the board:  

Motoori Norinaga (1730–1801) 

Underneath, he wrote:  
物の哀れ (Mono no aware) 

He turned to the class, his thoughtful expression almost reverent. "Today, we will discuss one of the most profound concepts in Japanese culture, introduced by the 18th-century Shinto scholar Motoori Norinaga—mono no aware. Can anyone tell me what this phrase might mean?" 

The room was silent, save for the faint rustling of notebooks. Akito shifted uncomfortably, thankful no one expected him to answer.  

Mr. Mamoru smiled gently. "It is not an easy concept to explain, even for native speakers." He takes a full attention to his students who were meeting his eyes. 

"Mono no aware combines two words: aware, which can mean 'sensitivity' or 'sadness,' and mono, meaning 'things.' Together, it implies a 'sadness of things.'" 

He paused, letting the words settle. "But it's not just sadness—it's an appreciation, a sensitivity to the transience of life, and the beauty and sorrow that come with it." 

Mr. Mamoru glancing over the window, spotting pink petals fluttering with the wind. 

"Think of cherry blossoms, for example." And Akito's eyes lit up in curious at that. 

The teacher gestured to the window, where the bare branches of a cherry tree swayed gently in the breeze. "They bloom for only a short time. Their beauty is undeniable, but their fleeting nature is what makes them so... poignant. That feeling—of appreciating the beauty while also mourning its impermanence—that is mono no aware." 

Mr. Mamoru picked up a book from his desk and opened it to a marked page. 

"Motoori Norinaga himself captured this sentiment in a poem," 

If someone asks  
about the spirit of a true Japanese  
point to the wild cherry blossom  
shining in the sun  

"Here, the cherry blossom isn't just a flower—it's a symbol of the fleeting beauty and fragility of life. To understand the soul of Japan, Norinaga says, you need only look to the cherry blossom in its brief, shining moment of glory." 

Akito found himself sitting straighter, the words stirring something unexplainable within him.  

"Now," Mr. Mamoru continued, his voice steady, "...mono no aware isn't just about cherry blossoms. It can be found in everything—the way seasons change, the way memories fade, the way time itself moves forward. It's an acknowledgment of impermanence, but also a celebration of the beauty within it." 

The man in his 40s smiles, turning back at the students that were taking notes. "What do you think? Do you see this in your own life?" 

Akito's pen hovered above his notebook as thoughts swirled in his mind. Memories fade... time moves forward... He couldn't help but wonder if his lost memory from the day before was just another fleeting petal of life.  

The teacher's voice brought him back. "Now, let's explore how this concept is woven into The Tale of the Heike, a masterpiece steeped in the spirit of mono no aware. Open your books to page 45…" 

As the class turned the pages, Akito glanced out the window again, his gaze lingering on the skeletal branches of the cherry tree. His chest tightened. 

Am I chasing something that's already fallen? 

He shook his head and focused on the lesson, but the idea of mono no aware stayed with him, a quiet echo in the back of his mind. 

Akito tried to focus, he really did, but his mind kept wandering back to the void in his memory. Every now and then, his eyes flickered to Kanade, seated just to his left, her pen moving in fluid, deliberate strokes. She looked so serene, it was almost unsettling.  

Does she ever get thrown off by anything? 

Before he could dwell on it further, something small and faintly crinkling landed on his desk. 

Huh? 

Blinking, he glanced down to see a neatly wrapped candy, its bright pink foil catching the light. Right beside it was a small yellow sticky note, the handwriting on it small and animatedly messy:  

"Don't think too much. You will get brain damage."

For a moment, Akito just stared at the note, the absurdity of it pulling him completely out of his spiral. He slowly lifted it, rereading the words to make sure he wasn't imagining things.  

Brain damage? Really? 

He turned his head slightly toward Kanade, who was staring straight ahead, her expression as neutral as ever. But her hand was still on her notebook, the pen hovering a millimeter above the page. 

Her ears—just barely peeking out from her white hair—were suspiciously pink.  

The orange head suppressed a snort. So she’s trying to act cool about this, huh? 

Clearing his throat, he leaned a little closer, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the lesson. "Kanade." 

She didn't look at him. "Hmm?" 

"What's this supposed to mean?" He held up the sticky note.  

Still not meeting his gaze, she whispered back, "It's... self-explanatory." 

Akito couldn't help the incredulous laugh that bubbled up, though he managed to stifle it into a low chuckle. "You're telling me not to think too much, but you just dropped this on my desk like some kind of cryptic fortune cookie?" 

Her pen tapped against her notebook, her fingers tightening slightly around it. "It's just advice. You seemed... distracted." 

Oh. 

That caught him off guard. Her tone was still calm, but there was a faint edge to it, almost like she was... nervous? Akito's brows furrowed as he studied her profile. She was still staring straight ahead, her blue eyes fixed on the blackboard, but her grip on the pen and the faint flush on her ears betrayed her.  

She's... concerned. 

The realization made something warm stir in his chest, and he wasn't sure how to handle it. Deciding to deflect, he picked up the candy and unwrapped it, popping it into his mouth.  

Akito tucked the sticky note into his pocket, he couldn't stop the small smile lingering on his face. 

For all her quiet mystery, Kanade had a way of surprising him—and, strangely enough, it wasn't the worst thing he discovers today. 

Then, for the third time that day, Akito found himself pulled into another awkward situation.  

"Shiraishi-kun." A girl with long, navy-black hair approached him with a bright smile. "Would you like to have lunch together?" 

This girl is... Hoshika? The girl from TOMO&ЯGO idol group? 

Akito rubbed his eyes. Hold on. His jaw dropped, frozen. The. T-The idol he looks up to is in a SAME class as HIM???!! 

"Uh, I—" 

"He's already eating with someone," Someone suddenly said, appearing beside him before he could finish. Akito's shoulders jumped to see Kanade is leaning on his table. 

The girl frowned slightly but then weakly smiles. She didn't press the issue, walking away after a polite goodbye.  

Akito stared at Kanade, half-exasperated, half-amused. "You know, I didn't actually mind that one." 

Kanade tilted her head, looking completely unbothered. "It seemed inconvenient for you." She sighed, returning to her seat and taking her wallet. 

"Lunch?" 

He let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he takes out his bento. The two of them made their way to the cafeteria for lunch break. 

They visit the cafeteria for a while to buy something to eat, and... Kanade just bought an instant noodle. For someone just warned him about brain damage, this is truly surprising to find that person isn't taking care of their health. 

"You are staring." 

"W-Well!" Akito sweated, trying to figure out his words. But his eyes landed on the cup with white, and red decoration. It smells good though, making him drooling. "...instant noodles?" 

Kanade smiles, "Always have been my favourite." 

"...Oh." 

So they finds an empty bench beneath a tree, the fresh spring air brushing past them. The two simply grateful to find a peaceful place under a shade. 

The cafeteria-bought lemon juice bottle resting in his lap, unopened. Akito opened his bento, and meet with his mother's homemade karaage, flower-shaped cucumber... ugh, she also put some carrots. 

Beside him, Kanade sat cross-legged, calmly munching on her instand noodles. She looks so happy eating it though, guess she really loves instant noodles that much. 

This morning was weird enough, he thought, biting into his karaage. I've got a mysterious white-haired classmate who knows my name and she act like we've been friends forever, an idol I adore is in a same class as me, and a giant hole in my memory from yesterday. Normal? Nope. Chill? Definitely not. 

Kanade's whispers broke the silence first, her voice soft but cutting through Akito's noisy thoughts. "You seem distracted again." 

He jolted, nearly choking. "N-No, I'm fine! Just… thinking." 

"Mhm." Kanade tilted her head slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips. Her blue eyes meet his. "That's the problem, isn't it? You think too much." 

Akito shot her a flat look. "Says the person who handed me a sticky note saying I'd get brain damage from overthinking." 

The white-haired girl shrugged, unfazed. "What? It's true. Stress isn't good for you. Besides, you didn't deny that it made you smile a little." 

Ugh, thinking that now making his face heated. So she was trying to distract him from overthinking after all. 

"I didn't smile. I deadpanned," he muttered, taking another bite. "If anything, I was questioning my life choices." 

Kanade leaned back on her palms, gazing up at the clear sky. "You're overcomplicating things. Whatever happened yesterday isn't worth tearing yourself apart over. If you really need answers, they'll come eventually." 

Her words had a way of settling into the silence, not demanding but gently nudging Akito to consider them. 

Kanade glanced at him, her blue eyes glinting with a calm that Akito could not match. "Sometimes it's better not to know everything right away. It gives you space to focus on what's in front of you." 

His olive eyes blinks at her, her words leaving a strange mix of comfort and unease in his chest. What does that even mean? And why does she always sound like she knows more than she's letting on? 

It just feels like she knows everything what happened yesterday. And... as a friend, Akito really wants to know how they become this close. How his reaction meeting Hoshika face to face, and remembering his excitement to get back to school life. 

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I guess you are right. But... it's just... weird, you know?" He puts aside his unfinished bento. 

"It's like my brain skipped a whole chapter, and I'm stuck trying to figure out what I missed." Akito said, staring the bottle on his lap. 

He takes a breath. "...I wanted to know how we've met, Kanade." 

Hearing this, Akito lifted his head to look over his friend's widened eyes. Smiling, he continues. "I've been waiting for this moment. Years locking up in the house during middle school because I hate how other eyes piercing at me... but I am glad I take a chance to change." 

The orange head's smile falters. "If I never change that old mindset, I would never... meet you." 

Wait. Wait, this feels so wrong. He wasn't supposed to spill out it like that. Kanade was not supposed to hear that! To be like Hoshika, he needs to be full of hope, not spreading depressed things! 

"Sorry-" 

Before he could press further, Kanade stood up and brushed off her skirt while holding the empty instant noodles cup. 

Shit. Did he fucked up? 

"Kanade-" 

"Come on. Let's take a walk before lunch break ends." 

At this, the orange head paused. The lemon juice bottle fell, out of his grasp. "H-Huh?" Akito let out a confused tone. Looking that Kanade did not even bother to meet his eyes, his worry rises. He keeps his head low. 

"B-but why? We're already outside." 

A loud sigh could be heard. "I know." Then, a small, hand extended to him. "Come on. It might help clear your head." 

He hesitated, slowly looking up at her outstretched hand. Is she always like this? Calm, cryptic, and bossy? Or am I just really easy to push around today?  

Both of them never exchanged words after that, just the sound of wind sweetly blew. This moment, somewhat reminds him of the morning scene where Kanade first appears. The time he awkwardly tried to be casual around her. 

With courage and a resigned sigh, Akito slowly took her hand and let her pull him up. "Okay, but if this doesn't work, I'm going back to class and lock you outside." 

Kanade's soft chuckle sound as fleeting as a breeze. "Deal." 

Before they take their leave, the white-haired girl nudged his side with her elbow, making Akito yelped in surprise and almost trip. 

"Y-You...!" He hates how his voice high-pitched in a wrong way after that embarrassing shriek. 

For what?! Akito wanted to scream, but not wanting to make a scene, he only supressed it with a glare. As if Kanade could hear him screaming, she just grins, looking satisfied... for what reason, Akito don't know. 

She then stepped aside, silently making eye contact, indicating him to follow her. 

Still feeling the shame within him, Akito did not hesitate, trailing after Kanade. 

As they walked, Akito noticed how Kanade stayed just close enough to match his pace without crowding him. For someone who barely spoke more than a few sentences at a time, she had a way of making her presence known without being... overbearing.  

"So," he said, glancing at her. "Where are we going?" 

Kanade gave him a sidelong look, her expression unreadable. "You will know later." 

Akito pouted, clutching his bento box and unopened lemon juice bottle. The hallway stretched before them, unfamiliar and eerily silent. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows didn't feel warm; it cast long, sharp shadows that seemed to follow them. 

He thought about asking her again but decided against it. 

The corridor wasn't one he recognized. They'd moved beyond the well-traveled parts of the school, and now he felt a strange pull in his chest—a growing unease. He adjusted his grip on the bento box, a nervous habit, and glanced around. 

Where is this? he wondered. Why haven't I seen this part of the school before? 

Reaching into his pocket, he fumbled for his phone. He didn't want to appear panicked, but something told him he might need it to find his way back. 

...His way back. 

To get back...? 

The thought struck him like lightning, his legs freezing as he remember the words again. His breathing hitched as a vague yet painful sensation began creeping up his spine. 

"Kanade," he muttered, his voice shaking. "Where are we going?" A same question he already asked his friend. 

But oddly, Kanade's step froze, too. 

He needs to ask a different question. "A-Are we... close yet?" 

She turned to him, her face blank but her eyes dark with an emotion he couldn't name. "We are getting closer." she replied simply, then kept walking. 

His legs obeyed her silent command to follow, but his mind reeled. Each step felt heavier, the polished floor beneath him feels cold despite the sunlight reflected through the windows. The air- thickened, and the light streaming in from seemed to dim. 

Why does this feel familiar? he thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. Akito wasn't an artsy person, but the images... 

Some images began flickering in his mind, fragmented and out of order. 

A dark, filthy gutter. 

The faint scent of something rotting. 

A laugh—a soft, lilting sound—echoing in the air. 

He stumbled. In front him, Kanade's steady footsteps didn't falter. 

His head pounded as more fragments clawed their way to the surface. Nakamori. Nakamori? That name rose like a bubble in his chest and burst with an eerie clarity. 

A conversation. 

A black-haired girl, smiling. 

"Hurry up!" she had said, her voice playful as she leaped across the gutter. 

He swallowed hard. His hands trembled to hear a stranger voice and a fragment, a picture of gutter comes out. Was that real? Did I actually... 

Akito's gaze darted around. The corridor was too quiet, the stillness oppressive. Even the muffled sounds of other students were absent, as if this place existed separate from the rest of the school. 

His knees felt weak, but he pushed forward. His head throbbed with each step, flashes of the unknown pictures intertwining with the present. 

"Shiraishi, I will ask again. To whom did you talk?" 

Kanade? Kanade didn't call him with his surname, right? But... that sounds a lot like her voice. 

Kanade stopped abruptly. The silence pressed down on him like a physical weight. She turned toward him, her eyes unreadable. "This is it," she said, gesturing ahead. 

Ahead lay another passage, leading into a building he did not recognize at all. Lined along the walls were clubrooms, their signs neatly hung. 

Almost like in sync, the ground beneath him seemed to shift. The sensation of déjà vu overwhelmed him, dragging him into a storm of disjointed memories. 

Nakamori's laughter. Nakamori? Who is that? 

Yoisaki's cold, demanding eyes. But I called her Kanade, not Yoisaki. 

The familiar smell of the gutter. The deep pit that had stared back at him, hungry and dark. 

His chest tightened as the weight of realization crushed him. I was going to jump. I was— 

His legs gave out beneath him. The bento box and lemon juice tumbled to the floor with a muffled thud. He fell to his knees, his hands clutching his head. 

"Why?" he asked, his voice cracking. 

Kanade didn't answer immediately. Her gaze bore into him, and for the first time, her lips twitched into a faint, almost sorrowful smile. 

"What..? Kanade... why?" he rasped. His vision blurred as tears stung his eyes. It's impossible to see his friend with blurry vision, but somehow, Kanade's smile looked guilty. 

Why? 

"Why are you doing this? Why can't you—" 

Before he could finish, his body pitched forward, darkness closing in. Losing the strength. 

Instead of cold floor, his body were warmly embraced. By someone. 

"Sorry," Kanade's voice whispered, a strange mix of sorrow and guilt. 

With that, his consciousness ebbed, he felt a faint breeze drift through the corridor. The scent of cherry blossoms filled the air, light and fleeting. Petals brushed against his cheek like a soft caress. 

And then, there they were—a familiar pair of pink eyes, glowing with a quiet warmth and understanding. 

"Akito," the voice called softly, pulling him back from the abyss. 

"Wake up."

Notes:

since all the cast (excluding the virtual singers) swapped personality and their places, what are your guess on who's who?

Chapter 4: Chapter 3 : "W-Wait!"

𝄞 April, 3rd. 

Thursday.

7.45 a.m.

 

 

The faint glow of early morning light seeped through the edges of curtains, painting muted streaks across the walls. 

Slowly, reluctantly, he opened his eyes, only to be greeted by a blur of undefined shapes and colors.  

This is wrong. 

The thought clawed at him, sudden and sharp. His chest felt hollow, his breath shallow, as if something vital had been carved out of him during the night. He blinked once, then twice, his vision clearing just enough to make out the familiar surroundings of his bedroom. The posters on the wall, the books piled haphazardly on his desk, his diary wasn't there—but except that, all of his things were there.  

Yet nothing felt real.  

He tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness pulled him back. The room spun, the edges of his vision darkening before stabilizing again. His sheets, usually soft and warm, felt oddly rough against his skin, like they didn't belong to him.  

What is this feeling? Why does everything feel so... wrong? 

His hand reached out to touch the bedside table. The wood, usually smooth and cool, felt lifeless under his fingers. It was as if his sense of touch had dulled, the world around him veiled in an unrelenting haze.  

The air smelled... like nothing. 

No faint trace of cherry blossom from the fabric spray his sister always used, no lingering scent of yesterday's breeze through the window. 

It was as though the very essence of his cozy room had been completely erased.  

He tried to swallow, but his throat felt like sandpaper. A bitter, metallic taste clung to his tongue, dry and unpleasant, making him grimace.  

The sound of the clock ticking reached his ears, sharp and rhythmic, each second pounding against his skull like a hammer. It was too loud, yet somehow distant, as though he was hearing it through layers of fog.  

His eyes drifted to the calendar hanging on the wall. 3rd April. The numbers stared back at him, stark and unyielding, their meaning elusive.  

Three days back at school, he thought, his mind grasping for memories, for any sense of continuity, but finding none. 

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—there... was nothing. No laughter with friends, no fleeting conversations, no mundane tasks to cling to. 

Just an empty void.  

His hands trembled as he pulled his cardigan, his breaths coming faster. His chest heaved, the growing weight of frustration and desperation threatening to crush him.  

"What... what is this?" he whispered, his voice hoarse and cracking.  

Tears began to spill, hot and unchecked, carving silent trails down his face. He clenched his fists, the fabrics bunching beneath his hands, as if holding on to them could ground him. 

But it didn't.  

The sunlight grew brighter, filtering through the curtains, indifferent to his turmoil. It illuminated the room with soft golden hues, a cruel contrast to the dull, suffocating emptiness he felt inside.  

He closed his eyes, the tears continuing to fall, his mind racing but finding no answers.  

This is wrong. 

The thought echoed endlessly, a mantra to the suffocating blankness that had become his existence. 

"-kito, your friend is here!" 

The voice calling his name lingered, faint like an echo reverberating in a hollow chamber. Akito rubbed his eyes, wet with tears that hadn't stopped flowing. Ena? An? Mom? The voice felt familiar but warped, as though he were hearing it through water.  

He swallowed hard, the bitter taste in his mouth intensifying. 

His heart pounded as he staggered toward the window, drawn to the light that filtered weakly through the curtains. He struggled to slide it open, his hands trembling as if the effort itself drained him. 

It wouldn't budge.  

"Why?" he whispered hoarsely, barely aware of the word escaping his lips.  

That's when he noticed it—a piece of paper, haphazardly glued to the window frame. The edges were frayed, and the ink scrawled across it looked professional, as if written by someone... 

"...to guide and protect..." Is what was written on the paper. 

Why? 

"I never have this omamori..." The single word stared back at him, sharp and accusatory. He touched it hesitantly, as though it might crumble under his fingers. A chill ran down his spine, and his breath caught in his throat.  

A sudden knock broke the eerie silence. 

His head snapped toward the door. It creaked open, revealing a girl in a long skirt school uniform. Her white hair framed her face like pale curtains, and her blue eyes seemed to pierce through him, like an iceberg, their color is so striking that they felt out of place in the muted tones of his dim room.  

"Akito, get prepared. We need to go, or else we will be late," she said evenly, her whisper voice carrying a strange mix of urgency and sorrow. 

Also, where have he heard that? 

She said his name so casually, as if they were close. Who is she? 

Akito stared at her, his lips parting but no words forming. Her presence felt wrong—foreign yet weirdly familiar. Something about the way she stood there, the faint quiver in her voice, made his chest tighten.  

Her expression shifted as if his confusion had pierced her resolve. Her face faltered, guilt washing over her features like a storm cloud. Her breathing grew heavy, uneven. Her glassy eyes, reflecting his tears, screamed of a truth she couldn't—or wouldn't—speak.  

"Akito," she said again, her voice quieter this time, almost trembling.  

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice cracking.  

The question hung in the air like a blade between them. She opened her mouth to answer but froze, her shoulders stiffening. The guilt in her eyes deepened, and Akito felt a strange, invisible force settle over the room, thick and oppressive, as though it were choking both of them into silence.  

He felt it in his bones—she wasn't allowed to tell him. 

Neither of them had the right to question, to speak, to act. Like puppets on strings, their movements dictated by an unseen hand. 

Akito clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. His exhaustion was a heavy cloak, pulling him down, pains him. Tears pricked his eyes again, but this time, he forced them back.  

This is pointless, he thought bitterly. If I'm just a doll, what's the use in fighting it? 

He swallowed his frustration, straightened his posture, and forced his lips into a weak, hollow smile.  

"Sorry," he apologized, his voice detached. The girl's blue eyes seems like to scream back; Please don't apologizes. But he did. 

"I will get ready."  

The girl flinched as if his words had struck her, but she nodded silently, stepping out and closes the door. Giving him time to change. 

As he walked toward the bathroom, his steps heavy and unsteady. He didn't have the excitement like he usually- 

Hoshika. 

Hoshika's posters on the wall felt like her gaze on his back—watching, grieving. The room behind him felt darker, colder, as though his departure had drained it of any remaining warmth.  

Just act fine, he told himself, each step echoing hollowly in his mind. If this is all I can do, then I will do it. 

But deep down, the emptiness screamed at him, whispering that fine would never be enough. 

Maybe it's time that... forgetting is the best way. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

The morning air buzzed with the usual chatter of students as Akito strolled through the school gates, his steps deliberate and light, forcing a bright smile onto his face. The girl—trailed behind him, her blue eyes shadowed with worry. He ignored her gaze, pretending not to notice the way she lingered as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t.  

Act normal. That was his mantra.  

By the time they reached the classroom, Akito was practically radiating forced cheerfulness. 

He greeted his classmates enthusiastically, leaning into conversations like nothing was wrong. While the white-haired girl slipped to her seat silently, her presence fading into the background as Akito took center stage.  

History class rolled around, and Akito leaned forward in his chair, brimming with energy. He raised his hand at every opportunity, his voice cutting through the room with eagerness.  

"Speaking of that shrine," he said during a discussion about local landmarks, "don't you think it's amazing how crowded it gets during New Year's? I mean, almost everyone here must've been there at least once! The atmosphere is just incredible, right?" 

His classmates chuckled and nodded in agreement, a few chiming in with their own anecdotes. The warmth of their shared memories enveloped the room, but—Yoisaki, as someone had casually referred to her earlier—remained silent. 

She didn't look at him, and Akito pretended she wasn't there, pushing down the flicker of unease gnawing at the edges of his mind.  

By lunchtime, the act was beginning to take its toll. 

Still, Akito kept up the performance, laughing and chatting as though everything was fine. He was in the middle of an animated discussion with a group of classmates when one of them, a boy with a mischievous grin, pointed toward Yoisaki. 

"Hey, Shiraishi," the boy teased. "What's up with you and Yoisaki? You two seem... close." 

The group turned to him expectantly, smirking and nudging each other.  

Akito froze for a fraction of a second, his smile faltering before he forced it back into place. He shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair.  

"Ah, Yoisaki? No, we were just coincidentally meet on my way to school. I don't know her like that," he said, his tone breezy and casual. 

He chuckled, brushing it off like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  

The table erupted in laughter, and someone joked about Yoisaki being some mysterious loner, their voices overlapping in a haze of meaningless chatter. But the orange head's heart twisted painfully in his chest.  

From the corner of his eye, he saw the said girl that seated silently on her desk, her notebook clutched tightly in her hands. 

Her blue eyes, wide and glassy, met his for a fleeting second before she turned away and stand up, left the room without a word.  

For a moment, the guilt threatened to crush him, but he shoved it down. This is fine. This is normal. This is how it's supposed to be. 

He forced another laugh, loud and bright, drowning out the quiet voice in his head that whispered... 

You are lying to everyone. Especially yourself. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

The soft rays of the setting sun bathed the schoolyard in gold as Akito walked briskly, his sneakers crunching against the gravel. Behind him, the faint sound of footsteps persisted—steady, deliberate, and unmistakably hers. His jaw clenched involuntarily, the sound igniting the annoyance bubbling beneath his polite facade. 

He stopped abruptly, turning to face her with a forced, pleasant smile. 

"Yoisaki-san, please stop stalking me." His voice was light, polite, but the underlying tension was undeniable. 

Yoisaki Kanade stood a few steps away, her petite frame almost blending into the shadows of the trees lining the path. Her fists were clenched at her sides, her gaze unwavering despite the tremble in her voice. 

"I'm sorry. But I can't leave you," she said softly, the sincerity in her tone grating against Akito's nerves. 

He laughed bitterly, feeling the anger slowly surfaces after hearing Yoisaki's simple answer. "Can't leave me? That's funny." 

His grin didn't reach his eyes. "Hey, you've been acting like you care, but... let's not pretend, okay?" His gaze lingers on a cherry blossom tree outside, trying to hold himself from talking any further. 

"I am care." Yoisaki's voice is what makes him stopped daydreaming, and somehow, making the wound deeper. 

"Oh? Hmm, that's surprising~" 

He could hear Yoisaki's frown. And it sounds like she's control herself... from something, too. 

"Akito," 

The orange head caressed his arm, eyes bored into Yoisaki's desperate blue eyes. "Sorry, can you stop call me that?" Smiling, he adds, "I don't even remember the time we've become friends. So calling me in my first name is somewhat weird..." and he laughed at the fact. 

"But of course, we can still be friends!" Akito happily extended his right hand to the white-haired girl. 

"As you know, my name's Shiraishi Akito." He begin, then thinking his next words. "I have just started coming to school after locking myself throughout the middle junior, but now here I am, making another friend!" 

Then lastly, almost like intentional, he whispers. "Nice to meet you, Yoisaki-san." 

"..." The white-haired girl said nothing. She just gazed his outstretched hand, and Akito could see her frustrated expression. It looked as if she is fighting herself from... whatever reason. 

Her cold hands grabbing his slightly bigger one, and his other hand's wrist too. 

Akito flinched to feel Yoisaki's head rested on his shoulder, startled by her action. This position... What is she doing? This is embarassing... 

"'m sorry." 

Why she sounds like she's holding so much regret in that tone? Akito narrowed his eyes, not understand anything, but only a gaping hollow he feels in his heart. 

"You know... Yoisaki-san, if you actually cared, you'd stop hiding whatever it is you are keeping from me." A strong wind blew on his face, now his eyes were hidden under his messy hair. 

The orange head stressed, not thinking what words escape from his mouth as his eyes freely wonders. 

"It makes me think that you are just following me around like someone orders you to do it... like a pawn in someone's game." 

By the way Yoisaki shifted, Akito knew his words hit their mark. 

The girl pulled away, expression faltered under her perfectly-cut framed bangs, her lips pressing into a thin line as her blue eyes glimmered with guilt. 

For a moment, she looked as if she might respond, but instead, she turned and walked away without another word. 

Akito watched her go, a flicker of guilt stirring in his chest before he buried it beneath the satisfaction of finally being left alone. "Jeez, I worked hard to word it out that introduction." He sighed. 

"At least there's no eyes watching me now." Akito folds his arms, started walking back to class as the 6th period bell ringing. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, though Akito could not shake the unease that lingered at the edges of his mind. 

"Oh, there's someone injured today, so our team has an empty position. Do you want to fill in for fun?" 

Determined to distract himself, he ignored his father's warnings and offered to help a friend with their club after school. It was just a task—no real commitment—and Akito felt like keeping busy. 

All Akito experienced was joy. 

His middle school life is not a memorable one, that's why he excited to make a happy one for himself. A three year to experiences youth he'd always heard from his sisters. 

If it have this happiness to enjoy school, why would his father seriously against his wish to be a member of a club? 

He never understand why. 

Later, as the sky turned shades of orange and pink, his PE teacher called him over. 

"Shiraishi, can you help me collecting the balls and nets from the gym? The others are handling different tasks." 

"Sure thing, sensei!" Akito replied with a happy tone. 

The gym was eerily quiet as Akito worked, his footsteps echoing against the polished wooden floors. He gathered the scattered balls, his hands moving mechanically as his mind drifted. He only noticed he was done when his phone buzzes with notifications. 

"Ugh..." Yikes, there's multiple messages from both An and Ena. Looks like they have finished practice and get home together. 

And... they bombarded him with questions like, "Where are you?", "Why are you not home yet?" and "God, please reply us." Akito rolled his eyes and exhaled a heavy sigh. 

Feels a little bad, Akito responds a simple text; "I'm on my way." 

Speaking of which... his family never let him home this late. 

Even if he goes outside to buy groceries for his mother, she told him it's not good to spent a walk until evening. His friends might call him a liar that he never see a sunset and moon scenery when he's outside the house. But it's true though, he only see them through his bedroom window. 

So maybe if he start heading home now, he probably could see the sunset. 

Akito turned toward the door, ready to leave. 

But then to his unlucky fortune, the wind slammed the heavy door shut with a resounding bang. 

"W-What?" Akito blinked, startled. He walked over and pushed the handle. It didn't budge. A frown crossed his face as he tried again, harder this time, but the door was firmly stuck. 

"Oh God, why are you doing this to me?" he muttered, pulling out his phone back to call someone for help. But as he did, his eyes caught movement out of the corner of his vision. 

...The gym was empty, wasn't it? 

"-llo? Hello??" 

Oh, Ena's voice! Glad she picked up. "Hey, urm-" 

"Where the fuck are you?!" His sister loud voice cut him from talking. She sounded urgent, and worry. "Don't you remember what father said? It's forbidden to get out this late!" 

The ginger head shivers, imagining his father's disappointment face. 

"Uhm... I'm sorry-" 

"Look, save your sorry's. I want to know where you are. Now." His sister's voice firmly asks, low and breathless. 

He looked around before answering, "At the school's gym." 

Then Ena sounded like she recalled something. She frowned, yelling words he cannot hear because her voice is distant from the phone. "Stay there, I'm coming." She ordered. 

Before Akito could respond to that, the call cut out, leaving him in confusion. And now the silence pressed against his ears, too heavy. 

...Too unnatural. 

Swallowing the unease clawing at his throat, Akito scanned the room and noticed a window on the far side. It was high, but he could reach it if he climbed the pile of tobibako boxes stacked nearby. 

He moved quickly, adrenaline driving him as he pushed the big boxes closer and carefully, began to climb. 

Akito's fingers reached the latch, ready to push the window open. But the sound of movement caught him off guard again, and Akito's hands accidentally hit something lighter, and it fall. 

What is that? A wrinkled paper? 

The sound of Akito's sneakers scraping against the wooden floor echoed eerily in the empty gym as he descended the pile of tobibako boxes. His hand trembled as he reached for the wrinkled paper that had fluttered down, feel the  curiosity and uncomfortable thoughts mixed in him. 

Unfolding the paper carefully, his breath caught in his throat. 

The wrinkled paper, it was identical to the one from his bedroom window that morning. The same words scrawled in faint, uneven ink: 

"To guide and protect." 

A chill ran down his spine. 

"What is this doing here?" he whispered, the words barely audible over the pounding of his heart. The paper felt wrong in his hands, heavier than it should have been, the texture gritty like sandpaper. 

Why was it so wrinkled? Why was it here, of all places? 

Before he could contemplate further, the tobibako behind him groaned—a deep, resonant sound like something alive. 

His instincts screamed at him to run. 

But as his eyes darted back to the paper, it began to change. The edges curled inward, blackening as if licked by invisible flames. Within moments, the omamori disintegrated into fine ashes, slipping through his fingers like smoke. 

Did it... just burned? 

The gym fell unnaturally silent. Something is happening. He gulped. Akito's body stiffened, every fiber of his being urging him not to look back. 

But the curiosity got the best of him. 

So he did. 

How shocked he is to see pile of boxes he had climbed moments ago levitated, defying gravity as they hovered in mid-air, swaying ominously. What the hell?! 

One of them tilted forward, and with a terrifying crack, it hurtled toward him. 

"Wh—!" Akito barely ducked in time, the box smashing into the floor behind him with a deafening crash. He stumbled backward, his breath coming in short gasps as the chaos escalated. More objects began to move—balls rolling, nets flapping as though caught in an unseen storm, and the tobibako shifting toward him like predators closing in on prey. 

"N-No... No! Stop it! Stop!" he shouted, his voice breaking as panic took over. 

But the room did not obey. 

"Ah...!" A netball net sprang to life, whipping across the gym and entangling the poor boy in its coarse threads. 

Akito struggled, his movements frantic, but the more he fought, the tighter the net seemed to constrict. 

Then he saw it. 

From the shadows, a figure emerged. Not human. Not alive. Its face was a grotesque blend of anger and agony, eyes hollow yet piercing, its mouth twisted into a silent scream. The air around it was poisoning, heavy with the stench of decay. 

Akito's legs buckled beneath him. 

This is not the first time I've seen this. 

The thought slammed into his mind, unbidden. But he couldn't place it—couldn't grasp where or when. His memories were an empty void, and yet the terror coursing through him felt painfully familiar. 

He froze, unable to tear his gaze away as the spirit glided closer. Its form shifted, the shadows it cast writhing like tendrils reaching out for him. 

"I... I don't understand," Akito whispered, his voice trembling. His chest heaved as his breath hitched, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. 

The spirit raised a hand—bony, translucent, yet unnervingly solid—and pointed directly at him. 

"No—no, no, no..." Akito cried, his voice echoing in the empty gym. His vision blurred, the walls of the gym seeming to twist and close in around him. 

He tried to move, to scream for help, but his body refused to follow what he's thinking. He was paralyzed, not just by fear but by the crushing weight of something unseen, something powerful. 

The ghost's hollow eyes bore into Akito's very soul as it loomed closer, its mouth twisting into a grotesque grin. The shadows around it grew thicker, enveloping the gym in an otherworldly darkness. Akito's breaths came in sharp gasps, his body trembling as the spectral figure extended its bony hand and gripped his jaw with an icy touch that made his skin crawl. 

"Hmm... so you are the vessel they've been talking about," the ghost muttered, its voice a guttural whisper that scraped against his ears. 

"Blood and fear... that is what I need. And you will give it to me." 

Akito's eyes widened in fear, tears spilling freely down his cheeks. "I—I don't understand! Please, let me go!" His voice cracked, desperation thick in his pleas. 

The ghost ignored him, its skeletal fingers tightening their grip, forcing Akito's head up until he was staring directly into its horrifying visage. Its face shifted like a broken mirror, warped and fragmented, each angle more monstrous than the last. 

"Look at me," it hissed, its tone commanding, cruel. "Perhaps now you will remember... that you cannot run from the truth." 

The boy's stomach churned as the ghost's words echoed in his ears. 

He wanted to look away, but its grip on his jaw was unrelenting, its power overwhelming. His mind felt like it was being torn apart, fragmented memories flashing before his eyes—images he didn't recognize yet—and he is afraid to find it out. 

"Your eyes," the ghost continued, its tone darkly amused. 

"They are not your own, boy. They belong to another. Another human, another soul. How lucky am I to find you—I will rip them from you if I must." The ghost scarily laughs, its other skeletal fingers trailing the corner of his eyes. 

What? His eyes... is owned by someone else? 

"No!" Akito screamed, his voice sound raw and broken. "That's not true! You're lying!" 

But the ghost only laughed, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the empty gym. "Lie? Oh, child, you are as hollow as the life you cling to." Hearing this, he immediately recalled the empty void he's experienced from previous days. 

"Those eyes... they are cursed. They see what they should not. They feel what they should not. And now, they will serve me." 

Akito's heart pounded in his chest as the ghost's words clawed at his mind. The icy grip on his chin burned like frostbite, and the room spun around him, his legs trembling as he struggled to keep upright. 

"No... no, no, no, this isn't real," he whispered, his voice shaking. 

But the ghost's grip tightened, its monstrous face pressing closer to his. "You are mine now... Say goodbye to that pathetic shell you call a life." 

The weight of the ghost's presence crushed down on Akito, his mind spiraling into a storm of panic and despair. Then, like a flash of lightning in the darkness, Yoisaki's face surfaced in his mind. Her sorrowful gaze, the guilt etched into her every word. 

He had pushed her away. 

The hollowness in his chest deepened, a crushing regret settling over him like a shroud. "Yoisaki..." he whispered, tears spilling freely now. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." 

The ghost sneered, its grip unrelenting. "Your pleas mean nothing, child. Fate does not change for the unlucky. And you... are cursed." 

For the most part, Akito cannot disagree the fact that the ghost knows he is cursed with terrible fortune. 

Is this why his family take the trouble concerned about him so much? 

Akito sobbed, "Please, please let me go!" His voice cracked under the weight of his terror, his pathetic cries echoing in the oppressive silence. "I will do anything!" 

But the ghost only laughed again, a sound that chilled him to the bone. "Scream all you want, boy. Your suffering is delicious." 

The darkness closed in further, the ghost's grip dragging him deeper into its malevolent presence. 

Someone... please. Help... Akito's vision blurred, his strength waning as the world around him twisted, colors mixed uncomfortably. It hurt. It hurts. He feels like his eyes were burning, as if boiling in a hot water. Help me. Help...! 

He screamed one last time, his voice filled with agony and desperation. 

"Help!!!" 

But his words were swallowed by the void. And in that moment, Akito knew—nothing would change his fate. 

Before the ghost could make its move, a sudden force erupted between Akito and the creature, shattering the oppressive air with an explosive gust of wind. Akito, not knowing what has happened, stumbled back, shielding his face instinctively as the ghost reeled away, letting out a shrill, bone-chilling shriek. 

"You... Why are your eyes changing color?!" the ghost screamed in a maddened frenzy, its ghastly form twisting and contorting in panic. 

The boy blinked, his breath hitching as his vision shifted. The world around him faded into a dull monochrome, yet vivid streaks of pink illuminated certain elements—little lines of swirling wind, the trembling ground, and, most unsettlingly, the ghost itself, which now radiated a sinister, pink-highlighted aura. 

This. 

This is definitely new to Akito. 

"W-What... is this?" Akito muttered, his voice trembling as he reached up to touch his eyes. 

Encircling him was a sphere of delicate cherry blossom petals, swirling gracefully, creating an impenetrable barrier. Each petal shimmered faintly with a soft pink hue, exuding a calming presence amidst the chaos. 

The ghost's expression twisted further in rage and fear, its hollow eyes darting between Akito and the glowing petals. "This power... it isn't yours! You're nothing but a vessel! A cursed boy!" 

Akito's heart raced as the ghost's accusations struck him like thunder. His gaze lowered, uncertainty gripping him. 

Could it be true? These eyes... are they not mine? 

As the ghost lunged forward, desperate to breach the protective barrier, a second presence emerged. The swirling wind calmed, the air filled with an eerie silence. 

A girl. 

A girl figure materialized beside the orange head, her form glowing faintly, as though the world itself willed her into existence. 

Blonde hair cascaded like sunlight, streaked with silver, and her flowing white dress shimmered as though spun from moonlight. Her pink eyes, soft yet piercing, locked onto the ghost with a strong resolve. 

Akito's breath caught in his throat. This... is not the first time I've seen her too. 

Something about her presence stirred a memory buried deep within him, though it remained elusive, like a word at the tip of his tongue. The image of a kind girl have helped him before flashed faintly in his mind, but he couldn't place it. 

The spirit stepped in front Akito, her movements deliberate and graceful. She raised a hand, and the petals surrounding the boy danced in response, their glow intensifying. 

"How dare you harming a powerless being," she said, her voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of unshakable authority. "Leave now, or you will face the consequences for hurting him." 

The ghost recoiled, its form flickering erratically, yet it spat back, defiant. 

"You'd protect this worthless human? He doesn't even know your name, spirit! I'm the one found his power first, he belongs to me!" 

The spirit's gaze softened as she turned back to Akito, her expression almost sorrowful. 

"You may not remember me," she said gently, her voice laced with a strange familiarity that sent shivers down Akito's spine, "but don't worry. I remember you. And even if you lose your memory..." 

Him? Losing memories? What is she talking about? Could it be...? 

"...I will always, protect you." 

Akito stared at her, words caught in his throat. He wanted to ask who she was, why she was protecting him, but the overwhelming emotions—fear, confusion, and a strange sense of safety—rendered him silent. 

The other ghost howled in frustration, lunging again, clearly don't care of the kind girl's warning. 

Then, the petals flared brilliantly, their light easily swallowing the ghost's twisted form. The air filled with the sound of its furious screams, slowly fading as its presence was forcibly repelled. 

Now the gym fell silent, Akito sank to his knees, trembling. 

His monochrome vision remained, the pink highlights still illuminating the girl... the kind spirit before him. She knelt down beside him, her ethereal pink eyes meeting his with unwavering compassion. Her gentle fingers, delicately, touches his teary eyes. 

Its beautiful. Akito thought. Her eyes... It's like the color of cherry blossom petals blooming. 

"W-Who... are y-you?" He finally managed to whisper, his voice almost noticeable.

The spirit smiled faintly, her hand trailed down, brushing lightly over his cheek. "Someone who owes you their existence," she replied. "And someone who will always stand by your side." 

Akito wanted to ask more, but the petals began to dissipate, and the spirit's form fading with them. 

"W-Wait!" he called out, reaching for her, but his hand grasped only air. 

In the stillness that followed, only one thing was certain—this was just the beginning of the answers he so desperately sought.

Notes:

1. omamori = japanese amulets. a good luck charm that wards away evil spirits
2. tobibako boxes = the jumping boxes. the boxes can almost piled up to 3meters high

see you next wednesday!

Chapter 5: Chapter 4 : "I don't care what it takes—I'll figure this out. I won't lose you, Akito."

Notes:

is it just me or the vbs wl2 feels somewhat underwhelming? istg i couldnt help but see it as vbs story filler. it has so much potential on toya's chapter but then... sighs.

𝄞 April, 1st.

Yoisaki Kanade had always prided herself on staying calm, even in the most unusual of circumstances. 

But today, she found herself clutching poor, empty bag that consist types of candies inside, tighter than usual. Watching her classmate, Shiraishi Akito, with a mix of concern and dread.  

It started with small oddities: Shiraishi muttering to himself during breaks, flinching at very small things like a sharp voice, and sweating nervously around almost everyone. 

Kanade had thought it was just stress or perhaps exhaustion.  

Just before the final bell, she leaves the school grounds. The teacher didn't even stop her, so Kanade do the usual shit she's always doing. On top of it, she thought about tailing Shiraishi to know what's wrong with him... and another one thought is she just leave him be and get back to her lovely bed. 

But, well... Kanade legs brought her here. 

Just a few steps from Shiraishi, her expression sharpened to see him happily talking to no one, but air. He's definitely a weird one. She frowned when Shiraishi's olive eyes meet her in a short time before he start to leave the school. 

And when she saw him veer off toward a familiar street—that is abandoned and rumored to be haunted—Kanade felt her stomach twist. 

She's been in a filthy place like this. To pursue her dream of surpassing that legendary night, she broke out from her shell, hardened in harsh reality to face a musician's life. 

This street, is empty. 

The story of a girl- okay, not just a girl but many teenagers, find their way here, and committed suicide. 

He wouldn't... he wouldn't hurt himself, would he? she thought in growing alarm. Shiraishi did not appear like a depressed person in her eyes. He's bright. Smiling like a sun, full with energy that looked him like an idiot. 

So Kanade didn't hesitate. She followed him, her mind racing with possibilities. Was he being bullied? Had something happened at home? She couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.  

When she noticed Shiraishi arrived at the said gutter, she froze behind a wall. 

There was him, trembling but hands on his side were tightly clutched. As if he were ready to jump. This shocked her as hell. No way. No fucking way. Kanade quickly leaves her hiding place, chasing Shiraishi's back view. 

Then, she collected herself back, trying to be calm. "Shiraishi?" 

And the boy let out an embarrassing yelp she didn't even know his range that high. Shiraishi turned, his eyes were panic at first, but then he looking at her calmly. 

"O-Oh, it's just you." He said. Confusion surfaces back on her face. Her eyes wander around, and asking him, "What are you doing here?" 

Especially when this is not your familiar place to begin with. 

Shiraishi tilted his head. "Ah, I was walking Nakamori to her home," he answered. 

What? 

Kanade squinted her eyes. "Who?" She has the feeling that she is not liking where this is going. 

"Nakamori-san. She sat in front of you, remember?" 

Kanade's face changed. Her front desk? It's empty. Mr. Gai already said that students were free to choose their own place, and no one is taking the table in front of her. 

When the class didn't listen to Mr. Gai, Kanade thought kicking off the table would silenced them. "Shiraishi, there's no one sitting in front of me. That's why I purposely pushed my table this morning." 

Shiraishi's polite smile now frozen, as if it a new class anounce to him. 

Kanade decided to elaborate, "The number of our classmates is 28, and I can recall each of their names. There's no one named Nakamori in our class." 

She hears a nervous chuckle from Shiraishi. "W-What are you saying? The seats are all-" 

So he's trying to deny the fact? Kanade glared her eyes at him. "Remember when you met me before you left?" The boy nodded anxiously, and Kanade tried to include a clue in her words. "You were talking to someone. Not me. But you were looking at your side. Shiraishi, I did not see you leave with anyone." 

Shiraishi's shocked face is not what she expected to see. She knew the bad event story behind that Nakamori name. 

To the news around three years ago, it's a story about a girl. Perhaps she can't face the pressure of Miyamazusaka's school that she had taken her life here. Since then, almost every month, the people that once living peacefully here reported that they were haunted. 

But of course, government people isn't stupid to believe that kind of reports. 

So the people abandoned their home here, and the street's name-Blue Lane- becomes popular when more suicides were taken place here. 

"Shiraishi, I will ask again. To whom did you talk?" The orange head immediately turns back to the gutter where he previously wanted to jump- his hands sweated in fear when reality kicks in. 

Did he see some kind of illusion? Is he were fooled by a ghost named Nakamori to take his own life too? 

"You were just about to jump," she said. "This gutter is the spot where suicides have taken place. I know you weren't that type of guy. So I called you out," Kanade tried to compose her unease feelings. The thought of Shiraishi wanting to end his life is not what she believes that he is suicidal. 

For a split second, Shiraishi's head snapped up. 

Frozen like he's seen a ghost, Shiraishi's face turned pale like a white paper. Then, he stammered, "N-N-No. No, no, no-" His body were shaken so badly. 

Kanade begin to panic when Shiraishi's tried to twisted his body, trying to escape something. But his fear is what make him stone in place. His bright face genuinely looked in pain. "Shiraishi?! Shiraishi, what's going on?!" 

His head snapped toward her, and for a fleeting moment, she thought he might respond. But instead, his gaze darted back to the empty air in front of him, and he screamed.  

Kanade's heart dropped. What is he seeing? 

She had seen enough horror movies to understand the signs. Whatever was tormenting him wasn't something she could see, touch, or hear. Her mind pieced together fragments of conversations from class: ghost rumors, whispers and talk of a girl named Nakamori who had ended her life on this very street.  

Her stomach churned. Is he seeing her? 

Kanade wasn't an expert in the supernatural. She believed in ghosts but had no way of interacting with them. Feeling helpless, she grabbed her phone with trembling hands and scrolled to a contact.  

"Akiyama," she whispered urgently into the receiver. "I need your help. My classmate—" 

A bloodcurdling scream from Shiraishi cut her off, and she flinched, her heart racing.  

Damn it... damn it! she thought, gritting her teeth. If only there was something she could do!  

Suddenly, a strange wind swept through her. Warm and chilling all at once, it carried with it a flurry of cherry blossom petals that seemed to appear out of nowhere. They fluttered around the orange head, creating a soft, glowing barrier that seemed to calm the chaos.  

Kanade watched in stunned silence as Shiraishi collapsed, his knees buckling. She rushed forward, catching him just before he hit the ground. His face was pale, and his breathing shallow, but he was alive. 

"It's... you..." he muttered weakly, before slipping into unconsciousness.  

Kanade blinked, her mind reeling. Who is you? 

She looked around, taking in the swirling petals that continued to shield them. Though she couldn't see what was protecting them, she could feel its presence—a force, kind yet powerful.  

Before she could process it further, the sound of hurried footsteps approached from behind. Kanade turned, her eyes widening as a brunette-haired girl burst passed her, wielding what looked like a cutesy wand straight out of a fantasy cosplay.  

The girl perhaps—Shiraishi Ena, Shiraishi's older sister, Kanade realized—swung the wand with purpose, her face set in a fierce expression. 

She seemed to be battling something invisible, and from the determined rage in her eyes, Kanade could tell she was serious.  

"Yoisaki-san!" a voice called out, breaking Kanade's trance.  

She turned to see two more figures running to her spot: Akiyama Mizuki, the friend she had called which is also the president of the school's supernatural club and... Kamishiro Rui, the principal's son. 

"Kamishiro...?" 

The purple head quickly averts his eyes, bowing his head little as greeting her. Kanade did not expected to see Kamishiro is a part of supernatural club. 

Well... that's make sense because they'd avoid each other because of that one argument, after all. 

The tension in Kanade's chest loosened slightly. Help was here.  

The older Shiraishi let out an exasperated sigh as the swirling petals began to dissipate, and the street fell into an uneasy calm. She whirled on her unconscious brother, her hands on her hips.  

"This idiot!" she snapped, though her voice wavered with concern. "Why does he always get himself into these messes? He's such a pain!" Although her words sounded harsh, but she looked like she cares about her little brother. 

Kamishiro, Kanade knew the timid guy visibly overwhelmed by the scene, but stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on the brunette's shoulder. "E-Ena-san... I-I'm sure he didn't mean to cause trouble. He looks like he's been through a lot." 

And Kanade can agree with him. If it were her asking Shiraishi to accompany her home this late, he would kindly offer himself to do so. 

Meanwhile, Akiyama knelt beside Akito, checking his pulse and gently brushing stray petals from his hair. "He's okay," She said with a relieved smile. "Just unconscious. Poor guy looks like he's been through hell, though." 

Kanade glanced at the now-quiet abandoned street, her gaze lingering on the faint traces of cherry blossom petals scattered across the floor. Though she couldn't see the kind spirit that had helped them, she felt a deep sense of gratitude.  

For now, the danger had passed, but Kanade could not shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something far bigger. 

"Yoisaki," 

Kanade's head snapped to Shiraishi Ena's voice calling her name. "Yes?" 

The brunette's eyes seemed distant, but trying to be friendly over her. "Come, follow me home," She said. "You can explain what had happened to my brother, and we can exchange some information if you wanted to." 

Is this... her chance? Well, it's not like Kanade wanted to know that much, but yeah, her mind is full with questions she wants to find out. 

There's a hidden lie in her heart, telling she's just doing this for fun... in addition also trying to find something to distract herself from remembering the arguments with Paradox and her ex partner... ugh. 

Kanade followed the group to the Shiraishi household, her mind heavy with unanswered questions and the strange events of the day. 

The air was tense yet comforting as they arrived at the modest but welcoming home. Shiraishi Ena led them inside, where Shiraishi's parents, Shiraishi Ken and his wife, welcomed them with calm but worried expressions. 

The orange-haired boy was absent, obviously is resting in his room. That absence, Kanade realized, only added weight to the atmosphere. 

"Yoisaki, thank you for staying with my son," Ken said, offering a polite but tired smile. "I assume you have questions." 

The white-haired girl hesitated. "I... I do," Her eyes firmly stares Shiraishi Ken's orange eyes. "But I don't want to overstep." 

Ken gestured for her to sit. "You've been dragged into this... so it's only fair you understand some of it. Let's start with Akito." 

Kamishiro Rui, Akiyama Mizuki, and Ena sat quietly, giving Kanade the space to ask what she needed. 

Kanade nodded. "I noticed... strange things happening to him. He seemed terrified of something I couldn't see. And then I wonder why there are cherry blossom petals around him... a lot. What's going on? Is he... okay?" 

Ken sighed deeply, glancing briefly at his wife before responding. "Akito has an ability that allows him to see what others cannot. Spirits, apparitions, and remnants of the supernatural. It's a rare gift, but in truth... it's more of a curse." 

Kanade listened intently, her heart sinking at the word curse. 

"People like Akito don't just see spirits," Ken continued. "They attract them. Malevolent entities are drawn to him, seeking to harm or use him. That's why tragedies happen around him. He's been in danger since he was a child, and it is why we've done everything in our power to protect him." 

She swallowed hard. "That explains... a lot. But why not tell him?" 

Ken's expression hardened slightly. "Because knowing the full truth would make him a target, not just for spirits but for others who might exploit his ability. That's why the supernatural club exists—why this school allows such a group. Kamishiro's father and I started it long ago to protect people like Akito." 

Her gaze flicked to Kamishiro, Akiyama, and Ena. It was clear now that they weren't just friends or club members. They were victims... and guardians in their own right. 

"But... Shiraishi- Akito, does he know about any of this?" she asked cautiously. 

Ken shook his head. "He doesn't need to. That's why we take measures to ensure he forgets incidents like today." 

To forget incidents? They can do that? Erasing people memories... But how? 

Kanade watched in awe as the club members began their work. Akiyama stood by Shiraishi, who was brought downstairs, his unconscious form were changed into a casual t-shirt, resting on the couch. They murmured soft, almost musical words, and Kanade could see a faint glow around Shiraishi's body as Akiyama's ability erased the memory of his stiff... movements. 

Next, Kamishiro stepped forward, his touch delicate and precise as he placed his hands on Shiraishi's forehead. The faint glow shifted, and Kanade instinctively knew that Rui was removing some... kind of sense from his memory. 

Finally, the older sister leaned close, her expression soft despite her earlier frustration. 

She whispered something only Shiraishi could hear in his subconscious, erasing the taste of fear that lingered on his tongue. 

Kanade couldn't hold back her curiosity. "Why do you go to such lengths? Why not let him remember and prepare him from the unfortunate events that will chase him to death?" 

Ken's gaze was sharp but not unkind. "Because it would do more harm than good. Letting him live a normal, happy life is more important than burdening him with truths he doesn't need to carry." He paused, then added in a more somber tone, "Yoisaki, you'd do well to focus on your own life. Solve your own problems before diving into someone else's." 

The words stung, but Kanade understood the weight behind them. Still, she could not shake her concern for Shiraishi. 

Shiraishi Ena, sensing Kanade's unease, placed a hand on her shoulder. "Listen," she said, her voice softer now. "It might help if you pretend to be Akito's close friend. Spend time with him, laugh with him. If he has you, it'll take some of the pressure off us. And trust me," 

Ena's brown eyes seems to trust her. "He will be happier that way." 

Kanade blinked, surprised. "Pretend?" 

Ena shrugged. "Or don't just pretending. Just be his friend. You've already started, haven't you?" 

The warmth in Ena's words settled something in Kanade's chest. She thought of Akito's cheerful smile, his infectious energy, and his hopeful outlook despite the burdens he unknowingly carried. He was a bright spot in her otherwise quiet world. 

"All right," Kanade said quietly. "I will do it. I'll be there for him." 

Ena smiled. "Good. You might be just what he needs." 

As Kanade left the Shiraishi household that evening, her heart was heavier but also resolute. There were secrets she couldn't share, truths she couldn't tell, but one thing was certain—she wanted to stand by Shiraishi, even if it meant pretending at first. In the end, she knew she wasn't just doing this to help him. She genuinely wanted to be his friend.  

And maybe... that was enough. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

𝄞 April, 2nd. 

 

The cafeteria was alive with noise—clinking utensils, overlapping conversations, the occasional outburst of laughter. Kanade weaved through the chaos, her white hair catching the fluorescent light as she stopped at the counter. Her hand hovered over the rows of snacks and packaged meals.  

Bento? No… too much effort to eat in public. 

Her fingers brushed against the familiar cup of instant noodles. The bold red and white logo stared back at her, as comforting as the warmth it promised. She grabbed it, not bothering to glance behind her, though she could feel Akito's eyes on her.  

He's staring again. Does he think I'll eat something fancy? Sorry, buddy, this is all you get. 

"You are staring," she said, her tone calm as she turned just enough to catch the startled look on his face.  

"W-Well!" Akito stammered, his freckled face flushing a faint pink.  

She glanced at his bento bag, neat and tidy in his hands. Her lips twitched. Of course, the guy with the hand-packed lunch and homemade karaage was judging her instant noodles. 

"...Instant noodles?" he asked, his tone incredulous.  

"Always have been my favorite," she replied simply, letting a faint smile slip through.  

The way his mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to argue but couldn't find the words, almost made her laugh. Instead, she turned on her heel, walking toward the cashier. 

They found a bench beneath a sprawling tree, its shade offering respite from the midday sun. Kanade sat cross-legged, cradling her instant noodles as if they were gourmet cuisine. Across from her, Akito unwrapped his bento with the care of someone unboxing treasure.  

Flower-shaped cucumbers? Cute. He's so… earnest. 

The spring breeze tousled her short hair as she ate, but her attention kept flicking back to him. His lemon juice bottle rested unopened in his lap, and his chopsticks hovered awkwardly over the neatly arranged food.  

"You're distracted again," she said, breaking the silence.  

He jolted, nearly knocking over his juice. "N-No, I'm fine! Just… thinking."  

You're terrible at lying, Akito. 

Kanade tilted her head, her gaze steady. "That's the problem, isn't it? You think too much."  

He shot her a look, one part annoyed and two parts flustered. "Says the person who handed me a sticky note saying I'd get brain damage from overthinking."  

Her lips quirked into a grin. "What? It's true. Stress isn't good for you. Besides…" Her gaze softened, but she not letting it show on her face. "...you didn't deny that it made you smile a little."  

His face reddened, and she couldn't resist a quiet chuckle.  

There it is again. That honesty. It's ridiculous how easy it is to get a reaction out of him. 

Kanade's chopsticks paused halfway to her lips as she noticed Akito's brow furrowing again. His thoughts were loud, even in silence.  

"You don't have to figure everything out right now," she said, her voice slipping into something quieter. "Whatever happened yesterday… it'll come to you when you're ready. Don't force it."  

Her own words made her chest tighten.  

Hypocrite. You're telling him to let it go when you know exactly what happened. 

His shoulders slumped slightly, his gaze fixed on his bento. "It's just weird, you know?" She raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting him continue.  

"It's like my brain skipped a whole chapter, and I'm stuck trying to figure out what I missed."  

His voice wavered, and then—  

"...I wanted to know how we've met, Kanade."  

Her breath caught, eyes slightly widened. 

Don't react. Keep calm. 

But then he smiled, his olive eyes warm, tinged with something vulnerable.  

"I've been waiting for this moment," he said softly. "Years locked up in the house during middle school because I hated how people looked at me… but I'm glad I took a chance to change."  

Kanade froze, her chopsticks falling against the edge of her cup. His words cut through her defenses like glass. "If I never changed that old mindset," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "I would never... meet you."  

Her pulse quickened, panic stirring beneath her composed exterior.  

Why does he say things like that? Doesn't he know how... how much it means? 

She stood abruptly, brushing imaginary crumbs off her skirt. Her movements were sharp, but her voice remained steady. "Come on. Let's take a walk before lunch break ends."  

Akito blinked up at her, his expression confused and maybe a little hurt. She hated that look.  

"It might help clear your head," she added, extending a hand. He hesitated, his fingers brushing hers before finally taking it. She pulled him up, maybe a little too hard, but he didn't complain.  

Kanade kept her hands stuffed in her pockets, her head tilted down, pretending she did not notice Akito sneaking glances at her.  

He's too kind. Too open. Someone's going to hurt him someday, and I hope it's not going to be me. I won't let it. 

The thought made her chest ache, and without thinking, she nudged him hard with her elbow. "Y-You…!" he squeaked, nearly tripping over his own feet.  

Kanade bit her lip to suppress a grin. "What? You looked like you needed it."  

His glare was half-hearted at best, and she felt the corners of her mouth twitch again.  

Maybe I'm not the best at this friendship thing, but if teasing him keeps that smile around a little longer, I'll do it. 

Kanade's footsteps echoed faintly in the long, deserted corridor. She walked a few steps ahead of Akito, keeping her expression unreadable, though her mind churned with uncertainty. This is wrong, a voice whispered in her head.  

But she didn't stop.  

Akito's presence behind her was a steady weight, his hesitant steps mirroring her own inner turmoil. His question broke through the silence again, sharper this time, laced with suspicion.  

"Kanade, where are we going?" 

Her steps faltered briefly, but she didn't turn around. "You'll know soon." Her voice came out quieter than intended, the words trembling at the edges.  

This isn't fair to him, she thought as she led him farther into the silent halls. He doesn't deserve this—not again. 

Kanade had tried to hold back, to suppress the urge to act. But the memory of that day—the twisted smile, the rotting stench, Akito teetering on the edge—haunted her. The supernatural club had sworn to protect him by erasing the incident from his memory. They'd told her to keep him safe from the truth, no matter the cost.  

And she had agreed.  

But watching him now—so confused, so unaware—it felt like a betrayal.  

"Kanade." His voice again, quieter now, trembled with the weight of something unspoken. "Are we... close yet?" 

This time, she turned to face him. Her eyes locked with his, and for a moment, she nearly caved. Don't do this. Take him back. Forget this plan. 

"We're getting closer," she said instead, her voice steady despite the guilt roiling inside her. 

The light filtering through the windows dimmed as they moved deeper into the school's forgotten hallways. Kanade glanced over her shoulder, watching Akito clutch his bento box like a lifeline. His face was pale, his gaze darting nervously to the walls and windows around them.  

He's starting to remember. 

Her chest tightened, the weight of her decision pressing harder. She had no authority to explain the truth to him. The supernatural club had been clear: Akito wasn't ready to face it.  

But if he doesn't know... how can he protect himself? 

Ahead of her, the air shimmered faintly. The barrier she'd created to recreate the scene rippled, waiting. She hesitated, her fingers clenching into fists at her sides.  

She forced herself to keep walking, even as Akito stumbled behind her.  

"Kanade?" His voice wavered, panic creeping into his tone. "Kanade, what's happening?" 

She didn't answer.  

The memories were surfacing now, clawing their way into his consciousness. She could feel his confusion, his fear, as vividly as if they were her own.  

They reached the end of the corridor, where the sunlight dimmed completely, and the scent of cherry blossoms mingled with something foul and rotten. Kanade turned to him, her heart hammering painfully in her chest.  

"This is it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.  

Akito stared past her, his face ashen. His knees buckled, and she took a step toward him instinctively, her guilt surging. Stop this. He's not ready. You're hurting him. 

"Why?" he choked out, his voice breaking. "Why are you doing this?" 

Kanade opened her mouth, but no words came. How could she explain that this was the only way she knew to protect him? That she'd wanted to give him the truth he deserved, even if it hurt?  

Instead, she watched as he collapsed, his consciousness slipping away.  

She caught him before he hit the ground, her arms wrapping around him instinctively. His body was limp and warm, his breathing shallow but steady.  

"Sorry," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "I thought you could handle it... but I was wrong." 

The barrier dissolved around them, the corridor returning to its normal, sunlit state. The oppressive air lifted, but Kanade's guilt weighed heavier than ever.  

She sat there for a moment, cradling him, before carefully laying him down and brushing the stray hair from his face. The cherry blossom petals that had accompanied the illusion scattered around him like a cruel reminder of what she'd done.  

They will hate me for this. 

Ena would be furious. The supernatural club would call her reckless, maybe even dangerous. And Akito... 

Her chest tightened painfully. What if he hates me, too? 

Kanade stood, her hands trembling as she pulled out her phone to call for help.  

The club members arrived quickly, Ena at the forefront, her sharp eyes narrowing the moment they landed on Kanade.  

"What did you do?" Ena demanded, her voice cold and furious.  

Kanade couldn't meet her gaze. "I tried to help him remember," she... admitted it softly. "I thought... if he knew, he could protect himself. I didn't want him to be caught off guard again." 

"That wasn't your choice to make!" Ena's voice cut through the air like a blade.  

Kanade didn't argue. She stood silently as they carried Akito away, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she'd failed him in the worst way.  

She'd wanted to protect him. Instead, she only caused him more pain.  

Now the corridor emptied, Kanade stood alone, the scent of cherry blossoms lingering in the air like a haunting echo of her mistake. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

𝄞 April, 3rd. 

 

Kanade stood outside the door, her fingers curling into tight fists against her skirt. The faint crackle of tension hung in the air like static, making her throat tighten. She had been here before, standing just like this, hesitating before intruding on someone else's fragile world. 

But this was different. 

This was Akito. 

And she bet he didn't even remember her name. 

She raised her hand, her knuckles hovering an inch from the door. Her chest ached with the weight of guilt, her breath coming in shallow bursts as she forced herself to knock. The sound echoed sharply, louder than she expected. 

Then the door creaked when she opens it. 

When she stepped in, her gaze immediately found him. He oddly standing straight in front of the window beside his desk, a fragile figure wrapped in the morning sun. The shadows-the back of his body that face her-seemed to cling to him, as if feeding on the emptiness that radiated from his body language. 

"Akito, get prepared. We need to go, or else we will be late," she said, her voice barely rising above a whisper. It felt as if the words choked her, scraping her throat as they left. 

She wanted to say more. To explain. To apologize.  

But she couldn't.  

Kanade watched as he turned to look at her, his eyes full of confusion and something that cut her deeper—detachment. His lips parted, but no words came.  

Her heart twisted painfully. He doesn't know who I am. However, Kanade wishes he didn't ask her name. 

It'd more better... because she feels like she's not worth to be here. Beside him. Inside his world. 

It would pained her, or maybe if worst than that, he wouldn't even try to know who she is. 

The weight of her guilt pressed harder, nearly crushing Kanade. She couldn't meet his gaze for long, not with the fragile hope lingering in his eyes, like he was desperately searching for something familiar, something kind.  

But she could only give him silence.  

When his lips finally moved, his question sliced through her like ice. 

"Who are you?"  

Kanade flinched. The words were quiet, uncertain, but they echoed loudly in her mind. For a moment, she faltered. Her resolve cracked, and the truth clawed at her throat, begging to be set free. 

I didn't know it would hurt so much like this. 

She dropped her gaze to the floor. Her fists clenched tighter, nails digging into her palms. It's better this way, she told herself. Better than him knowing. Better than him hating her.  

But was it?  

Her mind raced with the memory of Ena's furious words from the day before. The anger, the way Akito's sister had shielded him with every ounce of her being. You don't get to decide what's best for him. You're just making it worse. 

She had gone home that night, guilt gnawing at her like a relentless parasite. The weight of Ena's words had stayed with her, looping endlessly in her mind.  

And now, this. 

She wanted to scream, to break the silence that suffocated them. To say something, anything, that could ease the growing despair she saw in Akito's eyes.  

Instead, she forced herself to keep her voice steady. "Akito," she said, his name weirdly roll on her tongue. A name she had said so many times before. A name of a person she no longer recognized. 

The emptiness in his smile gutted her. It wasn't real. It wasn't Akito.  

"Sorry," he said, his voice hollow. His words twisted the knife in her chest, the apology so misplaced, so wrong. She wanted to shout at him, to tell him to stop apologizing for things that weren't his fault.  

But all she could do was stand there, silent and useless, as he get to the bathroom. "I will get ready," he said, his tone detached, almost robotic.  

She flinched again, her composure slipping further. She wanted to reach out to him, to grab his wrist, to tell him she was sorry. That she hadn't meant for things to turn out like this. That she just wanted to protect him.  

Instead, she nodded stiffly and stepped out, closing the door behind her.  

Her legs felt weak as she leaned against the cold wall of the hallway. She pressed a hand to her chest, where the guilt and sorrow threatened to consume her whole.  

She had thought she was doing the right thing. That by recreating the memory, she could help him piece together the truth on his own.  

But now? Now... she wasn't sure of anything.  

Akito deserved answers. He deserved to know who made him like this, what had happened, and why his life had been twisted into this beginning of cruel, endless loop.  

But Kanade wasn't allowed to tell him. Is there any other way to tell him instead? 

And the thought of facing Ena again, of enduring her fury, felt like a punishment she deserved.  

But worse than that was the fear that had taken root in her heart.  

The fear that Akito would hate her. That he would never see her as a friend. That she would lose a little connection they had once shared.  

She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath, the tears she refused to shed burning behind her eyelids.  

I just wanted a friend.  

...But maybe I don't deserve one. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

She trailed a step behind Akito as they walked through the school gates, her arms clutching her bag tightly to her chest. 

Kanade tried to keep her breathing steady, but the weight in her chest only grew heavier with each step.  

He didn't look back at her.  

He didn't even glance in her direction.  

Akito's smile—bright but now practiced—didn't fool her. She used to find it charming, the way his laughter would light up the spaces around him. But now, every smile felt like a slap to the face, an empty echo of something that used to be real.  

By the time they entered the classroom, the ache in her chest had spread, seeping into every part of her being. 

Kanade drifted to her seat, quiet and unnoticed, as Akito lit up the room with his energy. She watched him lean into conversations, his words loud and enthusiastic, drawing everyone's attention like he always did. Her fingers gripped the edges of her desk as if grounding herself in this cruel reality.  

He was pretending.  

And worse—he was pretending she didn't exist. From the moment they get out from that house, walking together to school, and class, Akito has never once look at her. 

When history class began, Kanade kept her eyes on her notebook, letting the teacher's words wash over her like white noise. 

But she couldn't block out Akito's voice, sharp and confident as he engaged with every question. His enthusiasm was almost infectious. 

Almost.  

Kanade could see the cracks in it—the forced eagerness, the overcompensation. To everyone else, he was just Shiraishi Akito, the lively boy who always brought energy to the room.  
But to her?  

He was Akito, the boy who had once shared his vulnerability with her under the shade of a tree. The boy who had told her about his fears, his pain, his dreams. 

The boy who now acted like she was nothing.  

Soon, lunchtime came, she sat alone at her desk, her notebook open in front of her but untouched. She didn't even try to eat. Her appetite had vanished the moment she stepped into the classroom that morning.  

Across the room, Akito sat at a table surrounded by his classmates, laughing and chatting as if nothing had changed.

...But everything had.  

The laughter felt distant, muffled by the storm of emotions swirling in her chest. 

It wasn't until one of the boys at the table said her name that her ears pricked up. "Hey, Shiraishi," the boy teased, a grin on his face. "What's up with you and Yoisaki? You two seem... close."  

Kanade's heart stopped. Her hands froze in the middle of turning the page.  

She didn't dare look up. Close your ears. Kanade tells herself. Close it. Close it, close it...! 

"Ah, Yoisaki?" Akito's voice rang out, casual and light. "No, we just coincidentally met on my way to school. I don't know her like that."  

Fuck. The words hit her like a slap.  

Kanade's breath caught in her throat as her hands trembled, gripping the notebook tighter. The laugh that followed—the laugh that used to make her feel warm, like she wasn't alone—was empty.  

The group's laughter roared around her, a cruel chorus that drowned out everything else.  

She couldn't sit there anymore.  

Her chair scraped loudly against the floor as she stood, her movements stiff and mechanical. She could feel their eyes on her, but she didn't care. She clutched her notebook to her chest and left the classroom without a word.  

Her legs carried her down the hallway on autopilot, her vision blurring as the tears she had been holding back threatened to spill.  

It's fine, he doesn't remember, she reminded herself. He doesn't know who I am. 

But that didn't make it hurt any less.  

He had been her friend. 

"...What did you just say? Our music has no meaning? Try saying that again! I won't take this, not even from you, Haruka!" 

"...Please, let go of me." 

"No, we are not done here! I need explanation...!" 

"Don't you think it's about time you grew up... and stopped chasing after some tiny event that no-one's even heard of outside of this town?" 

Her only friend.  

He had shared so much—his quiet pain, his own loneliness, the moments of understanding that he made her feel like she wasn't invisible.  

And now, he treated her like a stranger. 

Kanade stopped at the far end of the hallway, pressing her back against the cold wall. Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths as she stared down at the notebook in her hands.  

A stranger.  

The word rang hollow in her mind, over and over again.  

But no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, the truth remained.  

To him, that's exactly what she was. 

But this is fine. I am fine. Kanade harshly rub her eyes, heading to the restroom to wash her face. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

The soft golden light of the setting sun painted everything in warmth, but Kanade felt none of it. She followed a few steps behind Akito, her own shadow trailing in the amber glow. His steps were brisk, deliberate, almost as if he was trying to escape her presence.  

Her chest tightened with every crunch of his sneakers on the gravel, but she couldn't bring herself to stop.  

She wasn't sure when she had started following him. Or why. She only knew that something inside her refused to let him go.  

When he suddenly stopped and turned, Kanade froze, her heart skipping painfully.  

"Yoisaki-san, please stop stalking me."  

He called me with that name again... The words were light, polite even, but the tension in his voice struck her like a physical blow.  

Her fists clenched at her sides. She met his gaze, steady and unwavering, even as her voice trembled. "I'm sorry. But I can't leave you."  

He laughed bitterly, the sound cold and sharp, cutting into her resolve. That sounded nothing like him. Is he angry? 

"Can't leave me? That's funny." His lips twisted into a grin, but his eyes were cold, distant. Kanade swallowed hard, willing herself to stay calm. "I care," she said softly, but the sincerity in her tone only seemed to make him... angrier.  

"Oh? Hmm, that's surprising~" His mocking response stung, but she bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to let her emotions spill over.  

"Akito—" 

"Sorry," he interrupted, his voice casual, as if they were discussing the weather. "Can you stop calling me that?" His forced smile widened. "I don't even remember the time we've become friends. So calling me by my first name is... weird."  

Her heart clenched at his words, but unfortunately, he wasn't done.  

"But of course, we can still be friends!" he said cheerfully, extending his hand toward her as if to solidify the offer. Kanade stared at his outstretched hand, her vision blurring as his words replayed in her mind.  

"As you know, my name's Shiraishi Akito. I've just started coming to school after locking myself away for so long. But now here I am, making another friend!" 

Then, the final blow came in a soft whisper, deliberate and sharp.  

"Nice to meet you, Yoisaki-san."  

Her breath feels like stop for a second as she stared at him. The forced brightness in his tone, the distance in his gaze—it was all too much. She reached out, her hands trembling as she took his. 

But instead of shaking it, she stepped closer, closing the gap between them. 

Her head rested against his shoulder, and she felt him stiffen beneath her touch. Akito slaps her with cold words, but his warmth-Akito's actual self- is still there. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, the words catching in her throat. They carried the weight of every moment she hadn't been able to say them.  

I think this is it. 

He flinched, and for a brief moment, she felt him hesitate.  

"You know, Yoisaki-san," he said, his voice softer but no less distant, "...If you actually cared, you'd stop hiding whatever it is you are keeping from me." 

Kanade froze, her breath hitching as his words pierced through her.  

...the end of that warmth spring. 

"It makes me think that you're just following me around because someone ordered you to... like a pawn in someone's game." 

This is truly the end. How cruel are you, God? I will never meet this warmth again.

She pulled away as if burned, her movements jerky and unsteady. Her eyes dropped to the ground, the guilt and pain swirling within her too much to bear.  

For a moment, she considered saying something—anything—to bridge the chasm between them. But the look in his eyes, the way he seemed so sure of her insincerity, broke her as a whole Yoisaki Kanade. 

Without a word, she turned. 

She walked away. Her legs carried her forward, but her heart felt like it was being left behind.  

She didn't dare look back.  

When she reached the school gates, her steps faltered, and she allowed herself one fleeting glance over her shoulder.  

And the warmth was gone.  

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

The walk home blurred into a haze of golden light and muted sound. The streets she knew so well felt foreign, as if the ground beneath her feet had shifted.  

When she arrived home, the distant sound of her parents arguing reached her ears. She barely registered their words as she slipped inside, their voices blending into the hollow emptiness within her.  

Her room was her sanctuary, and she locked the door behind her before collapsing onto the bed.  

The silence was deafening, pressing down on her from all sides. She clutched her pillow tightly, burying her face into it as her body shook.  

The tears she had been holding back finally spilled over, silent but relentless.  

Kanade let them fall, knowing that even as the sun dipped below the horizon, the ache in her chest would remain.  

Because no matter how much she had tried, no matter how much she cared—  

To Akito, she was nothing. 

 

⁞
✿ 

 

Yoisaki Kanade grew up as an only child in a household where silence often reigned. 

Her father, a celebrated painter, and her mother, a diligent office worker, were both consumed by their demanding careers. Their occasional arguments over trivial matters were a regular feature of her life, but Kanade had grown used to the dissonance. To her, it was merely the background noise of an otherwise solitary existence.  

From a young age, Kanade learned to navigate the world alone. 

Her parents' absence wasn't borne of neglect but of necessity, yet their absence left a void she didn't know how to fill. She threw herself into sports, excelling particularly in soccer, where her natural athleticism shone. Despite her hard work and talent, her tomboyish, bratty demeanor, and stoic nature made her an enigma to her peers. 

Boys felt challenged by her, and girls avoided her, intimidated by her bluntness.  

For Kanade, solitude became a familiar companion.  

"Ugh, that soccer session is so brutal. It has already passed my dinner time...!" But thinking it back, nobody's home anyway. No one is going to welcome her home. 

Making her mood worser, her usual shortcut route were blocked with some unusual crowd she'd never seen before. 

"What the hell...?" Yikes, she needs to take another route to get back home. Kanade heavily sighed, exhausted and hungry, now she can't use her cheat street because of some event. 

"Oh, hey! Are you new here?" A girl seemingly in same age as her greets, offering a flyer. "Tonight's Vivid Street is going to have a live, if you're free, then here!" 

"Oh no, I'm-" She pulls out a polite smile. But before she said anything, a wide- strong, vocal- rangs out from the crowd, startled her. 

Her life changed one fateful night in middle school when she stumbled upon the legendary RAD WEEKEND. It wasn't just a concert; it was an electrifying storm of passion, creativity, and raw talent that shook her to her core. For the first time, she felt a pull toward something greater, something transcendent.  

In the hyped crowd of that night, Kanade vowed to surpass that unforgettable moment. 

She knew the road ahead would be grueling, but she was determined to find her place in a world as vibrant as the one she had glimpsed on that stage. 

This decision led her to Vivid Street regularly, a vibrant, chaotic haven for dreamers, artists, and musicians. Here, she found herself surrounded by a kaleidoscope of personalities. While the community welcomed her with open arms, it didn't take long for her to face the harsh reality of her limits.  

"Talentless," they said.  

The words echoed in her mind, but Kanade didn't deny them. She lacked the natural brilliance of the street's stars, but she refused to let that define her. If talent wasn't her ally, then grit and determination would have to suffice.  

Kanade's journey led her to Kiritani Haruka, the daughter of a famed classical musician. 

Haruka was a stark contrast to Kanade in every way. Cool, collected, and methodical, Haruka seemed to embody the perfection of what she wanted to be. Yet, her icy demeanor left Kanade guessing, unable to decipher the depths of her partner's thoughts.  

Together, they formed SHADE-ER, a duo whose sound mirrored Kanade's fiery determination and Haruka's rebel towards her father. 

They grew together as a friend, as performers, pushing each other to new heights. 

Vivid Street also brought her into contact with Momoi Airi, whose mother, Momoi Tsubame, was one of the legends behind RAD WEEKEND. For Kanade, the Weekend Garage—a cozy restaurant owned by Tsubame—became a refuge. 

She idolized Tsubame, drawn to the warmth and authenticity she exuded, and through this connection, she formed a tentative friendship with Airi.  

Airi later introduced Kanade to Kamishiro Rui, her singing partner in a duo they named paradox. Rui's talent was raw but undeniable, yet Kanade couldn't help but feel frustrated. 

To her, Airi was wasting her potential by partnering with someone who didn't understand the weight of RAD WEEKEND. Her frustration boiled over, leading to friction between the two teams.  

When Paradox's debut performance was sabotaged, Kanade found herself at the center of accusations. Airi accused her of being behind it, a claim Kanade vehemently denied. Their confrontation escalated, with Kanade coldly declaring Rui unworthy of Airi's talent.  

The fallout fractured both friendships and partnerships. Rui disappeared, and Airi turned away from Kanade. 

The final blow came when Haruka announced she was leaving SHADE-ER, declaring their music meaningless.  

Kanade's anger erupted. She screamed at Haruka, even striking her in a fit of desperation. In truth, her heart begged her to say anything-for her partner not to abandon her-but the her words that fell out from her mouth is straight from anger and frustration. 

Haruka walked away, and with that, the last vestige of Kanade's dream of surpassing RAD WEEKEND crumbled.  

Kanade returned to loneliness, her heart hardened by betrayal and loss. 

She stopped visiting Vivid Street as often, unable to face the memories that haunted its every corner. Kanade has long abandoned soccer. She no longer believed in her dream or in her ability to create something meaningful.  

And yet, amidst the silence, she found herself reflecting on her journey. 

She had spent so long chasing a dream she had forgotten to live, forgotten to connect. Her life had been a series of battles—against others, against herself—but now she was left with nothing to fight for. 

It was during this low point that she met Shiraishi Akito.  

There was something different about him, something that drew her in despite herself. His expressive nature, his unyielding honesty, and the warmth in his every word felt like sunlight breaking through the storm clouds in her heart.  

Akito wasn't like the others she had met on Vivid Street and with other classmates. He didn't see her as a rude delinquent girl, nor did he dismiss her blunt personality. 

He treated her as an equal, as someone worth knowing. 

Even when he lost his memories, his kindness and honesty is what making Kanade wanted to believe that she have a chance. 

For the first time in years, Kanade felt a flicker of hope. She didn't know if Akito's kindness could mend the wounds she carried, but she realized it wasn't about mending—it was about moving forward.  

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

The evening sun hung low, casting long shadows across the school courtyard. 

Kanade jogged back into the quiet, empty halls, her sneakers echoing faintly as she searched for the notebook she had carelessly left behind. It wasn't like her to forget things, but the stress of recent days had thrown her off balance. She muttered under her breath, irritated at herself, and quickened her pace.  

She pushed open the door to the classroom and froze to meet someone she doesn't want to see. 

But there he was. 

Akito.  

Kanade blinked in confusion, unsure why he was still at school this late. He stood near the windows, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, but there was something off about him. She squinted, and then it hit her.  

"Y-Your eyes!" she stammered, her voice sharper than intended.  

Akito flinched, his hand flying up to shield his face as if her words had struck him.  

Kanade couldn't look away. 

His usually bright eyes had turned an unnatural, glowing pink—a hauntingly beautiful yet undeniably alarming sight. Her heart raced. She know the ability that burdened him, but Kanade did not know Akito's eyes could change its color! 

The orange head met her gaze, his face unreadable. Then he smiles, the weight of it hanging heavy in the stillness.  

"You saw it too," he muttered, sounded more to himself than to her.  

Kanade's throat tightened. She wanted to ask a thousand questions, to demand answers, but the look in his eyes—no, not just his eyes, but his entire demeanor—stopped her. He looked tired. Resigned. 

"I need you to promise me something," Akito said, his voice soft yet firm. "Don't come to my house tomorrow." 

Kanade blinked, stunned. What? "What are you talking about? Why—" 

"Just promise me," he interrupted, his tone more pleading now. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.  

The words tangled in her throat, but she managed to nod. "...Fine. But what... have happened to you?" He looked away, out the window, as if searching for the right words. Then he turned back to her, his expression a mixture of regret and something deeper—something she couldn't quite place.  

"Do you remember that time we had lunch together? Near the park, under the big tree?" he asked.  

Kanade frowned, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. Of course she knew. It was the moment Akito shared his pieces of thoughts with her as a friend. 

But wait. He remembered that day...? 

As if hearing her thought, Akito replied, "I do," with trembling tone. "Meet me there tomorrow. I need answers." 

Kanade's stomach churned "A-Answers?" 

"It was my sister isn't it?" The boy cut her off. "...the one that erased my memories. Of my exciting days, of you, and... of them." 

Kanade did not expect this. Where did he know that? Is it possible that his memories came back? But how? 
  
"...Who is this them you mean?" 

Pink's eyes looking straight into her soul. "The ghosts." He answered. And Kanade's desire never ever wanted to explain so bad on why would they do this to him. 

But then, Akito bowed his head low. "I'm sorry, Kanade," he said. The raw sincerity in his voice made her feel she's the one at fault. 

She hated this. 

Hated seeing him like this. Hated that he was apologizing when he'd done nothing wrong.  

"Stop it," she snapped, her voice cracking. "Don't act like this is all on you. Just—don't." 

But Akito's smile did not falter as his eyes meet her again. Kanade watched the way his pink eyes turned glassy. 

"I did hurt you though." The orange head caressed his arm. "I'm sorry for being angry at what you're supposed to keep to. I know it wasn't my place to get my anger at you... so-" 

"Don't worry." Akito's head snapped after hearing Kanade's voice softly interrupts him. 

Akito is too kind. He apologised, and that's enough. Now Kanade takes a step closer to her friend. "I can never forgive myself for hating you. We are just... pawns to begin with. So I will do my best to help you too." 

Her shoulders feels light. It feel easier to breath. Kanade's eyes stung, holding back her tears from relieveness. 

"Hey, don't give me that face." Akito chuckled, his voice lifting the previous tense air between them. "It's not like I'm going to disappear, Kanade." 

The white-haired girl snorted. "From the world? Yeah." She then adds, "But to me, you... almost disappeared from my world." Before she hold his hands, Kanade shakes her head when she remembered the moments where Akito never faced her back. 

"I-I'm sorry..." 

Kanade laughed it off, she rubs the tears away. "No, don't be." She didn't hide a smile that betrayed her to feel Akito's hands squeezed hers back. 

As if on cue, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Kanade turned sharply toward the door as Ena and the other two members of the club—Akiyama and Kamishiro—appeared, their expressions a mix of worry and confusion.  

"Yoisaki? Akito? What's going on-" Ena stared at them in shock, but Kanade knows she were looking at Akito. 

"H-His eyes...!" 

"So that's what he meant by changing eyes color..." 

Kanade's ears overheard the two members' muttering, as if hoping Akito didn't hear them. But their expression is what make the three obvious with the secret they hold. 

"Ena-nee," The still air rises, but the orange head fights it. 

"Why are you doing this?" Akito asked. Looking from the way he says it, it seemed like he is controlling the frustration inside. But his eyes, not demanding answers, yet it told them that he felt betrayed by her own sister. 

Ena sighed, perhaps close to accept her defeat because she was unexpected to see her younger brother would discover the secret this quickly. 

"You are not supposed to know what the hell is wrong with you." 

"No, I didn't say that!" The younger counters back. His hands are trembling inside her palm. "Wanting to know your reason for keeping this from me is different than what I wanted to know who I am." 

Akito takes a shaky breaths. "From the very first, I've already know I could attract unfortunate events. But not... this." He probably meant the ability of seeing ghosts. 

"...If I tell you my reason, I think you might hated yourself for it." Ena muttered. 

"I don't want to lose you like I lost both of them." Kanade blinked, processing the information. Them? Could it be someone dear to Ena? 

"I..." Before Akito could answer, his hands reached for his eyes. Hissing in pain. Kanade quickly turned back to her friend. "Akito!" She shouted, rushing forward just in time to catch him as he collapsed. His body was limp, his breathing shallow, and his glowing eyes flickered for a moment before dulling back to their usual color.  

The older Shiraishi knelt beside her, panic flashing in her eyes. "Akito! Stay with us!" 

The other two hovered nearby, their faces pale as they tried to process what they were seeing.  

Kanade tightened her grip on Akito's shoulders, her mind racing. She didn't understand what was happening in Akito's family, but one thing was clear: whatever this was, Akito was suffering because of it.  

And she wasn't going to let it take him away.  

"I'll help you," she murmured, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her chest. "I don't care what it takes—I'll figure this out. I won't lose you, Akito." 

For the first time in a long while, Kanade felt a flicker of hope. 

Even if the pain of his earlier words still lingered, Akito's honesty and vulnerability had reached her. She wasn't going to stand by and let him face this alone.  

Not this time.

Notes:

pink color is going to haunt me everyday until i finished this fic.

Chapter 6: Chapter 5 : "I'll figure this out."

Notes:

it's so hot here... i wanna go to the beach...

𝄞 April, 4th. 

 

 

That morning air was crisp as Kanade stood by the school gates, her gaze scanning the area for any sign of orange head. 

The promise he made—meet me under the tree tomorrow—still weighed heavily on her. But she was resolute, her mind already made up. Akito may not remember the promise, but she was going to keep her word. And she decided to not waiting under that tree after 30 minutes passed, so Kanade waited in front of the gates instead. 

But the bell rang, signaling the start of the school day. 

Kanade's heart sank when she didn't see Akito's familiar figure. She waited for just a moment longer, hoping against hope that he'd show up. 

But no. He was nowhere in sight.  

As the last few students filtered into the building, Kanade was about to give up and go back to class when she heard a voice call out from behind her.  

"Kanade, what are you doing here?" 

Oh, God. It's Momoi. Momoi Airi, with her usual poised and no-nonsense attitude, approached. She was one of the members of the discipline committee, known for her strict enforcement of school rules. And as usual, she seemed to be on a mission to remind Kanade of her responsibilities.  

Kanade frowned, her mind already preoccupied with Akito. "Just... waiting for someone." 

Momoi raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Waiting for someone? The bell rang. You need to go to class." 

Kanade bit back a retort, feeling the tension from their last few month argument still lingering in the air. The last thing she wanted right now was to deal with Momoi's concern, especially when her own mind was in turmoil.  

"Fine," Kanade muttered, turning to head inside. "I'm going." 

"Ah, and don't forget to open that piercings...!" 

Momoi watched her leave, her gaze softening for a split second before she turned to continue her duties.  

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

Kanade trudged to her classroom, the weight of disappointment heavy on her shoulders. She stepped inside, her eyes immediately searching for Akito, and found him—already sitting at his desk, laughing brightly with Hoshino Ichika. 

Kanade froze. Hoshino. Of all people.  

Her seat. Her desk. Right next to Akito.  

The nerve of—  

She couldn't help it. Her blood boiled. She marched to her desk, her footsteps louder than she intended, and with a barely contained glare, she greeted the two. 

"Good morning," Kanade said, her voice far colder than wind that morning. 

Hoshino smiled politely at her, oblivious to the storm brewing just under the surface. "Oh, good morning, Yoisaki-san! I was just talking to Shiraishi-kun about—"  

Kanade's eyes narrowed, and she didn't let the girl finish. "I see you're taking my seat, Hoshino." 

Ichika blinked, a bit taken aback but still clueless. "Oh! Goodness, I didn't mean to—sorry, Yoisaki-san. I just thought we could talk before class started. Shiraishi-kun and I were chatting about the upcoming event. You know, for the sport-joined event." 

Kanade ignored her, focusing on Akito. She didn't care about the event. Her eyes zeroed in on his face, searching for any sign of recognition.  

Akito, however, seemed as blissfully unaware as ever. "Yoisaki-san! Good morning!" His voice was cheerful, as if nothing had happened, and he beamed at her.  

Kanade couldn't stop herself deadpanned. He doesn't remember. 

"...Good morning," she muttered, her voice flat. She didn't know how to feel. Should she be angry? Confused? Or… just disappointed?  

Yet the orange head just tilted his head, puzzled. "Are you okay? Did something happen?" 

Kanade crossed her arms, biting her lip to hold back any sharp words. She tried to compose herself, but the awkwardness of the situation was overwhelming. She'd made a promise to him, and now he didn't remember it... what can she say? 

The white-haired girl set her bag down, glaring pointedly at Hoshino until the idol finally got the hint and slid out of her chair. Finally, Kanade thought, reclaiming her rightful throne beside Akito.  

"A sports festival, huh?" she asked, feigning mild interest. She had overheard the topic, of course, but now that she was in her seat, she figured she might as well play along.  

"Yeah!" The black navy head chirped. "It's a joint festival between Kamiyama High and Miyamasuzaka High this year. Isn't that exciting?" 

Kanade resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Thrilling," she bit back a frown.  

"What about you, Yoisaki-san?" Ichika continued, smiling as though she didn't notice Kanade's less-than-enthusiastic tone. "Are you going to participate?" 

Kanade raised an eyebrow, folding her arms. "What do you think? Obviously, I'll be there." She paused, giving Hoshino a pointed look. "I mean, someone has to keep Akito from wandering off or getting into trouble." 

And the ginger chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Honestly, I'm not planning to participate. With my luck, I'd probably trip over my own feet or cause a disaster. Besides, big events aren't really my thing..." 

The white-haired girl's brow furrowed, her irritation momentarily forgotten. 

"What? Akito, you have to join. This is your youth we are talking about here! Don't you want to make memories with your friends?" 

She meant her, of course. But she wasn't about to say that out loud.  

Akito blinked, tilting his head. "...My youth?" 

"Yes, your youth! You know, those golden days people always reminisce about when they're older?" Kanade leaned forward, jabbing a finger at him for emphasis. "If you skip out on this, what are you going to remember? Sitting in the corner while everyone else had fun?" 

Akito laughed nervously when he hears Kanade's excitement. "Well, when you put it like that..." 

Kanade felt a surge of hope. That's right, Akito. I've got your back. Together, we will survive this festival and create memories worth— 

"Hoshino-san, you should join us too!" He said suddenly, turning to the idol with an easy smile.  

Wait. What? 

Kanade's mind screeched to a halt. 

Hoshino clapped her hands together, looking genuinely delighted. "Oh, that sounds like fun! Thanks for inviting me, Shiraishi-kun!" 

Kanade stared at them, her expression frozen somewhere between disbelief and barely-contained rage. Akito. My guy. My dude. Did you seriously just— 

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to smile. "Wow, Akito, how thoughtful of you," she said through gritted teeth.  

Akito, ever clueless, nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it'll be great! The three of us can stick together and have fun!" 

Kanade's inner monologue was a cacophony of sarcasm and despair. Sure, Akito. Fun. Nothing says 'youthful memories' like watching you and Hoshino bond while I slowly die inside. Fantastic idea. 

But outwardly, she just laughed awkwardly. "Yep. Fun." 

As the conversation shifted to event schedules and potential activities, Kanade crossed her arms and sank deeper into her chair, glaring daggers at the back of Hoshino's head.  

Fine. If Akito's happy, I'll suck it up. But mark my words, Hoshino Ichika—try anything funny, and I will trip you during the three-legged race. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

That morning, the homeroom starts. 

And the classroom buzzed with excitement as Mr. Gai stood at the front, his voice commanding attention. He adjusted his coat and slapped a hand against the chalkboard where the sports festival events were written in colorful chalk.  

"Alright, everyone!" Mr. Gai declared, smiling ear to ear. "This year's sports festival will be unlike any other! Not only are we competing against Kamiyama High, but we've also got an expanded roster of events. I expect Class 1-A to give it their all!" 

Several students cheered, and some immediately shot their hands into the air.  

"Sensei! Sensei!"  

"Pick me for the relay team! I was first in the track meet last year!" 

"Sensei, can I do the kibasen? I've been working out for this!" 

The old man laughed heartily, his enthusiasm matching the students'. "Alright, alright! Hold your horses! We will assign roles fairly, but remember, there are limited spots, so choose wisely!" 

Kanade leaned back in her chair, watching the chaos unfold. She wasn't particularly thrilled about the sports festival, but she also not going to let Hoshino have all the fun.  

"Sensei!" As on cue, that Hoshino called out brightly, raising her hand. "I'd like to join the relay team. I'm confident in my stamina!" 

Of course, you are, Kanade thought, narrowing her eyes.  

Without thinking, she shot her own hand into the air. "Sensei, I wil join the relay team too."  

The girl turned to her with a surprised but pleasant smile. "Oh, that's great, Yoisaki-san! It'll be fun working together." 

Kanade forced a casual grin. "Yeah. Fun." 

Mr. Gai nodded approvingly. "Good, good! Two slots for the relay team taken. Let's keep this momentum going." 

Akito, who had been quietly doodling in his notebook, suddenly perked up. "Sensei, can I do the bean bag toss?" he asked.  

Kanade and Hoshino both turned to him, surprised.  

"The... bean bag toss?" Kanade repeated, blinking.  

"Yeah!" Akito said, scratching the back of his head. "I don't want to run or anything. I'm not very good at it, and, well... it's safe..." 

She couldn't help but rolled her eyes. Classic Akito. But at least he wasn't skipping out entirely.  

"Good choice, Shiraishi!" Mr. Gai said, jotting it down. "Alright, who's next?"  

The chaos continued as other students clamored for their preferred spots. The class filled up the roster for tug-of-war, ball games, and obstacle courses with rapid-fire enthusiasm.  

"Now for the team-based events." The teacher announced, pointing to the three-legged race on the board. "We need three pairs for this one. Volunteers?" 

Kanade sighed, already resigning herself. She raised her hand again. "I will do it." 

"Me too," someone chimed in, clearly not Akito's voice. 

And the retired idol beamed. "Count me in as well!" 

Kanade's stomach sank. Ugh. 

"Excellent! Looks like we've got a team," Mr. Gai said, scribbling their names down. "Okay, for the UFO Race—" 

Kanade barely listened as Mr. Gai explained the rules. She was too busy glaring at Hoshino, who was chatting animatedly with other classmates about their upcoming events.  

"And for the Kibasen," The old man continued, "our class is part of the white team, so we'll need strong, coordinated groups for this one!" 

The room erupted into cheers. Kanade glanced at Akito, who looked like he wanted to crawl under his desk.  

Oh, he's definitely want to run away, Kanade thought, smirking as a brilliant idea comes up to her head. This is going to be fun. 

So before Mr. Gai finished assigning spots for the Kibasen, Akito sinking lower and lower into his chair. His head was practically hidden behind his desk now, and his hand tugged nervously at the hem of his shirt.  

She stood up, planting her hands firmly on his desk. "Oi, Akito. Quit hiding. You're in this with us." 

Shit, did she just said us? 

The poor boy peeked up at her with wide eyes. "Yoisaki! Urm, you know this isn't my thing. I will just trip or—" 

"Nuh uh." she interrupted, grabbing him by the wrist and hauling him upright. "We're all in this together. Besides, you're taller than me. That's a huge advantage." 

"'We'?? But I'm not—" Akito's protest was cut short as Kanade started dragging him to the front where Mr. Gai stood, still finalizing team placements.  

Then the third person followed behind them, an amused smile on her face. "Oh, Shiraishi-kun, don't worry so much. This will be fun!" 

"Y-You too, Hoshino-san?!" Akito shocked, unexpected to see his idolized person playfully joined in. Kanade snorted to see Hoshino's blue eyes screaming excitement in them. 

When they reached Mr. Gai, Akito tried one last-ditch effort to save himself. "Okay, f-fine, I'll do it," he said, slumping in defeat. "But Yoisaki-san should be the leader. She looks strong enough to fight for the headbands." 

Kanade blinked, surprised by his suggestion. "Me?" 

Akito nodded quickly. "Yeah! You're tough, and you've got the energy for it."  

Hoshino Ichika innocently, giggled at that and shaking her head. "Oh, no, no, no. That won't do. Shiraishi-kun, you should be the leader." 

"Eh?!" Akito looked at her, horrified.  

Kanade crossed her arms, smirking. "You know, for once, Hoshino's making sense. Akito, you're the perfect choice."

"Wait, wait, hold on," the ginger raising his hands as if to ward them off. "How am I the perfect choice?! I'll mess up, and we will lose for sure!" 

"Akito, you've got long arms," Kanade pointed out, poking his bicep. "Perfect for grabbing headbands. Plus, you're lighter than me, so it'll be easier for the base team to carry you." 

Akito's face looked terrified to know Kanade knowing his weight. 'How did you know?!' probably, that's what his face screamed in horror. 

Then, as if wanting to explain, the homeroom teacher jumps into the conversation. "Oh you are right, Yoisaki. Looking back at his medical checkup, I am concerned to see you underweight, Shiraishi." 

Akito sighed, "Sensei..." 

There goes his final hope to escape. Good one though, sensei. 

Kanade leaned closer, a teasing grin spreading across her face. "Aw, come on. You'll be fine. What's the worst that could happen? Falling off? Getting tackled? Losing horribly?" 

"Not helping!" The orange head groaned, burying his face in his hands.  

Hoshino patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, Shiraishi-kun. We'll be right there to back you up." 

White hair girl snickered. "Yeah. And if we lose, we will just blame you anyway."  

Akito glared at her through his fingers. "That doesn't make me feel better..." 

Mr. Gai, who had been watching the exchange with great amusement, clapped his hands together. "Alright, it's settled then. Shiraishi, you're one of the head of the Kibasen team in our class. Yoisaki and Hoshino will make sure you're unstoppable. Team 1-A will dominate the white team!" 

Akito groaned again, this time louder, as Kanade and Ichika exchanged a victorious glance.  

"Congratulations, fearless leader," Kanade teased, giving him a thumbs-up.  

He let out a dramatic sigh, his shoulders slumping. She smirked, nudging him lightly. "You'll thank us when we win." 

"W-Well, sure, if I survive," Akito muttered, trudging back to his seat while Kanade and Hoshino trailed behind, chuckled at his misfortune. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

In 3rd period, they're in geography class. 

The usual hum of chatter filled the room, but Kanade's focus remained squarely on the boy. 

His gaze had drifted again, eyes distant, as if lost in thought. She could practically see the storm clouds swirling around in his head, a look of quiet contemplation that always seemed to weigh him down. 

Kanade couldn't stand it. 

She hated seeing him frown, his youthful face furrowing with worry when he didn't need to. It was a side of him she rarely saw—his gentle nature always seemed to mask it. 

She leaned over her desk, the wheels turning in her mind. If I can't stop him from thinking too hard, maybe I can at least make him smile. 

Kanade pulled out a packet of candies from her bag, unwrapped it quickly, and takes one, then scribbled something on a sticky note. She tossed it casually onto Akito's desk, hoping he wouldn't notice her. 

The note read: 

'If you think too much, your face will wrinkle like Mr. Gai's old face, y'know?' 

Kanade could not help but smirk at her own humor... but also a little weirded out. Ugh, she feels like a child. More like she wanted to see that mischievous spark in Akito's eyes again, the one that showed he could laugh at himself. 

And sure enough, when Akito glanced at the candy and read the note, his eyes widened, then softened, a laugh bubbling from his chest. 

"You—" Akito chuckled, soft and cute, he shakes his head in disbelief. "You really know how to make me laugh, Yoisaki-san." His voice was bright with genuine amusement. 

Good. Kanade bit her lip, trying to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. 

"Kanade." 

The orange head blinks. "Huh?" 

"It's fine to just call me Kanade. We're friends, after all." And we can be a close one if you'd wanted to. 

"...Okay, Kanade." Even her gaze were straight ahead, but Kanade can feel Akito's eyes on her as his lips twitched. When the silent continues, she watched Akito carefully folded the sticky note and placed it in his pocket, a small, grateful smile painted on his face.  

Now that's a nice view. That was the kind of smile she wanted to see.  

Akito popped the candy into his mouth and turned to face her, his shining olive eyes alight with warmth. "Thanks for the candy. I think I'll be okay now." 

Kanade nodded, feeling a quiet satisfaction. This is how it's supposed to be. 

The rest of the class passed with a gentle rhythm, and Kanade did her best to stay focused, though her eyes occasionally flicked over to Akito. He seemed lighter now, more relaxed, his usual cheer returning. 

But as much as she wanted to revel in his happiness, there was still the weight of his missing memories. It would take time, and she couldn't rush it. 

After the boring science class, 1-A's walked back to their class from the lab, and Kanade found herself walking toward her desk, only to see Hoshino standing beside Akito, chatting with him about something—probably something trivial, but to Kanade's irritation, the girl looked so at ease.  

The white-haired girl hesitated for a moment, her brow furrowing. She wanted to feel okay with this, but the jealousy gnawed at her anyway. She had always been so protective of Akito, even if he didn't remember it.  

But then, she noticed the look on Akito's face.  

He looked genuinely happy. 

Kanade took a deep breath, biting her lip. It's fine. It's just Hoshino. She's a good person. 

Reluctantly, Kanade walked over to join them.  

"Yoisaki-san!" Ichika greeted her cheerfully, as though they hadn't spent the last few days only exchanging eye languages to each other.  

The trio spent the rest of the break chatting and laughing, with Akito's infectious laughter ringing through the classroom. 

It wasn't a perfect image on how Kanade wanted to begin a new story, but it was a really exciting start to her. A fresh beginning where Akito seemed to finally feel at ease—surrounded by friends who genuinely cared for him, and who he could start to trust again. 

Kanade felt that warmth seep into her chest. She didn't know how much time it would take, but she was willing to wait for Akito to remember. To understand. She'd carry the secret for as long as needed. 

And maybe... the time would come when Akito would finally remember everything.  

Until then, Kanade hoped this new memory—the lighthearted moment with Akito, Hoshino, and herself—would be the one they could all keep. A better one. A happier one. 

For now, that was enough. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

Akito stood outside in front of the washing machine, his hands fumbling with the laundry as he tried to fold the freshly washed clothes. 

The faint scent of lemon-the detergent filled the air, and he paused when his fingers brushed over something wet in his pocket. 

It was... a sticky note? The ink smudged and blurred in places, probably because it was washed together with his clothes. But... there was something oddly familiar about it. 

Where had this come from? 

He unfolded it carefully, staring at the faintly legible handwriting. The note was almost identical to the one his friend had given him earlier that day—same paper color, same ink. 

His heart skipped a beat. 

Why was it in his pocket, though? How did it get here? He could feel something stirring in his chest, like a forgotten piece of a puzzle trying to fit together. 

Wait... 

Akito's fingers trembled slightly as he making his way upstairs, leaving the laundry. 

Succesfully passed other bedrooms in process, he locked the door, and placed the note next to the one Kanade had given him earlier that morning, comparing them side by side. The words on the page were still fuzzy in his mind, but the ink—no, it wasn't just the ink—it was the way the pen had moved, the style of the writing itself. 

It was the same. 

And then, it hit him. 

The realization that sent a shiver through his spine. 

I've lost memories..? 

Akito froze, staring at the sticky notes in his hands. His mind was a blank canvas for those moments he could no longer recall. How could he have forgotten something so simple? A tiny detail like a note from Kanade. Was that all? 

Or was there more that was slipping through his fingers? 

He quickly put the notes back on his bed, the weight of the thought pressing heavily on him. What had happened to him? Was it just his forgetfulness? Or was something else at play here? 

Ugh, I need to settle the laundry first. Maybe I will try think about it tonight. 

And he left the room with heavy heart. But as soon his eyes caught the presence of his father and older sister, he quickly straightened his body. 

Just like in reflexes, something tells him to not talk about what he have discovered. 

"Oh, Akito." 

"D-Dad, Ena-nee, what are you two doing standing there?" Akito mentally blame himself for stuttered when he tries to not nervous in front of the two. 

"Nothing, really. Just wanted to inform that our band practice will get dragged late today." Informing dad about the band practice? But, you could just do that through chat... Is what Akito thought, but he couldn't find the courage to said it. 

"I-I see..." 

Ena cocked her head. "Oh, right. Mom asked me to remind you to hang the clothing all the way." 

"Ah, right! Okay, thank you." Akito took a deep breath, clutching his hands as he walked back to the laundry area, his father's and Ena's voices fading behind him. The faint hum of wind lingered in the air, a steady reminder telling him that this is a fourth day of April. 

Dub-dab... Dub-dab... 

His heartbeat echoed in his ears, loud and insistent, drowning out everything else. He reached into the laundry basket, pulling out damp clothes, and meticulously hung them up on the line. 

Clip. 

The sound of the clothespin snapping into place seemed far too sharp in the silence. 

Clip... Dub-dab... Clip. 

The rhythm felt disjointed, matching the erratic swirl of his thoughts. 

The ginger stared at the row of shirts and towels now hanging on the line. His hands trembled slightly, but he forced them to keep moving. Anything to keep him from sinking too deeply into the pit of unease growing in his chest. 

How did it get there? That sticky note... I wanted to know why it's there. 

His fingers faltered as he pulled out another shirt. His mind screamed at him to dismiss it as something trivial, but he couldn't. There was something about that note. About how the ink smudged just so. About the faint, almost indiscernible indentation where the pen had pressed against the paper. 

I wonder what was written on it... 

Dub-dab... Dub-dab... 

Akito pressed his lips into a thin line, shaking his head as if that would clear his thoughts. 

Kanade might know something. Or maybe Hoshino? They'd probably tell me I'm being funny, though. 

The thought didn't bring him comfort. He clipped another piece of laundry onto the line, the sound sharper than it needed to be, making him flinched in place. 

Clip. 

He clenched his jaw. "This is... ridiculous," he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough to hear over the quiet snap of clothespins. 

But his chest felt heavier with every second. What if it wasn't something odd? What if the blank gaps in his memory weren't just moments of forgetfulness? 

His mind spiraled, imagining possibilities. 

Was I sleepwalking? Did I hit my head or something? Or... was it something else entirely? 

He shook the thought away violently, finishing up the laundry with deliberate slowness. But when he turned back toward the house, his legs felt like lead. The air around him was still, almost suffocating, and for a moment, he swore he could feel eyes watching him. Crawling over his skin. 

Mom... Dad... Ena-nee... 

He stopped just before the door, his hand hovering over the handle. 

No. I can't say anything. 

Not to them. Something told him it wasn't safe. Not here, not now. His instincts screamed at him to keep quiet, to hold this secret close to his chest. 

He exhaled shakily, pushing the door open and stepping inside. The faint sound of familiar jingle caught his ear. 

His gaze shifted to the TV, where a bright, polished image of Hoshika appeared, streaming her top hits album songs. The colorful visuals and catchy tune were everything he used to admire—but now... it felt like static in his chest.

Hoshika's smile on the screen was the same as always: radiant, full of promise, a beacon of hope and joy. 

But Akito's hand tightened. His admiration for her had been unshakable, and it still is. She was the idol he had modeled himself after, the reason he believed in the power of spreading hope through his unlucky curse. 

Yet, now... 

His mind drifted back to lunch earlier. Hoshino had been unusually quiet as they ate, her fork pushing her food around more than actually eating it. Kanade had noticed first, nudging her with a curious glance.  

Hoshino had sighed, her shoulders dropping as if the weight of her news was almost too much to carry.  

"It's true," she said finally, her voice soft but steady. "The rumors are true. I'm retiring from being an idol." Though, Akito just used hearing that from other students when he caught them stalking over Hoshino on the hallway. 

But hearing this now, especially when the real, Hoshika saying it... it hits him like a clothes basin hit his head. 

Akito had nearly dropped his chopsticks, too. "Wait—what? But why?!" 

"It's not like I didn't love being an idol," She had said, offering a faint, bittersweet smile. "But... it wasn't... something I could do forever. I need to focus on education too." 

The words had stuck with him, swirling around in his mind like a stubborn fog.  

Education? Something that you could not do forever?  

He hadn't known what to say then. And now, as he stared at the television, the same disappointment bubbled up again. How could Hoshika—someone who embodied everything he aspired to—choose to leave? It felt almost like betrayal, like the foundation of his ideals had cracked ever so slightly.  

Akito turned the TV off with a sharp click, his jaw tight.  

Maybe that's what Hoshino-san was trying to say. That idols like Hoshika... they're just people too. They can leave when they want. They can choose something else. Seeing her right beside me almost makes me able to accept the fact that she retired... 

But the thought made him uneasy, as if something in him couldn't quite accept it yet. 

He suddenly thought of a book, where it is his diary sat unopened upstairs. The thick book had been his constant companion for as long as he could remember—a place where he chronicled even the smallest details of his life.  

It wasn't just a diary. 

It was a journal of his dreams, his inspirations, and his personal growth. Its pages were filled with doodles of various idol costumes, notes on song lyrics he loves, and motivational quotes he had picked up from his favorite performances... 

It had been his lifeline during tougher times, a tangible reminder of who he was and what he wanted to become.  

A small voice inside him whispered, Wait, have I updated it lately? 

The thought felt like a jolt. Sure, it's true that he... hadn't touched the diary when April started. Wait. Did I really...? Slowly, almost hesitantly, Akito walked upstairs, to his room where he see the sticky notes laid over to his bed. 

The ginger walked to the desk and picked up a pink-colored cover book. 

Flipping through the pages, he saw the vibrant colors of previous months. January was covered in pastel stickers, notes about winter festivals, and scattered reminders about song practice. February had hearts and doodles of chocolates, detailing funny memories where he have tried to bake cookies. March had bunch of flower drawings, castles and dolls paper, his joyful days of decorating the house with Hinamatsuri dolls. 

But when he reached April, he froze.  

The page was blank.  

Completely empty. No stickers. No doodles. No notes. Just a stark, white void where there should have been the colorful chaos of his thoughts.  

"What..?" Akito whispered, running his fingers over the blank pages as if expecting the words to appear under his touch, hoping some miracles to happen. Waking him up from this terrible nightmare. 

April... 

April wasn't supposed to be like this. He always wrote in his diary. Even on his busiest days, he found time to jot down something—anything. 

So why was it empty? 

His mind raced, trying to grasp the reason, but it only led to more questions. How had he forgotten? Had he even written anything for April at all?  

He shut the diary abruptly, holding it against his chest as if to steady himself.  

Something wasn't right.  

This wasn't just about Hoshika's retirement or Kanade's longing gaze over him in class. There was a gap—something missing that he couldn't word it out. His memories felt like a puzzle with pieces scattered just out of reach.  

He clenched his jaw, the sticky note from earlier flashing in his mind. The note, the blank pages, the painful coincidences—everything pointed to something he could not just ignore it away. 

Akito's hands tightened around the diary.  

Calm down. "Don't worry," He talked to no one, but himself. 

"I'll figure this out." 

Tomorrow, he'd talk to Kanade. Or maybe Hoshino. He needed answers, and staying here—where everything felt scary, unsafe—wasn't going to help.  

He glanced at the diary one more time before placing it back on his desk. The empty pages seemed to mock him, but he refused to let them win.  

For now, he will prepare his mind for tomorrow. Whatever was waiting for him, he had to face it. 

Tomorrow. 

His thoughts felt fragile, like they'd shatter if he pushed them too hard. 

I will tell Kanade. And Hoshino. 

But even as he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his heartbeat wouldn't let him rest. 

Dub-dab... Dub-dab... Dub-dab... 

And the note's smudged words burned themselves into his thoughts.

Notes:

a little fun fact:

while i am writing this in english, i've imagined them using personal pronouns like kanade and akito using 'boku' and ichika 'watashi'.

Chapter 7: Chapter 6 : "YOISAKI!!"

Notes:

a little late today hshdhhdhs

Hoshino Ichika's life began with a muted kind of happiness. 

She was a bright but reserved child, finding it difficult to express her face. Even when happy, her smiles were fleeting. If she were angry, her eyebrows twitched in a funny way. 

The storybook rested softly in her lap, its pastel pages still warm from the light filtering in through her bedroom window. Little Ichika's eyes lingered on the final line, her fingers lightly brushing over the words. 

"And so, the Princess was able to use her beautiful smile to spread love and courage to people all over." 

Ichika closed the book gently, hugging it to her chest.  

She had thought it was just another picture book for little kids—bright, silly, and filled with sparkles. But the Princess had been so cheerful, so brave in her own way. Solving problems not with swords or magic spells, but with kind words and that beautiful smile of hers. 

...That was actually kind of fun. She smiled—at least she thought she did—just a little, as she imagined. Tomorrow, she'd have to thank her teacher for letting her borrow it. 

A soft knock tapped against her door, followed by her mother's gentle voice. 

"Ichika, do you have a minute?" 

"Sure," Ichika answered, sitting up a bit straighter on the edge of her bed. "Is something the matter?" 

Her mother stepped in, holding a small gift bag behind her back with an almost mischievous glint in her eyes. 

"Actually... here!" she said, presenting the bag with a flourish. "Grandma just sent you a present. It's your reward for getting 100 on that test you took the other day." 

Ichika blinked as her mother placed the gift in her hands. 

"You've been wanting this Yudetama pencil case, right?" 

The packaging crinkled faintly as Ichika pulled the case out. It was exactly the one she had pointed at in the catalog weeks ago. Round and soft, decorated with the silly little egg character lying on a pillow. She held it close. 

"...Oh. Thanks." 

Her mother crouched beside her, watching her closely with a warm, hopeful expression. 

"Hehe... If only it were easier to make you smile, Ichika." 

Ichika's heart tensed at that. "No, um... I really am happy, but..." 

Her mother quickly shook her head, brushing Ichika’s hair gently. "No, that's okay! Really! I know that you couldn't be happier. I'll make sure to tell Grandma that you love her gift." 

"...Thanks, Mommy." 

A brief silence fell between them, tender and a little fragile. 

"Oh, also," her mother added with a renewed smile, "Yudetama's going to be doing a show at a mall a little away from us this weekend. Would you like to go? You might even get to shake hands!" 

Ichika's blue eyes widened just slightly, her grip on the pencil case tightening. 

"Really? Yeah... that'd be nice." 

"We can also invite your father!" Her mother gave her a wink and stood up. "Anyway, I'll let you know when dinner's ready." 

"Okay. Thanks." 

The door closed with a soft click, and Ichika was left alone again. 

She glanced at the gift in her lap, then toward the mirror across the room. 

...I made Mommy frown again. 

She hadn't meant to. She really was happy about the pencil case. And seeing Yudetama live? That was like a dream come true. 

But somehow, the smile never made it to her face. 

She turned back to the book, her small fingers flipping back to the last page, eyes tracing the final line once more. 

"...And so, the Princess was able to use her beautiful smile to spread love and courage to people all over." 

Ichika whispered the words softly to herself, like a secret spell. Then, after a pause, she looked into the mirror again—this time with effort. Her cheeks twitched, her lips curved just slightly, and she held it there, stiff and unnatural. 

Maybe... I should practice smiling. 

Even if it didn't feel right. Even if her heart said one thing, but her face said nothing at all. Maybe one day, she'd smile like the Princess. 

And then... Mommy wouldn't frown anymore. 

On one fateful day, while at the mall with her parents, Ichika's life took an unexpected turn. After a meet-event with Yudetama, they stroll inside the mall in search of a place to have lunch together. But unexpectedly, Ichika were separated with her parents in the crowd, leaving her in panic. 

I got separated from Mommy and Daddy, Ichika thought, fighting the rising lump in her throat. I tried going to where we were headed, but there are too many people... I couldn't see them at all. 

Her eyes welled with tears as dread settled in her chest. 

What do I do..? What if I never find them again..? Am I going to be stuck here forever..? All alone? 

"Is something wrong?" a kind voice interrupted her spiral of panic. 

Ichika looked up, startled. The woman in front of her looked like a princess, dressed in frilly clothes and glowing with gentle energy. She smiled warmly. 

"I thought you might be lost since I found you here all by yourself. But you seem really calm... Are you not lost?" 

"Oh. U-Um..." Ichika hesitated, clutching her sleeves. 

"Oh?" The woman tilted her head knowingly. "So you are lost?" 

She turned to someone nearby. "Let me ask my manager— ah hey, I think this little girl's lost. Can you let mall security know?" 

The man gave a familiar sigh. "You always manage to find a lost kid whenever we hold events like this, don't you? I'll notify them." 

"Hehe, thanks!" the young woman said with a wink. 

Ichika tugged at her skirt timidly. "E-Excuse me..." 

"Don't worry!" she said, crouching to meet Ichika at eye level. "I'm sure you'll be back with your mommy and daddy in no time. Until then…" 

Before she could finish, a staff member dashed over. 

"There you are! You're on stage soon—we need you on standby!" 

"What?! Already?" she exclaimed, standing up quickly. "I was hoping to get a feel for the place first—it's my first time performing here!" 

Ichika's eyes widened. "Stage...?" 

"Yup. That stage right over there in the middle." She pointed to a large, open space with lights rigged above. 

"Up there? Why...?" 

"Well, that's because..." The woman grinned mischievously. "Oh, why don't you come with me? I promise you are going to love it!" 

Ichika blinked, jaw dropped. "Huh...?!" Me?! Stepping on the stage...? That is the least thing I wanted to do! 

But really, what can she say? 

 

 

⁞
✿ 

 

 

Ichika stood just behind the stage, eyes round and sparkling. The girl's singing and dancing up there with vibrant lights were making her outfit is so frilly and pretty.... Everyone's stopping to watch her... 

It's almost like... 

"And so, the Princess was able to use her beautiful smile to spread love and courage to people all over." 

Ichika remembered the story she loved. Her little hands trembled. 

Could she be that kind of princess? 

"You're doing great, kid!" an old man cheered from the crowd. 

"She's very cute," said a smiling old lady. "It's so encouraging to see young people trying their best." 

Ichika gasped as the crowd clapped along to the rhythm. 

Everyone's clapping... Should I join them...? But it's a little embarrassing... 

The idol caught her eye mid-performance and gave a wink, clapping her hands in rhythm. Ichika's breath caught. 

She's... looking at me? 

Slowly, she hesitantly raised her hands and began clapping along. The young woman beamed back in return. 

Ichika's heart fluttered. 

Oh... she smiled. 

"Thank you all so much!" the idol bowed gracefully as the song ended. Applause filled the space. 

"Looks like we've got a nice crowd going now," she said into the mic. "So I'd like to move on to my next song—but now, I am not alone!" 

She paused, meeting Ichika's blue eyes. 

"Today's special guest is... my newest friend, Ichika!" 

Huh? Ichika's froze. "What?!" I thought she was joking about standing up there! 

"You clapped perfectly to the beat just now," the idol grinned, as if stating the most obvious thing that everyone can practically heard them. "So... would you dance with me on stage? What do you say?" 

"B-But... I don't know how to dance…" 

"No worries! I'll show you something simple. You’ll get it in no time, Ichika!" 

Hesitantly, Ichika nods. "O-Okay...!" 

The idol stepped aside and knelt beside her. "You ready? Kick and step! And... then turn!" She looked so happy spinning like that... 

Honestly, Ichika couldn't say no. "L-Like this...?" 

"Yeah, that's it! Now tilt your head a little and give a cute pose!" And the girl successfully deliver a wink and a mini love to the audiences. 

Ichika followed, cheeks flushed. But the crowd responded with cheers. 

"She's the cutest!" the idol laughed. "I'm already head over heels for her!" 

Below, there's already people watching them. Watching her. "Hehe. She's so cute," a girl in the crowd smiled. 

"She really knows how to draw you in," her boyfriend added. 

"Alright!" the idol raised her arms. "Let's dance to a song next. When the music starts and I say, 'Go,' you all follow Ichika's lead!" 

Music swelled through the speakers. 

Ichika looked up at the vibrant lights, heart racing. Should I clap along again...? Her hands moved instinctively. 

This feeling... this warmth... it's growing inside me. Like I'm about to burst... 

"Ready?" the idol said brightly. "Go!" 

Ichika stepped in perfect sync with the music. And she's glad to see the idol is doing the same step as her. 

This is nice... 

"She's dancing like there's no tomorrow," the old lady said, hands to her heart. 

"Check out that girl," someone said nearby. "She's so little, but an amazing dancer!" 

They all like how I'm dancing...? I'm always making Mom sad... but these strangers, they're smiling at me... 

Somehow, Ichika's heart blooms a warm feeling. It makes me feel... happy... 

Oh. Ichika touched her cheek. Am I smiling...? Right now? She looked around, heart pounding with joy. Everyone is clapping to the music. There's big smiles on their face... and the idol beside her looked like she's having fun. 

This is. 

...This is so much fun! 

The music ended in a swirl of applause. 

"Yay! You guys were amazing!" the idol laughed, catching her breath. "Especially you, Ichika. You finally smiled..." 

"Everyone smiled when they watched me... Does that mean I did okay...?" Ichika asked shyly. 

"Absolutely!" the idol said. "You were awesome. And your smile gets a perfect score!" 

Ichika's lips turned upwards, cheeks blooming red to the praise. "Hehe... Thank you..." 

The idol kneels beside her, making their height level equal. "You know, Ichika," the idol said, eyes twinkling. "I think you've got what it takes to be an idol. Your smile gave me so much hope." 

Me? Spreading hope? "H-Hope...?" 

"Mhm. Hope to believe in a better tomorrow. Watching you made me want to do my best again." 

Watching me...? 

"So, in my eyes," she said with a wink, "you're already an idol who can spread hope to others." 

"Are idols supposed to give hope by smiling...?" 

The idol chuckled. "Yes, of course! That's the most important part of being one." She held out her hand. "So, to help more people smile... Wanna dance with me in the next song?" 

Ichika stared at the glowing stage lights, the smiling faces in the crowd, the warmth in her chest. 

"...Yeah!" 

The memory always began with sunlight. 

Warm and colorful, it draped over the pavement and caught in strands of her hair as Ichika twirled, laughing, across an impromptu stage. That afternoon, years ago, had been a miracle—a fleeting moment when she felt truly seen, not just by the small crowd that had gathered, but by the girl with the frilly dress and wide, starry eyes who'd pulled her into a world of dreams. 

That's why, Ichika decided to be an idol. She worked hard, here and there. 

Then, Mai comes into her life. 

Mai had called her a princess. Had grabbed her hand without hesitation. Had sung beside her like the world was a fairytale waiting to be rewritten. 

Back then, it had all felt so easy. 

But memories, no matter how golden, have a cruel way of dimming when reality presses in. 

...It started a few months ago. 

The two of them stood outside the doctor room, the lights cooled. Ichika is standing beneath a harsh, despairful lighting, the kind that buzzed faintly and made everything feel colder. Her idol uniform weighed heavily on her shoulders—not because of the fabric, but because of who was standing in front of her. 

Mai. 

Not the girl from that bright day in the past, but a version dimmed, raw, trembling with a storm of frustration and heartbreak. 

"No..." 

Mai's voice cracked. Her fists balled at her sides, fingernails digging into her palms. 

"...Why?! Why can't I sing anymore?! It's not fair!" 

Ichika took a small step forward, instinctively reaching out, but the movement made Mai recoil. "I worked so hard," she continued, breath catching, "I never gave up. I did everything you told me to do. And now—now this?!" 

"Mai..." Ichika whispered, her voice gentle, unsure. 

Mai's eyes snapped to hers, glossy with unshed tears and sharp with betrayal. A face that haunted Ichika 'till this day. 

"You're a liar, Ichika-chan!" 

The words hit like a slap. Ichika's breath caught. 

"You said hope was all I needed! That if I just kept going, believed in myself, I could make it. That I just had to keep working hard!" 

Ichika's mouth opened, then closed. There was nothing she could say that wouldn't feel hollow now. 

"All of this..." Mai's voice was rising, trembling, spilling over with emotion, "It's because I believed you! I trusted you! And now I can't sing anymore!" 

Ichika stood frozen. 

"All that time I spent... all those years I gave to chasing my dream of being an idol—" Her voice cracked again. "Give it back. Give it back!!" 

Silence followed. A silence thick with guilt, pain, and all the things Ichika couldn't undo. 

She wanted to say something. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I thought I was helping you. But the words died in her throat... They weren't enough. 

They would never be enough. 

Mai turned away, tears slipping down her cheeks, and ran. Her footsteps echoed off the walls—sharp and final. 

Ichika didn't chase after her. 

She just stood there, the cold air biting at her skin, the last echoes of Mai's voice ringing in her ears like a curse. 

That night, the dreams began. 

Not dreams, exactly. 

Nightmares. 

They always started the same way: a stage, bathed in light, waiting. She would walk toward it, her heart pounding with the old, familiar rhythm of excitement—until the lights flickered, turned harsh and sterile, and the stage crumbled beneath her feet. 

She would hear Mai's voice, distant and echoing, fractured and full of accusation. 

"You’re a liar!" 

Ichika would wake drenched in sweat, the words carved into her chest like scars. 

It didn't stop after one night. 

Every dream turned to the same silence. Every morning, she'd lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of guilt pinning her down. And in the quiet hours between rehearsals and obligations, she found herself recoiling from the stage that had once made her feel alive. 

The music didn't sound the same. 

Her voice faltered more often than not. 

And slowly, she stopped trying to reach for it. She withdrew. Piece by piece. 

Until one day, she stopped altogether. 

No performances. No rehearsals. No goodbye. 

Just the whisper of a truth that wrapped around her like chains: I don’t have the right to become an idol. 

Because hope wasn't something she gave. It was something she destroyed. 

She had crushed someone's dream. 

And Ichika, once a beacon of encouragement and joy, now lived in silence, haunted by a voice she once believed in. 

Mai's condition led to the disbanding of TOMO&RGO. The group's future crumbled, and Ichika’s guilt became unbearable. On stage, anxiety took hold. Every movement felt heavy, every gaze from the audience suffocating. The pressure to live up to her image as the beacon of hope was paralyzing. 

Ichika sought psychological help but found no solace. She tried returning to the stage but couldn't overcome the mental block. After months of struggling, she made the heart-wrenching decision to retire. 

Ichika enrolled at Kamiyama High Academy as a normal student, hoping to leave her idol life behind. 

Yet... the weight of her past lingered. 

At Kamiyama, Ichika meets interesting classmates like Shiraishi Akito and Yoisaki Kanade. 

Yoisaki's composed yet bold personality quickly earns her respect. Then, there is Shiraishi's awkward behavior that intrigues her. She notices his admiration and realizes he's a fan. Somehow... Shiraishi reminds her of her younger self—a dreamer searching for a spark. 

Through their interactions, Ichika begins to find joy in small moments: teasing Akito about his flustered nature, competing with Kanade in sports, and indulging her cravings for yakisoba buns. 

Slowly, she allows herself to relax and reconnect with the world around her. 

On the first day of school, Ichika also reconnects with Aoyagi Touya, a fellow idol she respects deeply. His unwavering dedication reminds her of the beauty of their craft, reigniting a spark of appreciation for her time as an idol. 

He stood by the vending machine, the sun catching the strands of his rare bi-colored hair, casting shadows under his sharp gaze. 

His posture was quieter now, less like the charismatic Happy Everyday persona and more like someone who had also stepped down from a long, lonely stage. 

Ichika had known of him for years. 

Aoyagi Touya, the golden boy of variety shows. His skits were clever, his comebacks razor-sharp, his smile practiced to perfection. But she remembered the day the news dropped—Aoyagi quitting his group. 

Rumors swirled that his agency wanted him to give up the idol path and embrace full-time entertainment. "Average as an idol," they said. Ichika could still feel the indignation she had on his behalf. 

She'd seen something else. 

The way he held a mic in his first televised solo performance. The subtle, earnest way his voice wavered—not from nerves, but emotion. She remembered thinking, "He sings like someone trying to protect something fragile." 

And now, he noticed her too. Their eyes met, and something quiet passed between them. 

"So, you've quit too, huh?" He said, breaking the silence. His tone wasn't mocking. It wasn't even surprised. 

Just... understanding. 

Ichika nodded, her smile small but relaxed. "Yeah. Thought I'd try breathing again." 

Aoyagi chuckled softly. "It's strange, isn't it? No crowds, no lights... but you still feel like you're waiting for a cue." 

She looked at him more closely. Not as an entertainer. Not your everyday idol.

Just Aoyagi Touya. 

Someone who had been told he wasn't enough—and chose to walk away anyway. "You were never average," she said, more to herself than to him. 

Aoyagi blinked, caught off guard. Then he smiled—a real one this time. "Neither were you." 

In that quiet moment beneath the rustling trees, Ichika felt the last piece of her old self fall gently into place—not in regret, but in quiet pride. She hadn't walked away because she'd failed. And neither had he. 

They were still idols, just no longer on the stage.

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

𝄞 April, 7th. 
Monday
6.00 a.m.

 

Ichika's day began with an early morning jog, her usual attempt to shake off the heaviness lingering in her mind. 

The streets were quiet, save for the faint rustle of sakura petals carried by the breeze. Despite the serene surroundings, a bitter taste lingered, like an unresolved memory that had surfaced while she rested the night before. 

She spent about 30 minutes in morning jog. Then, she head home to shower and prepare to go to the school. 

By the time she reached the gates of Kamiyama High Academy, her thoughts had darkened, clouding her usually composed demeanor. She walked slowly, almost reluctant to step inside. But her pace stopped entirely when she noticed two familiar figures under the sakura tree in the schoolyard: Shiraishi Akito and Yoisaki Kanade. 

Shiraishi stood with his arms crossed, his expression hard to read, while Yoisaki appeared unusually tense. 

Class is going to start about 5 minutes... But what are they doing here? Curious, Ichika approached them, waving lightly. "Good morning, you two," she greeted, her voice steady despite her internal gloom. 

The white-haired girl flinched slightly, as if caught off guard, but gave a faint nod in response. Shiraishi, on the other hand, glanced at Ichika with a conflicted expression before abruptly speaking. 

"Let's skip school today," he suggested. However, he uses a serious tone in his voice. 

Is this a major issue, perhaps?

Ichika blinked, stunned because she never know she would hear that from Shiraishi, all of people. "Skip school?" she echoed, disbelief evident in her tone. Even Yoisaki looked momentarily shocked, her usual calm composure cracking. 

"Yes," Shiraishi said, more determined this time. "There's something I need to figure out, and... I don't want to do it here." 

Ichika hesitated. Skipping school was so unlike him. And the tension between him and Yoisaki only added to her unease. But there was something in his voice—a sense of urgency, even desperation—that made her pause. Perhaps she wasn't the only one weighed down by unresolved thoughts today. 

"...Alright," Ichika said finally. "I'll come with you." 

Yoisaki looked between them, reluctant but ultimately relenting. "Fine," she sighed, "But we need to go somewhere no one will find us." 

"Then, the mall?" Ichika suggested. 

But Shiraishi shakes his head. "No... we can't be seen by them..." 

"Them...?" Ichika titled her head in confusion. 

And the short-haired girl just groaned in response. "I know a place."

 

⁞
✿

 

Ichika sat at the corner of the small cafe, her hands folded neatly on the table. 

She tried to focus on the scent of freshly brewed coffee, but the air between Shiraishi Akito and Yoisaki Kanade was too heavy to ignore. Shiraishi leaned forward, his usual bright expression replaced by something darker. 

His fingers drummed against the tabletop, his jaw tight with frustration. 

Yoisaki, she usually composed and serene, but seemed unusually small today. Her shoulders slumped, and she avoided Shiraishi's sharp gaze. 

"What happened on the first day on April, Kanade?" His voice was calm, but Ichika could hear the anger simmering underneath. 

Yoisaki sighed, glancing at Ichika as if unsure how much to reveal in front of her. But alas, Ichika stayed silent, knowing her role here wasn't to intervene but to observe. She was just a bystander in whatever story was about to unfold—a story she didn't even know existed until now. 

"Akito," The girl began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I didn't mean for it to go this far. I thought... I thought it was the only way to protect you." 

"...From what?" Shiraishi, surprisingly to Ichika, snapped. The sudden edge in his tone made Ichika tense. She had never seen him like this—his usual warmth replaced by a cold, unfamiliar anger. 

Yoisaki's eyes flickered with guilt. "From the things you couldn't see. The things you could not fight." 

What...? 

"What are you talking about?" Shiraishi demanded, his voice rising. "Stop speaking in riddles and just tell me!" 

Ichika's eyes darted between the two, her confusion growing. What was Yoisaki talking about? Things he couldn't see? She wanted to ask, but the intensity between them kept her silent. 

Yoisaki inhaled deeply, her hands gripping the edge of the table. "It wasn't a riddle. I'm serious." she said, her voice trembling. "On the first day of school, you came back after years homeschooling. We become classmate and the class started. Everything seemed normal—until you talked to someone, but..." 

"But what?" The ginger head pressed, his frustration mounting. 

"Nakamori," Yoisaki said quietly, her voice tinged with fear. 

Ichika frowned. Nakamori? Who is that? She had never heard that name before. 

"You... were talking to her. You walked her home. But, she was... not a human," Yoisaki continued, her gaze fixed on the table as if she couldn't bring herself to look at Shiraishi. "Maybe, she looked normal to you, just a girl that somewhat asks for your help. But in truth... she was leading you to... death." 

The boy just... blinked, his fists sweating as Yoisaki's words hits him. "Y-You were saying, that I am talking to a ghost? I... don't remember any of this." 

"That's because they took it from you," Yoisaki said, her voice cracking. “Your memories, your energy—everything. Their abilities drained you, over and over again. Every time you discover the truth, it started again. And no matter how many times I tried to help you remember, you kept forgetting." 

Now, she mentioned 'they'... 

Ichika felt a chill run down her spine. 

This didn't sound real. Shiraishi wasn't a normal boy? This they is erasing his memories? 

It was like something out of a horror story. But the pain in Yoisaki's voice and the confusion in Shiraishi's expression told her it was not a scripted story at all. 

"Is it..." Shiraishi's olive eyes narrowed, trying to think of a name. "Is it my father? Or my sister?" 

And Yoisaki hesitated, her guilt deepening. 

But Shiraishi tried to explain why he picks up two names. "I've got this... discomfort feeling back at home." The boy shifted in his seat, and Ichika could see how obvious his body language screamed in fear. "...I feel like I couldn't trust anyone in there. Even if they're my family." 

Ichika's blue eyes glance over Yoisaki's eyes guilt but also worried gaze on Shiraishi. 

"Your father... wasn't the one who did that," Kanade did not deny the fact that Shiraishi's family definitely hiding the big secret from their son, Ichika notes. "But it was the Supernatural Club. They erased parts of your memories to keep you from falling under Nakamori's influence completely." 

Ichika's heart raced. She could barely keep up with what she was hearing, but she could see the weight of it crushing Shiraishi. 

"..So, what?" The boy spat. "You just let this happen? You let me lose parts of myself because you thought it was for the best?" 

"I didn't know what else to do!" Yoisaki snapped, tears welling in her eyes. "You were slipping away from me, Akito! Every time you see the ghosts, it gets worse. I thought you might live a normal, student life like you've always wished for if I could simply pretend nothing had happened, but you... you keep seeking the truth-"

"You were pretending?" Shiraishi interrupted, his voice thunderous. Ichika was taken aback at the sheer force of his anger. 

It almost feel like it wasn't him. 

"Akito-" 

The boy rubbed his closed eyelids and stifled a giggle. "You kept all of these secrets from me, sure." Shiraishi's olive meets Yoisaki's equally watery eyes.

"But what else you were pretending in front of me, Kanade?" 

The white-haired girl flinched at his question. "...Akito, please." She looked so small now. Yoisaki Kanade, the girl that ever so confident and calm, becoming someone that Ichika doesn't know that existed. 

Before Yoisaki's tears spilled over, she wiped it off her face. "I'm sorry..." 

Ichika couldn't stay silent any longer. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" she asked softly, her voice cutting through the tension. 

The girl looked at her, her expression full of despair. "Because I didn't think anyone would believe me. Not even Akito. And his father told me to not reveal anything." 

Shiraishi let out a bitter laugh, his voice laced with pain. "So you decided to carry it all by yourself? My father's words hurt you. Who else is hurting you?" 

Ichika watched as the cracks in Shiraishi's usual cheerful facade widened. She realized this wasn't just about lost memories—it was about trust, about betrayal, about the fear of losing oneself. 

"I-It was nothing. I'm fine." 

"No, you're not." Shiraishi holds Yoisaki's hands, and Ichika can't help but want to leave they two alone. 

"Kanade, please, tell me." The ginger's anger lessened, his voice softened as he tried to comfort Kanade. "Is it my mother? My sister?" 

Ichika stayed seated, her back straight and hands folded neatly on the edge of the table. Her expression betrayed nothing, though her mind churned with the weight of what she had just heard. Shiraishi and Yoisaki's conversation was heavy, laden with emotions she couldn't quite grasp. 

The raw pain in Shiraishi's voice, the guilt in Yoisaki's trembling replies—it was like watching a storm tear through the fragile calm. 

Her eyes flicked briefly to the counter where the lady with pink hair stood. The woman had paused, her gaze lingering on the trio. Though she said nothing, there was something unnerving about her silence, as if she were absorbing every word. Then, with a faint shake of her head, the woman resumed her work, wiping the counter with deliberate care. 

Ichika turned her focus back to the duo. 

"You didn't have to do whatever they said," Shiraishi said, his voice quieter now but no less sharp. "You kept me in the dark. While my past memories fades away and I hurt you, yet you still choose to let it go. Still, you never leaves me and try to make me happy." The boy looked close to crying. 

"We... we are friends, right?" Shiraishi squeezed Yoisaki's hands. "Kanade?" 

"...Yeah." The girl’s head dipped, trying to look away. "That's what a friend is. I'm sorry that I had to do that. Even if that hurt me in the process... but you were happy. And I would do anything for that." 

Just how far Yoisaki's dedication is for Shiraishi? This... was not just because they're friends. Ichika knew that from the very beginning, even before they stepped into the cafe. 

Is it maybe because one offered their kindness and another one is giving their trust? 

While the two is having their moment, Ichika carresed her hands. The air in the café grew unnervingly heavy. She felt it first—a faint, unnatural chill that crept up her spine despite the air conditioner humming softly above. She glanced around, noticing other customers rubbing their arms or glancing at the vents, their faces etched with confusion. 

"Guys... something's off," she muttered under her breath, but before she could voice her concern louder, a loud SLAM echoed across the room. 

The cafe door had slammed shut, rattling the glass panes. Ichika instinctively jumped at the sound, and when she turned, she saw Shiraishi and Yoisaki freeze in place. 

The door didn't just close; it locked itself with a metallic click. 

"What the—?" Yoisaki blurted, rushing to the door. She yanked at the handle, but it refused to budge. She even threw her weight against it to no avail. "...This thing's stuck. What is going on?" 

Shiraishi's face paled. Why he looked so scared? Ichika thought. 

Yoisaki turned to the pink-haired lady behind the counter, her voice shaking. "Tsubame-san! What's happening? Can you help us get the door open?" 

Tsubame, the cafe's manager, furrowed her brows. 

She moved swiftly from behind the counter and tried the door herself, but as her hand gripped the handle, the air in the room shifted again—this time, a gust of wind blew through the space, though there were no open windows. 

The customers panicked. 

The trio panicked. 

A murmur of confusion and fear rippled through the crowd as chairs scraped against the floor, then lifted slightly, wobbling as though something unseen was testing their weight. 

Then it happened. 

Tables, chairs, and utensils began to float into the air. One by one, they rose, trembling as if suspended by invisible strings. Someone screamed when a chair fly over the wall, crushing it into pieces. 

Yoisaki hurried to Shiraishi's side. Where both girls realized that their friend's wide eyes darted across the room, like he is seeing something they could not see. 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

For Akito, the world around him shifted as if someone were controlling them. 

Colors drained, leaving everything in monochrome except for the faint, glowing pink hue that seemed to radiate from a ghostly figure hovering near the ceiling. Its form was wispy and fragmented, like wind itself had taken a malicious shape. Long, trailing ribbons of energy flowed from its head like hair, and its hollow, glowing eyes locked onto Akito. 

 

⁞
✿

 

"Akito!" Yoisaki's voice snapped him out of his trance. "Your eyes—they changed!" 

"W-What?" Shiraishi froze, his hands flying to his face as though he could feel the change. "What do you mean my eyes—no, what is that?!" He pointed at the ghostly figure, his voice trembling. 

Ichika followed his gaze, and she saw nothing but floating furniture. "There's nothing there, Shiraishi-kun." 

The ginger's mouth gapes. "B-B-But its there! On the ceiling!" 

Kanade's hands grabs his shoulders to calm him down. "Akito, we can't see what you're seeing." She explains. "This is what I told you about your ability to see ghosts." 

Akito groaned in response. "Ugh, I didn't know I can truly see them..." 

"What does it look like, Shiraishi-kun?" 

"It's... it's like wind, but alive," Shiraishi stammered. "There's pink light around it, and it's staring right at me!" 

Wind? Alive? 

"It might be the wind's evil spirit." 

The three teens shocked to see the cafe manager approaching them. Momoi Tsubame stands still, looking over the flying furniture and the ginger-haired kid. 

Ichika's mind raced. "Wind's evil spirit... is it Kaze no kami?" she murmured, recalling old folklore she’d read about. "Spirits that tied to wind... but this one feels wrong." 

Tsubame stepped forward, shielding the three behind her. 

"There’ve been rumors about this street," she said calmly, though her sharp eyes betrayed her tension. "People talk about strange cold winds, things going missing. I never thought it'd come here." 

"I-It can do that?!" Shiraishi's voice tinged with panic. 

"But can we deal with it?" Ichika asked Tsubame, her voice steady despite the chaos. 

"Hoshino?!" 

"Hoshino-san?!" 

Yoisaki and Shiraishi panicking over Ichika's question. Yet the navy-black haired girl keep herself calm. 

Tsubame chuckles. "You've got the guts, kid." She shakes her head, but then her expression changed. "We need to at least shoo it away. If it's feeding on fear or anger, it’ll only get stronger." She glanced at Shiraishi and Yoisaki, who remained frozen. "Kanade, help the other customers. Make sure they stay calm and out of the way." 

Yoisaki hesitated, visibly torn, her eyes flicking to Shiraishi in fear. 

He met her gaze, nodding faintly, as if to say: I'll be okay. 

Somehow, that alone was enough. 

As Yoisaki moved toward the frightened crowd, Tsubame jumped behind the counter to take something, and that leaves Ichika and Shiraishi. "Shiraishi-kun, you are the only one who can see it. We will need your eyes to figure out how to deal with it." 

"O-Okay," Shiraishi muttered, his fists clenched. "...I will try my best." 

When Tsubame returns, she comes back with a steel baseball bat. Both teens shared a glance as they looked at the grown adult up and down. "Focus. Kid, tell me what it’s doing now." 

Shiraishi's head snapped, he squinted at the wind spirit. "It's moving closer... I think it's trying to—" 

A chair suddenly flew across the room, narrowly missing Ichika. Luckily, Akito had time pulled her from crashing into the chair. Now the ghost's presence intensified, swirling winds tearing through the cafe. 

"We have to act fast!" Tsubame shouted, her voice barely audible over the howling wind. "What else do you know about kaze no kami?" Ichika asks the elder woman. 

"They hate being cornered," Tsubame answered, Her voice was unwavering. "If we can trap it in one spot, maybe, it'll dissipate. Shiraishi, keep your eyes on it. Hoshino, help me with the tables. We'll make a circle around where it’s floating.” 

"On it!" 

"O-Okay!" 

And so, Shiraishi guided them with hurried descriptions, his voice strained but clear. "Duck that, Tsubame-san!" And the pink haired woman dodged a flying plate. "Hoshino-san, three tables are approaching you from behind!" 

As Tsubame and Ichika worked to create a barrier while managing to avoid being hit, the ghost’s movements grew erratic, its form flickering as though realizing it was being contained. 

"Akito!" Yoisaki, watching from the corner with the customers, finally found her voice. "Be careful!" 

Her words spurred him on, and with one final shove, they almost completed the barrier. One more table! Ichika clasped her hands together, hope fills in her. We can do this. We can win- 

"We're almost there—!" 

Ichika's breath was ragged in her throat, her hands shaking from dragging tables and chairs beneath the wind spirit. The noise of the spirit had dulled for a moment—only to erupt again in a haunting screech. 

Then she saw it. 

A table. 

Unanchored, massive, spinning violently through the air—hurtling straight toward the far end of the cafe. 

Toward— 

"YOISAKI!!" 

Notes:

oh wow, we're only six chapters in and someone is already close to dying

Chapter 8: Chapter 7 : "Welcome to Vivid Street. Where chaos is complimentary."

Notes:

sorry for the delay! here's the update ദ്ദി(ㅠᯅㅠ)

The wind spirit struck fast. 

Glass exploded inward as the creature's shriek echoed down the street. Inside the cafe, time unraveled. Plates spun through the air like silver leaves, chairs skittered across the tile, and screams collided with silence. Amid it all, Kanade moved—a blur of resolve and instinct—as she threw herself between the spirit and a cluster of terrified customers. 

Akito barely turned in time. 

The flying table missed him, but it caught her. 

The sickening thud of flesh and wood meeting echoed louder than the breaking glass. Akito's heart stopped before his feet did. 

Kanade collapsed. 

He ran. 

He remembered that he screamed her name, and his voice never left his throat. "K–Kanade...! Kanade! Hey! No—no no no no—Kanade!" 

His knees hit the floor. He skidded beside her limp body, barely able to breathe. A dark, thick liquid trailed down her temple—slow, deliberate. He knew that smell. 

Iron. Rust. 

It's blood. 

But in his eyes—everything was wrong. 

Why wasn't it red? Blood is supposed to be red. It's like the world had drained of color. 

The cafe was a painting dipped in bleach. Furniture bleached pale, walls paper-flat white, humans reduced to grayscale figures trembling like puppets. Only Kanade's blood had definition—inky black, slick, and heavy on his palms. 

He stared at his trembling hands. 

Covered in black. 

And the floor—spreading with it, slowly swallowing the tiles, winding like veins toward every surface. The dark ink crept up chair legs, seeped into wood grain, and twisted into foggy tendrils crawling along the walls. 

"Kanade—look at me! You have to—hey! Don't fall asleep, okay? You. You promised that you would tell me everything! S-So don't you dare close your eyes, okay?" His voice cracked, high and hoarse. 

His throat felt burned. 

Akito never sees Kanade this weak. Not even when she cried. Not even when she's scared. 

She just smiled—barely—and exhaled a breath that rattled in her chest. "I'm sorry, Akito... I didn't mean... to—" 

"It's fine!" Akito's voice cut through her weak breaths. "You will be fine. Kanade—you're just tired, right? Please, hang in there, and I will get help..." 

Kanade laughed as she coughed out more blood. 

But her blue eyes never leave him once. 

"...Akito," she said, hands trembling inside her friend's embrace. And Akito couldn't bring himself to talk about anything, because he was stuck there, holding Kanade, watching her eyes slowly cloud. 

Kanade let out another weak laugh. 

"...How ironic." She muttered. "Now you're the one scared of losing me, huh?" 

What? 

How can she say that? What does she mean? 

Has Kanade lost me before? That kind of thought echoed in his head. But if it's true, when did it happen? Is it a part of his lost memories? 

"Kanade—" 

Before he can finish, the white-haired girl just pumps her hand weakly on Akito's chest. And with that, her previous blue eyes, now grey and cloudy, fluttered closed. 

"No." 

Akito's breathing began to go back and forth. He could hear how loudly his chest beat heavily. He could feel his chest thumping in panic. 

"No—no no no—" 

The boy tried to shake her body. But Akito sees nothing. Nothing on Kanade's body screamed that she was still alive. 

And Akito shattered there. 

A scream tore from his throat—a raw, like an awakened beast crying sound that cut through the monochrome air. 

The blackness he saw—felt—exploded outward. But not with force. 

With despair... With gravity. 

It bled through the cafe like oil in water, heavy and suffocating. Then came the white—blinding, sterile, cold—rushing in from the edges of the room like a great wave, swallowing the black ink, swallowing color, swallowing sound. 

Behind him, humans gasped for breath, falling to their knees, clutching their heads. They couldn't see the spirits, couldn't hear the screams of the wind demon as it writhed in agony, its ethereal body unraveling in the weight of Akito's grief. 

Akito didn't see it either. 

In his eyes, he only saw Kanade. 

He could only feel the weight of everything he couldn't protect—pouring out of him in both black and white silence. 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

The front line was chaos. 

Wind howled like a beast unchained, ripping shingles from the ceiling and snapping the tables and chairs like brittle bones. Ichika stood firm, her school shoes planted on the cracked pavement as she launched another almost broken table into the gale, the force of her strength blinding white against some windy translucent form. 

Beside her, Tsubame's hands were a blur—slicing the winds through the air with confidence. They were winning. 

They were almost winning. 

But then—something happened. 

Just one second. A flick of its form. And it lashed behind them—toward the corner of the cafe, where— 

Where the terrified customers were taken care of by Yoisaki. 

Ichika turned too late. 

She saw it. The table. Lifted by spirit's force. Spun midair, then flung like a weapon. 

Oh no. 

"YOISAKI!!" She remembered she yelled Yoisaki's name. 

But Yoisaki didn't even look back—she only went when the table came to her. To the innocent customers behind her. 

So the table. It hit her. 

Yoisaki was protecting them. And in return, she saw red after the girl collapsed to the floor. Ichika's stomach churned. 

"No..." she whispered, breath catching. "No, no, no—Yoisaki—" 

She ran. 

But the world stopped before she could reach Shiraishi, who was embracing unconscious Yoisaki in his arms. 

The last thing she heard was Shiraishi's cry that was full of despair. 

Then, it started in a hush—like someone turned the volume down on reality. Then came the color drain. At first, Ichika thought her eyes had blurred—then she saw her hand, where her skin color turned pale and the school uniform that she wears turned ink-black. 

Why has everything turned into monochrome? 

But it's not just that. 

The real deal happens when she notices black ink drops from her nose. What? Ichika blinks. This is... blood? 

It becomes harder to breathe. Ichika's head feels dizzy because of lack of oxygen. Her eyes are seeing double. She had to grip her hands on one of the tables that was close to her. 

Is this because... of whatever black thing that swallows the cafe? 

"Tsubame—" she choked, panic threading her voice. "Something's wrong—something's wrong with—" 

"Y-Yeah." 

They both saw it now. 

The cafe had transformed. Its windows pulsed with a soft white glow, but inside—everything had flattened. Tables, chairs, shadows—sapped of hue, smudged with black veins crawling outward like frost. The light didn't feel warm. It felt hollow. Cold. Like the world had been drowned in bleach and grief. 

Tsubame slowed, one hand still outstretched with the metal bat in her grip. 

"...What is this?" she whispered. "It's like... we're not in our world anymore." 

Each step forward sent a jolt up her spine—like she was stepping into a place not meant for the living. Ichika pressed her arm against her chest, trying to steady her heartbeat. 

This whole black and white world is slowly killing them. 

Ichika wants to get up. She wants to see Yoisaki's injuries. She wanted to help Shiraishi. 

But the image kept repeating behind her eyes: Yoisaki's body crumpling, the table crashing, the blood. She couldn't stop seeing it. Couldn't stop imagining if it had been worse. 

"She's hurt... she's... I saw her fall, Tsubame-san. I saw it. I should've—I should have stopped it—" 

"Hoshino," Tsubame interrupted, but even her voice trembled beneath her usual calm. "We're not... we're not alone in here." 

The field stretched further now. A soft wind blew, but it was wrong. It carried no warmth, no scent. Just silence. 

The Monochrome domain whispered like a graveyard wind—still, cold, and soundless. The colorless haze blanketed everything in suffocating white. People within the cafe were slumped over—some groaning, others unconscious—faces pale and dim as if the life had been drained from their eyes. 

Tsubame clenched her jaw. "We have to get them out. But not even the spirits dare enter this... domain." 

Right. She forgot that it wasn't just them trapped in here. Ever since stepping out from the high school this morning, she had felt the fear to look behind. She was skipping school, hanging out with her friends in a cafe, and then suddenly one of her friends was dying. 

The image of Yoisaki protecting the customers is nothing but a new nightmare for Hoshino Ichika. 

I need to help them. But her knees buckled for half a second. She was scared. More scared than she'd ever been. 

Not just for Yoisaki. 

But for the boy who had just unleashed something terrifyingly divine in his despair—something that erased color, sound, and maybe even hope. 

Tsubame clutched her arm, sweat beading down her neck. The evil wind spirit writhed above the ceiling, flickering like it was choking on its own essence. Even it couldn't escape the realm. 

She turned to Ichika, urgency sharp in her voice. 

"If we don't stop this, the humans inside might not wake up." 

The girl didn't respond at first. Her hands shook. Her stomach twisted in knots. 

Shiraishi was at the heart of it all—kneeling beside Yoisaki, whose head lay cradled in his trembling hands. His back was hunched, his fingers dark with black inks, and the aura around him pulsed with something she couldn't describe. She could hear him—barely—muttering Yoisaki's name over and over like a broken prayer. 

She wasn't supposed to be here. Not this close to something this sacred. 

She had always watched them—Shiraishi Akito and Yoisaki Kanade—from the sidelines. Where the two were laughing together under a beautiful cherry blossom tree in their school, even when they were exchanging whispers when in geography class, when Yoisaki dragged Shiraishi back to his feet to join the sport event. 

They were interesting. 

But Ichika was orbiting in their gravity like a moon. Friends, yes. But never equal. Never truly part of the inner world they shared. 

Until now. 

Ichika's feet moved before her mind could stop them. 

Each step deep into the domain was like walking through molasses. Her limbs screamed, her lungs strained. The air was thick with mourning—each breath tasted like ash. But she didn't stop. 

Not when her vision dimmed. 

Not when her knees buckled. 

After feeling like she had been walking for ages, she dropped beside them. Her fingers grazed Yoisaki's arm, icy cold—but still, she heard a sound. 

A sound that makes her relieved. 

Yoisaki's arm makes a sound. It was faintly pulsing with life. 

She is alive. 

Shiraishi didn't even look up. His hands trembled, stained with colorless blood. His breath came in hiccups. Eyes wide, yet vacant. Did he not hear the weak pulse on Yoisaki's arm? 

"...Shiraishi-kun," she rasped. 

No response. 

She leaned closer, her forehead nearly pressing against his. 

"Shiraishi-kun, look at me." 

Still nothing. 

Goddamn it. So Ichika clenched her fists and screamed—not with volume, but with feeling. 

"She's... still breathing!" 

That broke something. 

Shiraishi's shoulders tensed. His fingers twitched. Slowly, he looked up—eyes dull pink, bleeding cracks of monochrome around the iris. And in that hollow stare, Ichika finally saw it: the crushing guilt. 

"Do you... hear me?" She choked, throat raw. "...She's still alive, but she is fading. Not because of that spirit... but because of you." 

The boy flinched, like the words were a knife. 

"This thing you're doing—this grief, this power—it's killing her. It's... killing us, Shiraishi-kun." 

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she reached forward, grabbing his wrist tightly. 

"I know she's your best friend. I know she is someone important to you. But if you really care... then let her breathe, please." 

Let us breathe. 

He gasped. Like he hadn't realized he'd been holding the world hostage in his grief. Like he hadn't realized he was suffocating the one person he was trying to protect... and others that this one person was trying to protect. 

"And I..." Her voice cracked. "I want to be here, too. I want to stand beside you—both of you. Not behind. Not on the edge. But with you..." 

The domain flickered. 

The older woman, watching from afar, felt the shift. 

"I-I'm scared, Shiraishi-kun. But I'm not leaving," Ichika whispered. "...If this is what it takes to be your friend—then let me in. Let us in." 

Shiraishi's breath hitched. His eyes widened, the glow of pink burning against the encroaching black and white. 

And then— 

The color began to return. 

First on their linked hands, then in their eyes, clothes, in the floor beneath them, and in the trembling furniture on the cold floor. The oppressive stillness lifted like fog. 

And the boy that did all of that, finally broken and trembling, collapsed forward. 

His head falling onto Ichika's shoulder. 

She didn't cry. 

She simply held him. Because finally—

Finally, Shiraishi Akito let her in. 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

Everything was white. 

Not cold. 

Not warm. 

Just white. 

Akito stood barefoot on an endless field of nothingness. 

No wind, no sound, no scent. The weight of the monochrome domain was gone—replaced by a strange serenity that didn't quite feel right. 

He looked down. 

No blood. No trembling hands. No, Kanade. Just himself. 

"What...?" 

Why am I here? He thought. If I recalled correctly, there's a battle—wait. Am I dead?! 

Well, that's not a surprise. If he died because of his unlucky curse, then that's exactly what Akito thought would happen one hundred percent to him. 

Suddenly, a pink petal flew in front of him. A soft humming reached his ears. Gentle, melodic, slightly off-tune. 

He turned. 

A figure danced lazily through the blank space—a girl with long, blonde hair streaked with silver strands that shimmered as she spun. Her white clothes fluttered as though wind existed only around her, and when she turned toward him, her pink eyes glowed with a soft warmth—so eerily familiar it made his chest ache. 

"You..." Akito blinked. "Your eyes... they're the same as—mine?" Not only by color. But also the shape of her eyes is identical to his. 

"Oh! You can see me properly now!" The girl beamed, pausing mid-spin and giving a clumsy but elegant half-bow. 

"Took you long enough! But to be fair, I think I've been sleeping most of the time. Or maybe you've been sleeping? Hmmm...." This girl is sure beating his impression of a calm, kind, and quiet girl. 

Akito shakes his head. "W-What? Where am I? Who even—?" 

"Oh, right! Sorry, I'm Kisa!" she declared, straightening and placing a hand over her chest proudly. "Guardian spirit of the pink sight, the one who helps you see all those lovely spirits and sparkly element trails." 

Lovely spirit? More like awful spirits, actually... Akito stared. "A guardian...?" 

"Well... more like... co-renter?" She tilted her head. "You've been using my eyes, technically speaking. Or at least the power in them. It's kind of complicated. But I don't mind! You've been taking good care of them, mostly." 

"Mostly?" 

Kisa chuckled. "Well, you're a little reckless." She gave a sheepish smile. "But passionate! I like that in a host. Though... it felt a little weird..." 

The girl muttered, and Akito's head throbbed. "Okay, slow down. Are you saying... you're part of me? Like, literally inside me?" 

Kisa nodded. "Mmhmm. This space is like your subconscious, I guess. We can meet now because you fainted very dramatically—so now I have a window of time to say hello!" 

She twirled again, then paused, tapping her chin. "Although... I didn't expect the monochrome to awaken while I'm still fused with you. Fascinating! I wonder how it feels to be... split down the middle..." 

"Split...?" 

"You," she said, pointing her finger at him. "You're both color and void now. Me, I handle the color—spirit sight, nature elements. But that other thing? The Monochrome?" Kisa hummed. "That's something else. It's not from me." 

Akito staggered back. "Then where..." 

"It's probably from yourself." She placed a finger on his chest. "The part of you that hurts. The part that locks things away so they don't hurt anymore." 

So... the power is connected to my feelings? 

"Because, the moment Kanade-san was hurt, it came out to protect you—to remove the color of pain." 

Akito stared at her—this radiant, strange girl—feeling the slow churning of understanding in his chest. He couldn't help but agree with her theory. 

"I couldn't stop it... I was scared," he whispered. He can never control his emotions. And that's why... he can't hide his reactions either. 

"I know." Her expression softened. "And that's okay." 

Then she smiled again, brighter. 

"But you are not alone. You've got good friends—Kanade-san, Ichika-san, even the sharp lady one with pink hair. They understand you." Akito blinked. 

"But what about you?" 

"Hmm?" 

Wait... why am I asking her this...? I don't even know her. Akito frowned. Beside her name, that is. 

"Are you..." Akito trailed off, not knowing what to ask. Kisa offers him explanations a lot, even if they're not all of it. But while she's being happy and all... Why does she look lonely? 

"Do you... have friends?" 

Slowly, Kisa's small falters. Akito could see how her eyes were seeing through him, as if she saw something else. 

"No, I don't... And that's why you're waking up." 

Akito opened his mouth—but everything around him was fading now. The white was bleeding away. 

Kisa took a step back, waving. 

"We'll talk more next time. And try not to get knocked unconscious every time we chat, okay?" 

"W-Wait—!" 

But it was too late. 

The warmth of her pink eyes lingered as the world dissolved, replaced by light—real light. 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

The smell of antiseptic hit first. 

Then the hum of fluorescent lights. Faint voices. A curtain being pulled closed somewhere nearby. And warmth—there was warmth at his side. 

Olive's eyes fluttered open slowly, greeted not by white void or colorless despair, but soft hues of reality—toned down, still a little pale, like the world hadn't quite decided to return to full color yet. 

A blurry figure hovered above him, strands of dark hair brushing her cheeks. Her eyes were puffy, and her nose was a little red, as though she'd been holding back tears for far too long. 

"...You're awake," Ichika whispered, her voice caught between relief and disbelief. 

Akito blinked, then instinctively tried to sit up. Pain bloomed in his chest and shoulders. 

"Woah—easy," Ichika said quickly, slipping her arm under his back and gently helping him up. "You were out for a while. I thought you were going to stay that way forever." 

"...What happened?" His voice was hoarse. 

"You nearly drowned us in your own grief, jeez," she said with a forced grin—then, quieter, "but we're okay." 

His gaze slowly drifted to the side—then froze. 

There she was. 

Kanade. 

Asleep, curled gently on a narrow cot beside his. Her head was bandaged, a soft blanket pulled to her shoulders, and the steady rise and fall of her chest was the only thing he needed right now. 

No blood. No pain. 

Just peace. 

Akito's throat tightened. His vision blurred again—but not from power this time. 

He inhaled sharply and whispered, "She's okay..." 

"Yeah," Ichika murmured, glancing over. "Tsubame-san called for help fast. The domain disappeared once you collapsed. We brought you all here. Some of the customers are still recovering from the energy drain, but no one's... gone." 

He turned slowly, seeing the older woman, Tsubame, sitting nearby, her back leaned against the wall with one hand holding a warm drink. Her usually perfect posture was slackened, her expression quiet and tired. 

She noticed his glance and gave a small nod. "Glad you're back, kid." 

"...I-I'm sorry," Akito said faintly. "I didn't mean to—" 

"It's okay," Tsubame cut him off, her eyes softened despite her serious tone. "You did that to protect her. Maybe not in the way you wanted, but I know your heart still reached her." 

He lowered his gaze. 

Ichika hesitated, then sat down beside his bed, folding her hands in her lap. "You know... I used to think I didn't belong with you and Yoisaki-san. You two had this unshakable bond, and I was just... along for the ride." 

Akito blinked at her, confused. 

"But today... I saw it." Her voice trembled slightly. "How much you care. How hard you break even when you feel betrayed. And I realized—I want to be someone you can lean on too. Not just Yoisaki-san. But also... me." 

She reached out, touching his hand. "So next time, don't make me kneel in a grief-drenched nightmare and yell at you to come back. Just trust me to be there." 

Akito's lips parted, a quiet sound caught in his throat. 

"...Thank you, Hoshino-san," he whispered. 

Ichika smiled—shakily, but with warmth. 

Honestly, watching these kids being friends with Kanade is sure unexpected. The pink-haired woman sighed at the thought. Not in a bad way, but she is also intrigued to figure out whatever is happening to this Shiraishi kid. 

Tsubame then asks, "So, do you want anything?" 

The ginger kid blinked. His olive eyes wander to Tsubame's empty drink cup. Perhaps he's just realized how much he has passed out. 

"Well..." 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

The clinic door clicked shut behind them, muting the soft hum of machinery and the breath-like stillness that lingered around the injured. Vivid Street was quiet now. Dust still clung to the air like ash from an old fire, but the neon lights blinked back to life above shuttered stalls and bent lamp posts. 

"Hoshino, what do you think about him?" 

Ichika adjusted her school uniform jacket and fell into step beside Tsubame. "Shiraishi-kun?" 

"Yeah." 

The girl hummed. "He's a strange one." And Tsubame laughed at her bold answer. That alone makes Ichika smile too. "But he is also the kindest fan I've met yet." 

That piqued Tsubame's interest. "Shiraishi? He's a fan of yours?" 

Ichika plays with the strands of her hair, remembering all the days a certain olive-eyed boy admired her in the class almost every time. 

"I was shocked too when I realized that," she admits. "I can see the way his face screamed that he was betrayed when I confessed that I retired from the idol industry... and I can't help but feel guilty..." 

Pink eyes beside her blinked, but Ichika was glad Tsubame didn't pry into the sensitive topic. 

"The convenience store's still open two blocks down," Tsubame said, her voice sounding like something kind. It's like she is carrying something fragile between words. "Let's grab something warm for those two." 

The black-navy-haired girl nodded. "Something sweet for Shiraishi-kun. And Yoisaki... I think she'll drink anything if you hand it to her gently." 

That earned a small chuckle from Tsubame. "True. She doesn't care what she drinks, as long as she thinks she's being helpful by not wasting it." 

They walked in silence for a moment, the sound of their footsteps soft against the cobblestones. A breeze stirred the remnants of the storm, lifting old flyers and the faint scent of burnt air. 

Ichika's eyes drifted across the shuttered shops and the scarred walls of the street that had once held her childhood. For the first time in a long time, she looked at them not as an outsider or a former idol, but as herself. 

As Hoshino Ichika. 

And then, something comes back to her. 

She slowed down, eyes narrowing thoughtfully at the woman walking beside her. Tsubame's posture, her careful gaze, even the way she tucked stray strands of hair behind her ear—it all felt achingly familiar. 

"...You're Airi's mom." 

Tsubame blinked. "Hm?" 

"Momoi Airi," Ichika said, quietly stunned. "My childhood friend. We used to run around this street together every summer, competing in almost every silly contest... I always thought your cafe smelled like heaven and mystery. You had a silver streak in your braid back then..." 

Momoi Tsubame looked over at her, the recognition dawning in her eyes like a slow sunrise. "Ichika... Hoshino Ichika? The one who always shared the anko ice cream with Airi? And the one that never competes with Airi in studying for whatever reasons..." 

Ichika laughed sheepishly when she remembered the good memories. "Yeah. That was me." 

"Oh, you've grown." Tsubame's voice was warm. There's a hint of something deeper inside her tone. "But, you still have that same thoughtful look. Like... you're holding an entire verse in your chest." 

Ichika's chest tightened at the words. "I-I meant to come back more often. But after I debuted... things changed. Schedules got tight. The group became my world." 

The older woman nodded knowingly. "The world shifts when you put on a costume for the stage. So it makes sense when you lose sight of the streets you used to call home." 

"...I didn't mean to drift away from Airi.” Ichika's voice trembled. "Or from here." 

"No, it's fine. She never blamed you," Tsubame said gently. "She always said she hoped you were shining, even if it meant you weren't near her anymore." 

Airi... Ichika couldn't help but smile at the thought. You haven't changed at all, huh? 

They reached the convenience store, its doors humming as they slid open. Inside, the harsh lights painted them in yellow and white. Ichika wandered toward the drink aisle, picking out a honey milk tea and a can of black tea. 

As she turned back, she saw Tsubame holding a cup of instant seafood chowder soup. 

"Kanade likes this," Tsubame said, catching Ichika's blue eyes. "Even though she pretends she doesn't." 

"I've seen her always eat those instant seafood cup noodles, so I was not surprised." 

Tsubame exhaled a disappointing sigh. "That kid..." she mutters. "She promised me that she will stop eating those instant noodles for God's sake." 

Chuckling at the older woman's complaint, Ichika added the instant seafood chowder soup and mushroom soup to the basket for Shiraishi. "And this is the one that Shiraishi-kun requested." 

They paid in quiet understanding. 

On the walk back, Ichika glanced sideways at the woman beside her. "Do you think... do you think we can still return to who we were before all the noise?" 

The older woman didn't answer right away. She watched the lanterns flicker against the sky, her expression unreadable, then said softly, "...Maybe not exactly who we, or you, were. But we can carry those pieces forward." 

They stepped back into the streetlights, drinks warm and soup in their hands. 

"You know, kid... I think Airi would've been proud of you," Tsubame added. 

Ichika swallowed the lump rising in her throat. In her mind, big smiles of her childhood friend, Momoi Airi, come to the surface. Her warm voice. Her kind and gentle eyes. 

"Yeah..." 

We haven't met since middle school. I wonder if she is going to ask me anything... especially if she knows the latest news. "...I hope so." She whispered. 

The walk back to the clinic was dead silent between them, save for the Vivid Street's music speaker that gently waves to Ichika's ears. On the way back, Ichika observes here and there, watching the young musicians' activities and the street's people at home. How some kids painted the walls with graffiti, only then to be chased by some old man. 

It's so lively here. I kind of missed this. The girl thought, smiling to herself. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

Outside the clinic, on a narrow wooden bench still flecked with ash and wind-dust, Ichika and Tsubame sat in silence. The clinic window behind them glowed softly, revealing a still, tender image in view. Shiraishi Akito sat quietly beside Yoisaki Kanade's cot, chin resting against his hands, eyes never leaving her sleeping face. 

He hadn't moved much since they left him 20 minutes ago. He just watched. Guarded her with the kind of stillness that only grief and guilt could anchor. 

Ichika's arms were wrapped around her knees, a small, thick blanket owned by the clinic draped over her shoulders. "He's been like that for hours," she murmured. 

Tsubame nodded slowly. "He needs it. Time. The silence." 

"...I'm just glad Yoisaki's condition is stable." Ichika exhaled, her breath catching on a lump in her throat. "But Weekend Garage... it's in pieces, Tsubame-san. It was your life. Your cafe." 

Tsubame tilted her head slightly toward the window, the ghost of a smile touching her lips. "Cafes can be rebuilt, kid. Signs can be rehung. Walls repainted." She looked at Ichika, eyes full of warmth. "But lives? They don't come back once they're lost. Not hers. Not his. Not anyone's." 

Ichika stared, her heart feeling heavy yet full with Tsubame's positive words. "You really mean that." 

The older woman chuckles. "I've lived long enough to." Tsubame glanced back at the window again, her voice softer now. "And I've watched that girl—Kanade—walk this street every day like she's earning the right to breathe." 

Oh? Ichika blinked. "What do you mean?" 

"I guess she doesn't talk about it often. Most people don't ask, and I don't think she wants to share her background with others. But Kanade..." The pink-haired lady's voice drifted, carried by memory. "She was born into silence. A house filled with things, not love. Parents who wanted a trophy, not a daughter." 

Ichika listened, intrigued by the topic. 

"She came here years ago. She said she wanted to prove she could stand on her own. That she could sing—no matter what they said." Tsubame's hands folded in her lap. "But she didn't just sing. She worked. Day and night. Took every insult, every rejection, like it was fuel. I saw it in her eyes—the same grit I had when I was her age." 

She paused, a breeze catching the ends of her pale pink hair. 

"Even when people said she had no voice, no spark... she stayed. She smiled. She poured passion into singing. She sang when no one listened. And then, she earned a partner to overcome that dream." 

Yoisaki-san endured that much pain by herself? Ichika swallowed, overwhelmed. "I didn't know..." 

"No one really does. Kanade doesn't like to show the bruises under the smile," Tsubame said gently. "But I think Shiraishi saw them. Or maybe understood them. That's why they're so close." 

Ichika turned her gaze back toward the clinic window. The way Shiraishi gently brushed Yoisaki's bangs from her brow. How he leaned closer, whispering something she couldn't hear but understood in feeling. 

"I always felt like a third wheel," she admitted quietly. "Like they were two halves of something I couldn't reach." 

Tsubame gives her a knowing grin. "And yet, you're still here." 

Ichika's eyes widened. 

"Sometimes being a friend doesn't mean matching history or sharing your personal lives. It could mean that by a simple choice, you're going to stay beside them." The woman stood and stretched, casting one last look into the room. "Kanade will wake up. And when she does, she'll be glad you stayed too." 

The black-navy-haired girl sat in the silence of that thought, the warmth of it sinking in deep. 

The air had turned cooler, and Ichika had leaned into the bench's backrest, eyes half-lidded as she let Tsubame's words settle deep in her chest. 

That calm was gently broken by the sound of hurried footsteps. 

"Ah—there she is! Mom!" 

The voice—breathless, edged with panic—cut through the stillness like a pebble dropped in a pond. Tsubame turned at once, recognizing it in an instant. 

"Airi?" She stood just as the girl rounded the corner. 

Momoi Airi, still wearing her school cardigan over a wrinkled blouse, skidded to a stop in front of her mother, eyes wide and lips trembling. Her ponytail was half undone from the run, and her schoolbag swung messily behind her. 

"I—I saw the cafe. I—It's completely ruined!" Airi said breathlessly. "I didn't know what happened. I kept asking around—someone said you were here, and I—Mom..." 

Tsubame opened her arms without a word. 

Airi collapsed into the hug, fingers gripping the back of her mother's jacket tightly. "I thought—what if you were injured too? What if something happened to you?" 

"I'm okay," Tsubame whispered, stroking Airi's hair. "I'm here. All of us made it out safely." 

Ichika watched quietly, touched by the rawness of the reunion. But then—she noticed another figure lingering behind Airi. A calm presence. A girl with a soft expression that didn't quite hide the tension in her posture. 

The girl met Ichika's eyes. 

Ichika blinked. She remembered that face—vividly. That girl who performed at their school's opening event, guitar slung over her shoulder, voice cutting clear across the auditorium like a bell. 

"You are..." Ichika began. 

The girl offered a polite smile. "Shiraishi An. I figured you'd recognize me." 

"Of course. You're the one who played at orientation—wait..." Ichika tilted her head. "What are you doing here?" 

Shiraishi An stepped forward, hands tucked loosely into her hoodie pockets. "Same as Momoi-san," she glanced toward Airi. "I came looking for someone." 

Her orange eyes shifted slightly—toward the window. To Shiraishi's still form inside, next to Yoisaki's cot. 

Ichika caught the direction of her gaze. "You're here for Shiraishi-kun?" 

"Yes," Shiraishi-san gave a small nod. "I'm his older sister." 

Huh? But he never... Ichika's breath caught. "Wait. Seriously? He never mentioned—" 

"We are the same age. I'm only three months older than him." She let out a quiet giggle. "He doesn't talk about me much, does he? I've been... away. Helping a friend. Practicing." Her voice carried a quiet weight. "But when I noticed he wasn't at school today, I decided to not inform the principal or my father. And from my mother's concern—I knew something happened to him." 

She let the silence sit for a moment, watching her brother through the window. 

"I'm not the best sister," she anxiously toyed her fingers around. "But I've seen him oddly silent whenever at breakfast and dinner these days." 

Tsubame let go of Airi gently and looked toward An with a nod of recognition. "Your worry carries far, Shiraishi-san. It's good to see you came." 

Shiraishi-san met her gaze. "And yours still holds this street together, Momoi-san." 

They both smiled faintly, mutual understanding behind their words. 

Airi turned to see her childhood friend, wiping her eyes in shock. "Wait, Ichika?!" 

"Yeah?" 

"Since when have you been here?!" 

Oh, Airi... Ichika shakes her head and bursts into a laugh at Airi's reaction. "Since you're having your precious reunion with your mother, Airi." 

And the pink-haired girl's face reddened at the tease. "Ugh, I hate it when you say it like that." Airi coughs to change the subject. "Anyway, are you okay?" 

"Yeah," Ichika replied softly. "Just... a lot happened. I think everything's still settling in." 

She looked at Shiraishi-san again, processing her presence. "I think he'll be glad to see you, Shiraishi-san." Shiraishi-san's lips curved slightly. "I just hope he wouldn't doubt me like he did my father and Ena-nee." 

"Don't worry," Tsubame said. "You've come all the way here to know what happened to him. He will understand that you know nothing about your... family's plan regarding his ability." 

Shiraishi-san offered her a weak smile. 

And so, the four of them—Tsubame, Airi, Ichika, and Shiraishi-san—stood outside the clinic. A quiet alliance is forming, all held together by the incident that has happened. 

Until Airi breaks that silence. 

"Wait, so... mind filling us in on some context of what has happened to all of you?" 

Ichika and Tsubame glance at each other before sighing in exhaustion. 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

Inside, the clinic room was quiet, hushed under the veil of early nightfall. It's only him and Kanade here, giving the two of them space. Akito sat on the small stool beside the cot, his hands resting on the edge of the blanket that was covering Kanade's form. 

Her breathing was steady now. No more blood, no black ink staining her skin. Just a sight of Kanade taking her peaceful rest. 

Yet, her eyes were still closed. 

And it has been hours. Akito leaned forward, gently brushing a few strands of hair from her cheek. "Hey, Kanade," His voice trembled as he started to speak—more to fill the silence than anything else. 

"You know," he tried to think of his next words carefully, "you have always had a way of dragging me into things." 

Ah, but it feels like him dragging her into problems, actually. 

He let out a soft, breathless laugh. "Like when you grabbed my wrist and made me join that Kibasen-joined sport event. Remember that? You didn't even ask. You just looked me in the eye and pulled my wrist. 'Akito, you've got long arms. Perfect for grabbing headbands. Plus, you're lighter than me, so it'll be easier for the base team to carry you'." 

His fingers curled slightly, his thumb brushing the edge of the blanket. 

"I have no idea how you knew my actual weight. But Mr. Gai and Hoshino-san weren't helping either, so I had no choice but to join..." 

He exhaled, his voice quieting. 

"Or the first time we ate lunch together. I may not remember what exactly had happened a few days before... but you sat down like it was already decided. Me, you, and Hoshino-san. You offered me your juice box like you do it every day. I remember thinking, 'She enjoyed teasing me,' and 'She's too confident.' But you smiled. And suddenly... I wanted to see that smile again." 

His gaze dropped to her hand resting in his. 

"You gave me that candy once, remember? Or, I don't know. Maybe you have offered me too before I lost my memories. That weird grape-flavored candy tasted so sweet. You also stuck a Post-it to it." A shaky smile touched his lips. "Said if I keep frowning and overthinking, I'd get wrinkles like Mr. Gai." 

He laughed again, barely louder than a whisper. "You really do joke around to make me smile." 

He paused. 

"...But I kept the note. I still have it." 

Silence settled again. His voice had thinned, softened by memory and grief. 

"I don't know if you can hear me," he murmured, his eyes now half-lidded with exhaustion. "I know I can't remember everything. All of it. Even the dumb stuff. But you made the ordinary feel bright. Like it mattered." 

He stared at her hand again. 

"I just want you to wake up and make fun of me. Or joke about Mr. Gai again. Or something..." 

Akito's head dropped on the bed, a silent beat of stillness. 

But everything changed when he felt a light, subtle squeeze. Akito's eyes widened. He quickly raises his head to look at Kanade's hand. Scared if he just imagined it. 

But Kanade's fingers twitched. 

Kanade's fingers. Her fingers had moved—had curled ever so slightly around his own. 

His breath hitched. 

"Kanade...?" 

And her eyelids twitched. 

His chest tightened—too full to breathe. He sat frozen, watching as her lashes lifted slowly, revealing groggy, dazed eyes. 

"You... talk too much..." she rasped. 

He choked on a laugh, tears springing up as he lowered his head beside her hand. 

"Yeah," he whispered, gripping her fingers tight. "I know..." 

Outside, Hoshino's voice rang out, "She's awake!" 

The moment Hoshino's voice echoed through the clinic, the door slammed open. 

Tsubame was the first to rush in, her sneakers echoing against the tile. Behind her came Hoshino—wide-eyed and beaming—followed closely by Momoi, who skidded to a stop as soon as she spotted Kanade sitting up slightly with Akito still clutching her hand. 

"Yoisaki-san!" Hoshino cried, practically barreling toward the cot. She nearly tripped over a stool but caught herself in time, hands trembling with relief. 

Tsubame knelt beside the bed, her eyes misty. "You gave us a scare, kid." 

Kanade blinked groggily, her gaze sweeping across their faces. "What... are you all doing here?" She rasped, her throat dry. 

"From what I've heard from Mom, she said you passed out like a damn anime protagonist," Momoi said bluntly, arms crossed. "I came looking for Mom and found her outside the clinic. Then someone also said I'd find 'the trio' here." 

Kanade stared at her, jaw slack. "Wait—Momoi?!" 

"Long time no see, Kanade. Oh, but we just saw each other a few days ago. Anyway, you're still collapsing dramatically, I see." 

Kanade flushed slightly. "It wasn't dramatic."

"Uh-huh. You skipped school today. All three of you," Momoi said, casting a glance toward Hoshino and Akito. "As a member of the discipline committee, I'm obligated to write your names down for punishment." 

Hoshino groaned. "Oh, but Airi..." 

"But," Momoi sighed, interrupting Hoshino, flicking her hair back, "I suppose being hospitalized and trapped in a creepy alternate dimension is... an acceptable excuse." 

Her mother smiled faintly. "They've had enough today. No punishments, please." 

Momoi rolled her eyes but smirked. "Fine. But I'm writing them down for fun later." 

Just then, another figure stepped forward from the shadows near the doorway. Akito's eyes snapped toward her—and went wide. 

"An...?" 

The girl with the guitar slung across her back gave him a slow nod, her expression uncharacteristically gentle. 

"You didn't think I'd hear about you vanishing from school and not come looking, right?" she said softly. Akito shifted on the stool, guilt flaring in his chest. "I—uh—I didn't mean to... things just happened fast." 

"I know," An said quietly, walking over and kneeling down beside him. Her gaze scanned his pale face, the subtle tremor in his arms, and the way his fingers clung to Kanade's. 

"You got hurt," she murmured. 

"I'm fine," he tried to say. But the cracks in his voice gave him away. An gave him a sad smile. "You always say that. Ever since we were kids, you thought you had to carry everything yourself. I saw it in your eyes back then, and I see it now." 

Akito looked away. "You and Ena-nee... Dad... you all have your secrets. Powers. Things I wasn't allowed to know. I don't even know what is real anymore." 

Silence settled. 

Then An reached out and pulled him into a soft hug, careful not to disturb Kanade's resting hand. 

"You're allowed to be angry. But don't shut me out forever," she whispered. "You're not alone, Akito. I'm not on anyone's side... but if you allow me, I want to be on your side." 

He did not reply. But he didn't pull away either. 

A soft sob escaped from the hug, yet everyone in that room knows that belongs to only one person, and that is Shiraishi Akito. "...Okay, An." Akito didn't raise his head, but instead, he relaxed inside An's embrace. 

Kanade watched the scene, smiling. Her gaze was full of wonder. "Looks like... I missed a lot," she said, her voice a little clearer now. 

"You missed a war," Hoshino deadpanned. 

The older woman chuckled. "And a few confessions. But we'll save that drama for later." 

Momoi looked around the room, hand on her hip. Watching, there are more people that she recognized that are currently resting too, like Kanade. "Honestly. I leave school for a day, and the cafe explodes again." 

Hoshino tilted her head. "Huh? Has it exploded too before?" 

"...It's a long story, actually." 

Kanade shakes her head, sighing. "I've heard about it. The kids here are always talking about Weekend Garage's explode curse" somehow. 

"And here I thought this place was a safe haven..." 

Both Kanade and Momoi snorted at Hoshino's comment. "Welcome to Vivid Street," Tsubame said with a sigh.
"Where chaos is complementary."

Notes:

1. anko = is a red bean paste flavor in japanese sweet. In this context, both Airi and Ichika used to eat anko flavored ice-cream in their childhood.

2. shiraishi's siblings in order (from oldest to youngest) = Ena, An, Akito

Chapter 9: Chapter 8 : "Wait... I forgot to ask his name!"

Notes:

usually i updated on wednesday but now my class schedule changed so i can only use weekend to speedrun writing this ;-;

The dressing room mirror was too bright. 

Touya blinked at his reflection, eyes stinging from the sharp bulbs surrounding the frame. His makeup was still halfway done—blush a little too pink, eyeliner too soft. He looked like a porcelain doll halfway through being painted. 

The door opened behind him with a low creak. The voice came in casual, almost lazy. 

"Touya." 

He didn't turn. He knew that voice, it belonged to Manager Ishiguro. Who is always chewing gum, always five seconds late to everything except criticism.

"Yes, sir?" 

"I got the numbers from last week's showcase. Online engagement, mentions, ticket spike, all that," Ishiguro said, tossing a clipboard onto the vanity like a napkin. "Tenma Saki's blowing up. Like, astronomical. She's got the spotlight. Your duet video with her helped a little, but..." 

Touya finally turned, a light bead of sweat sliding down his neck. "But?" 

Ishiguro gave him a smile that wasn't a smile. It was the kind of expression... people use when they are pretending it won't hurt. 

"No, you don't have it." 

"...Don't have what?" 

The look on Manager Ishiguro's face is close to what Touya knows he is being pitied by the expectations. 

"The pull. The hook. Whatever you want to call it." He gestured vaguely in the air. "People aren't watching you for your singing or the choreography. They are watching for the jokes. Your variety of appearances? They're gold. That 'masked reaction game' segment trended for a month." 

Touya's fingers clenched against the armrest of the vanity chair. "So... you're saying I'm not good enough?" 

"No, no, I didn't say that." Ishiguro gave a dry chuckle. "You're good. Just not idol-center good. You're the type that lifts the room and keeps the mood light. Think about it—not everyone gets to be Tenma." 

Touya didn't say anything. His nails bit into the fabric of the chair. 

"Anyway, we're restructuring your schedules," the manager continued, already flipping through his phone. "The execs love the masked character. The one with all the props and improv bits. That's your niche, Touya. You've got a gift for it." 

But... I don't... 

"...But I didn't become an idol to be a joke," Touya whispered, voice nearly drowned out by the buzzing lights. 

Ishiguro looked up briefly. His gaze was flat, like looking at a faded billboard. 

"Then Touya, maybe... you joined the wrong industry." 

Silence hung heavy. 

Touya stared at his reflection. The blush, the soft eyeliner, the fake sparkle that never quite reached his eyes. 

He reached over, took the white masquerade mask from the vanity—the one they used for the segment, the one he hated—and held it up to his face. 

Touya hates how much it fits perfectly. 

But if I want to be up there... 

If I want to be beside Saki... I need to make my name bigger than before... 

"I'll do it," he finally said. "Whatever they want." 

The manager gave him a nod, already half out the door. "That's the spirit." 

Unfortunately, this is not something Touya could do forever. He can never do the same shit forever. It takes years to engrave his name in this industry. Yet, they only knew him as the fucking clown. 

Touya wanted to be known as the Aoyagi Touya. 

Not just some clown. 

And jeez, this studio is cold as hell. Why is it always cold? 

Touya stares at his reflection—no, not even a reflection. Just a blur in the mirror. He looks like someone else. 

Not the boy who wanted to be an idol. 

Just a boy with a clown mask, who is just... tired. 

His knees ache from the hours of dancing. His throat tastes like metal. The music's off to his ear now. The silence is louder than the bass ever was. 

I'm still here. 

I'm still here and I hate it. 

His thoughts are overlapping like a messy wire. Here and there, tangling everywhere. 

I trained harder than anyone. I memorized every move. Every line. Every fake laugh. I stayed up all night rehearsing. And for what? 

For them to laugh? 

"You're really funny, Touya!" 

"He's got such a talent for variety shows!" 

"Nii-san, you are good at making jokes! I want to be like you!" 

That one hurt the most. 

That one comes from a child of his fan. An innocent, full of dreamer child. But it was the worst thing because he didn't want to be this masked version of himself. 

It was a harsh realization to him. 

Not idol material. 

He bites the inside of his cheek. Tastes blood. Good. At least that's real. 

They never saw me. Not once. Not even Saki. 

...No. No, maybe Saki saw me. Once. Back when we were just two nervous kids with secondhand costumes and a dream too big for our hands. 

But then she rose, effortlessly. Like starlight. 

And I stayed grounded. 

She became the "Tenma Saki", the perfect idol to look up to. 

And I became her joke of a co-debut. 

Touya grips his shirt, crumpling the fabric over his heart. It doesn't help. The pain is still there. 

I wanted to stand beside her. I wanted them to say, "Look at them. They shine together." 

But they never did. 

It was always Saki and the other one. The extra guy. The variety guy. 

The masked boy. 

Touya forces a laugh, but it catches in his throat. It burns like hell. 

What's the point? 

What am I even doing here? What dream am I chasing when every step feels like a lie? 

I don’t want to be funny. 

I don't want to wear that mask anymore. I don't want to pretend that this spotlight feels warm when all it does is burn. 

His vision blurs. 

If I disappear, will anyone notice? Would they even care if Aoyagi Touya never stepped on stage again? 

He presses his forehead to the floor, the hardwood biting cold against his skin. 

Maybe it's better this way. 

Maybe if I walk out now, no one will laugh. No one will cry. Maybe me. And no one will say, "He had so much potential." 

Because I didn't. 

Not to them. 

And maybe now, not even to myself. 

Touya sat there in the bright dressing room. Alone with the mask. Alone with the sound of applause from the studio bleeding through the walls. Applause that was not for him. 

The mirror he was seeing was full of harsh lights that blinded his eyes. 

Touya remembered that day clearly, not because of the makeup chair or the studio lights, but because of how perfectly wrong everything looked. 

He stared at himself through the gold-trimmed vanity in the dressing room. The other stylists buzzed behind him, voices blending into a distant hum. Someone laughed. Someone called for a new batch of hydrating powder. 

The reflection in the mirror didn't smile back. 

He touched his cheek, where powdered and contoured, eyes lined into perfection, lips soft and faintly pink. This, wasn't Aoyagi Touya. This was the "Masked Variety Idol" everyone loved to meme about online. The idol who always smiled so big danced too well, and laughed on cue. 

The "Happy Everyday" boy. 

"...What a stupid name," he muttered under his breath. 

"Uya-kun, you're pouting again," came a gentle voice from the doorway. Touya can't help but be irked at the nickname. He turned, lips tightening. "What do you want, Saki?" 

Tenma Saki leaned against the doorframe, hair curled neatly and eyes shimmering under soft stage lights. She always glowed before a performance and not just from makeup, but from something inside. 

Something Touya couldn't name without feeling like he was swallowing glass. 

She held up two fingers. "Peace offering," she said, approaching him to give a chilled strawberry milk. "Before the segment starts." 

He didn't take it. Instead, Touya slapped the girl's hand, and the drink landed on the counter, rolling with a thunk. 

"...I don't need that," he said, brushing back his bangs with more force than needed. "I don't need anything." 

Saki frowned. "Uya-kun..." The girl's smile already left her face ever since Touya's behavior shocked her. 

He stood abruptly, whirling on her. "You don't get it. You never had to try as hard as me. You walk into a room and everyone turns. You say one thing and the crowd eats it up. I have to scream to get noticed!" Touya's tone is full of anger and jealousy. 

Saki stepped back, shocked at his sudden outburst. 

He hated that face. That gentle, patient understanding she always wore like a second skin. It made him feel like a villain. 

"I worked my ass off to be an idol," he spat. "And all anyone ever talks about is how funny I am. Not how I sing. Not how I dance. Not how I can perform through a fever or cry backstage after the show. No. Just Touya, the clown." 

She looked at him for a long moment. Then she bowed her head, quietly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I did not know you've been through all of that..." 

Of course, you don't. Touya tried to stifle a giggle. That apology only made him feel more terrible than before. 

Who am I kidding? It wasn't like Touya was angry with Saki because she got the spotlight here and there, but it was because of how unfair the world treated him to chase his own dream. I have the passion. I have the will. 

Yet, the world made him like an idiot mascot. 

He let out a shaky breath. Then Touya turned away, not wanting to see Saki again. "Just go, Saki." He remembered Saki hesitated to leave him alone in that dressing room. "I said, leave me alone damn it!" 

And with that last screaming out his frustrations, when he looked back, she... was already gone. 

He never saw her again after that. 

He never gets the chance to apologize to her. 

Now, years later — the memory always came like a broken reel, flickering without warning. Touya sat at the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the untouched box of blush in his hand. He didn't remember packing it. But there it was, a soft pink color that resembles cherry blossoms, which is her favorite shade. 

He didn't cry. 

Touya couldn't cry. 

But in his head, her voice echoed in that dressing room one more time. 

"Uya-kun, you're pouting again." 

He pressed the lid closed. 

"I'm sorry too, Saki," he whispered. "I just never got the chance to say it." 

Outside, the world kept moving. But inside him, Touya still sat in that old mirror room, staring at a reflection that never felt like his.

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

𝄞 April, 8th. 
Tuesday
4.07 a.m.

 

The low, rhythmic chanting started at exactly 4:07 a.m. 

"-Kon-kiri-kiri-karamari-yatta-so!" 

Clink. 

That sounded something metallic. 

Is that... bells? 

A pair of silver eyes cracked open, bloodshot and unamused. His cheek was plastered to the pillow, hair disheveled, and the blanket tangled around one leg like a seaweed attack. Even his plushies were scattered around like he was battling them to get the blanket. His phone buzzed weakly on the nightstand—no new messages. Not that he expected any. 

"...Exorcism again?" his sleepy voice croaked. 

Through the thin paper walls of the old Shibuya house, his father's voice echoed—cheerful, bizarrely strong for the hour. 

"O spirits of dusk and rot, I command thee! OUT from this dwelling!" 

A dull thunk. 

Touya turned his head, staring dead-eyed at the ceiling. "Did he just... slam the miso pot again?" 

Another thunk. Then a shuffling of sandal-covered feet. Followed by more chanting. 

He buried his face deeper into the pillow. Groaning in frustration because he can't sleep in peace. "Ugh... please just let me sleep..." 

But the chanting wouldn't stop. The bells also screamed to be heard by the entire neighborhood. 

Goddammit this old man. 

Touya sat up with the grace of a sleep-deprived ghost, dragging the blanket off like a funeral shroud. As he shuffled to the sliding door, he heard it—his father, Harumichi, waving incense sticks like he was leading a temple parade. 

"Begone, spirits of anxiety! OUT with ye!" 

Sighing, Touya slowly slid open the door. 

"Dad," he muttered, tired. "It's four in the morning. School doesn't start until eight." 

Harumichi turned with a bright grin, fully dressed in a patched-up ceremonial robe with fox tails stitched on the sleeves. "Ah, Touya! You're awake—good!" The old man looked happy to see him. "You may have felt it. There was a surge of negative energy hovering over the roof—probably a lost spirit from the train station again!" 

Touya stared at him, deadpan. "...You think a ghost took the express from Tokyo to ruin our roof?" 

Harumichi waved his incense for emphasis. "It happens more often than you think. Shibuya has thin spirit boundaries!" Then, his father hands him the sticks. "Come, help me cleanse the house!" 

The bi-colored-haired boy rubbed his eyes. "Dad, for the last time—I'm not an exorcist. I don't see ghosts. I can only see shadows. And trauma. And occasionally my reflection when I wish I didn't." 

His father beamed. "Spoken like a true sensitive!" 

"I'm not sensitive—okay, emotionally, yes, but not spiritually. I don't want to inherit whatever cult this is." 

"Touya, it's not a cult," came a voice from down the hallway. 

Touya blinked. Shuji stood there, travel bag slung over one shoulder, hair still wet from a night shower, probably back from whatever musical he'd flown in for this time. 

Shuji yawned. "It's just dad's thing. Ignore him. That's what I do." 

From the kitchen, another voice added, "He exorcised a toaster once." 

"Natsuomi! That was a cursed toaster," Harumichi called back. 

"It was just jammed," said Natsuomi back dryly. 

Touya groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead. "Why is this my life?" 

Harumichi looked at him with strange fondness. "Because my son—you are the one who inherited the sight. You know, if we start training now, we might awaken your true potential!" Touya stared at him. "I inherited crippling stage anxiety, a fake variety smile, and an overattachment to scented lip balm. That's all." 

The incense stick fizzled out. Harumichi gave a solemn nod. "You will understand when the spirits call to you." 

"Sure. They can text me," Touya muttered and turned back toward his room, blanket trailing behind him like a cape of defeat. "I'm going back to sleep." 

And his father simply resumed his chanting, sandals clapping lightly on the wooden floor. 

The younger paused at his door, glancing back one last time. A part of him didn't want to believe in any of it. Ghosts. Exorcism. The hidden potential in him like his father said. 

But another part of him, the one that still felt the weight of Saki's name, the chill in his bones when he stood too long in certain rooms — didn't know what to believe anymore. 

 

 

⁞
✿ 

 

 

In 3rd period, Touya has science class in the lab. He helped the teacher so he was a little late to get back to his class, 1-C. While walking back, the hallway smelled like whiteboard cleaner and fresh printouts— which is standard, nothing really out of place. 

Until he passed Class 1-A. 

Touya barely glanced inside, just a reflex as he moved through the corridor. But something caught in his throat. Not the smell of dust or dry-erase markers. No. It was something softer. 

Floral. Warm. Familiar. 

The smell of cherry blossoms. 

He froze in his step. 

It wasn't strong. It's light, just a passing breeze as someone waved a hand or stood too quickly. But the scent lodged deep in his memory like a needle. Cherry blossom body spray. Cheap drugstore kind. Saki used to wear it because it "smelled like calm." 

Touya's fingers curled slightly at his side. 

He didn't mean to stop walking, but he stood there—a few feet from the classroom door—staring without realizing it. 

Inside, a girl with black-navy hair laughed— Hoshino, he recalled. He only knew her name because they were both in the entertainment industry once. She was smiling with three others; an energetic one with orange bright hair, a quiet one with stars on her hair, and a bored-looking girl whose jacket hung off her shoulders. 

They looked so... ordinary. 

Why did I stop here? They're just... four kids laughing about nothing in class when there's no teacher. 

It made something twist in his gut. 

Oh right. Friendship. 

Touya used to think he had that. Back when he and Saki debuted together. Back when they rehearsed in the same tiny studio and debated over cute makeup sets. 

Before things got complicated. Before he ruined it. 

And then came the variety shows. The scripts. The laughter that wasn't his. The jokes were made at his expense, with fake audiences clapping and producers patting his back like he was a trained pet. 

Touya plastered on his smile like a shield. Every day. Every segment. Because "Happy Everyday Touya" was the brand. 

But now—no cameras. No applause. He is just a normal student now. 

And it made him feel sick. 

He turned quickly, footsteps stiff, heading toward the rooftop stairs. The cherry blossom's scent still clung to the back of his throat. He didn't know why it affected him this badly. It wasn't even the same perfume. Probably just a coincidence. 

Still, as he pushed open the rooftop door and stepped into the sunlight, the wind caught his hair and blew it back— just like that day, nine years ago, when Saki performed under the outdoor lights and smiled brighter than anyone. 

"Stupid," he muttered, leaning against the railing. "You don't get to haunt me over a body spray. I'm not that weak." 

He laughed—the practiced kind. The one he used for years. But no one was around to hear it. 

His laughter faded quickly. 

Touya pulled out his phone. Opened the gallery. Stared at the one photo he still hadn't deleted. 

He and Saki, backstage. Smiling. Genuinely, back then. No stylists. No lights. Just two kids in the same picture, smiling happily because their duet won first place in a competition. "I still don't know what having a friend means," he murmured. "But I think you tried to show me that, Saki." 

He pocketed the phone. 

And for a moment, the scent of cherry blossoms faded.

 

⁞
✿

 

Lunch break finally comes. 

Touya sighed as he stepped onto the sun-drenched courtyard, a bento bag in one hand and his mom's homemade cookies tucked carefully in the other. For once, he had the mood to enjoy his freedom—no classmates asking him for idol trivia, no girls asking him for makeup advice, and no one watching him. 

It's just him, a bench, and some birds. 

And the cherry blossom tree looked heavenly. 

He sat beneath it, the spring breeze brushing petals gently down his hair like a romantic shoujo manga scene. Touya blinked up at the tree. 

"...Weird. Why does it look too picturesque? This feels like foreshadowing," he muttered warily. Then shrugged. 

"Whatever. Let me live for five minutes." 

With practiced grace, he unwrapped his lunch, placed the cookies like delicate treasure beside his thermos of coffee, and took a bite of his sandwich. 

Silence. 

Peace. 

Birds chirping. Crunching pickles. Then—laughter. 

And voices. 

Touya paused. Wait. Someone else was here? 

He subtly leaned to the side, peeking around the thick trunk behind him. 

There they were. 

Hoshino Ichika. 

And three... wait. Now it's four of them. He recognizes the girl with star clips on her hair, another with white short hair and the last one is a guy with a bright orange guy. But now there's one more girl. High ponytail with pink hair. 

Touya blinked slowly. "...Oh. It's her. The student council girl." 

If he is not mistaken, her name is Momoi and she is one year older than him. An upperclassman. But what is a senior doing here though? Not that Touya is interested in knowing them, but it is weird to see a senior hanging out with the juniors especially when Momoi is a member of the student council. 

He leaned back against the trunk, sipping his coffee, trying to pretend he didn't hear them. Until— 

"I'm telling you," the senior said in a low voice, "I saw the scorch mark. The whole cafe exploded." 

Touya froze, cup to his lips. "...Pardon?" 

"It's not a gas leak. People don't pass out and forget everything from gas leaks," said the girl with star clips, adjusting her volume knob like she was tuning into something eldritch. 

"How weird," added the orange-haired guy, animatedly waving what remained of his homemade meat bun. "I-I don't remember the cafe explodes though!" 

"You say that like the cafe exploded is a normal thing, Airi," said Hoshino. 

"I don't think a cafe exploded, the ghost appeared in the afternoon and I'm close to death because protecting the customers is normal," The girl with white hair sighed. "But maybe Tsubame-san was right about Vivid Street being haunted." 

The pink-haired senior trembles. "I swear our street is probably cursed or something. Mom said there's a long, old history for that matter." 

Touya was now completely still. Cookie halfway to his mouth. 

Exploding cafes? Ghosts? Are people almost dying? 

What the hell kind of genre did I just walk into? 

He very slowly leaned over again and caught a glimpse of the guy with orange hair scribbling something in a notebook. "And the weirdest part," she said thoughtfully, "is that it happened in the afternoon." 

"Oh yeah," the hoodie girl agreed. "What kind of ghost-or-spirit stuff happened in the afternoon? It's like it was desperate to make chaos or something." 

Touya was frozen in place, his hot coffee slowly losing its heat, half a cookie dangling from his lips, eyes wide as saucers. 

They were still talking. 

Exploding cafe. Spirit. Or, maybe a ghost? The customers passed out. One girl is dying like a protagonist. And the orange-haired boy—the boy who somehow had made eye contact with him when he was walking in the hallway—was scribbling in a notebook like he was profiling spirits for fun. 

"Anyway," the girl with star clips leaned beside the orange-haired guy. "Momoi-san said there's something unknown, black power coming out from you. Is that why the customers' energy drained?" 

"B-Black power...?!" Touya whisper-yelled into his sandwich. 

As if summoned by his disbelief, a sudden gust of wind blew a spray of petals directly into his face. He choked, and accidentally dropped his coffee. 

The group behind the tree went silent. 

Touya tried to play dead. 

"...Did someone sneeze?" Hoshino asked. 

"Ghost sneeze?" the hoodie girl whispered. 

Momoi frowned. "Ghosts don't sneeze!" 

Panicking, Touya shoved the last of his sandwich into his mouth and scrambled up, grabbing his bento bag like it was radioactive. 

"I think there's someone behind the tree." 

Touya panicked. Gently, slowly, as if escaping from a predator, he began to edge away from the tree with exaggerated stealth. He thought he was doing a good job too—until his foot landed squarely on a twig. 

Snap. 

The loudest twig in the entire prefecture. 

Oh, fuck. 

The group circle turned their heads in perfect unison like horror movie animatronics. 

Touya locked eyes with Hoshino. 

And he swears it feels like his soul left his body. 

"..." 

Hoshino tilted her head, brows furrowed. "Aoyagi-kun?" 

"Ah." Touya blinked. "That's... not me." 

"You're wearing your name tag." 

Touya looked down. And true to her word, there it is, the cursed school-issued name tag: Aoyagi Touya, Class 1-C. 

Ichika smiled. 

It wasn't a cruel smile—it was curious. Like she'd just spotted a new kind of yakisoba flavor. And Touya just knew that because Hoshino had once let her guard down when she was in a shooting to review the street foods. 

"Oh? Eavesdropping? Didn't know you were interested in the paranormal." 

"I wasn't. I was eating. In peace. With birds and air and public cherry trees—!" he blurted, waving his half-crushed cookie in the air. "—And you people are talking about an exploded cafe and haunted streets like it's lunchtime gossip!" 

"Well, it is lunchtime gossip," said the hoodie girl with a smug face, already offering him a space to sit too. "Want in?" 

Touya backed away like it was laced with sulfur. 

"N-No thanks! I... I'm lactose intolerant!" 

"Huh? But that has nothing to do with—" the senior frowns. 

Touya whirled around and made a break for it, tripping slightly over a root as he ran from the tree like it personally offended him. Petals stuck to his blazer, and his thermos was still lying sadly under the tree. 

He didn't care. 

Oh, but that thermos is from a one-limited edition collab with Cardcaptor Sakura... 

Just as he was rounding the hedge and about to vanish forever, Hoshino called out to him. 

"Aoyagi-kun! You sure you are not scared?" 

He froze. 

"...Excuse me?" he called back, voice rising a little too high. 

"Ghosts, haunted streets, cafe exploded. You're not running away because you are scared, right?" Hoshino said sweetly. 

It was bait. 

He knew it. 

Hoshino knew it. She knew Aoyagi Touya was a boy who couldn't be challenged over something even if it was a small issue. Hell, the worst thing he'd ever challenged himself is finishing his favorite blush shade in three days. 

Touya wants to cover his ears. Want to ignore what Hoshino said. 

Unfortunately, Touya Aoyagi—the variety idol, a sarcastic realist, an unwilling exorcist—had one weakness besides cooking and that is... 

...a challenge. 

He stomped back to the tree, snatched his limited edition Cardcaptor Sakura collab thermos up, and said, "I am not scared of your bargain-bin Scooby-Doo club conversations!" 

"Oh? Then sit and prove it." 

"Fine! I will!" 

He sat down. Next to Hoshino. 

Still fuming. Still holding his mom's cookie. 

...and wondering, deeply, how he ended up here. 

Ugh, this cursed tree is trying to tell me something before this happened. Next time, I will need to trust my instinct. 

 

⁞
✿

 

The sun paints soft amber across the windows as Touya walks a few steps behind the others, bento bag and his precious thermos still in his hands. The faint scent of sakura still lingers from the courtyard incident. He pretends he's not walking with them. 

Hoshino chats with the orange head, her voice somehow becomes light and natural. It throws him off. Touya stares at her for a second too long before looking away. 

She used to carry tension like a tightrope pulled across her spine back in the idol industry. Even her smile had structure back then like it had been rehearsed. Now? Now she walks with a slouch, her grin tilted at odd angles, messy but Touya can tell she's slowly trying to relax. 

She seems free. 

And soft too. 

And it irks him just a little—how some people managed to move on, while he still wakes up every morning with phantom spotlight burns. 

Then there's the younger Shiraishi. 

Touya can feel the boy occasionally glancing back at him from the corner of his eye, like checking if a ghost is watching. When Hoshino nudges younger Shiraishi teasingly, the poor boy practically fumbles his sentence. 

"I–I wasn't staring! I mean, I wasn't looking behind or anything! Y-you are imagining stuff!" 

Passion, Touya thinks dryly. Loud, hot, unfiltered passion. The kind that burns so fast it can't hide its nervous flickers. He recognizes that type too well. 

Shiraishi An, however, is all polite smiles and smooth words. She's been giving Touya the most formally polite treatment since they left the courtyard, voice calm, posture upright. But, there's something in the way she watches her little brother with that older sibling squint. The kind of squint that calculates how much chaos she can allow before stepping in. 

He decides instantly; that the girl is a gentle menace. The kind who could end you with a single scolding. 

Then there's Yoisaki. 

Touya glances sideways. She just walks quietly beside them, one hand in her hoodie pocket, the other adjusting the something under her sleeves. Is that... bandage? She hums faintly under her breath—he can't tell if it's a tune or just a thought turned into sound. 

When their eyes briefly meet, she smiles—serene, lazy, like none of this is strange to her. 

Touya looks away again. 

This group... feels strange. They looked normal, but... Touya had the feeling that they were not ordinary humans. 

At least, the boy with orange hair is confirmed to have supernatural abilities. 

Wait... maybe I should talk to Dad about this. Touya thought. But anyway, he doesn't know how to walk beside people like this anymore. He is used to watching from a distance, not from the same sidewalk. 

As they near the class junction, Hoshino throws him a glance over her shoulder. 

"You're awful quiet for a 'former star,' Aoyagi." 

Touya exhales. Patient, Touya. Patient. "And you're awful loud for someone who got experienced by a near-death situation." 

"I wasn't loud!" she laughs, spinning on her heel. "And that experience not just nearly—killed us, but that also helped us to banish the ghost." 

Shiraishi Akito flinches. "With some dangerous power, yeah..." 

Older Shiraishi sips from her juice box like nothing is wrong. "You're getting used to us already, aren't you, Aoyagi-kun?" 

"Don't assume things," he mutters. 

Yoisaki grins faintly. "But you're not denying it." 

He clicks his tongue without another word, but the warmth in his ears betrays him. He can't tell if it's an embarrassment. 

Or something dangerously close to comfort. 

Then they split at the stairwell. Class A goes right, Class B straight ahead and Class C goes left. Touya lingers at the intersection just a second longer than necessary, half-turning toward the window as if admiring the clouds—when really, he just wants to buy himself a moment to breathe. 

He doesn't know when it happened. 

One second, he was just walking near them. The next, he was... with them. 

A gentle laugh from Hoshino. An absentminded hum from Yoisaki. Shiraishi Akito's nervous stammer. Shiraishi An's perfectly timed teasing. It had surrounded him before he could shut it out. For the first time in a long time, the space beside him wasn't hollow. And he had filled it with something dangerously soft. 

Companionship. 

...Friendship. 

His fingers curl. He should've known it was a mistake. 

The bi-colored hair boy breathes in too sharply. The warmth in his chest is replaced by ice. That feeling—this closeness—it's too familiar. It digs up the image he buried, no matter how many nights he's lied to himself that he's forgotten. 

Saki's voice. 

Her laughter. Her ridiculous star-chasing plans. Her optimism was like it couldn't crack. Her silly but innocent attitude. 

Her soft hand was on his shoulder. Her smile. 

Her favorite blush shade. 

Touya's breath hitches. No. He grips the bento bag tightly, trying to will the tremble out of his body. Not now. Not in this stupid hallway. Not— 

"Aoyagi-san?" 

Younger Shiraishi's voice breaks the spiral. 

Touya's head jerks up. The orange head had doubled back from the stairs—eyes wide, voice unsure. "Are you okay? You're... shaking." 

His silver eyes stare at him. 

The concern sounds so tender. It feels so real, unlike others who have tried to be his so-called friends before. It pierces him. His chest lurches like a snapped string. 

Don't look at me like that. 

"I'm fine," he says after a long pause. 

Shiraishi takes a step closer. "You sure? You're pale and—" 

"I said I'm fine!" Touya snaps. 

His voice echoes sharper, bouncing over the silent hall. Students down the hall glance over. And Shiraishi blinks, startled. For a second, Touya expects him to flinch. To get defensive. 

To leave. 

But surprisingly, Shiraishi stayed. He doesn't even frown. He just tilts his head and says quietly, "Sorry. I just thought you looked... sad." 

What...? Touya's heart skips. 

It's the honesty in the boy's voice—gentle, unguarded—that shatters him. It's not just the words. It's how much it sounds like Saki, back then, when she'd noticed too much and cared too hard. 

He turns away before Shiraishi can see the twist in his expression. He hates this. This warmth. This pain. This terrifying ache that screams, if you let them in, you'll break again. 

He exhales slowly through his nose, keeping his back turned. "..Don't go around worrying about people who don't deserve it." 

Shiraishi's footsteps retreat a few steps—then pause. 

And then, to Touya's surprise, he hears a small laugh. "Too late for that," The orange-haired boy says softly. "You kinda look like the kind of guy who needs it." Then he walks off. 

Touya stays frozen. The hallway grows quiet again. 

But, his heart won't stop pounding.

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

Aoyagi's voice still rang in Akito's ears, long after it had faded. 

"I said I'm fine!" 

No. He's not fine. That sounds nothing like a person who is fine. 

Akito had seen the shake in his shoulders. The stiffness in his grip. The way his eyes—normally so unreadable—had sparked with something between fear and fury. Like he was screaming on the inside but had nowhere to put it. 

It made Akito want to say something. Anything. 

But instead, he just apologized to Aoyagi. There's this... feeling that drives Akito to want to help Aoyagi free from what had chained him. He'd seen from Hoshino. She's changing, slow like baby steps, but at least she is trying too. Kanade is a whole different story, but she is changing too. Her awkward conversation with Momoi becomes relaxed without tension now. 

Hoshino turned to him, brow furrowed, and asked, "Was Aoyagi okay?" 

And Kanade, beside her, echoed softly, "Did something happen?" 

He just shrugged with a sheepish smile. "No," Akito smiled. "Aoyagi-san is just scared if he is late to class." 

He knew they didn't buy it completely, but Akito was glad that they let it go. 

Because Akito knew. Some people... they didn't want others to see the moments they broke. Especially not someone like Aoyagi. 

So he held onto the concern quietly. 

The fifth period rolled in, geography. He sat by the window, pretending to be interested in the economic geography of mountain villages while his eyes occasionally flicked across the room—to where he had seen Touya sat, head propped against his palm, eyes half-lidded. Present in class. But his mind wonders somewhere far away. 

Class ended very quickly. 

Hoshino and Kanade offered to help their next teacher, arms already half-full with stacks of notes. He waved them off with a grin, assuring them he'd see them later. 

Then he made a beeline to the bathroom, needing a splash of water on his face more than anything. 

He turned the corner—and walked straight into someone. 

"Oh—! I'm sorry!" Akito stammered, stumbling back as his shoulder smacked into a figure. The boy he bumped into steadied him before stepping back, hands raised in apology too. 

"No, no, I wasn't paying attention," the boy said with a calm smile. "You okay?" 

Blonde hair with peach tips, slightly tousled like he'd been running. His uniform was crisp, though the badge on his arm caught Akito's attention first: the emblem of the student council. 

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine!" Akito quickly bowed. "Sorry, senpai—I wasn't looking. Are you hurt?" 

"Not at all. No harm done." The senior chuckled lightly. "You looked like you had something heavy on your mind." 

Akito blinked. "Ah, it's nothing! I was just... distracted. Still, sorry again." 

The senior gave a warm nod. "Don't worry. Things happen. Just be careful next time, alright?" 

And then, with a small wave, he turned the corner and disappeared down the hallway. Akito stood there for a second, heart still pounding from the collision—and something else. That upperclassman had been nice. Gentle, even. 

He felt even guiltier for nearly barreling into him like that. 

"...Wait," Akito muttered aloud, eyes widening. "I forgot to ask his name!" 

Too late, Akito. The hallway was empty again. 

He scratched the back of his neck, a little embarrassed, but couldn't help smiling a bit to himself. 

A strange but oddly comforting encounter. 

Still, even as he returned to class and settled into his seat, his mind wandered back to earlier. To Aoyagi. To that trembling moment, no one else had caught. 

Akito sighed quietly, resting his chin in his palm. 

That feeling hadn't left his chest yet.

Notes:

.☘︎ ݁˖ Akito's April Log

𝄞 April, 7th.

I don't really know how to start this. It feels weird, writing something like this in my diary instead of lyrics or silly sketches, but… I guess I need to get this out somehow.

So—

Today was... intense.

We were attacked. By something that wasn’t human. A spirit. A wind spirit, I think. I still don’t fully understand it, but it wasn’t just a scary story. It was real. It howled like a storm, twisted the air like it hated everything. It almost tore the whole Momoi's cafe apart.

And someone nearly died.
(Hoshino says "nearly" like it was no big deal. Kanade also didn't mind it. But I feel really bad.)

I didn't know spirits could be so angry. I wanted to do something—to help—but I froze. My legs just wouldn’t move.

I’m trying to remember every detail, but it’s like the wind took the memory away too. Or maybe I’m just shaken. Maybe I’m scared to remember too clearly.

…I thought spirits were just something people made up. You know, like stories.

But this wasn’t a story.

I wonder if this is only the beginning.

—ɑꮶıꞇᴏ

Chapter 10: Chapter 9 : "Ugh, I hate you two!"

Notes:

i dont know why i take too much time writing this..

𝄞 April, 8th. 

Tuesday

5.30 p.m. 

 

The door creaked open slowly as Touya stepped inside, loosening the tie around his neck. The scent of incense hit him first—sharp, herbal, and it is a familiar one, where his father is in his 'praying' time. His face instinctively scrunched up at the memory. 

"...Again?" he muttered, slipping off his shoes. A muffled chanting reached his ears from the backyard. 

"...be banished in salt and wind... let the veil be cleansed..." 

Touya peeked through the sliding doors to find his father, Harumichi, crouched in the middle of a salt circle with talismans flapping in the breeze and a headband tied dramatically around his forehead like a martial arts anime reject. 

"Seriously...?" 

He made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, trying to ignore the goosebumps prickling at his arms. Despite how used he should've been, the scene outside still brought a strange chill to his spine—especially today. 

Because all day, his mind had been haunted not by spirits, but by the younger Shiraishi's face. His concern. His eyes were wide and kind and too much like— 

"Shit," Touya muttered to himself, setting the glass down with a sharp clink. "It's just a coincidence. You're overthinking again." 

But the memory of the lunchtime howl, the shimmer in the air, the look of concern twisting Shiraishi's expression—it had been real. 

As real as Harumichi's absurd backyard rituals. 

He glanced back at his father, who had now moved on to ringing a set of tiny bells and humming like an old monk possessed by caffeine. 

Touya watched in silence, lips pursed. 

Is it time for me to say something? 

But he didn't. Not that night, but Touya promised himself he will tomorrow. 

 

 

⁞

✿ 

 

 

It was a quiet morning—aside from the faint chant echoing from the backyard shrine and the clack of ceramic tea cups in the kitchen. 

The third son of the Aoyagi family walked in, stopping short as he passed the window. 

There was Harumichi—his fifty-something-year-old father—still outside, barefoot, shirt half-buttoned, waving around an incense stick like it was a lightsaber, muttering, "Spirits of the eastern wind, I banish your lingering mischief with the power of rosemary and a tax refund!" 

The bi-colored-haired boy sighed. "You've been at it since five." 

Harumichi paused dramatically and spun, striking a theatrical pose with the incense in hand. "Evil does not clock in, Touya! Neither shall I!" 

Touya just walked past him into the kitchen. 

Later, with the incense finally extinguished and Harumichi dressed in a half-proper kimono over sweatpants ("balance of spirit and comfort," he claimed), the two sat across from each other at the small wooden table. 

Harumichi handed over a cup of overly floral tea. "Alright. What's troubling your aura, my star-born son?" And Touya cringed at the nickname. "You haven't glared at me like this since I put salt in your shampoo." 

His son pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we have one conversation without you being a freak?" 

Harumichi put a hand to his heart. "Ouch!" He animately gasped at his son's insult. "So cruel. But yes, you may proceed. Speak your woes, young man!" 

"Well... it's about school. Something happened." 

"Did someone summon something without warding salt again? I told your principal, that the science club has no idea what they're—" 

"No. I mean—it's not about someone summoned an evil spirit." Touya exhaled. "Yesterday, I overheard some underclassmen talking. It sounded like nonsense at first. Ghost attacks. Exploding cafe. But then, they said one of their friends almost died." 

Harumichi's eyebrow rose above his thick-rimmed reading glasses. "Oh." 

"Um, okay." Touya blinked at Harumichi's reaction. "So it was an evil wind spirit that attacked them. In Hoshino's story, she said that Kanade almost died of blood loss because she protected the cafe customers. Then, that moment awakened an ability within this... Shiraishi, like a power that swallows all living energy." 

Harumichi leaned forward, tapping the table with a single finger. "A power that swallows lives..." 

The boy tilted his head. "You know anything, dad?" 

"You said living life reacting to him. But I think..." Harumichi hummed, adjusting his reading glasses. "I think it's a reaction that comes from him." 

Touya stared. "You're saying—?" 

"I'm saying that this Shiraishi is not haunted. He is the haunting." 

Harumichi stood suddenly, pulled a random book off the shelf, flipped through it, and slammed it open in front of Touya. "Wind-based spirit manifestation! Rarely happen, but not impossible. Emotional projection turned spiritual energy. The fancy term is a "storm-tethered guardian entity'—but I prefer 'wind tantrum baby'." 

Touya blinked, not getting it. 

"It's like this," Harumichi continued, now pacing with both hands dramatically gesturing the air to make the boy imagine pictures. "The boy's emotional state is triggering a spirit form—probably one born from past trauma or suppressed instinct. These spirits latch on to emotionally receptive souls like him. Add teenage hormones? Boom! A whirlwind of danger." 

"Ahh..." Touya rubbed his temples. "That was the worst explanation I've ever heard and yet I somehow get it." 

"Good!" Harumichi grinned. "Because you are going to help him." 

"What? No! You help him." 

"I'm too weird, Touya." Harumichi raised both arms in the quiet air. "I mean, look at me! I showed up at your parent-teacher conference in ceremonial robes and sandals." 

"You also asked my homeroom teacher if she felt the presence of a vengeful rat spirit." 

"She did!" he exclaimed. "The aura in that classroom was gnarly." 

Touya groaned. "This isn't helping!" 

Harumichi's expression softened. "Look, all I'm saying is... that boy is probably already opening up to you." The younger took a mental note of that, remembering the time Shiraishi Akito didn't flinch at his rude words yesterday. 

"He trusts you, Touya. That's rare. And if you don't help him, he might spiral." 

A silence passed. 

Then Harumichi added with a grin, "Plus, it'd make you, technically, my exorcist apprentice. We can make matching robes!" 

"No." 

"I'll sew our names in the sleeves." 

"I will run away." 

"I will eat your mother's cookies stock." 

Touya finally cracked a smile despite himself. 

His father leaned in, resting his chin on his palm, suddenly more subdued. "You're good at pushing people away, Touya. Always have been, but you pulled this kid toward you without even trying. That's a gift. Use it properly." 

Touya stared at his tea, quiet for a moment. 

"Alright," he muttered. "I'll talk to him." 

Harumichi raised his arms. "Excellent! I knew it! The spirits whispered it in my—" 

"Don't ruin it, Dad." 

"Ha! Too late, young man!"

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

 

"We're home," An called gently, brushing cherry blossom petals off her uniform skirt. 

The scent of warm rice and simmering dashi greeted them before their mother did. Shiraishi Yuka poked her head out from the kitchen, a warm smile across her face, her apron slightly wrinkled, and her hair pulled back loosely. 

"Welcome back, you two," she said, voice gentle like spring rain. "Dinner will be ready soon. Why don't you wash your hands first?" 

Akito peeked toward the living room. 

"Where's Ena-nee and Dad?" he asked, setting his bag by the wall. 

There was a slight pause before Yuka returned her gaze to the simmering pot. 

"Oh," she replied casually, "They're away on a club field trip. Something about... Harajuku, I think? Your dad tagged along as a chaperone." 

The ginger raised an eyebrow. "Harajuku? For a club trip?" 

An, who had just turned toward the sink, whispered without looking back, "I'll tell you later. After dinner." 

Akito blinked, startled, but nodded silently. 

The three had dinner in a quiet, but comfortable silence. Usually, it would rather be a little friendly if Ena and Ken were here too. Akito always had to give An his carrots if Ena sneaked hers onto his plate, and in return, An will give her tomatoes to both of them. While their parents watching in disapproval. 

So, after dinner, both siblings decided to hang out for a while in Akito's room. The only sounds now were the soft whir of the heater and the faint rustling of the night wind. 

An sat cross-legged on the bed, arms on her knees, her ever-gentle expression changed now. Akito was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking at her with concern. 

"I heard them talking yesterday," An whispered. "Ena and Dad. They didn't know I was home early." 

Akito nods at that. 

An continued, "The supernatural club isn't just doing some tourist trip. There's a special case in Harajuku. Something really... big. I don't know all the details, but it was serious enough that Dad agreed to go, too." 

Akito's mind spun. "Why wouldn't they tell us?" 

"Maybe because they don't want us to be worried," she answered. "About them." 

Akito swallowed hard, gaze drifting toward his journal on the desk. April. Which, he remembered was still new. Still blank. 

"...Maybe this is my chance," he murmured. 

"Huh?" 

"To figure this out. Why I can see them. Why do they come to me? Why do I have that dangerous power." He stood and walked over to his desk, taking his journal—soft pink cover. 

His idol journal. 

Each month before had been filled with hopeful scribbles, training plans, and little flowers drawn in the corners. But April had been empty. 

Until yesterday. 

At lunch, where he jot down everything he can remember and what his friends knew about the wind spirit, about his ability. 

Akito clicked his pen and sat down slowly, flipping to the next page after his messy notes about wind spirit. His hand hovered for a second—then he began to write. 

 

𝄞 April, 8th 

 

Today, we discussed the incident that happened during lunch break. Though nothing had been solved, everyone affected by the incident has recovered, even Kanade. She was supposed to rest for another 2 days, but she said she didn't trust me to take care of myself if she wasn't there. How rude! I'm capable of taking care of myself. 

...I believe I can take care of myself! 

Anyway, moving on! 

Momoi-senpai and Kanade's awkward conversations have become less and less tense now. They also talk about Kamishiro and... Kiritani, something about partners, I think. 

Hoshino seems to enjoy An and my company. She is also kind of in her field of teasing Aoyagi-san and me today... I wonder what is she thinking about... But hey, she's happy and her face is full of smiles, that's my idol right there! 

I also learned from Mom that Dad and Ena-nee are on a secret club field trip. But only An knows they're on a mission to solve a case in Harajuku. What kind of mission they're doing, I wonder...?

 

He paused. Then, at the bottom of the page, he carefully drew a single cherry blossom petal next to the last line.

 

The theme of the month: Blooming even in strange winds. 

 

An leaned over his shoulder, quietly reading. "That's kind of cheesy, Akito," she teased with a small smile. 

The boy's face flushed. "Sh-Shut up." 

But she just laughed softly, the same gentle menace in her eyes replaced by something more sincere. 

"I think it suits you." 

And Akito just smiled at that. Holding the journal close to his chest, happy that he can share his trouble with one of his family members whom he trusts. 

"An..." 

"Hmm?" 

Akito hesitated. He wanted to ask An. About if he deserved to be taken care of, about if she willing to stay by his side even dangerous things happen. She has always absent in this house, always busy practising guitar, always helping her sick friend in hospital... 

So when An spent her days following him almost EVERYWHERE he went, it was kind of odd, but it also felt nice. 

It's like she is trying to keep him from danger but in silence. It's like she is trying to reconnect their tense sibling relationship. Now An keeps her track beside him like she's always been since he was adopted into this family. 

"Akito," A pair of bright, concerned orange iris look at him. "What is it?" 

Akito knows he's selfish. 

I mean, it's about him. All of these troubles that have happened are about him. The eyes that weren't his, the secrets that Ken, Yuka, and Ena kept from both of them, the dangerous ability that he possessed. 

He didn't deserve to be understood. 

He didn't deserve to be seen. 

"No," Akito let out a chuckle. "I'm just thinking things." 

An seems unconvinced. She did not say anything but sighed in annoyance. "You know, for someone so honest..." She paused, her hand raised to her brother's head, ruffling his hair. Which earned a yelp from him. 

She let out a giggle to see him frown, trying to push her hand from his head. 

"... You didn't trust me that much, huh?" An muttered. 

His brother blinked. "Eh?" 

"For your information," An shuffled against Akito's brown blanket. "Nene's health has improved, so I had no reason to go to the hospital anymore. Mafuyu's trying to stand up to her bullies with Shizuku-senpai's help, and I wanted to give her the space to change." 

Akito heard An's shaky breath. "And Ena..." Her eyebrows wrinkled. "Ena as always, far away. Far from us, because she still has that doubts. But I could tell she wanted to be beside us. Even if she can't admit that." 

Looking at An's facial expression, she looked like she was free from the burden she chose to bear alone. 

That loneliness. 

Dear, Polaris is a band that was formed with four childhood friends. But before they formed the band, each of them had different goals in mind. One wanted to go pro, one wanted to keep her distance because she didn't want people to talk trash about her friends, one wanted them to be together forever but got chained to an illness, and one wanted the four of them to get back together because she loves them. 

As far as what Akito knows, An is always chasing them. 

But why is she willing to bear those burdens? What makes her didn't give up at that is a mystery to him. If it's him who needs to experience the pain, Akito probably will be left behind in the dust, failing to chase his friends. 

"And you," 

"...Me?" 

An grinned. "I have once, wanted to give up on reconnecting our childhood dream." She revealed. 

"But... you don't--ow!" 

The black-haired girl nudged him. "Because you prevent me from doing that." Akito caressed his arm, confused. Trying to remember if there's a memory of him giving advice to An. 

"That evening, that painful memory when I came back home in despair..." An's voice softened, eyes distant, as if reaching through time. "I stumbled upon your singing." 

Her words trailed off, and the present dissolved- 

 

-into the gentle creak of the front door opening. 

The house was soaked in the golden hour, barely catching on the hallway walls. An stepped inside, her bag slumping off her shoulder, her heart heavier than the sky outside. 

Nene cried today, another failed band practice because she fainted in exhaustion. Ena gets angry at almost everything. Mafuyu gets home early because her classmates are waiting. 

"Are you serious about going pro with those cheap skills?" 

It is also another reminder that her guitar and vocal practices betrayed her today. 

She didn't bother calling out. Just wanted to crawl into her room, disappear under the covers, and pretend none of it mattered anymore. 

But then— 

A voice. Not so loud. Not even polished. But strong in emotions. 

 

"...Feeling blue in the evening,

As the sunlight is locked away..." 

 

She paused outside the slightly ajar door to her brother's room. 

He was alone inside, unaware of an audience, standing in front of the mirror. Not in any spotlight. Not on any stage. He just wearing his usual clothes that complimented his small, melancholic smile. 

 

"In a moment, your face lamented,

And soundless tears spilled and faded..." 

 

He spun lightly on his heel, fists clenched at his sides. The way he moved wasn't like those idols on TV. A little off-tempo, but there was heart in it. Determination. Like he believed in every word in the lyrics. 

 

"This small world

Bares its big fangs..." 

 

Akito stepped forward, punching the air with each beat, then swept his arms outward, his gaze steady in the mirror. 

 

"Thinking 'I wanted us to be together,'

It weighs down on your heart..." 

 

An's breath caught. 

She didn't know why, but suddenly, her chest ached—and not from despair. But from something else. Like someone had lit a spark inside her. 

 

"Even if my meager words

Can't get through anymore,

I want to give you strength!

'I want to help you. Please, grant my wish!'" 

 

Akito raised his fist again and beamed—not cocky or proud, just... hopeful. Like he didn't need a soul to see him trying to help someone. 

An didn't step inside. She didn't interrupt. She just stood there, biting back tears, overwhelmed by how simple and genuine it was. And Akito didn't even know anyone was watching. 

 

"Believe in you, because you're you!"

Say it loud, and mean it!" Akito's eyes softened, smiling like he meant it. "It's not hopeless! If you wish for it, you'll meet again!" 

 

An's fingers loosened around the edge of the wall. 

Something shifted in her chest—not an instant spark, but a quiet, warming thrum. The kind that rises when a flickering ember finds air again. 

Back then, she'd felt like giving up. 

Mom has told her about Akito's dream. About his failed auditions. But he did not give up trying his best. 

He was still chasing it. Still reaching. 

So An decided that she wouldn't give up either. 

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket, as if brushing away nothing at all, and took one step back from his door. Then from the other end of the hallway, she took a deep breath, whispered to herself with a sheepish, wavering smile. 

"I'll give it another shot." 

She raised a fist half-heartedly toward the ceiling, mimicking Akito's pose. Her voice cracked, laughing. 

"...Did that sound kinda cool?" 

Then she chuckled under her breath. A small, stubborn chuckle. The kind that only escaped her when no one was watching. 

With a deep breath, An turned on her heel. 

And just like that, her quitting message was never sent. Instead, she started drafting a new one for the band's group, saying she wanted to practice together again. Her message was followed by Nene and Mafuyu, agreeing, and tons of cute emoji stickers flooding the chat. 

The memory faded like a soft note at the end of a song. 

 

An sat with her knees hugged to her chest, her voice quieter now. "You didn't see me," she admitted, glancing sideways at Akito. "You were just... being you. But that version of you, standing there and singing like the world hadn't already crushed us—I needed that more than I ever realized." 

Her brother blinked, wide-eyed. "Wait... you saw that?" 

An laughed, then her tone changed to tease him. "Oh, I saw everything!  Especially the part where you tripped over the edge of the rug doing that spin." 

At this, the boy feels heat crept to his face. "I—I didn't trip! I was pivoting!" Akito huffed, pink creeping to his cheeks. 

She nudged him with her shoulder. "Sure, angel boy." Akito tried not to roll his eyes at the sudden nickname. "But it was kind of amazing. You gave me the push I needed that day, even without knowing it." 

Akito looked down, bashful, then glanced at her with a soft grin. "I didn't do anything..." 

"You did enough," An said as she leaned beside him. "So, think this as an apology for I'm leaving you to tend to other things. I will be always with you now, okay?" 

There was a beat of silence, but it felt full—like a quiet pact between siblings sealed not with grand promises, but with shared memories and unspoken trust. 

Akito smiles at her. "Thank you, An." 

"Sure." Then, of course, An broke it with a smirk. "But next time you do mirror practice, maybe close the door. You're seriously lucky I didn't record that." 

"Wha—you wouldn't dare!" 

"Hmm... what would Hoshino think if she saw that recording? Maybe she will be teasing you until you graduate high school?" 

"AN!!" 

And their laughter echoed without walls that kept each other's secrets anymore. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

𝄞 April, 9th

Wednesday

10.15 a.m. 

 

The first-year classes had mostly emptied when lunch break started just five minutes ago. Only the echo of shuffled footsteps and the hum of distant clubrooms filled the air. 

Akito walked a little faster as his eyes glancing at every nameplate on each classroom door. 

"Aoyagi... Class C..." he muttered half to himself, half to Kanade's words echoing in his memory. 

 

"I thought you usually eat with Hoshino-san?" He had asked Kanade, eyeing the space beside her. 

"Nah, I'm having lunch with Airi today," Kanade said softly. "She asked me to help her revise for the literature test." 

Akito tilted his head, wondering why because Kanade and Momoi-senpai were in different grades. But he didn't pry. "Oh. And Hoshino-san?" 

"She'll be fine. Your sister offered to keep her company." 

He turned slightly—sure enough, Hoshino sat under a nearby tree with An, who animatedly gestured with her chopsticks while the navy-haired girl nodded, amused. That same carefree smile on her face which is a rarity back then, but now growing more common. 

Akito sighed in relief and turned back to Kanade. "You trust An a lot, huh?" 

"She's kind," Kanade said. "And silently chaotic. But I think Hoshino needs that." 

They ate in quiet for a few more minutes. Then, as Kanade carefully unwrapped a melon pan from her desk, she glanced up and asked, "You are worried about Aoyagi?" 

Akito choked on his rice. "H-Huh?!" 

Kanade's gaze was unreadable but not unkind. "You keep glancing toward class C." 

The boy rubbed the back of his neck, flustered. "N-No. I just... wondering if he's okay after..." It was at this moment he realized he accidentally slips up the lie he told her yesterday. 

But Kanade tilted her head thoughtfully, then said, "The Aoyagi family runs a shrine, you know." 

Akito blinked. "Wait, really? Like, an actual shrine?" 

She nodded. "It's in Yoyogi. The place is old, but beautiful though. Their family's been exorcists for generations." 

That made Akito pause. Aoyagi... and exorcists? That doesn't sound right in the same sentence somehow. 

"I didn't think Aoyagi-san was the shrine type," he muttered. 

"Bingo. He's not," Kanade simply agreed. "But his father is. From what I've heard, he's well-known in certain spiritual circles. They say he can purify spirits just by chanting." 

Akito stared at her, stunned. "Like... real exorcisms? Not the TV drama kind?" 

Kanade nodded, "I'm telling you the truth." 

Akito slowly looked down at his half-eaten rice ball. Outside, the cherry blossoms continued to fall, one landing gently close to Kanade's desk, brought by the wind. His thoughts ran faster than his heartbeat. 

So Aoyagi wasn't just a cold boy with secrets. He came from a family who might have answers... or maybe even help. 

He clenched his fists a little tighter. 

"...Thanks, Kanade," he said quietly. 

Kanade smiled at his quiet motivation. "You should ask him." 

Akito glanced up, meeting her clear blue eyes. "Even if he says no," she continued, "sometimes, reaching out is the first step." 

She stood then, gathering her lunch, and walked off toward the door, where Momoi Airi waited with a small wave. 

Akito sat there a moment longer, eyes fixed on Aoyagi's class heart already beginning to pound with resolve. He finished his rice balls instantly, almost choked too- but his mother's warm tea in his thermos helped him through that. 

 

And now, here Akito is, walking in the hallway while biting his lip, eyes a little too focused on class C in his rush to find a certain bi-colored-haired boy. 

And then— 

WHUMP! 

"Ow—!" 

"Aiya—!" 

Akito stumbled back a step, arms flailing slightly, while the person he collided with barely moved. Sharp grey eyes met startled olive ones. 

"A-Aoyagi-san!" The orange head sputtered. 

Aoyagi raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, calm and unimpressed. "Were you trying to phase through people now too? You looked like a launched soccer ball." 

"I-I wasn't!" Akito protested, cheeks puffing up. "I was trying to be careful! I just... I was thinking—" 

"Oh, that explains everything," Aoyagi deadpanned. "Thinking and walking. A dangerous combo." 

Akito scowled but tried to hide it with a huff, brushing off his sleeve that had somehow wrinkled. 

Aoyagi looked at him for a second longer, then added with a sigh, "You really need a warning sign on you. Like, 'Hazard zone, may trip into your soul.'" 

"...That sounds like something you'd actually do..." Akito mumbled. 

"What was that?" 

"N-Nothing!" 

They both paused in the hallway—sunlight casting golden rectangles across the floor, dust dancing quietly in the air. 

Then Aoyagi's expression softened ever so slightly like a crack in glass letting light through. "Anyway, now you're here, I don't need to looking for you." 

The other boy blinked. "I-I was looking for you as well..." 

Aoyagi frowned. "Huh?" 

Akito scratched the back of his head. "Kanade said something about your family running a shrine. I thought maybe you could help me with... you know. My ability." 

A beat. 

Aoyagi was stunned in silence. "I was going to say the same thing. I... I wanted to talk to you about that dangerous power." 

They stared at each other in mutual confusion for two seconds too long. 

Then, they both started laughing. Akito wheezed a chuckle, clutching his chest.  Aoyagi too, let out a low chuckle, brushing a hand through his hair in disbelief. 

"You're such a dork," Aoyagi muttered. 

Akito gasped at that. "And you are rude!" But he continued to laugh, looking not offended. 

"Okay, okay. Come on," The bi-colored-haired boy said finally. "Let's talk somewhere less echo-y." 

Akito nodded, still smiling. 

As they walked down the corridor together, side by side, the cherry blossoms outside continued to fall. The golden warmth of the afternoon sun filtered through the pink canopy. Students were mostly gone by now, only a few silhouettes dotting the distance, their voices too far to reach. 

Akito sat on a bench beneath the tree, while Aoyagi stood for a moment as if debating whether this was a good idea. But then he sighed and plopped down beside him, arms loosely resting over his knees. 

"...You sure you wanna talk here?" Akito asked. "Last time you sat here, you eavesdropped your way into ghost trauma." 

Aoyagi made a face. "Ugh, you don't have to bring that up." 

"Just saying." The orange head grinned faintly, then tilted his head toward the breeze. "It's quiet here, though. Safer to me too." 

Aoyagi nodded, then hesitated. "So... my family..." He looked away, his voice unusually dry. "Is the famous weirdos of Yoyogi ward." 

Akito glanced at him, unsure how to respond. “That bad?” 

"My dad's an exorcist-slash-yelling-monk," The boy deadpanned. "He chants mantras at 4 am, blesses rice cookers, and talks to crows like they're coworkers. I grew up with salt circles around the TV remote." 

And Akito can't help but snort, covering his mouth with his sleeve. "Okay—okay, I wasn't expecting that." 

Aoyagi smiled faintly at his laugh, then let the silence settle between them. A gentle silence this time. 

"...But he's good at it," Aoyagi said. "I didn't believe him either. Still kinda don't. But after hearing your story... Hoshino's part, and even Momoi-senpai's part. I couldn't help but need to accept that it's a real deal." 

Akito's smile faltered. He looked down at his hands. "That power... is dangerous. I-I didn't mean to do that. I don't even know what I was doing. I just... wanted to help." 

The other boy looked over at him, studying his expression. 

"Is it true? They've said your aura changed when that wind spirit lunged at Yoisaki. I'm sure it wasn't just panic." 

Akito swallowed hard at the fact. Cannot bring himself to talk more about the experience he has been through. 

A gentle breeze rustled the tree above them. 

"...My dad could train you," Aoyagi said after a moment. "But ugh, he's saying that I need to do that instead of him. Yet the one that knows this stuff better than anyone is him." 

Akito's eyes widened. "Aoyagi-san... You can control other abilities?" 

"Huh? Uhh... No? He says I do have something that lies within me though." He shrugged. "I've always ignored what he saying, told myself it wasn't real. But now..." 

He didn't finish the sentence. 

Akito looked at him, something almost shining in his eyes. "Aoyagi-san, why'd you come find me today?" 

Touya stared straight ahead, watching the petals fall. "...Because I know what it's like... To be scared of what's inside you. To think you don't fit in with anyone because you're weird or unlucky or broken." 

Honesty fits Aoyagi Touya in Akito's opinion. He looked more gentle when he talked about what he felt. 

"And because," Aoyagi added softly, "you remind me of someone I used to care about." 

Akito looked down again, heart skipping just a little. The words, gentle and heavy, rested between them. 

Then— 

"...Hey, did you just call me weird?" Akito asked, nudging him lightly with his shoulder. 

"Well, you are weird," Aoyagi retorted, nudging back. "You talk to ghosts and trip over air." 

Akito smiled. "I trip over my thoughts, thank you." 

They both laughed— and their light laughter echoed faintly into the wind. And above them, the cherry blossoms kept falling. Not in chaos, but in peace. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

The soft clinking of charms echoed in the still air as Aoyagi Harumichi adjusted the small paper talismans lining the inner corridor of the shrine. Incense lingered like an old song, calming yet ancient in its weight. Outside, wind chimes rang as dusk crept in. 

His old phone buzzed on the wooden shelf. Harumichi blinked, peering over his shoulder. He rarely got calls this late—especially not on this number. 

He picked it up and glanced at the screen. 

No caller ID. 

Harumichi hesitated, then tapped the green icon. "Yes, you've reached the divine hotline of the ever-handsome, ever-mystical Aoyagi Harumichi. If you're a ghost, speak after the beep—" 

"Harumichi," said a familiar voice. 

He straightened. The playful tone slipped from his voice like mist in the wind. "...It's been a while." 

The voice on the other end was quiet for a moment. "I don't have much time." 

Harumichi leaned back against the wall, gaze turning toward the shrine lanterns flickering outside. "You're not supposed to call me, remember?" 

"I know. But I had to." 

Another pause. Then, soft as a confession the voice said, "It's about my son." 

Harumichi closed his eyes briefly. "Akito-kun, yeah?" 

"You've heard it too, haven't you?" she asked. "I feel it's getting stronger. Unstable. I thought it would pass... but I was wrong." 

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Well, yes, I did notice. The spirit world talked about him." Her breath trembled through the speaker. "Ken said not to interfere. He made me promise." 

"And you listened?" Harumichi scoffed softly. "The same woman I knew from 11th grade who once threw a blessed bell at a wraith and told it to 'shut up'?" 

There was a quiet, tired laugh. "I've changed." 

"Pfft. You became more polite, not less stubborn." 

She didn't deny it. But after a beat, her voice grew gentler. "You know I can't do anything directly. If Ken finds out, it will only get worse. But, if it's you..." 

Silence stretched between them. 

"I just want my son to be safe," she whispered. "Please, Harumichi. Just watch over him. Guide him if you can. He's... lost. And I can't lose him too." 

The long, silver-haired man stared at the fading sky, his smile softening. "You are in luck. I might like the kid because he dragged Touya out of his shell." 

He could almost feel her relief through the line. 

"Thank you." 

And then, the line went dead. 

Harumichi stood in the growing silence, the phone still in hand. The wind stirred, blowing a few dried Sakura petals across the shrine steps. 

He looked toward the trees. 

"Akito-kun, huh?" He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. 

"Guess the spring gods are giving me homework again." 

 

 

⁞

✿ 

 

 

That late evening, the cherry blossom petals drifted lazily in Yoyogi—the scattered remnants of spring catching on cracked pavement and the folds of their clothes. 

Akito adjusted the strap of his bag and glanced sideways at Aoyagi, who walked beside him with his usual half-lidded, unimpressed stare fixed straight ahead. Behind them, An kept pace, her posture formal but relaxed, eyes scanning the shrine path with curiosity. While Hoshino followed silently, arms relaxed but her expression unreadable beneath furrowed brows. 

"Oh right... I should warn you guys," Aoyagi said after a long pause, flicking a stray blossom off his shoulder, "My dad is... weird." 

An looked surprised. "Weird... in what way?" 

Akito hides his smiling face behind his sleeve. And Aoyagi didn't hesitate to elaborate. "Exorcism at dinner. Salt rituals for laundry. He talks to koi fish like they're his close friends." 

Hoshino blinked. "Okay, that's kind of amazing." 

"What? No, it's exhausting," Aoyagi muttered. "He once threw salt at my geometry notebook. Said it had 'cursed algorithms.' I got detention." 

An blinked. "I... see. That's... unique." 

Her brother, however, tried—and failed—not to laugh. "Don't let your guard down," Aoyagi said dryly. "This whole thing is going to be strange. Including me being your trainer." 

Akito tilted his head. "You're training me?" 

"That's what he said this morning," the trainer scowled. "That you'd need someone to keep you in check. That I will understand better than most what you're going through." 

Hoshino gave him a side glance. "Do you?" 

He didn't answer right away. "No. But I guess I will figure it out." 

The red torii gate of the Aoyagi Shrine came into view, framed by swaying branches. Wind chimes tinkled gently in the breeze, and the air smelled of old wood and incense. A soft humming drifted from the inner courtyard with wordless distance. 

Akito paused at the base of the gate. "That humming...?" 

Aoyagi sighed. "Yeah. He's in a good mood. Which usually means something eccentric he is going to do." 

They stepped under the gate together, An bowing her head respectfully as they crossed into sacred ground. From the main hall, a tall figure emerged—white outer robe and deep purple hakama like in those ancient drama TV, his long silver-streaked hair half-tied with little care. His expression was a mix of cheer and mischief. 

"Ah! Beneath the sighing blossoms, fate stirs," The man declared, arms outstretched. "My son returns with—oh! A whole ensemble of visitors!" 

He turned his sharp, amused gaze on them. "Let me guess... the boy with a big heart. The girl whose spirit walks with leonids. The one cloaked in careful silence. And of course—Touya." 

"Hi, Dad," Touya greet his dad with a blank, tired face. 

Akito quickly bows a little in respect after meeting someone older. "Uh—yes, I'm Akito. Thank you for... having us." 

Harumichi beamed. "I know who you are. I've seen you—in the murmurs of wind, the flicker of lamps. And also, because my son mentioned you about five hundred times." 

"Dad." 

An stepped forward with a small bow. "Thank you for welcoming us. I'm Shiraishi An—Akito's sister. I hope it's alright that I've come too." 

The older's gaze softened. "A polite one. Rarer than a quiet shrine mouse, these days. Of course, it's alright, my dear. If your heart walks with him, you're part of this." 

An nodded, eyes wide but respectful. 

Hoshino gave the kannushi a short, guarded bow. "I'm just here to observe. Yoisaki-san asked me to make sure he survives." 

Harumichi chuckled. "Fair enough. You have the look of a sentinel. Quiet, but unshaken." 

He turned back to Akito, his tone shifting ever so slightly—gentler, but deeper. "You are here for help. And you'll get it. Spirits aren't loud tonight. That means we have time to begin." 

Akito's voice came out quieter than he expected. "Begin what, exactly?" 

Harumichi gestured to his son. "Training. Your shadows are growing, Akito-kun. You need to learn how to keep them in your palm—before they clutch at others." Aoyagi shifted uncomfortably. "I don't even know what I'm doing yet." 

"Then you will learn too," Harumichi said simply. "Both of you. Together." 

They followed him through the lantern-lit courtyard. An walked close to Akito, hands folded in front of her. While Hoshino brought up the rear, eyes flicking from every crack in the stone to the shrines tucked in shadow. 

The orange head took a breath. He felt the weight of everything—his uncertainty, the strange power under his skin, the memories that sometimes didn't feel like his. But when he glanced at An, she gave him a calm, encouraging smile. Hoshino met his gaze and nodded once. The younger Aoyagi looked ready to grumble for days but he walked steadily ahead. 

Akito exhaled. 

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

 

The streetlamps buzzed like flies caught in amber, casting long trembling shadows down the narrow residential lane. Evening settled like a heavy blanket. 

Shiraishi Ena adjusted the pink headband atop her head, her 'magical girl' outfit catching the streetlight in sparkles. Her cutesy staff—star-topped, decorated with dangling charms—rested against her shoulder. She brought it forward, the crystal in its center glowing softly as she chanted, 

"Comet Palate—resonate." 

A pale, greenish-blue glyph bloomed beneath her feet, expanding outward like meteors reflected on the water's surface. The spirit signatures lit up instantly—static-like pulses ahead of them, twisted in broken melody. 

"Two blocks east. It's hunting again." 

Behind her, Kamishiro Rui spun his massive hammer across his shoulders with care. The weapon gleamed with mechanical joints, already reshaping itself from a rectangular sled into a spiked war mallet. 

"I-It's hunting again?!" he said with a slight fear tone in his voice. "Can't we just go home...?" 

Akiyama Mizuki shakes her head but grins. The girl dipped her brush into a color palette—a glowing circular tray floating just above her left hand—and swirled it through crackling neon yellow. The bristles sparked. 

"Calm down, Rui-kun. You will be fine." 

Shiraishi Ken stepped forward, coat flaring behind him. His orange eyes were sharp, one hand resting near a hidden compartment at his waist. His presence stilled the air. 

"In position," he ordered. "No grandstanding." 

The three teens prepared their stance. And in cue, the streetlamp ahead of them shattered. Out of the darkness, tons of shadowy spirits emerged. 

It crawled from nothing—a misshapen beast of writhing arms and clawed limbs, its body hollow with the echo of screaming mouths. As it lunged, the darkness twisted, eating the light. 

"Engage!" Ken barked. 

Ena twirled her staff and slammed it into the pavement. "Four enhancement: Azure!" 

Dozens of floating blue orbs erupted from the glyph, scanning and mapping the battlefield, projecting weak points onto the spirit's malformed limbs. 

Rui surged forward, his hammer now morphing stride into a long axe. He tightly closed his eyes, leaping skyward, then flung the weapon down with a psychokinetic push. 

"¼ Beat!" 

The weapon collided with the ground, sending up a psychic shockwave. The spirit reeled back, its limbs thrashing violently. But it has fast reflexes. One shadowy tendril lashed at Rui's side. 

This is where Mizuki dashed in, brush glowing with lightning. 

"Color Charge—Gladiolus!" 

She painted a streak through the air—an arc of pure electricity that collided with the tendril and snapped it back like a whip. Sparks danced along the street, scorching the ground.

"I got your back, beater," Mizuki called. 

Rui beamed. "Thank you, Mizuki-chan!" 

The spirit screamed again, this time splitting into two partial forms—wispy clones trying to flank the group. 

"Ena, resonate with the spirit's aura—how many real ones?" Ken ordered. His daughter twirled her staff again, a ring of prisms circling above her. 

"Only one is tethered! Right flank, third shadow!" 

"Rui. Cut left. Mizuki—disrupt and pin. Ena, back line only. I will seal it." 

"Ehh no fair," Mizuki muttered with a pout. "I wanted to go dramatic too!" Rui dashed forward, his hammer elongating into a whip of glowing steel. "⅛ Beat!" 

The hammer lashed around one of the fakes, tearing through it with a force that rattled the pavement. Mizuki skated low on an arc of crackling energy and launched her paintbrush upward. 

"Gladiolus Pulse!" 

A bolt of energy pierced the real spirit through its head-shaped void. It shrieked—an unholy, digital-warped noise. It staggered, pieces of its shadow flaking like ash. 

Ken strode toward it at last, calm as dusk. 

From his jacket, he drew a talisman shaped like a folded lotus. He murmured, low and fast—a language not from modern lips—and the talisman bloomed with violet light. 

He pressed it against the creature's chest. Light engulfed it. 

"Back to the heavens, Ikiryou." 

The spirit screamed one final time, distorted and desperate—and then, like a crumpled shadow, it vanished, sucked into the void like smoke pulled down a drain. 

Silence. 

Only the sound of their breathing remained. 

Ken turned to the team. "Good coordination, trios. That was a higher-level entity. It possibly lingering from the spiritual fractures downtown." 

Ena dropped her staff and exhaled. "...I hate shadow ones. They're the creepiest." 

Rui slowly slung his hammer over his back. "W-We looked cool though. I never thought we would face an Ikiryou this early." 

"I always look cool," Mizuki said, flipping her long hair. 

Ken, despite himself, gave the faintest smirk. "Okay. Time for ramen. My treat. Let's debrief there." Mizuki grinned. "Yessss—wait, wait, not that fishy place again!" 

"Mizuki-chan..." 

Ena chuckles. "Try not to use too much hand sanitizer this time, Mizuki." 

"Ugh, I hate you two!" 

Their laughter echoed into the darkening street as the team headed off—but far in the shadows, unseen eyes watched.

Notes:

stream koha6 song on repeat yall. godbless guiano

Chapter 11: Chapter 10 : "I should've warned them."

Notes:

i want more HOLIDAY i dont want to study noooooooooo (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

It's raining, but she's dry. 

She stands in the middle of her childhood street—where everything around her warped slightly as if submerged in water. The trees are taller than what she remembered. The houses weren't as big as she remembered. 

And the rain... doesn't touch her. 

"Get up. Again." 

Ahead, on the cracked pavement, stands a much younger version of herself. Maybe ten. Her face is twisted in concentration, hands trembling as she balances her one leg on a thin tree branch, scared that she broke the thing. 

Her father watches, arms crossed. 

"Not good enough, Ena." 

The young girl blinks. The taste floods her: iron. Dirt. A faint sweetness that dissolves too fast. She is tired. She is hungry. She wants to quit. 

But she nods anyway. "...Okay, Dad." 

That Ken, probably in his late early 30s, sighed in disappointment. "If you want to get stronger, prove it to me." He said, giving Ena a hard headache just hearing that. 

"You're not going to get stronger if you stay like that," Ken pointed out to the young girl who was lying on the grass, exhausted after five minutes of taking rough punches from her father. 

Ena can see the girl's teary eyes and gritting her teeth in desperation. "...I-I will get stronger!" She exclaims, trying to get up from the ground. 

"Stronger than any kids would. Stronger than Akito so I will protect him!" 

Ena sighed. It was a vow she promised to herself seven years ago. A vow that only her father knows. A vow that meant she dedicated herself to be a perfect vessel as the only child with enhanced taste and human sense. 

The scene is blurry, now behind Ena, there's Akito, just a little boy—nine—claps with innocent glee. "Ena-nee! That was amazing! I wanna try playing bass too!" 

"You can't," she snaps. "You'll break it." 

Ena frowned. I was too cold to him... 

The young Akito shrinks a little but nods. "...Okay." Seeing a young, pure kid who was supposed to be happy at this age now sad because of her makes Ena feel bad. 

Time distorts, and the ground darkens. 

Ena is seven this time. An appears next, perhaps six years old, skipping with a big guitar strapped to her body. 

"Ena! Akito said we should make a band! I wanna sing, you can play bass—" 

"No," Ena's dream self interrupts sharply. "I don't want to play with kids." 

"But... we promised Nene and Mafuyu that-" 

God, I want to wake up, Ena cringes. Watching how her young self acted gives her too many negative thoughts. She should've just been honest that she wanted to be alone. But can you imagine, being the oldest sibling with no guide to be the best older sister, giving her best to her siblings? 

Ena can't even be honest with herself. 

"I said no." 

Young An's smile falters. But she's still smiling, just not quite genuine. There's a stubborn look in An's orange eyes. 

Ena watches too—the present Ena. The dreamer. She wants to scream at herself, to say it kinder. To say it differently. But she can't speak here. The dream is hers but she can't change it. 

Time spins again. 

Now they're older. Ena, about twelve, was ordered by her father to help young Akito's scraped knee, blood smeared down his shin. He sniffles, trying not to cry. 

Ena kneels beside him, pulling out a worn handkerchief. She doesn't say anything, just cleans the wound. Present Ena squinted her eyes. Oh right... This is the time after I punched those kids that made Akito cry. 

"Ena-nee, you looked so cool." Her brother says, blinking away tears. "I-I wanna be strong like y-you." 

If Akito is stronger, then Ena will lose her will to live. 

"No... you don't need to be strong," she says, not meeting his eyes. "You just need to be you." 

"...be me?" 

Young Ena let out the faintest chuckle. "Stay like that. Don't change because you can't be stronger." 

She ties the knot tighter than necessary, earning Akito's cries. The past Ena then stands and walks away before he can say anything else. 

The dream fractures here. 

 

Ena wakes with a sharp inhale. 

The hotel room is still dim. Her throat is dry. She rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Even worse, Ena feels tears in her eyes. 

"...God damn it," she mutters aloud. "Can't I have a peaceful dream for once?" 

She sits up, presses a hand to her chest, and tries to silence the storm inside her. 

She doesn't cry. 

That's just a tear from her dream. From her young self that desperate to be stronger. But for a moment, just a fleeting one, she thought Akito had grown up to hate her. Of what she had done. Of what she kept from him. 

It would have made her vow easier to keep.

 

⁞
✿

 

The hotel's dining area is mostly empty. Pale sunlight filters through sheer curtains, casting muted lines across the carpet and the long, polished tables. The smell of scrambled eggs and miso soup wafts gently through the room. 

Ena steps in, freshly washed, her black hoodie thrown over her white shirt, her long brunette hair half tied. Her eyes are hollow—not from lack of sleep, but from what she saw in it. 

At the far end of the room, Rui raises a hand sheepishly when he spots her. 

"Ah—Ena-san! Good morning!" 

She halts in her step. 

He's already seated at the corner table, legs tucked under him awkwardly, a tray with fish, warm rice, and a carton of milk before him. He is trying not to look nervous. 

Ena stares at him for a beat too long before finally sighing and walking over. 

"...You are way too energetic for this hour." 

"I slept well," he admits with a grin. "That bed was a blessing. Ah—here." He nudges a tray toward the empty seat across from him. "I saved one for you. They're running low on salmon already." 

She sits down silently, plucks the chopsticks from their wrapper, and starts eating without a word. 

Rui sips his milk, then tries to ease into conversation. "Um... You looked a little... tense when you walked in. Did you... maybe have a nightmare?" 

Ena's chewing slows. 

A pause. 

Then she scoffs faintly through her nose and answers, "No." 

Rui blinks. "Oh—sorry, I didn't mean to—" 

"It wasn't a nightmare," she says flatly, still focused on her tray. "Just a dream from a long time ago." 

Rui quiets, his expression changed into something gentle, sensing the boundary. 

Ena doesn't elaborate. 

They eat in companionable silence for a few minutes, the only sound between them the clink of chopsticks and distant plates. Eventually, Rui leans back with a sheepish smile. "I tried waking Mizuki-chan earlier. Twice. It was like trying to wake a pile of bricks wrapped in glitter." 

Ena smirks faintly. "Hmph. Because you are too soft." 

"I-I tried shaking her shoulder!" he protests. 

"You need to throw a pillow. Or ice." 

Rui winces. "That feels... illegal." 

"She won't even remember it when she wakes up." 

They both chuckle. Ena doesn't realize she's smiling. Well, just a little until the silence stretches again. 

Then Rui glances toward the window. "Ken-san left a note. Said he's out scouting the area. Probably pacing the streets pretending not to be excited." 

Ena looks toward the window too, thoughtful. "...Hope he finds something." 

Rui hums. "Me too." 

Their trays are nearly empty now. The air around them is calm—not warm, not cold. Just... peaceful. 

And Ena realizes, with a vague sense of discomfort, that she doesn't hate it. 

Not this kind of morning. 

Just as the brunette picks up her tea cup and Rui relaxes into his second carton of milk, the dining room doors burst open. 

"I have been BETRAYED!" 

Both Rui and Ena flinch in sync. 

Standing in the doorway, framed like a vengeful ghost in yesterday's clothes, bed hair in full disarray, and sparkly lip balm smudged on one cheek, is Akiyama Mizuki. 

Her pink eyes sweep the quiet dining room, spotting the two offenders in the corner. A single finger rises, accusatory and righteous. 

"You! You left me behind to suffer in the depths of that tragic, low-thread-count bed alone!" 

Rui chokes on his drink. "I—! I tried waking you!" 

"You patted me like I'm a small dog!" Mizuki dramatically crosses the room, each step slow and deliberate like a stage walk. "I expected an offering. A meal. A greeting. Instead, I awaken to silence and betrayal!" 

"God," Ena sips her tea, unfazed now. "You snored through an earthquake last month. What made you think a whisper could wake you?" 

"Wh- I don't snore!" Mizuki snaps with great dignity. "I breathe artistically." 

She dropped into the seat beside Rui with a sigh so deep it must have been rehearsed. "Now, I demand reparation in the form of the fluffiest eggs and your best gossip." 

"But... there is no gossip," Rui says weakly. 

"There's always gossip," Mizuki insists. "If not from you, then from Ena. She's repressing something juicy." 

The said girl doesn't even blink. "I will repress you next." 

The girl grins like a cat. "Ha! Scary. But sure, Ena." 

Rui waves his hand to the staff, asking for another tray. And Ena just eats faster, clearly regretting every second she didn't escape earlier. 

"So," Mizuki sing-songs, poking at Rui's untouched vegetables, "did you dream of me at least?" 

"Um, no...?" 

"Lies." 

"I dreamed about—uh... actually, never mind." 

"Oh-ho?" Mizuki gasps, twirling a chopstick like a baton. "Did our sweet Rui have a secret romantic dream? Was Ena there too?" 

"I will throw this salmon at you," Ena says flatly. 

"Please do. I'm famished." 

As the tray finally arrives and Mizuki begins eating with the drama of a stage actor preparing for their final act, the morning peace is well and truly shattered. Rui glances sideways at Ena, who’s pinching the bridge of her nose. 

"...This is going to be a long day," she mutters. 

The boy laughs softly. "You say that every time." 

"Because it keeps being true." 

Mizuki dramatically fans herself with a napkin, barely having finished her first spoonful of rice before launching into a familiar speech. 

"...and so I said, 'Yuuki, dearest, just because you've been blessed by the gods of aesthetic balance doesn't mean you get to hog all the art genes in the family!' But does she listen? No! She paints another government mural while I'm here, being stifled by the cruel chains of mediocrity—" 

In the corner of the dining table, Rui quietly sips his second miso soup. "...It's about her sister again," he murmurs to Ena. 

"Mm," Ena replies, barely glancing up from her tea. "Five times now." 

"I think it's the seventh." 

Mizuki continues, their voice rising like a tragic ballad behind them. "—and my father, of course, just loved it. 'Yuuki this, Yuuki that!' He didn't even blink when I submitted my interpretive sculpture titled 'The Burden of Glitter.' Can you believe that?!" 

Ena turns slightly toward Rui, whispering, "Do we need to sedate her?" 

He chuckles nervously under his breath. "Maybe just give her toast shaped like a heart...?" 

"Or chloroform." 

They both sip in silence for a moment while Mizuki transitions smoothly into a lament about being born in the wrong century, something involving lace gloves and chasing validation from strangers. 

"—and that is when I realized," Mizuki sighed dramatically, placing a hand on her chest, "that maybe I'm too radiant for this world. A candle in the wind. A misunderstood masterpiece!" 

The brunette finally lowers her cup. "If you are a candle, I'm dousing you with water." 

Rui quickly covers his smile with his sleeve. 

However, Mizuki doesn't skip a beat. "T-Then let me burn brighter in protest! My suffering fuels the art!" 

A staff member quietly refills their teapot and scurries away before being dragged into the theatrical orbit. Ena watches the steaming pot with a weariness far beyond her years. 

"Geez, she's going to tell us about the pottery accident next," she mutters. 

Rui nods. "Brace for the tears." 

"...She's already crying though." Ena adds dryly, as Mizuki dabs at their eyes with the napkin again, whispering something about 'clay injustice' and 'why do kilns hate me.' 

Despite the chaos, a quiet thread of warmth winds through the morning—the kind that forms through routine, even if the routine includes diva breakdowns over rice and unsolicited trauma dumps about sibling rivalry. 

As Mizuki sighs and waves a chopstick like a quill writing a tragedy, Rui steals a glance at Ena, mouthing, "You think she will gossip until evening?" 

Ena exhales. 

"Bet." 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

The morning crowds of Harajuku hadn't thickened yet—just the occasional early commuter, a pair of shopkeepers setting up racks of pastel sweaters, and a street cleaner humming along to a distant pop tune. Even without the sensory overload of fashionistas and tourists, Harajuku had its pulse. Ken could feel it. 

He walked down Takeshita Street in his worn coat, a thermos of black coffee in one hand, and an earpiece gently humming with updates from Kamishiro Kouki. 

"—so I asked the theatre club president," Kouki's voice came through, muffled with static, "and she swears she saw someone matching the spirit's description around Cat Street last night. Strange movement. No footprints. She thought it was just cosplay." 

Ken didn't reply immediately. He stopped outside a closed idol goods store and narrowed his eyes at the alley next to it—where he saw shadows clinging too tightly to the walls even in the daylight. 

"Ken?" Kouki prompted. 

"I hear you," Ken finally muttered. "Cat Street, huh? Spirit liked the artistic places in Shibuya. Makes sense it'd drift toward Harajuku's quieter side." 

"I'd go with you if I could. But there's a board meeting this afternoon," Kouki said with a sigh. 

"Still, I trust you to scout the area without punching someone." 

"No promises," Ken replied dryly, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. 

He tucked the thermos into his bag and crouched by the alley entrance. Something was etched faintly into the cement—footsteps, but not human. Or at least, not natural. The lines warped like someone had stepped on melting film. 

Ken activated the spectral reader on his phone, a tool borrowed from one of the older cases. A faint signal buzzed green. Not enough for a recent manifestation—but something passed through here recently. 

He stood, stretching his back with a groan. "I think I found something." 

The calm of Harajuku warped as he walked deeper into the quieter side streets. A nearby record shop flickered with a sudden power surge. A stack of plushies toppled inside a claw machine arcade. Children's laughter echoed from nowhere and then vanished. 

Ken paused. 

No kids in sight. Just a pair of mannequins in an upper window, their painted eyes staring blankly in his direction. 

He reached for his phone again and tapped a message to Kouki. 

"Confirmed presence. A weak trail. Possibly residual, maybe a little dangerous." 

Kouki's reply was immediate: 

"Be careful. You're alone out there." 

Ken smirked faintly. "That's how I work best." 

As he turned the corner toward Cat Street, the hum of the city felt more distant, like he was walking through a fading dream. A trail was forming—small footsteps only he could see, leading toward a narrow stairwell behind a bubble tea cafe. 

Whatever spirit they were chasing... it wasn't gone. Not yet. 

And Ken had no intention of letting it rest before he knew what it wanted. 

The alley's narrow stairwell swallowed Ken whole, each step downward muffling the sound of the city above. The spirit's trail glowed faintly in the spectral lens—one shimmering footprint after another, like candlelight in fog. 

Then suddenly—a motion. 

A flash. 

Something pale darted past the far end of the corridor below. Not running, but it's gliding. 

Ken bolted. 

He jumped the last steps, landing hard, breath steadying even as his legs began their pursuit. He wasn't young like Ena or acrobatic like Mizuki or excited in chasing like Rui, but he knew how to move through tight spaces with purpose. The alley split, and he veered left on instinct, boots echoing sharply against the concrete. 

A gust of unnatural wind slammed into him from the side—papers scattered, a vending machine buzzed and died, and a loose sign clattered behind him. 

Still, he ran. 

The spirit flickered in his vision again—its form fractured, humanoid but it was stretched too thin, as if barely stitched to the physical world. It turned its head. Ken met its hollow gaze for the briefest moment. 

And it smiled. 

"Oh, you bastard," Ken muttered, already launching himself over a fence. 

He rolled on the landing and broke into a sprint through a back lot, ducking through the plastic flaps of a delivery bay. The scent of stale takoyaki grease hit him in the face. Yet he didn't slow down. Just ahead, a trail of cherry blossoms—out of season—spilled across the pavement, marking the spirit's trail. 

"Ken!" Kouki's voice barked through the earpiece, static rattling. "I'm reading a spike in your vitals. What's happening?!" 

"It's testing me," Ken gritted out. "Trying to see if I'll follow." 

"Are you crazy?!" 

Ken didn't answer. He was already vaulting a row of trash bins. He emerged into a shadowed side street—empty, where it was eerily silent. The trail vanished again. He scanned the street, breath coming heavy now, eyes narrowed. 

Then he saw it. 

The spirit was perched on the second floor of a shuttered boutique, crouched like an animal, translucent limbs pulsing faintly. It let out a hiss—a sound not quite human—and it moved. 

Upward. Fast. 

"Not today," Ken growled. 

He found a drainpipe and began to climb. 

The metal was slick, the ascent rough on his arms, but he gritted his teeth and pushed. The spirit vanished through the rooftop access. Ken hurled himself up, boots skidding across the flat roof. 

The rooftop was still. Wide. Silent. 

The spirit stood at the far edge, back turned. It looked like a teenage girl in a tattered school uniform. Long, grey hair and green eyes. Ken took a step forward. 

"Why run if you wanted me to follow?" he asked, eyes never leaving hers. 

It didn't say anything. Just raised a hand and pointed downward. 

Ken followed the gesture. 

There, painted in what looked like dried sakura petals and dust, was a sigil. Old and... incomplete. 

"...a summoning?" he muttered, stepping back. 

The spirit smiles bitterly—not from fear, but gratitude. The sigil began to glow. Energy sparked across the rooftop. And, with that, the spirit disappeared. 

As Ken stood surveying the quiet rooftop, the wind tousling his graying hair, a sharp buzz broke through the earbud in his right ear. 

"Ken." 

The voice of Kamishiro Kouki—stern, smooth, and unmistakably irritated—came in clear. 

Ken didn't bother answering. He just waited for it. 

"Are you out of your mind?" Kouki’s voice snapped. "You're pushing fifty and still charging headfirst into spirit encounters like a rookie with a death wish." 

Ken grunted. "I'm forty-three. Still breathing." 

"You say that every time. One day I'll be the one telling your ghost off for being this stubborn." 

"Wouldn't be the first time you lectured a spirit," he muttered under his breath. 

Kouki sighed audibly. "You were supposed to investigate. Just investigate! You didn't have to exorcise it yourself." 

"I'm not," Ken said, gaze hardening as he turned toward the mark on the ground. "The one that I was chasing wasn't just wandering. It knew something, it knew us. So the spirit showed me the way." 

A pause. Then Kouki's voice softened—but only slightly. 

"Ugh, still... You didn't have to do it alone." 

Ken smiled faintly. "I wasn't. You were yelling in my ear the whole time." 

Kouki made a noise somewhere between a snort and a groan. "Rui and the others are on the way. Try not to collapse before they arrive." 

Ken tapped the earbud once. "Yeah, yeah." 

In the center of the old, incomplete summoning mark, was something solid. A worn photo fragment that is half-burnt at the edges. A smiling girl, half of her face missing, standing in front of what looked like... a gate. 

BANG! 

He turned just in time to see a rooftop access door slam open with a bang. 

"E-ENA! RUI! LADIES FIRST!!" Mizuki's voice screeched as she stumbled onto the roof, her coat slipping off one shoulder, a single piece of toast still clenched dramatically between her teeth. "I swear if he's hurt I will—!" 

Rui burst through next, panting, his unkempt long hair messy from the run. Ena was behind them, calm-faced but breathless, her hand holding her earpiece. 

"Ken-san!" Rui called. 

Ken, dusting his sleeves, looked unimpressed. "Took you long enough." 

"Y-You fought it alone?!" The boy gaped. 

"Didn't have time to send you an invitation," Ken said, turning away. His voice was gruff, but there was a subtle hitch—just enough to show the fatigue settling in now that the danger had passed. 

Ena crossed the roof quickly and gave him a once-over. "You're bleeding." 

He is? Ken followed Ena's brown eyes to his arm. Ah. He doesn't know where he gets that. 

So he just shrugged. "Just a scratch." 

Mizuki flopped dramatically to the ground near the rooftop's ledge, still holding her toast. "Unbelievable. You old men and your early-morning death wish. I was in the middle of my beauty breakfast. They even had pastries!" 

"Ken-san, are you okay?" Rui asked more softly, stepping closer. 

Ken finally offered a tired nod. "...Yeah. But I wasn't chasing it for fun. That spirit wasn't lost—it was leading me to this." 

He fished the half-burned photo from his coat and handed it to Rui. 

"This was under the summoning mark. Looks like a gate behind her. Familiar?" 

Rui examined it, eyes narrowing. "...This looks like an old school." And Ena leaned in, observing the photo. "Isn't this uniform from that popular music school?" 

Mizuki leaned over Rui's shoulder. "Oooh, spooky lore unlocked." 

Rui hummed, thinking. "Ah, Father said the spiritual leak might be coming from an old place of performance or resonance. I think music schools fit that perfectly." 

Ken nodded. "And if this sigil was incomplete, someone's either still trying to summon something—or they already did." 

The four of them stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of the moment slowly sinking in with the heat of the rising sun. 

Mizuki sighed dramatically again. "So, I was right to be cranky this morning." 

Ken gave her a dry look. "You're always cranky in the morning." 

"Because you people keep starting boss fights before brunch!" 

Rui chuckled, and even Ena let out the smallest breath of amusement as she folded the photo carefully. 

Ken turned toward the exit. "Get ready, kids. We're not done yet."

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

Shiraishi Ken adjusted the earpiece nestled against his collarbone. It crackled to life with the familiar voice of Kamishiro Kouki filtered through static and morning fatigue. 

"Ken," came the voice, low and laced with exasperation. "I'm still not calmed down. You're reckless to act like that at your age." 

"If I waited, we wouldn't have this clue." 

"You're not thirty anymore," Kouki muttered. "Act like it." 

"You're one to talk," Ken murmured, "Still babysitting us from your ivory tower?" 

"...I'm sending you the updated data now," Kouki said, ignoring the jab. "We've tracked similar spiritual signatures to two other sites. One of them is the school in that photo. Check it out." 

Ken gave a sharp nod. "Copy that." 

By midday, the trio and Ken reached the edge of the Harajuku woods. The concrete slowly faded into packed earth, and the canopy above shaded the path in flickering green. Finally, through a break in the trees, the building revealed itself. 

The old music school stood like a monument to a forgotten dream—its wooden facade cracked, paint long faded to gray. 

Vines crept over broken windowpanes, and rusted playground equipment wilted at the side like sagging bones. It had once been a place of sound and spirit. Now, it was nothing but silence and stillness. 

They stepped inside. 

The floorboards groaned under their weight, the scent of mildew and dust thick in the air. Light filtered through slats in the broken ceiling, illuminating scattered music sheets across the hallway. A grand piano, eerily intact, sat in the center of the auditorium like a forgotten relic, keys half-open and waiting. 

Rui's footsteps slowed. "This place..." his yellow eyes wander around, excited. "It's like time just stopped." 

"Yeah, right." His friend coughed when dust creeps into her nose. "Ugh, dirty and creepy," Mizuki muttered, folding her arms. 

Ena knelt near a cluster of markings on the wooden floor. Circles drawn in white chalk now smudged. Melted candles. Pages of sheet music etched with jagged, foreign symbols. 

"Someone was here," she said. "Recently." 

Rui crouched beside her. "Ah, these symbols match what my father sent us. It's part of the summoning script." 

Mizuki sighed dramatically, tiptoeing over a creaky board. "So we are close to solving the case, then." 

Ken looked over his wrist. 

"Team," he called the three. "We will split up. I believe everyone has their stuff, yeah?" 

On cue, they check the items in their bags as a precautionary measure. After Ena's done checking, she glances over her two mates as if asking if they're good. Rui gives her a small smile, and Mizuki nods, looking confident. 

"Okay, we will gather before six. Here. Please don't be late." 

"Got it, Dad," 

"Okay, Ken-san!" 

And with that, the four split up. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

Ena's steps faltered as she stopped in front of a door. It must have once been the faculty lounge. A faded oil painting—but there's no nameplate, no signature. Just a white, nude woman on the bed, and... a black man? Black woman? Ena doesn't know. Oh, there's a black cat too. 

She recognizes the painting somehow. 

Mizuki's always talked about popular artworks every time she had the chance to share. 

"Isn't this 'Olympia'?" She mumbled in her breath. 

Ena didn't remember the artist's name though. She wasn't an artsy person. That kind of field expertise belongs to Mizuki. Yet anyway, she knows a painting can cost billions. So why is the owner or buyer of this drawing leaving it here? 

She sighed and decided to leave it. On the wall behind a collapsed bookshelf, Ena found a chalkboard. Scribbled phrases covered it, smudged by time. 

"...' Olympia, the woman, poses as if she were the goddess of love, but she's only a prostitute.'" And beneath it, circled in red chalk, 'Don't be like-' the name of a person was erased by hands. But there is the continuation, '-has too many men she played tricks with.' 

She stared. Something about the handwriting made her skin prickle. Was that... recent? No, it can't be. Ena thought. It must be an incident that happened here. But, a prostitute? In this music school? 

"What does this even mean?" The brunette frowned. "I'm a fighter, not a riddle solver." 

But maybe this can be a clue somehow. 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

Rui wandered through the balcony of the lecture hall, boots clicking on old wood. 

His eyes caught on a row of violin cases, still propped on their stands as if waiting for hands that never returned.
He decided to open one. Inside, the violin suffered heavy damage like wood cracking and the strings have gone rust. But what shocked Rui was that there was a child's drawing behind the abandoned violin. 

Four stick figures under a crooked sun. All smiling. But each had something red drawn over their heads—Xs. 

Underneath the drawing, there's a writing, "The toll always comes. These four kids didn't run far enough from the demons." 

It's a clue. But he might need to ask others if they've also gotten clues that connected to what he found. The red drawned Xs seemed like someone is hunting them down. Though, that is only his theory. 

Creak. 

Rui flinched as the floor beneath him creaked, hard and sudden, like something reacting to his discovery. 

But as he braces himself... nothing happened. So the boy exhaled in relief, glad he wouldn't need to face danger this early. Not to mention, he doesn't have enough confidence to face a spirit alone. 

It would be better if the three of them stuck together.

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

 

Mizuki hummed softly as she weaved through the shattered mirrors and dusty tuning forks of the practice corridor. 

One door was shut tight. 

Curious, she pushed it open. Inside was a music stand and a stool—both pristine, somehow untouched by dust. And on the stand, a music sheet titled, 
"'Circle You, Circle You.' – Play this to run from the executioner." 

But the notes were jagged. Discordant. 

Like the melody itself would bleed through the keys. They reached out, fingertips grazing the sheet, when—
Mizuki quickly prepared herself with her weapon when she heard the room groan. 

And she waited. 

She waited and waited. 

Yet nothing happened. 

"...It's still afternoon, damn it." Mizuki curses, keeping her brush back inside the bag. She resumes her observation, searching for another clue besides the music sheet and the little advice. 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

Ken knelt before a row of waterlogged filing cabinets. Most were locked or rusted shut, but one drawer opened with a scream of hinges. And, ugh, it's smelly too. 

Inside, he found photographs. 

Old recital images, old students' logs, old teachers' journal reports. 

There are also little sticky notes like, "We hope you'll get better, Mrs. Kagome!", "Can't wait to sing with you again, Mrs. Kagome.". 

And in every picture, it seems that all of them have same thing—there is a blurry figure in the background. Like an intern just getting their first work to edit the picture just to add a student. 

However, as Ken looked over the photographs, there was writing beneath the final photo of a class, "Mrs. Kagome is pregnant at this time. But everyone is kind enough to help her get in time for the class photo session." 

So this Kagome is a... teacher here? 

Ken opened another file that had Kagome's name on it. Inside, there's her blackened ID picture. Her resume, her baby x-ray scans, her... wait, a police warrant? 

The man immediately read the details. 

"'19XX, this day a warrant was issued in the above cause-' ah," Ken was about to read the warrant, but he noticed the water had already covered his knees. 

Is the water system still running here? 

Maybe he can just take these files and go upstairs to read in a safe environment. 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

At 5.30 p.m., Ena's phones buzzed. 

Ken messaged in their group chat to meet in front of the shoe lockers. Is it already this late? She only had a slice of bread and a carton of juice because she still investigating other rooms than the faculty lounge. 

Overall, Ena covered the south of the building. Faculty lounge, group study rooms, computer labs, and studios... 

And there are only three things she finds other than Olympia's painting. One is an empty birdcage that has blood fingerprints on it. Two, a whole list of male students that were messily strikethrough with a red pen... leaving only two male names that were left untouched. Lastly, a weird key. 

Ena didn't know what it was for, since she'd already tried to use the key to all the doors she'd found. 

Maybe there's a secret door that she didn't know? 

At least, she has many things to theorize about. Knowing there's a possibility of a female student being a prostitute here is crazy. Just what had happened here? 

"Oh, Ena-san!" 

Ena raises her head toward Rui's voice. Her eyes caught his figure across the building. He looked like in a good mood. 

"How many clues you've got, Rui?" She asks. 

The purple head beams. "About five clues!" Not bad, Ena grins. Well, Rui's best field is research. Not to mention he is a fan of paranormal kinds of stuff. Like his father. 

"See you there!" Rui waves his hand, the other hand busied with his beloved camera. 

The brunette waves back, watching the boy disappear inside the building. She also started walking, hoping that Ken was also in a good mood so they could get back to the hotel and have their beauty rest. 

As she arrives at the shoes lockers, Mizuki and Ken are already there. And by the time Ena approached them, Rui also appeared from the north building. 

But before they gathered all the clues they found to discuss, somehow, the toll rang. 

"Wh-?" 

It sounded like rusted strings stretched too tight, crying out in pain. Like metal screaming underwater. The sound poured from every direction—above, below, inside the very walls. It didn't echo—it seeped. 

"W-What is happening?!" 

"Ken-san?!" 

The three teens look over the older man in panic. But even Ken seemed confused at the sudden toll ringing. 

The toll rang two times now. 

"I-I can't feel any spirit's presence. So how-?!" Ken grabs over the metal lockers as the ground below them shakes. 

The third toll. 

Their knees trembled. The front door slowly collapsed, trapping them inside the building. 

Four. 

The ceiling above them cracked. 

Five. 

Their feet soaked in cold water and smelling of wet stone, swept through the hall. 

Six. 

The floor cracked beneath them. Shadows twisted up the walls like vines. 

"I-Is that-?!" 

Ken's orange, wide eyes screamed fear in them to see the familiar shadow spirits. 

"Impossible-" 

The shadows move like water around them as if they're successfully trapped in their prey. Then a voice—not a whisper, not a growl. But it was a chorus, in harmony and agony. 

"You were warned." 

A sudden surge of dark mist engulfed them like an imploding wave. 

And just like that... everything went black. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

Kamishiro Kouki sat alone in his office at Kamiyama High, the faint flicker of monitors reflecting against his glasses. 

A steaming cup of black coffee rested untouched beside his keyboard. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw had been clenched for the last five minutes. 

"Ken, what's your status?" 

Silence. 

He leaned forward. "Ken?" 

Still nothing. 

Kouki's fingers flew across the keys, trying to reconnect to the trackers. He had rigged a triangulation device to follow the signal pulses embedded in the earbuds of his field team—Ena, Rui, Mizuki, and Ken. Earlier, their vitals had all been steady, and calm. 

But now? 

He swore under his breath. "Rui, can you hear me? Ena? Anyone—?" 

The screen flickered. 

For one brief moment, he caught a glimpse of Ken's perspective: a collapsed school main door with crumbling walls and water flooding in. 

Then— 

Shadows around them. And suddenly the mist blackened the screen. 

The signal cut. 

All four icons on his screen blinked red. Connection lost. Kouki stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the coffee. 

"What...? No... No, no—don't do this now." 

He tried to order the system to connect with the team's vital signal. But the system refused to reconnect. 

"Shit." 

He yanked his phone from his pocket and redialed Ken's direct line. Nothing. Rui's? Dead. Ena's? Unreachable. Mizuki's? 

"Come on, at least one of you—" 

All of the call enters voicemail. The silence screamed louder than any alarm. Kouki stared at the monitor, hands on the desk, knuckles turning white. 

"I've known it. That spirit girl is leading them into something. You didn't see it, did you?" 

He remembered what Ken said hours before. "We will scout this quickly and regroup. Nothing too serious. It's just an abandoned school, Kouki." 

But Kouki knew better. 

"Oh my God," he slammed his head on the table in frustration. 

Abandoned places carried more than cobwebs and echoes. Because it had spirits that remembered. 

And this one? 

...This one had been waiting. 

"I should've warned them," Kouki said to no one, but himself. Regret blanketed him that evening.

Notes:

i just realized we started with trios in both team lmao... who do you think will become 4th member of supernatural club? (—ᴗ—)

Chapter 12: Chapter 11 : "They deserve the praise for exceeding the test for a first-timer."

Notes:

on my final week.

... i mean im on my finals week.

The lights in Kamishiro Kouki's office had gone dim, a soft twilight seeping in from the window as the sun descended. But his focus hadn't shifted from the black screen before him — not since the team's signals blinked out twenty minutes ago. 

He'd already scoured the channels. But no connection. 

No response. 

He leaned back in his chair and exhaled through gritted teeth, reaching for his phone again. This time, he scrolled down to a different name. 

Shiraishi Yuka. 

A researcher and former on-site investigator. One of the few people he trusted with the word 'paranormal' in her vocabulary without laughing. And also Ken's wife. 

The line rang once. Twice. 

"-Hello?" And Yuka's voice could be heard after the third line. 

"Yuka. It's Kouki. I need your help. Now." 

There was a beat of silence. "...You sound awful. What happened?" 

"Ken, Rui, Ena, and Mizuki... I lost them. The signal is lost when they're searching for the clues in an abandoned school. I think it was a trap." Kouki's voice turned guilty after that. "...I s-should've stopped them." 

Yuka's voice changed seriously too. "Okay. First things first—what kind of attack that ambushed them?" 

"I don't know. It blocked all tech and all comms. It's like something folded space around that place. I know the place is in the forest but..." 

A pause. Then, Yuka said, "I think you need him." 

Kouki blinked. "'Him'?" 

"Harumichi." 

Harumichi... Aoyagi Harumichi? He hasn't heard that name since they graduated from college. But he knows the rumors about Harumichi- his senior, or maybe them- retired from world entertainment and became an exorcist. 

"I don't have his number anymore." 

Yuka immediately said, "I will send it then. But you'll have to go to him directly. He's probably at Yoyogi now." 

Kouki blinked. "Yoyogi? Why would he be—?" 

"He's training new kids." 

Kids? 

Her words barely landed before he was already grabbing his coat. He has so many questions to ask her, but he can only think about Ken and the team that has lost contact with him. "Send me the address. I'll get there in twenty." 

He hung up before she could ask if he was okay. 

The streets blurred past his windshield as he drove. In the quiet between stoplights, Kouki could feel a heaviness in his chest—dread crawling in the spaces where logic had already failed him. 

It feels like he wasn't just that Ken was missing. 

It was that he had let him go. 

And now, desperate for backup, he was headed straight into a nest he didn't know was occupied—with kids unknowingly training on that shrine...

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

The shrine grounds were unusually still. 

Hoshino Ichika's ears twitched before her eyes did—a flutter of footsteps weaving through the stone path like ripples across the water. 

Subtle. Uneven. Urgent. 

"...Someone is coming," she said under her breath, tilting her head toward the trees. 

Shiraishi An, who had been organizing her notes by the shrine stairs, immediately froze. "Huh? Is it not Harumichi-san?" 

"No. This one has a different gait. Heavier." 

The two girls exchanged a glance just as a figure rounded the old torii gate— out of place in his stiff coat, half-running, half-holding his breath like the air itself was working against him. 

"Is that...?" Ichika whispered, squinting. 

An recognized him too, she standing up quickly. "Principal Kamishiro?" 

Kouki skidded to a halt, panting. "I need to see Harumichi. Right now." Ichika's eyes narrowed. "Is something wrong?" 

He didn't answer, too focused on the trail leading toward the inner temple— where Ichika explained that the exorcist was usually found when not hovering over his trainees. 

The two girls led him there in silence, until... 

"You're two decades late if this is about returning that old sword I lent you," came a low, sardonic voice from the temple veranda. 

Aoyagi Harumichi sat cross-legged on a raised tatami platform, sipping coffee from a chipped mug. His familiar purple scarf was draped over his shoulder, eyes scanning a tiny orb hovering in front of him like a floating camera feed. It glowed faintly with spirit-based light, projecting moving images into the air. 

"Harumichi-senpai." Kouki greets back, deadpanned. 

"Well, I'll be damned," Harumichi said, raising an eyebrow. "You look like hell." 

"...I don't have time to joke." 

"You always say that. And then somehow, we always have time." 

Kouki stepped forward, fists clenched. "Ken and his team are missing. They were investigating a summoning site in Harajuku and were ambushed. I came to ask for your help—" 

"No." 

That immediate answer just made Kouki startled. "What?" 

"I said no." Harumichi stood up slowly, brushing dust from his hakama. "I'm watching over a training trial. Can't leave the altar." 

The purple head turned sharply toward the orb. "Training? With who?" 

Harumichi casually turned the display toward him. Projected in the floating, translucent screen, there's Shiraishi Akito and Aoyagi Touya, breathless and determined, currently sprinting through an overgrown forest trail—Touya wielding a metal bat like it was a blade of justice, while Akito's fists wrapped in old boxing hand wraps, fog closing in on them from both sides. 

"Their mission," Harumichi said with a ghost of a grin, "is to retrieve a purple scarf in Yoyogi Park. But it looks like the spirits are being dramatic again." 

His junior gaped. "You're sending kids into spirit zones now?!" 

"Oh, sheesh. Calm down, it's just a trial ground. This one's sealed. Mostly." He turned to Kouki, voice softening. "I get your worry. But my job is here. And frankly... this might not be the kind of case I'm meant to handle anymore." 

Kouki's jaw tightened. "But... they're just kids. Do you think we have the luxury of choosing which ghosts we face?" 

Harumichi just watched the orb flickered, the boys vanishing momentarily into a thicket. Then, he said, "...How about this? I'll help you. But you will need to train them." 

"Them?" 

Harumichi nodded toward the path behind Kouki—where Ichika and An stood, quiet but now listening intently. 

"These two individuals... have something in them." The two girls' eyes went wide when Harumichi said that. They looked at each other, as if not believing if they had abilities too. 

Kouki couldn't believe what his senior had just said. "Me, training them? Are you out of your mind?" 

And Harumichi just chuckles at the compliment. "You've done that, weren't you? With Ken, you have trained those three kids at an early age." 

"Yes, we have. But-" 

"Don't you think because of your plan, those kids suffered their childhood and impacted others?" 

At this, Kouki flinched. Harumichi's usual, eccentric eyes turned scary when he was serious. While things the two adults said somewhat confused Ichika, An on the other hand understood it. The suffering kid... is Ena. And well, her two other friends in that same club too. Because of Ena's absent, An and Akito were impacted by this. They doesn't understand her. They doesn't know what is she thinking. 

So it was Dad and Principal Kamishiro's plan... She thought bitterly as she remembered her memory. 

"Let the next generation meet the old scars," Harumichi murmured. "And maybe they'll surprise us." 

The steam from Harumichi's tea rose in languid tendrils as the exorcist took another infuriatingly slow sip. The ceramic cup clicked against the wood when he set it down. 

Kouki stood by the steps, speechless because he was defeated by Harumichi's words earlier. 

Fifteen minutes had passed. Fifteen minutes of deliberate stalling. 

"Okay so," Kouki started dryly. "How do I train them?" Harumichi shrugged. "They circle in spirals. It's unusual." The purple head squinted his eyes as he looked over the two girls up and down. Not understand what Harumichi says. 

"But they haven't moved an inch..?" 

"Mm. Fish are underrated." Harumichi leaned back on his palms, gazing lazily at the trees. "Did you know one of them bit me when I was seven?" 

"Huh? That's not even slightly relevant—" 

"Pain is how we learn, old friend." 

Kouki's fingers twitched at his sides. He'd been patient. He knew Harumichi's habits, the way he tested people even in conversation—but this? This was ridiculous. He opened his mouth, prepared to unleash a long-overdue scolding— 

—and then the orb floating beside Harumichi pulsed brighter. 

"Wait," Harumichi said quietly, eyes focused now. "Watch." 

Kouki faltered. He turned toward the orb, its translucent surface sharpening into vivid imagery. 

The screen shifted—a spirit-fed projection of a dense woodland trail. 

There, between tangled branches and glowing spores, two figures dashed through the forest. Shiraishi's wild-eyed and fast-footed, ducking through trees like a wind-wrapped shadow, and Aoyagi beside him was calm but winded, wielding a metal bat like it was forged for war. 

Both girls stepped closer beside Harumichi. 

"What are they fighting?" 

"Low-grade spirits," Harumichi answered Ichika, the teasing gone from his voice now. "They are controlled in that forest. We've got boundary markers in place and a few spirits. A safe environment to develop their instincts." He then turned his head to meet Kouki's eyes. "You said it yourself once—talented kids these days need more than textbooks and talismans." 

Akito slid beneath a collapsing log, kicking off the moss with a confident smile, the thrill lighting up his face. Behind him, Touya followed with quiet intensity, surveying their surroundings with precise awareness. 

They weren't running recklessly. But they were adapting, moving with the rhythm of something older than either of them. 

"They're learning," Harumichi said. "Better than we ever did." 

Kouki watched in silence, his irritation slowly draining. "Why show me this now?" 

Harumichi sighed, folding his arms. "Because if we're going to ask them to face what we couldn't... we should at least respect how they're preparing." 

There's more meaning to that sentence. But Kouki didn't need to Harumichi explain them. 

A beat passed. 

"Besides," he added lightly, "you were two minutes away from yelling at me, dear junior. Thought I'd buy myself a little grace." 

Kouki shook his head, exhaling a laugh despite himself. 

"You are the worst, senpai." 

Harumichi hummed, smiling. "And yet, you still came to me." 

Kouki rolled his eyes. "If it's not her, I wouldn't come here and beg you to help me." 

The orb shifted again, the forest thickening around Akito and Touya as the screen zoomed in—branches moving unnaturally whispers coiling through the mist like veins of something darker. 

"...I'm impressed. How even technology inside that forest functioning without any problem?" 

"Ha! Thought you were going to ask that." Harumichi winked. "I've got these from Ootori-senpai, of course. And free of charge too!" He grinned proudly. 

"Ootori? As in... wait, that great, genius robotics engineer?!" Kouki jaw-dropped, what he was shocked the most was that Ootori somewhat involved in this too. "Oh, you and Ken have so many thing need to catch up with us." Harumichi patted the other's back in pity. 

"Ootori's... inventions..." Kouki muttered, face-palmed. 

Yuka owes him an explanation after all of this ends. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

The undergrowth crackled beneath their steps leaves crunching softly in the darkness. Touya exhaled a breath, then adjusted the grip on his metal bat. 

"Straight?" he asked, controlling his metal bat. 

Akito squinted into the dimming trail. "Y-Yeah. Veer left past the tree with the splintered bark, then straight until we hit the rock cluster." 

Despite the eerie quiet, the two of them moved like clockwork. For the last thirty minutes, they'd trekked through the wooded outskirts behind Yoyogi Park, deeper into a section few dared explore after dusk-where Harumichi gives this forest a name trial ground. The deeper they went, the colder the air clung to their skin—like something pressing against the world from the other side. 

Touya couldn't see the ghosts. That had always been Akito's burden for the past thirty-nine minutes after they got stepped in here. But it didn't matter much. Akito had a way of speaking that told Touya exactly where to move, how to aim, and when to breathe. 

"Left, now—something's crawling across the root," Akito muttered, grabbing Touya's shoulder. 

Without hesitation, Touya spun and swung the bat low, the metal singing through the air. 

The spirit dispersed with a hiss like steam hitting the ice. 

Akito beamed. "Nice one, Touya-kun!" 

"Nah, it's your words," Touya replied. "I'm just swinging blind." 

Okay so, ever wondered how these two are in first-name terms now? It had been earlier, right when they entered the trial ground. 

They'd stopped under a tree gnarled like a hand grasping skyward, taking a breather before committing to the deeper paths. The late sunlight filtered through the canopy, painting their backs in fading gold. 

Akito had been fiddling with his charm, murmuring something about how his mom made it. 

"She's into flowers, right?" Touya asked then, remembering Akito's stories. 

"Yeah!" Akito replied, "She always bought them because they're pretty. Ena-nee sometimes helps Mom water it too." 

"Wait... uh, Shiraishi-san?" 

Akito blinked. "Yeah?" 

Touya gave a small laugh. "Oh, no. I mean your older sister... I'm not calling you." 

"A-Ah..." Akito chuckles. "That reminds me... I'm also calling your father Aoyagi-san..." 

They exchanged a look. 

Then, as if in unison, "Okay, this is dumb." 

"You can call me Akito." The ginger's eyes sparkle when he grabs Touya's hand as if they're introducing each other. 

"...T-Then you can call me Touya." 

"Okay, Touya-kun is it!" Their gazes held for a breath. No teasing, no awkwardness, but something surely shifted. Well, not dramatically—but like a small, sturdy bridge being built between them. One name at a time. 

Because when someone calls your name like that—in the dark, with trust—it gives you a reason to keep doing your best. 

At least, both of them thought. 

Now, let's go back to the present. Both boys reached the rock cluster soon after and nestled between two mossy stones was a scrap of deep violet fabric. Faintly glowing, windless despite the shifting trees around them. 

That's right. They've arrived in Yoyogi Park. 

Akito bent down, brushing debris aside. 

"The scarf," he murmured. "Same as the one Aoyagi-san described." 

Touya rested his hand on his hip, laughing. "You heard all of the things he said? I couldn't even remember the spirits he mentioned in the brief." 

The other boy gives him a look. "H-Huh?! Touya-kun... I thought you're a strong memory type of person." 

Touya tried not to roll his eyes at that. "There's no way I'm hearing all of that." 

After they retrieved the purple scarf, they decided to get back to the forest. But Touya felt something. The air and mist... it looked thickened. "Something's off," he said after a moment. His hand gripped the bat tighter. "Do you feel that?" 

Akito paused, the scarf now in his hands. A cold pulse rushed through his fingers the moment he turned—and his breath caught. 

"...Touya-kun," he said, a voice suddenly whispering. "Don't move." 

It wasn't one spirit. 

It wasn't ten. 

It was hundreds. 

In every direction — half-formed, crawling between trees, some dragging the echoes of old school uniforms, some with limbs twisted like broken branches, all of them watching with hollowed-out eyes. 

Waiting. 

For them. 

The scarf trembled in his hand, and the earth beneath their feet vibrated faintly as if the ground itself was trying to breathe. "T-They weren't here for us..." Akito leaned beside Touya, wearing the scarf on his neck. "They were here for the scarf." 

"Trap?" Touya asked. 

"No..." Akito sweated. "The scarf is giving an odd aura." 

Touya didn't hesitate. 

"Direction. Now." 

Akito swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. "Three o'clock. Gap in the trees." And just like that, Touya turned, bat at the ready. 

"Then let's run!" 

The forest erupted around them. 

They ran. 

Thirty-nine minutes was what Touya had estimated from the outer forest to the shrine—but in this tangle of twisted trails and shifting shadows, it felt like hours compressed into heartbeats. 

The trees warped unnaturally, their branches curling downward like skeletal fingers. The ghosts didn't chase in the traditional sense—they drifted, glided, and watched as if knowing their prey would wear down eventually. 

"Left—then past that broken wood post!" Akito barked from behind. 

Touya swerved, metal bat clutched in white-knuckled fingers. His breath was ragged, muscles burning. But they were close to the shrine, he could feel it. 

Then— 

Akito's foot caught on a hidden root. His body hit the earth hard with a dull, sickening thud. 

"Ow—!" The ginger winced, grabbing his knee. 

Touya skidded to a stop, eyes wide to see his friend on the ground. "Akito—?!" 

"I-It's fine!" Akito gritted. "...Just—give me a sec." But the tremble in his fingers said otherwise. He couldn't even stand. The wound wasn't deep yet it burned so bad. 

Akito could feel the ghosts closed in. Their whispers turned sharp, like blades drawn against a wet stone. Touya's heart dropped to see Akito's head kept looking back—with fear. If they're still here, the ghosts is going to catch them alive. 

So he crouched down in front of Akito. "Get on." 

"W-What? No—Touya-kun, you can't—" 

"Get. On." 

Akito hesitated only a second before slinging his arms around Touya's shoulders. The bi-colored-haired boy immediately secured one of his hands on Akito's leg that wounded, while the other one held the metal bat. And he started to run without any problem. 

"Keep talking," Touya ordered. "Guide me." 

So Akito did—his voice more strained now, but still clear. And Touya followed every word, swinging blindly as the cold closed in around them. 

Minutes passed. 

Or maybe seconds. It was impossible to tell because it felt like they were in different time zones. 

Then—the path twisted. Again. 

And they came to a dead end. 

A clearing boxed in by jagged stones and crooked bamboo. "What...?" Akito blinked. "This... this wasn't here before. I swear this wasn’t here—” 

Akito's breathing was uneven against Touya's shoulder, his injured knee pressing ice-cold into his side. The ghostly air had grown denser—less like fog, more like pressure. Touya couldn't see them, not the way Akito could, but he felt them now. 

Watching. Surrounding. 

He gulped hard. "We will take another route." He said, legs breaking into a run but this time, he took a different path. He remembered the way to the shrine, of course. Touya spent his childhood with Saki playing together in this forest. He should've memorized a path that he always uses shortcuts to escape from his father. 

"W-Where are we going?!" Akito asked, feeling his knee tremble. The boy that was holding him swallowed. "Don't worry. It was about ten minutes, maybe... If we're lucky." 

They wouldn't be lucky. 

A sudden chill scraped down their spines. Then came the sound—soft, hollow laughter echoing through the woods. One voice multiplied into many. Akito's grip on Touya tightened. 

"That path earlier... are they blocking the way...?" Akito whispered. "They know we're close to the shrine." 

Touya adjusted his hold and pushed forward, ducking under a warped branch. "Maybe." His muscles were beginning to fail. But he wouldn't stop. 

Not when Akito needed him. 

A flicker of movement passed to the right. Touya felt Akito flinched behind him. "One of them—Touya-kun, swing left—!" 

Touya did, blindly. 

The metal bat rang out with a dull thud—connecting with something. Wait, did I...? Did he hit them? 

The laughter stopped. 

Then the forest screamed. 

A sudden wave of energy slammed into them, and the world turned black and purple and red all at once. It was so sudden that even Touya halted in his run, wanting to ask Akito what was happening. 

Yet, Akito didn't say anything but he embraced Touya's head. 

As if- 

Wait. Is he...? 

They were flung back—tossed like dolls—Touya skidding on his side, Akito rolling hard and hitting the edge of a stone. Touya scrambled up instantly and quickly ran beside Akito. But he didn't move an inch. 

Fuck. 

"Akito?!" 

The boy groaned, pain contorting his face. His leg twisted wrong beneath him now. He tried to lift his head but collapsed. 

Touya's heart crashed like thunder. 

Shit. Shit, shit. Shit! 

So that attack was supposed to hurt him, but Akito takes the heavy blow. Damn it, this boy... Can't he tell him what's happening back there? If Touya knew about that attack, he could've avoided it! 

"Wake up...! Akito-" 

He could see nothing—nothing at all. But he could feel the spirits closing in. 

There are too many of them. 

But where should he swing the bat? What spirit is he currently facing? What position he should've taken? 

...It was this moment he realized that he can't do anything if Akito weren't beside him. Strength? He does have them in a normal amount like all healthy human should have. Passion? Touya believed he stepped in here half-hearted and just wanted to pass the trial. Sense? The normal ones, sure. But specialty like Akito had? 

No, he doesn't have that. 

"...T-Touya-kun..." Touya grabs Akito's hand in his palm, feeling how burns his skin to collide with Akito's frozen fingertips. 

"Akito," Touya's tried to calm himself in that panic situation. "Akito, are you okay?" 

"...Run." 

Touya's grey eyes went wide. Not believing what Akito had said. "What? No- no, I'm not-" 

The ginger grips a stone beside him, trying to stand up, but struggling. Touya immediately scolds him. "Stop! You're hurting yourself!" Just as Touya's hand touched Akito's back, he was startled when the other boy flinched in pain. 

Iron. 

It smells like iron... 

And there's red... on his palm. Slowly, in fear, Touya turned to see Akito's back. How bad he felt to see blood-as if claws- scratching on Akito's skin. Touya can't even hide his gasp and fear in his eyes. 

And just like that- 

-it suddenly dark below them. Black ink bled out from Akito's weak body, like oils. The forest is big, but Touya could see how the black thing warped them into a sort of field. And all Touya could see now is black and white and grey. Black ground, grey grass, and wood, white shaped particles on the air around them. 

But, before he could do anything, Touya coughed hard. It's like his nose failed to properly breathe because of the suffocating air. 

Is this... 

He looked back to see the boy that struggled to even sit earlier extended his hand to... him? 

"...Akito?" 

Touya could feel his knees weakening, his lungs burning, the cold air biting against his skin like frost-tipped knives. The monochrome domain around them pulsed with an eerie rhythm, and the world had stopped making sense the moment he saw the blood on his hands—Akito's blood. 

And yet the boy—barely conscious—still tried to raise his hand to him. 

"I told you..." Akito rasped, barely above a whisper, "...to run." 

Touya clenched his fists. 

Run. 

That word again. 

He remembered running. 

Running from the stages that demanded perfection. From the glare of spotlights that praised only the gifted. From the voice of his best friend, warm and kind and distant—because she belonged somewhere higher. 

He ran from a world that told him he wasn't enough. 

But right now, beneath this ink-black sky, with Akito bleeding at his feet and the air thick with approaching spirits— 

—he had never wanted to stay more. 

Touya is not a coward to run off just like that. No. He's not. But you run from Saki. You run from everyone, how's that not a coward? The thoughts in his head echoed. 

Touya gritted his teeth. 

No. Aoyagi Touya is not a coward. He ran from the entertainment for the sake of himself. He survived the corrupted world. 

So now, Akito's telling him to run? The thought itself made his blood boil. 

He stood over Akito, holding the bat tight. "Stay down." Yet a weak hand stopped him. Those bright eyes, full of dreams, concerned and screamed wanted to help him. Touya gazes at the other, smiling in confidence. "I will be okay." 

He stepped forward. The metal bat was slick in his grip, not with sweat—but something hotter... or maybe, alive. 

"I'm not that person anymore." 

Touya crouched low, placing his body in front of Akito. His shoulders shook. The bat trembled. Then—heat surged through his veins like fire licking through dry kindling. A pulse slammed in his ears. 

I'm not going to run away this time. 

Touya takes a deep breath and stands up in front of Akito. The metal bat in his grip never loses as he tries to calm himself in that situation. 

How weird... I never felt tired or dying in this monochrome domain, he thought. Ichika and others have told him how horrifying effects this power has had on living things. 

A breath passed. 

Akito has always helped others. Touya's heart twisted uncomfortably. But who's going to help him? 

One step closer. 

Gods, spirits, cursed forest—I don't care who's watching. He gritted his teeth, eyes scanning the murky shapes closing in. If you're going to take someone tonight—take me. But I swear I'm taking every single one of you with me if you touch him again...! 

He squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding. 

I'm tired of being useless. I'm tired of being the one always left behind. I'm tired of pretending I am okay with that. 

Let me fight. 

Let me protect someone. 

Let me stay. 

His body trembled—but not from fear. 

Come on. Come on, come on...! He screamed innerly. Whatever happens next, I don't care. I'm going to face the consequences myself...! 

Touya's body trembled again. From something... rising. 

Heat. 

Pressure. 

His ears rang... and the bat in his hands pulsed. And suddenly— 

He could see. 

Not clearly, not faces—but shapes. 

Outlines of the spirits in vivid pressure lines, drawn like reverse lightning against the forest. 

The one lunging closest glowed the brightest—its body stretched like a shadow made of wind. 

Instinct spoke before logic. 

Touya swung. 

The bat burned in his hands—crackling faint blue. It struck the spirit— 

—and for the second time, he felt the hit. 

Clink! 

Not just resistance. Not a vague shudder. A big impact. Because of the hit, the impact sound echoed throughout the forest. Just like the bells those shrine maidens used when in rituals. 

The spirit shrieked and shattered into shards of vapor. 

Silence fell. 

Touya stared at the bat, a look of unbelievable he did that is obvious on his face. Just as he was about to be proud of himself and thank the God who granted his wish, he yelped to see another spirit glowing so brightly. 

Clink. Clink. clink! 

The bi-colored-haired boy swung the bat two times— no, three times because other spirits didn't stop coming. Okay, Touya knows he can see the spirits and FINALLY do something now, but he can't face hundreds of spirits alone! 

Ugh, just when I want to flex my new awakening power...! Touya frowned. 

"...Touya-kun... you... can see them?" Touya risked a glance back. Akito's pink eyes were glazed but focused on him—wide with awe. 

"Yeah," he panted. "I think... I can." 

He stood taller, sweat matting his bangs to his forehead. 

And for once in his life, Touya didn't feel like a step behind. 

He felt like he had finally stepped forward—into something that belonged to him. 

A gift not for the stage. Not for applause. 

But for this. 

To protect someone he cared about. 

Okay, now... the spirits are backing away. This is their chance to flee! Touya crouched down in front of Akito and gently leaned his back against the other boy to lift him. He felt Akito groan behind him, and mumbled, "...I was supposed to... protect you..." 

... just how dedicated he is to save someone in exchange for his life? 

"You were hurt," Touya counters back. "I'm not letting you do this alone. Leaving you like that." He bites the inside of his cheek, frustrated with Akito's decision earlier. "You could've told me about that attack. I can-" 

"N-No!" 

Touya flinched to hear Akito's loud voice. Ouch, his ears... 

"...Ow." 

The boy shifted nervously behind him. "S-Sorry..." Touya now can feel how Akito's breath becomes... shallow on his neck. 

"...Akito?" 

Touya tried pinching Akito's thigh, but no response from the boy. The only thing Touya could hear was Akito's soft breaths. 

Is he passing out or... sleeping? 

Anyway, he made out safely. His legs knees and hands are aching to be rested. Not that he complaining to help Akito, but it's just that his body feels draining... 

...oh. 

Right, the monochrome power. 

Touya could feel his eyes slowly becoming blurry. And just before he could reach the stairs of the shrine, his knees gave up. The boy closes his eyes, embracing the impact. 

But Touya didn't feel any pain. 

All he could hear before passing out was... 

"...I'm so proud of you, Touya."

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

In the half-collapsed corridor of the old exorcist chapel, a spirit-tech projection shimmered midair—unstable, flickering, but unmistakable. Within it played a scene none of them could look away from. 

On-screen, Touya panted, sweat trailing down his neck, his eyes fierce with determination. 

In a field where the color had been drained from the world—greys and blacks and dull white particles drifting like snow—two boys stood at the center. 

One was barely upright, the other barely breathing. 

Akito was slumped against a blackened stone, his ginger hair matted with sweat and blood, pink eyes dazed. And in front of him stood Touya—arms tense, legs braced, his bat glowing faintly blue in his grip. 

The image glitched, just for a moment, as another spirit lunged. 

Touya struck. 

The impact rang out like a suzu in a Shinto ritual echoing through bone. Ichika flinched, clutching her hands. "That sound..." 

"It's like... a purification strike," An whispered, eyes wide. "But... Aoyagi-kun doesn't have spiritual abilities, right? So how—?" 

"He didn't," Kouki said sharply, stepping forward. "What the hell is going on, senpai?" 

Harumichi remained silent, his arms folded, eyes fixed on the screen. But his expression had shifted—something deep beneath the calm. 

It looked like pride. 

The projection stabilized. Touya was breathing hard, shoulders rising and falling with each exhausted gasp. Another spirit came. Then two. Three. 

And Touya met each one with fury in his eyes. 

An's breath hitched. "H-He's not holding back..." 

Kouki scowled. "He's going to burn himself out. There's too many spirits in that forest." 

But how many? Not that the two girls and Kouki see them. But judging from Touya's tense but fierce actions, swinging his bat like that... explains just how many spirits he's facing. Ichika bit her lip. "He's still standing... for Shiraishi-kun." 

For a long moment, the room filled only with the sound of bells echoing from the screen. 

Clink. Clink. Clink!

Over and over—each strike of the bat another desperate heartbeat, another refusal to give in. 

And still, Harumichi didn't speak a word. 

Until Akito moved. 

Just a twitch—his hand, shaking, brushing against Touya's ankle. 

On the screen, Touya turned his head slightly. His lips moved. No one could hear him, but they didn't need to. 

Akito answered. 

Even slumped in pain, he looked up at Touya with something between awe and agony. 

Harumichi's eyes were sharp, glinting with satisfaction and something gentler beneath. He took a slow breath. 

"My son." 

Kouki's breath caught. "What...?" 

Harumichi did not look away from the screen. "He grow up with me, but always run away from family to become an idol. He didn't inherit the training or the expectations. His brothers didn't have that talent to exorcise spirits like me... and now, that forest remembers him." 

The projection crackled again—Touya lifting the bat, striking down a wave of ghostly forms that shrieked and crumbled like sand in the wind. 

"Hmph. The spirits made a mistake," Harumichi said quietly. "They hurt the wrong boy." 

In the image, Touya's face twisted—not only in anger but in something deeper. 

Like resolve. 

He found a way to break free from his nightmare. That's good, Harumichi smiled proudly. I owe that Akito kid one. 

The toll of his strike rang out once more. Then again. And again. 

Ichika stepped forward, barely breathing. "I don't think he just fighting..." 

"Yeah, he's protecting," An finished, voice shaking. "With everything he has." Kouki glanced at Harumichi, brows drawn. "Can he win?" 

Harumichi's gaze didn't waver. "That depends." 

"On what?" 

Harumichi's lips curved faintly. "Whether Akito's heart calls him back in time." The screen surged with white static—then stabilized again. 

Touya, standing like a sentinel. Akito, still barely conscious behind him. The field of greys and ghosts closed again. 

The bat glowed brighter. 

"...but he's draining." Harumichi stands up, walking leaving the three. 

"W-Wait, senpai? Where are you going?" Kouki immediately follows the latter. The two girls behind him break a little run too- now they're walking like a family group. 

"We will welcome them home, of course," Harumichi chuckles. 

His grey eyes gazes at the small figure that coming out from the forest, steps unbalanced like slowly losing consciousness. 

"They deserve the praise for exceeding the test for a first-timer."

Notes:

yayyyyyy, touya already has the power to kill ghosts lmao

Chapter 13: Chapter 12 : "Fufu... You are finally your own team."

Notes:

i still owe you all one chapter... im sorry guys.

Touya remembered that the wind was warm. 

Filtered through the thick canopy of shrine trees, it slipped through the branches like laughter. A breeze that smelled faintly of camphor and grass. 

"Thou art come again, child of the forest."

He swore he had just heard the woods whisper in the wind. 

Touya stood at the edge of the old forest path, small hands gripping a stick sword, bare toes brushing the cool dirt. His body was light, his limbs unfamiliar—shorter, clumsier... And yet, his mind felt painfully aware. Awake. Like time had folded him into a younger shell, but not wiped away the years. 

Then, he heard laughter. 

He turned. 

After hearing that voice, the first thing Touya's eyes caught the most was the familiar pink eyes that he loved so dearly. 

"Saki—" Her name left him before he saw her in full view. 

She barreled out from the trees, sunlight catching in her tousled brown hair. Dirt smudged her cheeks, and her grin was wide and wild. 

"Uya-kun! There you are!" she said breathlessly. "You took forever!" 

Touya blinked—half in awe, half in pain. 

Her voice. Her eyes. So bright and so pink. I couldn't move. He could barely breathe. 

That young Saki tilted her head. "Why're you staring at me like that? You look like I turned into a frog." Touya could feel a smile suddenly creep to his face, amused by the girl's random thoughts. 

God, I missed her. 

"No," Touya said softly. "It's just... you look the same." 

"Well, of course I do!" Saki giggled. "I saw you yesterday too." 

Touya tried to smile. But his heart ached. This was a memory. A dream. But Touya didn't want to know that. 

All that matters right now... maybe leaving the past behind was okay. 

Because this is a dream. 

A memory long ago carved in his story. It feels like a proper farewell to let him slowly let go of the nightmares that he refused to leave him. 

Because it would mean he will forget about Saki. 

Not in a bad way, obviously. But that acceptance will let Touya's pain heal. He has something to do now. He has something in him now. He has someone to protect now. 

So this is the time. 

To forgive himself and let Saki go. 

But Touya just played his role here. In this dream, they ran through the trees. Past the stream and their secret hideout behind the Torii gate ruins. Everything untouched. As it was before the stage, before the curtain, before the world. 

She stopped at their old hiding spot and plopped down in the grass. "Hey. Do you ever think about what we'll be like when we're big?" 

Touya sat next to her, carefully, like a porcelain doll might shatter if he moved too fast. 

"...Sometimes," he whispered. 

Saki chuckles. "Last week someone in my class put my name in a dance competition. And I feel like I wanna be an idol," she declared proudly. "I will shine bright so people can't help but notice me." 

Right. It was Saki who started the dream first. 

He laughed gently at the memory. "Yeah. You always said that." 

Saki tilted her head, confused. "Huh? But I thought I never shared my dream with you..." 

Touya turned to her. "Nah, you don't have to worry. You're already shining." He said, covering his mistake earlier. 

"Haha!" Saki grinned. "That sounds like something I'd say to you," she said, nudging him. 

Then, her voice turned quieter, "I think... even if I shine, I want someone next to me who understands." 

Touya looked at her. "Someone who understands you?" 

"Yeah! Someone who gets it. Like how it hurts to want something so much it aches. But still trying. Still singing!" 

The words hit him like a tide. 

That was it. 

That exact phrasing. He'd heard it before. 

Not from Saki. 

But from a certain... ginger. 

"Even if it hurts... I still want to sing." 

Akito. 

Shiraishi Akito had said that. On that night, when they're in the trial ground he lets Touya know that his dreams felt too heavy for his chest. Especially when he shared that he'd been rejected from the audition about 39 times. The boy with the same burning fire in his eyes, olive but turned pink like a flame when he sees the spirits. 

The same passion. The same kindness. 

Even their clumsy, chaotic hope. 

Saki saw the stars and chased them. Akito... Akito stood under the same sky and dared to reach up. 

Touya feels like his throat burned. 

"...I missed you," he murmured before he could stop himself. 

Saki blinked. "Eh? But I'm right here." 

"I know," he whispered. 

He knew it was a dream. And he knew what came next. 

That they were going to part away. 

Even if she didn't know it yet. 

Even if, right now, she thought they'd stay like this forever. 

Saki lay back in the grass, arms spread. "If we ever go far away from each other," she said, "just remember this spot, okay?" 

He looked up at the canopy. Cherry petals drifted between the leaves. 

"...I will." 

"We'll still be under the same sky," she said again, more softly. "And I will still be cheering on you. Even if you can't hear it." 

His chest cracked open. The long, forgotten wounds were supposed to bleed over, but all Touya could feel was that the wound was patched up already. Healed like it had been treated for a long time. 

"Me too," he choked. "I'll cheer for you too, Saki." 

A breeze passed. A bell rang in the distance. 

And she smiled one last time. 

Then she faded. 

But, he's still there. With the forest around him. He heard voices. Just like when he woke up earlier. Yet this time, they didn't even bother to hide themselves. Their voices are clear like the plain, blue sky. 

"Young one," the woods breathed.

"Thou hast vowed to bear the burden. But art thou prepared to face it alone?"

Oh my fucking God.

Is that Shakespearean? Seriously?

No—focus, Touya. "Aye," he said, voice steady. "I am."

He had vowed. He would shoulder the weight alone if he must. To protect what was dear to him—he would give everything.

...Wait. Were these the voices—the ones who granted him that power?

The wind stirred, soft and warm. It tousled his bi-colored hair like a hand patting his head.

"Thou fearest not to speak so boldly," the forest mused.

Touya blinked. "What?"

Still, he stood firm. "Of course I meant it."

The wind brushed his cheek again, gentler this time.

"Was it thee?" he asked, voice low. "Art thou the one who granted me this power?"

There was a pause, then a whisper of amusement.

"Once, we thought thou wert yare."

Yare... That meant ready, right? Prepared?

Ah. That's why his father said those words. 'Prepared to face the spirits.'

Back then, Touya had thought Harumichi was just being his usual cryptic self. But now... It had always been this forest. It had always been calling.

"Thou hast yet to perpend—truly weigh—whether thou art yare to wield such power," the voice said, softer now, almost sad.

"It hath cost, young one."

Touya glanced upward, the trees whispering above him.

"Is this tied to the shrine?" he asked, thinking of Harumichi's stories. The Aoyagi bloodline—always one child chosen to carry the yang force, to serve as the shrine's exorcist.

"Aye... How cunning thou art," the woods murmured, pride lacing their voice.

Then, without warning, a small orb of blue light bloomed in the air before him. It spun in circles, pulsing like a heartbeat, curious and bright. It felt like... a child, excited to be seen.

Touya reached out—and when his fingers brushed it, a sound echoed.

Clink.

Touya's eyes widened.

That sound... That was the sound of his power.

"Move forward, young one," the voice echoed.

"O'ercome the shadow. O'erwrought the dark."

The orb shimmered, then surged toward him.

Touya didn't flinch.

He welcomed it.

Let the forest embrace him. Let the weight of power and consequence fall upon him.

He was ready.

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

Touya woke up with a gasp. 

His body felt heavy again. Taller. Older. Broken from the fight. 

But something inside him had shifted. 

The room smelled faintly of incense and antiseptic. His body still ached like he'd been slammed by a truck, dunked in cold water, and then wrung out like laundry. 

"Ugh..." he groaned, trying to sit up. "Where...?" 

"You're awake." 

The familiar voice was both too casual and too well-timed. 

Touya turned his head and saw his father sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, sipping tea from a paper cup like this was a typical Tuesday. 

Harumichi smiled as if they were having a friendly brunch. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Touya. How's your headache? Any lingering effects of traumatic spiritual overload? Unresolved emotional awakenings?" 

Touya blinked. Realization hits him when his eyes darted around. No one else is here. "What are you talking about— Where's Akito?!" 

Harumichi tilted his head, eyebrows rising. "Ah. Straight to the point. Just like your mother." 

"Don't change the subject!" 

"I'm not! I just think you should stretch a little before getting up—your aura's still recalibrating from the awakening." Harumichi raises both of his hands, trying to tell the truth. 

"Dad!" 

Harumichi gave a reluctant shrug. "Fine, fine. You're in a hotel in Harajuku. Cozy place, with weird carpets, and too many keycards. Kouki's outside training the girls—Ichika and An, wasn't it? Lovely children. But they're too emotional to survive the training." 

"...And Akito?" Touya asked, voice taut now. Honestly? Not that he doesn't care about the two girls, but the thing that had him worried was Akito's state. 

When Harumichi hesitated, Touya sensed something was wrong. 

Touya sat up fully. "What happened? Where is he?" 

Harumichi lifted a hand. "Now, don't panic—" 

Yeah, as if he will listen to that. 

Touya was already halfway out of the room. 

"Don't you dare say 'don't panic' while refusing to answer where he is!" he barked, nearly tripping over his shoes as he stumbled through the hallway. "Akito! Akito!!" 

The hotel hallway echoed with Touya's frantic footsteps and shouting. 

One of the cleaning staff peeked out from a laundry closet and shrank back in alarm. "I'm looking for a boy—ginger hair! Bright olive eyes! Probably bleeding somewhere!" 

He turned a corner. 

"AKITO!" 

A sharp crash sounded from downstairs—Touya had taken the steps two at a time, almost barreling over a flower vase. He burst into the hotel's cafeteria, heart racing— 

Only to find Shiraishi Akito sitting at a table by the window. 

Entirely uninjured. Laughing. Holding a half-eaten onigiri in one hand and gesturing wildly with the other. 

"—and then I told him, 'You can't just swing the bat blindly like that if I'm not telling you, what if you hit my head?!'" Akito snorted. 

Across the table, Kanade sipped orange juice with an amused smile. Beside her, there's Airi who chewed a mochi and added dryly, "And Ichika said that he almost did." 

"Akito—!" 

Touya skidded to a stop so hard his shoes squeaked on the floor. All eyes turned to him. 

Akito blinked. Innocently. "...Touya-kun?" 

"You're—" Touya's voice cracked, panting. "You're just sitting there?! Eating rice balls?!" 

Akito stared at him with those, stupid kind eyes, then looked down at his perfectly wrapped onigiri. "Yeah?" 

"You almost died!" 

"Well, yes... But I didn't." 

Touya messed his hair in frustration. "Why didn't anyone tell me?!" 

"I told your dad to let you sleep," Akito said with a sheepish grin. "You looked... really out of it." 

"O-Out of it—?! I had a spiritual meltdown, Akito!" 

"And that's why!" Akito said cheerfully. "I asked Harumichi-san to look out for you. You looked so cool in action yesterday, Touya-kun!" 

Touya covered his face with both hands and groaned. Not knowing whether to feel embarrassed or regretting his decision for not hearing what his father was about to say. 

Kanade blinked. "Oh, we're... not interrupting anything, right?" She smiled, politely. 

"I think he's just being dramatic," Airi chuckles. 

"I thought you were dying," Touya muttered, dragging a chair backward and collapsing into it. 

The ginger reached across the table and nudged an untouched onigiri toward him. "Want one? I saved it for you." 

Touya paused. Then reluctantly took it. 

"...Thanks." 

Akito beamed. 

Harumichi finally appeared, poking his head in through the doorway. "Ah, good! I see the reunion went smoothly." 

"You knew he was here?!" 

"I said don't panic." 

"You didn't say he was in the cafeteria!" 

Harumichi takes a seat beside him. "I assumed the smell of food would guide you eventually." 

"I-" Touya inhaled deeply, then exhaled in defeat. 

Akito offered him a warm tea. Then Kanade sighed through her nose, long and thin. "Anyway, why is it always you?" 

The boy with olive eyes blinked, halfway through a second onigiri. "Huh?" Airi, seated beside her, crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Oh yeah. You're hurt again, aren't you? And from what we can see by Aoyagi-kun's actions, we can tell your wounds are that serious." 

Akito quickly glanced at Touya for help. "I-I'm not hurt—look, I can walk just fine!" 

He stood up too fast, flinched, and immediately sat down again. 

Kanade looked unimpressed. "You call that walking?" 

"I'm fine! Really!" Akito grinned, waving his hands. "It looks worse than it feels. I promise!" He offered another smile, just as warm as the first, when Kanade and Airi appeared to visit him. 

"You're unbelievable," Kanade muttered, arms crossed tightly against her chest. Her pale blue eyes locked onto Akito like lasers. "First I hear from Hoshino you're out doing exorcist training—then I find out you're bleeding—again—and now you acted like none of that happened?!" 

"I'm not bleeding," Akito replied with a peace sign. "See? All good." 

Touya leaned forward slightly, his brow furrowing. "No, wait—he was. I touched his back—he was bleeding. Like, a lot." 

Kanade raised her eyebrows, turning toward Touya. "Thank you for your confirmation, Aoyagi-kun." 

"Ahh, actually," came Harumichi's breezy voice, "that's the part I've been waiting to explain!" 

He swirled into the conversation with a fresh cup of tea, somehow immune to the anxiety in the room. "You see, what happened was rather miraculous—and quite dramatic, honestly. Very film-worthy, I must say." 

Everyone stared at him. 

Harumichi cleared his throat. "Ahem. The energy in the shrine forest is older than most of the city's spirits combined. It remembers those born from it—and those who choose to protect it. When Touya's ability awakened, it didn't just allow him to see the shape of spirits." He gestured toward Touya. "It recognized his resolve. And it—how shall I put this... the forest blessed his aura." 

"...Blessed?" Touya echoed flatly. 

"Infused with spiritual resilience," Harumichi clarified. "That resilience countered Akito-kun's draining monochrome field." 

Airi raised an eyebrow, trying to make a theory from what Harumichi explained. "Wait, you're saying... Aoyagi-kun healed him?" 

"Not exactly." Harumichi turned toward Akito. "Your power drains energy—drains life if left unchecked. But that same energy can be rerouted. When you collapsed, and Touya stayed close, shielding you... the field absorbed the purified aura around him." 

"So I... drained him?" Akito said, horrified. 

"Only a little!" Harumichi chimed. "And it stabilized your body, reversing your wounds before they could fester." 

Touya's eyes widened in realization. "That's why I felt like I was hit by a truck when I woke up." 

"Yes," His father said brightly. "Because you were spiritually mugged in your sleep." 

Akito looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. "I'm so sorry, Touya-kun... I didn't mean to—" 

"Shut up," Touya cut in, his words countered the negative things Akito going to say. "You saved me before that. I owed you." 

Akito blinked, olive eyes wide. "I... I do?" 

The pink-haired girl shook her head. "You two are a mess." 

Kanade just sighed, rubbing her temple. "We just finished our performance in Vivid Street this morning, you know. We came looking for Hoshino because we hadn't heard from her—and now suddenly we're watching Akito play ghost-hunting tag in cursed forests." 

"She didn't tell you because I told her not to..." Akito said sheepishly. "I didn't want to worry you anymore." 

"Well," Kanade snapped, "you failed, Akito." 

Harumichi gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Worry is a sign of love, Yoisaki. But I do admire your protective instincts." 

"Sure. I want to scream because of this idiot." Kanade muttered. 

Touya, meanwhile, eyed Akito with a long stare. "You do bounce back fast," he murmured. 

Akito shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "I get that a lot." 

Harumichi stepped away again with his tea, but not before turning and adding one final thought. "Let this be your first lesson, Touya. Power always comes with a price. And a purpose." 

Kanade and Airi exchanged a look as Akito reached for another onigiri. 

"Wait, where are you going, Dad?" Touya asks. 

Harumichi leaves them with a knowing smile. "He's taking the way to the rooftop," Kanade said, finishing her coffee. 

Both Touya and Akito shared a look. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

The hotel rooftop had been repurposed into a makeshift training ground by morning. 

For someone like Kamishiro Kouki, yes, he can do anything with strong cables to borrow the place. The sun hung low behind a veil of gray clouds, casting cool light over the tiled floor and clattering wind chimes that spun gently on the rails. 

An stepped back as a blast of wind pressure pushed past her face—Ichika's swing having just grazed the target dummy set up across the line. 

"Reset your stance, Ichika," Kouki's voice cut through like a blade. "Your shoulders dropped again. Too much weight on your forward foot." 

"R-Right," Ichika exhaled, sweat beading on her forehead. She readjusted, then readied herself for the next command. 

An, meanwhile, stood opposite her, adjusting the band of her gloves. Her posture was loose—but Kouki didn't miss the way her eyes flicked between the surrounding rooftops and the dummy set. 

"An," Kouki said, not looking at her. "What do you see?" 

An straightened. "N-Nothing, sir. No wind pattern disruption," She paused. "Maybe if we were being watched, it would be from the western side. The sun's glare gives too much cover from that angle." 

Kouki turned his gaze to her fully now, expression unreadable. 

"You don't hesitate to predict possible threats." 

"I-I can't afford to," An replied honestly, brows furrowed. "I've always thought about the worst that could happen. Akito calls it paranoia. But it tells me something else." 

Kouki's eyes narrowed slightly—not in annoyance, but in interest. 

"Maybe that's not paranoia," he muttered. "That's critical reasoning under pressure. You think of any possibilities that could've happened." He hums. "Good. Very good." 

An blinked, caught off guard by the praise. "T-Thank you, sir." 

Kouki walked across the roof, placing new markers around the training circle. Then he raised a hand—and Ichika instinctively flinched as a high-pitched chime rang out, seemingly from nowhere. 

The sound reverberated too strongly in her ears. Too loud for her liking. 

She staggered back, hands pressed to her ears. "What was—" 

"Ichika," Kouki said, watching her reaction carefully, "What did you hear?" 

She slowly lowered her hands. "It was... like metal. But high, shrill. It echoed through the floor tiles too, I think. I—It felt like it hit the back of my head." 

Kouki nodded once. "Your ears are sharper than most. You likely have an inherited sensory enhancement. Like Rui's touch. Or Ena's taste." 

Ichika's eyes widened. "That's... a thing?" 

"It is. And it makes you sensitive to frequencies spirits often use when distorting space. It's why you flinch. You're not weak. But you're overwhelmed." He folded his arms. "But that can be honed. It will be painful at first. But it'll make you stronger than most." 

Ichika absorbed his words slowly, glancing toward An. She had always thought why her ears have been so sensitive. 

Maybe Harumichi was right to let Kouki train them. 

"Looks like we're both cursed with something weird," she muttered. An grinned. "Wouldn't it be boring if we weren't?" 

Kouki raised a brow at the girl's comment. "Let's go again." 

Both girls returned to the center. Ichika's grip on her fist—more stable now. An's eyes—sharp and tracking. 

They were raw, Kouki thought. But sharp. 

And something told him they'd survive this world longer than most—if they learned to stop being afraid of their potential. Well, maybe he needed to do 'that'. 

The timing is still early. 

They've just know what they could do. So now they're going to face to face with a real threat. 

The rooftop training area stood quiet, the breeze rustling gently over concrete tiles. Both girls use their kicks and fists to practice their combat skills against the dummy set. Kouki stood with arms folded, his yellow, sharp eyes tracking An and Ichika as they caught their breath from the second round of drills. 

"You've both done well," he said, his tone still unreadable to them. 

"But real threats don't arrive with warnings. And they certainly don't wait for you to be ready." 

An blinked, glancing at Ichika, who looked equally puzzled as her. 

Kouki stepped forward, drawing out a paper talisman etched in deep black ink. He snapped his fingers over it. 

"Let's see if you can handle this." 

The world changed. 

Suddenly the rooftop melted away into chaos—a burning city, buildings crumbling in the distance, the sky stained red. Smoke and ash filled the air. Sirens wailed. The stench of fire and something fouler curled into their lungs. 

The worst thing is, all felt too real. The heat. The fear. The screaming. 

Ichika staggered back. "W-What is this?!" 

"An illusion field," Kouki's voice echoed distantly, though he was nowhere in sight. "But that doesn't make it safe. Think fast." 

Then they heard someone's voice screaming. "Help! Somebody—please!" 

It was close. 

An bolted toward it without thinking. "Akito!" 

Ichika lunged to grab her. "Wait—An, it's not—!" 

But An broke from her, sprinting through the fire-lined streets, eyes darting. "Akito!" Her heart pounded. That voice was real. That cry was his. 

Ichika hesitantly followed, the illusion intensifying. Sounds pulsed through her ears—ghosts weeping, laughter, flames crackling. It was hard to tell what was real. She stopped, covering her ears, trying to ground herself. "An, wait—it's a trick!" 

In the illusion, a broken, bloodied Shiraishi's younger brother appeared around the corner. 

He was slumped against a wall, his eyes half-lidded, mouth trembling. "An... Ichika... why didn't you come sooner?" 

An froze. 

Ichika finally reached her, shaking her head. "It's not him! Look at his eyes, t-they're not Akito's!" But her voice trembled. Ichika knew from the start the voice wasn't his. But that slumped figure... what if it was? What if this illusion was showing them what could happen? 

An dropped to her knees, staring. 

She remembered how much her young brother—bruised and smiling, always saying he was fine. Always pushing forward. 

And Ichika's ears rang again—this time with a voice, faint and layered. It's the principal's voice. 

"Regret... fear... that is what you're afraid of, aren't you?" 

Ichika's breath hitched. "He is using our fears against us," she whispered. 

The illusion didn't vanish. 

It shattered—and rebuilt itself again. 

A low pulse echoed across the rooftop-turned into a hellscape, like a heartbeat stitched into fire. An coughed, stumbling forward. The world had reformed. The blood-red sky hung overhead once more. And Akito's scream came again—closer this time, sharper. 

"No," she whispered. "We just..." 

But her words were cut off by the image of Akito dragging himself from beneath a collapsed beam. Blood streaked his temple. One eye was swollen shut. 

"An," he rasped. "Where were you...?" 

An's knees hit the ash-covered ground. 

"I was— I ran— I came to get you!" she cried. "I came back!" 

But his face twisted in pain—no, disappointment. "You didn't try hard enough... I've trusted you, An..." 

"No—no, I—" 

"Try again." Kouki's voice echoed. 

The world collapsed again—and rebuilt itself. 

An screamed. But it repeated. Again. And again. Each time, the image changed. Akito burned. Akito bled. Akito vanished. 

And every time she ran too late. Spoke too slowly. Choose the wrong path. 

Her thoughts spiraled. Maybe she wasn't strong enough. Maybe her fear was dragging her down. And still, she ran. Again and again. 

Ichika wasn't faring better. 

It hurts to see the An like this. The Shiraishi An, where Ichika used to see her little tease and being calm at times. The same Shiraishi An who accompanies her to lunch when Akito is with Aoyagi. The same Shiraishi An tells her stories of her younger brother practicing idol dances. 

They are in a field now—a warped version of the shrine woods. An is long sat on the ground, exhausted by the illusion. 

Akito stood across from them, smiling sweetly. But there was something wrong with his eyes. She knew that the figure wasn't him. 

Instead of An reaching him this time, it was Ichika. "Akito...?" 

"Don't look at me like that," he said softly. 

Her heartbeat picked up. "...Like what?" 

"Like I'm the real Akito." 

He grinned wider. Too wide for a human to smile. The sound that followed was distorted—multiple voices speaking in Akito's tone. His mouth moved wrong, his body twitching like a broken puppet. 

"Is this what you wanted?" the creature asked. "To watch me fall again? To freeze up when it matters most?" 

Ichika backed away, eyes wide. There's no way... how does this fake Akito know the cafe incident? "Y-You're not him. You are not—!" 

"Your ears heard everything," it whispered. "But you did nothing." 

"I-!" No... That thing was right. Even when Kanade was bleeding at that time in Akito's embrace, she was scared to approach them. And even before they stepped into the cafe, she heard things here and there, but not warning them. 

Ichika dropped to her knees, covering her ears. 

The wind whispered louder now, voices she couldn't shut out—every insecurity, every moment she hesitated. It built like static in her skull. 

She curled in on herself, muttering, "I can't. I can't fight this—" 

"Then you'll fail him," the illusion spat. 

And the world yet again reset.

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

From the rooftop's real world, Kouki observed both girls. 

He muttered to himself. "Round five for Ichika. Round nine for An." 

He glanced behind him where he heard footsteps approaching. Harumichi, and... the kids were standing near the doorway, silent observers. 

But Akito gripped the balcony railing, concern carved into every line of his face. 

"Principal... what are they seeing?" he asked. 

Kouki didn't answer. Akito didn't need to know. "They're fighting illusions born from the parts of them they try to hide." 

It is Touya turned to ask him. "Is that... fair? Using illusions to test them?" Kouki gave a small, almost sympathetic shrug. "Fair doesn't train exorcists." 

Akito's hands tightened. "...But they're hurting." 

Kanade placed a hand on Akito's shoulder. "Let them struggle. I'm sure Hoshino and your sister will find the way out." 

Akito looked between them, then back at the two girls at the center of the rooftop.

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

 

This time, An suddenly stopped running. 

Akito was calling again. Her feet were screaming to move. Her heart clawed for him. But somehow, she remembered how Akito's true voice called out to her when she needed a push. 

"Believe in you, because you're you!" his voice had said, once. Determined, but off-key to the song rhythm. An recalled that she had laughed at the time. 

Her hands clenched into fists. "No," she whispered. 

She turned her back on the bleeding boy. 

"Y-You're not him." She clutched her fist to her chest. Orange eyes looked like she had been betrayed by the emotions that the illusion tricked her. "I remembered. Akito has never talked to me like that." 

The false Akito hissed. 

"He's kind and never blames someone." An takes her fist out now and takes a stance. "He is gentle with his words, too." 

With a resolve, An takes a deep breath. Now daring to face the illusion. She raised the fist and swung it to the fake figure. 

And the nightmare finally shattered. 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

Ichika stood now, staring down the wrong-faced Akito, breathing hard. 

"God, you're loud," she whispered, tapping her ear. "Akito is loud too. But his voice is nothing like yours." 

The figure opened its mouth. But Ichika acts faster. "So I'll choose silence," she said, closing her eyes. Ichika stepped in front of the false Akito. 

And with that— 

She swung her fist through the illusion. 

The image shattered like glass. The flames vanished. The city folded into the mist. 

Her clarity cut through. The illusion flickered, distorted—and finally cracked.

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

Back on the rooftop, both girls gasped as they returned to reality, collapsing onto the floor. Their limbs were shaking. Their faces were wet with tears. But they were conscious. 

Kouki approached slowly. He offered them a little smile. 

But his voice was quiet. "That was the hardest one." 

Ichika lifted her head. "T-There's more?" 

"Yes," he said. "But that was the one meant to break you." An sat up, wiping her eyes roughly. "And if we'd failed again?" 

"...You wouldn't," Kouki said. "As what I've observed, I believe in your strength." 

Akito rushed over at last, grabbing both their hands. "You are both incredible!" he exclaims. 

Ichika laughed shakily. "Thanks... I still want to punch you for haunting me." 

An tried to smile through the pain she'd experienced. "You were the reason we got through." 

Akito blinked, flustered. "...Me?" 

Kouki looked at the three—and for the first time that day, allowed himself a faint grin. "Emotion," he said. "is the oldest strength in the world." Kouki crossed his arm. "You both passed." 

The older Shiraishi siblings stared at him. "That test was cruel." 

"Well, it was necessary," he replied quietly. "You care about him. That's your strength—but also your weakness. Learn to stand even when fear twists your heart." 

Ichika's eyes narrowed. "You knew we'd see Akito, didn't you?" 

Kouki didn't answer her question. He only turned away, hiding a faint flicker of sympathy in his eyes. "I needed to know if you could fight your heart... or be consumed by it." 

The rooftop air was still heavy from what just transpired. 

Ichika and An were still recovering, breathless and aching, their eyes red from suppressed tears and battles fought inside their minds. 

Then—like a gust of spring wind pushing through winter— 

"TA-DAAA!" 

The voice crashed into the air like a cymbal dropped down a staircase. 

Aoyagi Harumichi appears with the dramatic flair of a stage actor. He held up a woven tray of steaming dango and two fizzy pink soda bottles balanced precariously under one arm. 

"Congratulations, young champions of soul and scream! You have survived the Trials of Heartbreak and Horror!" he sang, spinning once on his heel before nearly tripping on the threshold. "Now, time for snacks and serotonin!" 

Speechless, Ichika blinked. "...What?" 

Kouki muttered something under his breath, likely a prayer for patience. Beside her, An tried not to laugh, which made it worse. 

Harumichi tossed a soda to her and An, who fumbled and caught it barely. "You two!" He gestured grandly toward Ichika and An. "Endured illusions older than my wife's anger issues. You deserve rest. And maybe sugar." 

Kouki cleared his throat. "Senpai." 

"Yes, yes, I know." He waved it off. "Time to debrief. Time to reveal the dark, tragic tale behind our gathering here in glittering Harajuku."

 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

 

Everyone now seated at the cafeteria table with their snacks and sodas, fell into silence. The gentle background hum of vending machines filled the void. 

Touya, seated beside Akito with arms crossed and eyes narrowed, spoke first. "So... why are we here?" 

Kouki visibly tensed. 

Akito sipped his drink. "Wait... yeah. Why are we in Harajuku, anyway?" 

Kanade leaned back in her seat, arms folded. "And why were Hoshino and Shiraishi-san doing some insane test?" 

Harumichi let out a long, theatrical sigh and plopped himself into a chair. "Because," he said solemnly, "this is not just a trip. This is a rescue mission." 

Everyone leaned in. 

Harumichi's voice dropped, serious now. "Four of our friends... have been lost during an investigation in the outskirts of Harajuku. A music school once touched by spirits, which is now entirely engulfed by them." 

Four of their friends...? "Ena-nee..." Akito whispered. "Dad... and the two members of the supernatural club?" 

"They were tracking a summoning ritual," Kouki added. "We lost contact hours ago. No word. I speculated that they're trapped in that school." 

"A-And why didn't you tell us sooner?!" Ichika demanded. 

"I and Harumichi-senpai had to know if you could handle it," Kouki said, face full of grim. "That's why that training wasn't for fun." 

"I want to help!" Airi stood, almost knocking over her soda. "I won't just sit back—" 

"I agree," Kanade added. "You need all the help you can get." 

Harumichi raised a hand. "As much as we need help," Grey eyes watch over the two girls that just arrived that morning. "You two can't come with us." 

And this earned the two girls complaints. 

"What?! There's no way I'm letting Akito hurt again this time!" Kanade stands up, slamming both of her hands on the table in refusal. 

"Y-Yeah!" Airi stands too, she looks equally and disagrees with Harumichi. 

"I anticipated that." Harumichi sighs. "So, I arranged a way you can observe. You two can at least guide them from the outside." He looked toward the door dramatically. "And here comes the one who will make that possible!" 

The door slid open with a mechanical whir. 

Enter a pink-haired girl with an unnatural asymmetric cut. 

Clad in her signature pink bomber jacket layered with belts, gears, and... goggles, she wheeled in a cart of spirit-tech gadgets like she owned the place. A pair of... wait, is that chicken robots? The drones hovered behind her shoulders, beeping cheerfully. 

"Tadaaa! Back from my robotics lab-slash-attic!" she declared. "Ootori Emu, tech-genius and spirit-savvy engineer, reporting for ghost-saving duty!" 

The girl, Ootori Emu introduces herself gracefully with a cat-like grin. 

Harumichi grinned like a proud uncle. "My genius senpai's daughter! Don't mind the glitter on the wires." 

"Some of these gadgets are freshly tuned!" she beamed, tapping one of the devices. "Spirit-signal translators, defense projectors, and this baby—" she pulled a glove with glimmering circuit-like lines— "can detect spiritual residue and convert it into digital readings! Sparkle science, baby!" 

Kanade blinked, body trembling a little. "That... sounds illegal." 

Emu winked. "Only if you get caught." 

Airi sighed beside Kanade, accepting her fate already. "We're in deep, aren't we?" 

Akito stood slowly, his eyes shining. "S-So we are going to save them... with Ootori-san's inventions?" 

"Yes." Harumichi nodded. "And you four," he gestured toward the four kids: Touya, Akito, An, and Ichika. "Together, with me and Kouki, will enter the old school and search for them." 

Kouki looked at the group, his expression softening. "Prepare yourselves. We move at dusk." 

Emu tapped the cart. "And by then, your weapons will be ready too." 

She turned dramatically. 

"Let's go save some ghosts—and our friends!!" 

Touya leaned beside Akito. "She didn't even meet the supernatural club yet, right?" That earned a nervous chuckle from the other boy. "Well... Maybe she's excited to be our friend..." 

Ichika smiles. "Yeah, I can see that." 

So, the dining room in the hotel's lounge had been converted into a temporary command center—chalkboards, blueprints, glowing tablets, and spirit-frequency monitors strewn across tables. 

Amid the chaos stood Emu Ootori, goggles pushed into her pink bangs, hands on her hips, and an expression that screamed 'I’m about to blow your minds'. 

"My fellows! Are you ready to meet your partners-in-ghost-crime?" she beamed. 

The four stared at her, uncertain. 

An raised a hand timidly. "Partners... as in ghosts?" 

"Why does that sound worse?" Ichika muttered under her breath. 

Emu skipped over to a covered trolley and, with a dramatic spin and a ta-da flourish, she whipped off the cloth. Four gleaming weapons lay in nested slots—each resting in containment fields that pulsed with faint spirit energy. 

"Shiraishiiiiii-kun~!" she sing-songed, holding up a neatly folded set of wraps and a sleek white half-mask with yellow glass over one eye. 

...It lowkey looks like a masquerade mask but with a cyberpunk theme. 

"Your Echo Veil! It's not for punching things, I promise. These babies are woven with threads soaked in forest mists—ugh, don't ask how long it took to get those. You will be able to see, and track, and it has a night vision. AND," she leaned in, whispering like a game show host, "it connects with the team's comms so they hear exactly what you see. You're basically the spiritual GPS." 

Akito took them after hesitating for about ten seconds, blinking. "...Are you sure this isn't for uh, cosplay?" 

Emu gasped. "How dare you. These are couture exorcist tech! Gotta keep you stylish on the battlefield!" 

And Akito can't say anything after that. 

Next, she picked up the upgraded metal bat, now engraved with circuitry and runes. 

"Aoyagi-kun~! This is the Raijin Coil Bat!" She held it like an Excalibur. "Forged with spirit-conductive alloy and tuned to your aura resonance. This means... when you swing with resolve, it amplifies. When do you hesitate? It pouts. Like an angry cat." 

A weapon that understands the user's emotions? Just what the hell. Touya slowly accepted the weapon, staring at it like it might explode. "...It hums." 

"Because it likes you!" 

He raised an eyebrow. "...It shouldn't." 

"Don't be mean, you're its first partner!" 

Then Emu bounced toward Ichika, lifting a pair of beautifully carved gauntlet bracers with embedded crystal cores. Huh? Is that thing not illegal to cops? 

"Miss Brain-and-Biceps! The Shatter Gauntlets. Calibrated to your neural tempo, so if your head's clear—" she flicked the back of Ichika's skull gently "—it syncs up with your body for absolutely perfect strikes. But if you're too scared..." She made a locking gesture and winced. "It jams." 

Ichika frowned. "You gave me a weapon that punishes anxiety??" 

"Well, yeah. You're smart. It's motivation!" 

Lastly, she plucked two shimmering fans from a magnetic case, each with polished spirit-glass inlays and slender silver ribs. 

"Shiraishi-san! For you, the Kaleidoguard Fans. Flexible defense, elegant parries, and most importantly, they read energy currents around you. You'll feel them vibrate before danger hits. Also, if you snap them just right, they emit an echo pulse that might temporarily disrupt illusions." 

An cupped them gently, blinking. "They're... beautiful." 

"Right? They're kinda emotional too if they face nightmares, like you!" 

"...Excuse me?" An narrowed her eyes. 

"I said elegant," Emu said innocently, already skipping back to her screens. The ginger stepped back, still holding his set of masks like he was holding something alien. "So uh... what now?" 

Emu turned, hands on her hips. "Now? You practice. Then save your friends. Oh—and please don't break them. They're very emotionally sensitive." 

Touya tilted the bat thoughtfully. "...Do I feed it?" 

"Only if it screams," Emu said with a wink. 

The four looked at each other, then at the weapons in their hands. "I've got a bad feeling about this," Ichika murmured. 

"B-But like, these weapons look so cool!" Akito added, trying to adjust his mask. Unfortunately, it slipped and bonked his nose. 

"Help," he mumbled. 

An sighed, turning to her brother to help him wear the mask. "I should've stayed in the cafeteria..." 

But Ootori Emu beamed from behind the table, already logging new data. "You kids are gonna do great." She also chuckles darkly. "Fufu... You are finally your own team."

Notes:

we have emu on our side now (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Chapter 14: Chapter 13 : "...we make sure no one gets left behind."

Notes:

HIIII IM BACK

What does one know about Harajuku? 

You know the shops, the colors, the youth. You've walked its neon veins, laughed under its umbrellas... they're popular with fashion to attract teenagers. 

But you've never yet heard the lullaby... right? 

And no, not the one Kagome-sensei wrote. Not the one that the children never finished. It's the one that the demon child still sings beneath the floorboards of Harajuku Music School. 

No, not the new building they polished over with flyers and pastel paint. 

The other one. 

The one that doesn't show up on maps. The one you pass without noticing. The one that watches you back. 

Oh, you haven't heard of them? 

Rumors say the bell still tolls, though no hands touch it. 

They said once the school is closed down, the police will reveal to the public some of the mysterious cases from the music school. Students' deaths, students' disappearances, teachers going crazy... There's also laughter caught on cassette tape, echoing from a classroom that burned down years ago. The video went viral for a short time, yet people still know the horror behind it. The surviving students and teachers of the school said that the spirit asks for a simple favor. 

Nothing dangerous. Nothing weird. But just sing with the demon child. And if you don't... well. 

Let's not spoil the fun. 

Let's begin the story behind it, shall we? 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

???

When Rui awoke, he couldn't breathe. 

His back ached from cold stone tiles, his arms stiff, like they'd been curled too long. For a moment, he lay still on that floor. 

Listening. 

No water dripping.... No wind. No distant hum of traffic. 

It's... silent. But not peaceful. 

He slowly sat up, joints crackling with the motion. Ow... The air felt heavier here. 

His first instinct was to check the time. He fumbled for his phone in his jacket pocket— and it was still there. But the screen blinked once, then fizzled out, refusing to respond. His yellow eyes looked around the room instead. 

No clocks. 

The classroom looked familiar in layout, yet... off. Huh? But I don't know this place... Desks were stacked haphazardly in corners. The chalkboard was scribbled over with words too faint to read. The fluorescent lights above flickered with no rhythm, and worst of all, every window had been boarded shut from the inside. 

Maybe I can escape from the window? 

He approached one and slid it open. "W-What...?" Rui expected to see something different than the school building. Yet beyond it wasn't the schoolyard he hoped to see. Not even the sky. 

There's another hallway staring back at him. 

"Oh. My. God." Rui stepped back, heart leaping. He slammed the window shut as he felt his brain could not process what the hell was happening. 

Okay... okay. Calm down. 

Don't panic. 

What happened before I passed out? 

He remembered flashes—the club regrouping, his father calling orders, Mizuki's grin as they met each other, Ena's greeting when they finished splitting up, Ken pushing them ahead. 

Then... 

Oh. 

There are shadows. There's a quake. Water that swallows everything. 

His throat tightened. 

"...We're separated," he muttered. "Again." He pressed his hand against the wall, steadying himself—but froze. 

Something brushed back. 

It wasn't physical. It was a whisper, tickling under the skin of his palm. A vibration. A static warmth. 

His touch. 

The spirits were near. 

The signature pulsed stronger with each second—a ripple of phantom movement crawling up the walls and down through the floorboards. 

No time to think, Rui...! 

Rui gripped the case beside him—thankfully, his weapon was still intact—and yanked it open. The toy hammer gleamed, the faint mechanical hum whirring as it activated. 

"¼ Beat!" he shouted, slamming it forward just as a clawed shadow erupted from the ceiling tiles above. 

The hammer collided with the spirit as he lunged, scattering it into smoky fragments. Another rushed from the corner, flanking him. 

Rui takes a three-step back and shifts the hammer's grip, letting it morph into the air and turn into a polearm. He spun, bracing it with both arms, and pushed forward with a psychokinetic pulse. It knocked the second spirit backward into the wall with a crash that cracked plaster. 

He panted, sweat already beading on his brow. The chill was seeping in. 

But the worst was that strange static still crawling under his skin. More of them. Near. 

I have no choice. 

He grabbed the case again and burst into the hallway, footsteps echoing in the silence. 

I need to find the others. We're definitely in a powerful spirit's dimension. Rui clicked his tongue. His heart beats loudly because he's scared of being alone. 

Door after door blurred past him until he found one slightly ajar... a stage room, as it was written on the door. 

Oh no. 

He didn't want to go in. But there's something... stronger here. It's like his sense whispering, or more like trying to hypnotize him... to get inside. 

What if the spirits set a trap here...? 

Yet, Rui nudged the door open unconsciously. And he can see the wooden chairs. In a perfect circle. Facing inward. At the center, under a flickering light... a microphone was placed there. 

His throat closed up. 

Why does my chest... feel tight inside? It's like... Rui slowly walked towards the wooden chairs and the blackboard. It's like I've been here. 

The air smelled of chalk, mold, and... 

Memories...? 

...From somewhere beyond the stage curtains, just barely audible— Rui heard a familiar voice. A child's voice hummed a tune that he, oddly, knew. 

Kagome, Kagome... 

The light flickered. And he flinched when the chairs began to creak. 

Rui swallowed hard. He didn't move an inch. He couldn't. His body was locked between terror and instinct. His fingers tightened around the handle of his weapon as he slowly took one step back— 

But something slammed into his back. 

A force that is so sudden, so hard that it ripped the breath from his lungs. 

He didn't even sense it coming. 

"Ah-!" 

His body flew forward, crashing through the circle of chairs. They shattered around him—splintering like dry bones—as his shoulder smashed into the far wall with a sickening thud. Pain bloomed instantly down his side. 

He collapsed, gasping, dust filling his mouth and nose. "...Ugh." 

His hands trembled as he tried to push himself up. Behind him, the door creaked loudly.... then slammed shut. 

Locked. 

Great. Rui tried hard not to snort over his fate. 

He looked toward where the shove had come from, but nothing was there. Not a whisper, not a shadow. His sixth sense—his touch—was utterly still. No pulse. No presence. 

Where does the force come from...? 

It's impossible for him not to sense something is coming. He had trained for years for this. His power never failed before. Not like this. 

Still coughing, Rui dragged himself into a crouch, gripping his hammer. "W-Who's there?!" he rasped, trying to steady his breath. "I know you are watching—" 

The microphone in the center of the room screeched, a low static that cut into the air like a blade. 

HISS. 

Rui closed his ears in instinct. But, after that, the humming started again. It's closer now. 

Kagome, Kagome... 

Rui's gaze darted across the broken chairs to the center. Where the microphone had turned. 

Facing him. 

He tried to move away from the microphone. 

Keyword: tried. 

But something—no, many things—began to press against his back. Not violently, not yet. 

Just... insistently. 

Like invisible hands pushing him forward. The temperature dropped, and every hair on Rui's arms stood on end. He couldn't feel the spirits in the usual way—not as ripples in the air, not as pulses in the ground. They weren't like the others. 

These had no weight. 

Only intent. 

He dug his heels in, but it was useless. He even dug his weapon to the floor, and that only made it worse because of the screeching sound. His feet dragged forward, one reluctant step at a time, his legs heavy with pain and dread. Something sharp jabbed into his ribs with each breath—a broken chair leg or cracked bone, he wasn't sure anymore. 

"No. No, no..." he whispered. "Please don't make me—" 

But of course, the spirits didn't care. 

A step. Another. He passed the circle of ruined chairs. The microphone hissed once more, and his ears rang. 

His fingers twitched as he tried to resist, but the push came again—more insistent this time. Like a dozen small palms pressing his shoulders down in a bow. 

Kagome... Kagome... 

The tune circled him. 

Finally, Rui reached the center. He looked down at the microphone. 

Trembling. 

Dust swirled at his feet. The cold seeped deep into his bones. And still—his hand rose. 

Not by will. But by pressure. 

One breath. 

Two. 

And he gripped it. Immediately, the static vanished. 

Except— 

"Sing," a small voice whispered. Not from outside. From within. 

"...!" He knew that voice. But something... is blocking his memories inside. It wasn't like he had enrolled in this school before, right? 

"Rui," the voice snapped him from his thoughts. "Do you forget me?" 

The purple head shivers. That voice knows him. And he is not. Maybe. But who are you? Rui wants to ask, but all he can mutter is gasps. He is scared. He needs help from his team. 

When he's nervous like this, it's always Mizuki and Ena helping- 

...I'm nervous? 

Rui bites his lips, gazing over the microphone in his hand. Right. The microphone... is what he's afraid of. It reminds him of the night when paradox's first live was sabotaged. Because of it, Rui leaves Vivid Street. He leaves singing. 

But... what is his connection to this music school? 

This was the place that resembled the night of his leaving Airi. The same spotlight. No old chairs that faced inward, but there are thousands of judgmental eyes. That is where it all began. 

The fear of standing on the stage. 

His voice had cracked for the first time. It was supposed to be a simple live showcase. Just him and Airi as a duo. A small audience. 

No pressure. 

But he'd frozen onstage after the sound was cut off. The nerves. The whispers. The dozens of eyes locked on him. His mouth had opened... and nothing came out. His voice failed him. 

Back then, he thought it was just stage fright. 

Come on, Rui. Think! He clasped his hands together. His knees are begging to rest, but Rui is still standing. Maybe father hadn't told me the truth after all? A thought comes in. 

He finds a photo of his classmates from a year ago. Inside their basement. He accidentally found it when Marsh played hide and seek with him. 

Rui didn't dare to ask his father. So he asks his mother instead. She looked shocked at first, and even asked, "Rui, I thought you continued to sing because you've enrolled in this music school before." 

If he were right, then he might have become a student here. 

Before the school closed for good. 

"Rui," a sudden chill ran down his back. "You know, we've sung together here." The girl calls me Rui again. Do I know her? Yet Rui was sure the voice... knew him somewhere. 

He remembered experiencing a whole weird week. Where he started hearing things, not from his ears, but through what he touches. What his hands connected to. 

How does it feel? Well... it feels just like his hands that weren't there. 

And on a rainy Friday, when Kouki found him crumpled backstage with a bleeding hand and the lights above him flickering like mad, he'd finally admitted that... 

...He was afraid of being seen. 

Afraid of being heard. Afraid that even if he sang, no one would listen. 

That's when his sixth sense awakened. 

And that is when Kouki pulled him out. "You weren't ready," his father had said. "But you will be. One day." 

And that day... had come. 

Rui was always a quiet, observant child. Growing up in the neighborhood near Vivid Street, he admired the colorful passion of street performers from a distance—but never dared to step into the spotlight himself. When he walked inside a vibrant, unfamiliar street. Attracted by a passionate and exciting voice, he met Momoi Airi for the first time. 

His partner. 

His closest friend. Bright, expressive, and full of charisma, Airi saw something in Rui that he couldn't. She invited him into a duo act—not because she needed him, but because she believed he had something worth sharing. For a while, performing with her gave Rui a sense of belonging, even joy. 

But Rui quit after he failed her. Failed Tsubame. Failed even to the rival group, SHADE-ER. 

Because he began to compare himself to Airi constantly. Her natural stage presence, her fearless voice, and the way people gravitated toward her. That seed of doubt bloomed into a full-blown fear that... he wasn't worthy to stand beside her. 

"I'm sorry, Airi-chan," he sobs. "I'm sorry..!" 

Rui lowered his cap, not strong enough to meet Airi's eyes. He can't even see clearly because his long bangs messily trap his sight. 

Airi's hands slowly make their way to Rui's trembling ones. "It's fine, Rui. You don't have to apologise!" She said, trying not to make her voice shaky. "If I'd been able to protect you properly back then..." the girl mumbled, looking too scared. 

But, scared of what? 

Of losing him? 

"But...! From now on, I will protect you." Airi bends a little, wanting to meet his eyes. Wanting to make him stay. 

"So that you're not scared, no matter what, so that you can sing with your head held high-" 

Why is she panicking? 

"...So, let's sing together, Rui!" Her eyes are dropping. Her eyes are showing sympathy and fear. Her smile is... straining. 

Rui takes a deep breath. 

"I'm sorry, Airi-chan." He finally said. 

Airi's pink eyes widen. She is scared. Like in those horror movies they've watched together, where she always hugged him because she's scared of ghosts. 

"...Rui?" 

Rui tried to offer her a smile. "Airi-chan, the fact that you feel like that makes me so, so happy..." His yellow, teary eyes flow slowly again, still having that regret and even fear inside him. 

"...I want to sing with you too, Airi-chan." He gripped the end of his jacket. "I want to... chase the dream with you, too. That's how I feel." 

For a moment, her eyes flashed with hope, and it made him feel bad. 

"But..." He trailed, wiping his eyes. "No matter what I do... when I imagine standing on the stage again, I just get too scared." 

"Rui..." 

He averts his eyes guiltily. 

"I can't sing with you anymore, Airi-chan." His heart is beating too fast, like he's trying to run away from the scene. "...I can't surpass that legendary event with you." 

"But... but, Rui..!" 

"I'm sorry, Airi-chan." He apologizes again for what, a hundredth time? "I want you to make your dream come true... I'm sure you can, Airi-chan." 

Now it sounds like he will abandon her. 

And they've never... met again. 

If only... 

If only I had enough courage... 

Rui could feel them—the spirits—circling him again, unseen hands brushing his shoulder, his wrist. 

Tugging. 

"Sing with me, Rui," the voice said. The microphone warmed beneath his fingers. 

A tear slid down his cheek. "...I don't want to." 

This one is not an ordinary spirit. His enhanced senses are not working; the traumatic events are coming back, crawling at him, and even the spirit somehow knows him. 

This is hopeless. 

Rui can't do anything without his friends in battle. At all... even searching for a bit of courage. 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

Shiraishi Ena has been searching for everyone for about an hour. 

She is concerned about Rui. She is worried that Mizuki will lose her temper again over small things. She is scared that something has happened to her father. 

Every window leads her toward no end. 

Long hallways, infinity classrooms that she'd never explored yet. Even the signal doesn't work here. 

She has tried multiple times to contact the team and the principal, but to no avail. Ena knows spirits are watching her, as she just realized this after an hour wandering around. Her senses are screaming, but Ena doesn't know what to do. 

Since the spirits weren't attacking her. 

But why, though? 

Is Ena not her target? Then why bother trapping her in this old music school? I wanted to go home, she sighed. The brunette can already imagine how worried her mother and An are at home. Akito... well, Akito didn't know if she was gone. 

At least, that's what Ena hopes. 

Speaking of him... before leaving the house for this trip, Yuka made her promise something. 

...that they will come home safe and sound. She even made her promise that she would come back to watch Akito's secret dream. What is he hiding? 

"Come back safely, all of you... and especially you, Ena." Her mother's voice is still fresh that morning. "You still need to watch Akito's dream when he's ready to share it." 

Ena wasn't the best person for a pure, innocent child like Akito to share his fragile world. She will just judge him again, make him hurt with the words she uses, and he will hate her for the rest of his life. 

She wasn't the best sister. 

And she doesn't want to fix herself just because she wanted Akito and An to understand her. If this was the best way to make her brother and her sister safe, Ena would do anything. 

...even if trading a life is the way. 

Who am I kidding... Ena shakes her head, feeling weighted by the burden she chose to carry by herself. Mom and Dad would be very angry if I left Akito alone. She smiled bitterly at the thought, recalling the faces of her... real parents before they were taken away that night. 

That night. The fire. 

Her mother's voice was screaming at her to take Akito and run. Her father's shadow in the doorway, blocking the flames until it swallowed him whole. 

Akito probably didn't remember a thing. 

He didn't need to remember the night that made her this way. 

If he does, he would have already asked her many questions until he is truly satisfied with her answers. Especially that time when the Supernatural Club erased his memories. 

And honestly...? 

That's a good thing. It would be a pain in the ass if he started to seek answers. He didn't need to know all of the dangerous things that happened around him. 

She shook her head and forced herself to focus. Find Rui. Find Mizuki. Find Dad. 

But a faint rustle broke the silence. 

Ena felt the temperature drop. The air somewhat thickened. She slowly turned... and froze on her steps. 

Shapes peeled away from the walls. They moved in jerks, twitching closer with each breath she took. The brunette swallowed hard. 

As she knew these spirits were different from what they had yet encountered. 

They were something else entirely. Like leeches. Hungry for high spiritual energy. 

And well, hers was... too high. 

One lunged. Ena's reflexes kicked in as her staff snapped to her hands, crystal flaring. 

"Comet Palate—Resonate!" she barked, glyph blooming at her feet. Light shot outward, flinging the spirit back, but two more rushed her flank. She spun, swinging wide, but their bodies bent unnaturally, dodging with inhuman speed. 

They... didn't want to kill her? 

What are they attacking me for? They're just wandering around without minding Ena's presence just now! 

Trained for years, Ena could face even a higher-ranked spirit by herself and defeat it. But in this dimension... it felt like the spirits are not just something ordinary but unknown. The one they've never identified yet. 

Because of this, her strikes turned desperate. Breath ragged, and the glyph flickered. Each attack felt heavier, slower. The cold seeped into her bones as her stamina bled away. 

"No—no, not yet!" she hissed, forcing the staff to light again. 

A weak blast scattered them for a heartbeat. She staggered backward, boots skidding on the warped floor. 

She couldn't keep this up. Her vision swam. 

I should have seen it coming..! Ena flinched as her staff was thrown away, and braced herself for an impact- where her body collided with a window, shattering it in the process. 

All she could think of now—over the rush of her pulse—was her little brother. 

And the promise she'd made to Yuka. 

I have to get back. 

Her knees buckled. Her eyes caught sight of her staff, which had clattered to the ground. Ena feels the shadows closing in.
Her voice cracked as she called out— not even sure if she spoke out loud: 

"...Somebody... please.." 

"ENA-NEE!!" 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

Mizuki woke to the faint hum of a voice. 

Soft and familiar. 

Her eyes fluttered open to a dim ceiling, shadow pooling in the corners like ink. She held her breath. But the hum continued—gentle, almost absentminded. 

It sounded like her. 

Shiho. 

Mizuki let out a slow, trembling laugh, pressing her palm to her face. Yeah... of course I'd dream about you here. I'm losing it. 

Because despite everything, despite the way they parted, despite the years since she passed away... Mizuki always thought of her. 

Her chest ached. 

The hum faded, but in its wake came something heavier—memory. The flicker of a screen in a darkened room. The glow of an old group chat. 

Their circle. 

"SHELTER". 

Four voices bound together by wires and words. Shii, the composer who's typing in lowercase, always with ellipses, their music haunting and beautiful. Amber, their editor, is meticulous, precise, his words clipped but warm underneath. Then M13, the lyricist — he is just as sharp as broken glass, speaking in riddles that cut and comforted in equal measure. 

And there's her — the illustrator, chasing attention in splashes of color. 

They had spent countless evenings creating together, the anonymity of the internet wrapping them in a strange kind of safety. 

One night, the composer had shared a story. About a school. 

A music school. 

The kind that swallowed its students whole. 

The editor's words had been quick and concerned: OMG, that's dangerous, Shii! 

The illustrator—her own words—had tumbled out in a rush: Gosh, why didn't you get out sooner, Shii? What if the ghosts get you, too?! 

The lyricist? Cold like an iceberg: there is no ghost in this world. even science can't prove their existence. 

The composer had only replied: ahahaha- don't worry, mimi, amber. i've decided to transfer to miyamazusaka girls next month. 

And that exact next month is where... Shiho's mother messaged them to attend the... funeral. The saddest part is that they've formed the circle for years, yet they have never met since their schedule was always packed... so when Mizuki went to the funeral, it was the first and the last time she saw Shiho. 

We should've tried to meet at least when one of us was still alive. 

Yet they couldn't. And that's the biggest regret Mizuki ever had, feels like her fault too for not being there beside Shiho when she was alive. 

Since then... M13, who becomes both "SHELTER"'s composer and lyricist, insisted that he decided to continue the circle even if Shiho's gone. But Amber and Mizuki saw he had changed. His words become colder, his composing style becomes desperate, like he's chasing time. He tries to make her and Amber stay together for the sake of Shiho's music. 

However... M13's music is nothing like Shii's music. But Amber and her decided to stay... since Shiho promised that their circle would always be together. 

The memory snapped away, leaving Mizuki with an empty chill in her stomach. 

A strange pressure settled over her senses. Not a memory now—but real. Her body was alert in that way it always was when something nearby moved. Her enhanced sense prickled with warning. 

Then she heard something. 

A crack of impact. Dull, but sharp enough to reverberate through the floor. Followed by another. 

Someone was fighting..? 

Mizuki stood quickly, clutching her coat around her. She didn't know who it was, but the sounds carried urgency... desperation. And that same pressure in her senses spiked with every blow. 

She took a step toward it. Then another. 

Her pulse hammered. 

What Mizuki didn't yet know was that the siblings would reunite at last... tearing into each other. 

She only knew she had to find them before this place swallowed them whole.

 

⁞
✿

 

 

"ENA-NEE!!" 

The shout cut through the dark like a blade. 

Her head snapped up. 

Through the writhing spirits, she saw him. That, stupid flash of orange hair, weaving through the hallway with an older man with silver hair right behind him, and a dark, blue-haired girl flanking the side. 

Her chest lurched. 

Akito...? 

"Move!" The old man's voice was sharp and commanding. Ena could sense the spirits recoiling under a burst of exorcist wards, leaving a clear path. Akito darted forward, skidding to a stop in front of her. 

"You're okay—thank god—" His hands went to her shoulders, steady but trembling. "We're here, let's get you out—" 

The realization hit her like a knife to the chest. 

He came for her. 

He's here to save me. 

And just like that, everything she'd been training for—everything she'd sacrificed, every bruise, every sleepless night, every moment of choosing his safety over her own—was about to mean nothing. 

Her worth, her purpose... vanished like smoke in the wind. 

Her vision burned red. 

Something inside her snapped. 

She slapped his hands away. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?!" 

Akito blinked, startled. "What? I— I came to get you out—" 

"You—" Her voice cracked. Her vision burned. "You have no idea what you've just done." 

"I—Ena—what—" 

"All these years," she spat, "all these years I've trained until my body broke, pushed myself until I wanted to die — just to make sure you never had to be here. Never had to see this!" 

"Ena—" 

"You're not supposed to be here!" Her voice cracked sharply, almost hysterical. "Do you have any idea what I've done to keep you away from this? What I have given up so you wouldn't have to?!" 

"I know!" he snapped, louder than he meant to. "I know you've been hiding things! But—" 

"You don't know anything!" she barked, snatching up her staff. The crystal flared, light spilling down the hallway. "You've never understood. And you—" her voice trembled, "—you were never supposed to see what I’ve been doing for you." 

"Ena-nee, please—" 

"Shut up!" 

The glyph bloomed under her feet in a violent burst. She lunged forward, staff swinging. Akito barely caught the movement, twisting aside. 

"I won't let you—" Swing. "—throw away—" Another strike, harder this time. "—everything I've worked for!" 

He stumbled back, raising his arms defensively. "I-I'm not fighting you!" 

"You don't get to choose!" 

Her attacks came faster, the crystal singing through the air, forcing him toward the wall. He ducked under a wide arc, sliding to the side, refusing to strike back. 

"Stop dodging, damn it!" she yelled. 

"Ena-nee, stop! I'm not here to hurt you!" 

"Then you will lose!" 

She lunged. 

Akito barely had time to raise his arms as her staff swung down, a burst of light forcing him back. He stumbled, blocking another strike, then another. 

"Nee-san—!" 

"Stop me if you can!" 

He dodged left, her staff smashing a pillar, splinters flying. Ichika flinched but didn't step in to interfere as Harumichi held her back with a look. Let them. 

Akito's every move was defense — sidestepping, parrying the blunt of the staff with the flat of his hand, rolling to avoid the glowing arcs that scorched the floor. 

"Why won't you just listen to me for once?!" she shouted as she swung the staff. 

"Because you've never tried to listen to me!" he shot back, voice breaking. "Not once! You just decided I'm too weak, too fragile, and you never even let me try—" 

"I had to!" 

"No, you didn't!" 

The force of his yell halted her for half a second. Her chest heaved, her hair sticking to her damp forehead. 

Ena's rage was wild, not precise—but each swing carried the weight of years of training, years of bottled-up fear and guilt. Akito gritted his teeth, catching her staff in his palms mid-swing. 

They locked there—her eyes wild, his calm but desperate. 

"Just listen to me!" he pleaded, breathless. "This time. Please..." 

For a moment, neither moved. The spirits had faded away, the hallway eerily silent except for their uneven breathing. Even if Akito pleaded with her to stop, Ena found another way not to listen to him. 

She raised her fist. 

And Akito ducked low, her fist whooshing just inches from his hair. He pivoted, trying to sidestep, but she was already in his space, swinging again in a blur as she had already abandoned her staff on the floor. 

"You're going to get yourself killed!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "Do you think I went through hell just so you could throw yourself into it?!" 

The younger gritted his teeth. "And do you think I want to watch you burn yourself out alone?!" 

She came at him fast—faster than he'd ever seen. "Ugh!" Desperation made her reckless. He blocked her next strike with both forearms, the force vibrating down to his elbows. Pain lanced through him, but he didn't retreat. 

I can't just stand here... I have to make her listen. 

But how...? 

He dropped low suddenly—feinting left—then hooked his foot behind hers. It was clumsy, but enough to make her stop. She stumbled as she caught herself against the wall. 

Ena gritted her teeth, her brown eyes turned scary. 

Akito froze. 

"...Ena-nee—" 

For half a second, he saw not the fierce, unshakable sister who'd always been miles ahead of him—but a girl who'd nearly fallen. 

His stomach twisted. 

That instant of hesitation was all she needed. 

She lunged, closing the distance. With human force, her fist came swinging. And Akito... Akito didn't dodge. 

The blow connected with his cheek. 

...It hurts. White-hot pain bloomed, and his vision swam, but he stayed upright. "If that's what you want—" his voice shook, "—then hit me again. If it makes you believe I'm too weak, then go ahead. If it makes you believe I can't stand with you, then prove it!" 

Her chest heaved, her knuckles trembling inches from his face. 

"I'm done hiding behind you. I-I'd rather take your worst than live never knowing if I could fight beside you." Akito's breath becomes shaky, his eyes feel hot. 

His wounded cheek itches as his tears flow down. 

Something broke in Ena's eyes—rage blinded her sight from the start, she saw him... now it's cracking into...  disbelief. She intended to hurt him in the first place; now the guilt is crawling up to her. 

"You... idiot..." she whispered. 

Her voice was barely there, but it cut deeper than the punch. Her eyes glistened, the fight draining from her shoulders as she finally saw him—not as the helpless boy from that night, but as the stubborn, bleeding young man in front of her. 

Ena's fist still hovered in the air, but her strength was gone. Her knuckles shook as if the blow had taken something from her, too. 

Akito stayed where he was, breath ragged, blood just beginning to trickle from the corner of his lip. 

"I'm here, nee-san," he said softly. "Even if you hate me for it... I am not leaving you through this alone." 

Her eyes darted over him—the bruise already blooming on his cheek, the stubborn set of his jaw, the way his hands hung open at his sides as if inviting her to hit him again. 

Her chest tightened painfully. 

Why... why won't you just let me carry it alone? 

"I was the one who decided to do this," she whispered, her voice trembling like it hadn't in years. "I decided to tear myself apart for this... so you wouldn't have to—" Her words cracked, trying to hold back her tears. "—so you wouldn't end up like... like them." 

Akito hissed as Ena's calloused hand trembled beside his cheek, scared to touch him. As if she hasn't done that in years. "Ena-nee..." 

Her vision blurred. She could see that night in flashes—the smoke choking her lungs, her parents' voices screaming her name, the firelight on her baby brother's confused face. The moment she promised she'd never let him be taken by something she couldn't fight. 

And here he was—willingly walking into it. 

Her legs gave out before she realized it, and suddenly she was sinking forward. "Nee-san..!" Akito moved fast, catching her by the arms before she hit the ground. 

For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other. Then she clutched his shirt in both fists and pulled him into her. 

Not gently, but desperately. 

"I can't—" she choked, the sound muffled against his shoulder. "I can't lose you, too." 

Akito's arms came around her, soft and grounding. "You won't," he murmured, smiling into her hair. "I'm here with you. We're going to walk out of here together, I promise." 

Ena's breath hitched. She stayed there, trembling, her forehead pressed to him as though letting go would make him vanish. All her years of pushing him away, hiding behind harsh words and colder walls—it shattered under the warmth of his stubborn embrace. 

Finally, she let herself cry. 

Not for the fight, nor danger. But for all the years she'd been too afraid to show him how much she cared.

 

⁞
✿

 

Outside the school grounds, the air was colder—unnaturally so. 

The boundary between the cursed building and the street felt like stepping from late summer into the dead of winter. 

Kanade sat cross-legged on the curb, fingers drumming against her knees, her gaze fixed on the looming school. "Harumichi-san better know what he's doing..." she muttered, though the tension in her voice betrayed how worried she was. 

Airi paced nearby, her boots crunching against loose gravel. "Ugh, we are not just sitting here forever, are we? I mean—they could be in trouble right now—" 

"Oh, they are in trouble," Emu cut in brightly, crouched over her portable scanner. 

Her fingers flew across its holographic display, adjusting dials and tugging at loose wires like she was scolding them into behaving. 

The device purred, a soft vibration running through the concrete beneath them. Small arcs of pale light flickered in the air, connecting lines like constellations. Emu's grin widened. 

"Oooh... there it is~!" 

Airi stopped pacing. "What is that?" 

"Power resonance mapping," Emu announced proudly. "It picks up on spiritual energy frequencies and overlays them into a 3D grid. That's fancy talk for: when two people with strong, distinct powers clash, their signatures spike and I can pinpoint the exact location of the burst." 

Kanade leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. "And you are saying that's happening right now?" 

"Mhm!" The pink-haired girl chirped, spinning the hologram around. "Two sources inside the school—they're so close, and they're practically yelling at each other in energy waves." 

Airi frowned. "That's... not good, right?" 

Emu tilted her head, tapping the side of the display. "Depends. If this is who I think it is..." She zoomed in on the pulsing intersection of energy lines. "Ah, yep! That's our star-eyed boy, Shiraishi-kun, and... oh-ho-ho... that's a different equipment." The girl showed her cat-grin-like smile to see something. 

"See how one signature is steady and wide? That's resonance-type energy... probably my father's creation. The other is sharp and precise? That's sight-based, which is mine." 

Kanade's eyes widened to realize what the girl meant. "They're... fighting each other?" Beside Emu, Airi's jaw tightened. "No wait, that sounds bad, doesn't it...?!" 

But Emu was still smiling—not carelessly, but with the sharp confidence of someone who'd just figured out the missing puzzle piece. 

"Lucky for us, their little family spat just lit up the entire floor plan. I can map the whole section they're in now." 

She pulled a pen from her hair bun and started sketching on a fold-out blueprint. The lines came quickly and full of confidence, each room and hallway appearing as she traced the resonance spikes. 

"Give me ten minutes, and we will have a clear route for both rescue teams. Then..." 

She looked up, her pink hair catching the cold light. "...we make sure no one gets left behind."

Chapter 15: Chapter 14 : "QUEEN!"

Kouki's earpiece crackled. 

"—ki-san? Kouki-san, can you hear me?" 

He pinched the mic closer to his jaw. "Yeah. Go ahead, Ootori." 

From the other end came the cheerfully breathless voice of Emu, though even her usual enthusiasm was edged with focus. "I've rerun the scan. The resonance spikes from the siblings' battle gave us enough data to plot the surrounding distortions. I've mapped three stable pathways—one of them intersects with your current position. If you follow it, you should find another stranded member." 

"Which one?" 

"I'm... ninety percent sure it's Akiyama-san!" 

Kouki exchanged glances with Touya, who was already checking his weapon's strap, and An, who had her hands on her hips.

 

 

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✿

 

 

Her movement sense twitched. Something shifted in the corner of her vision. 

A spider. 

It dropped from the ceiling—straight toward her lap. 

"GYAAHHHH!" Mizuki shrieked, kicking backward so violently that she tumbled into a desk. "NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE—!" 

The spider scuttled away in terror. Mizuki slumped against the wall, panting, clutching her brush like it was a sword. 

"...I fucking hate this school."

 

 

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✿

 

 

"GYAAHHHH!" 

The three froze. Touya's head snapped toward the sound. "She's under attack?" Kouki motioned for silence, already advancing—only for the next wail to echo: 

"NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE—!" 

Now, a screeching sound followed, maybe a desk. An blinked. "Is she... hitting the desk?" 

They rounded the corner— 

And there was Akiyama Mizuki, pressed against the wall, pointing a trembling finger at the floor. On it: a small, utterly unremarkable house spider. 

Kouki stepped in first, coat flaring like he'd just leapt from an explosion. He gives the spider a little flick, and it flies to where, only God knows. "Justice's steel will shatter evil—Iron Fang!" 

Mizuki blinked with her mouth open. 

Then a bi-colored haired boy followed, flipping his metal bat like a sword and sending sparks off the blade. "Winter winds, carrying soft and delicate snow—Frostbite!" 

And finally, a girl with stars on her hair burst through the gap, spinning her hand fan like a quarterstaff. "Shining like stars in every fight—Starburst!" 

They landed in a triangle formation, backlit by the hallway lights, all striking dramatic hero poses. 

From behind them, a smoke machine puffed. (wait, where did they even get a smoke machine?) Mizuki was crouched in the corner, clutching her brush like a dagger. She stared. 

"...Are you kidding me?" 

"Silence, civilian," Kouki- or Iron Fang said gravely. "We're here to extract you." 

Starburst pointed dramatically. "We heard your desperate cry for help!" 

"Um, yeah... and it was a spider," the pale, pink-haired girl deadpanned. 

"Evil takes many forms," Frostbite replied without blinking. Iron Fang extended a hand. "Now... join our ranks, young one." 

Mizuki hesitated, then took it—only to be immediately pulled into the middle of their ridiculous posing line. 

"You'll need a codename," Starburst declared. 

"Oh, that's easy," Mizuki said proudly, already thinking of a grand name. "Glitter Princess Supreme Eternal." 

All three stared. 

Frostbite blinked. "...No." 

"Yes!" 

"No." 

Iron Fang massaged his temples. "We're going to shorten that to Glitter." Mizuki gasped as if being scandalized. "That ruins the entire—" 

"Glitter," Iron Fang repeated firmly. "We gotta move."

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

"Ow ow ow..!" 

Ena sighed to see tears on her brother's closed eyes. "You're still a crybaby after those strong words you spat at me in that fight." The brunette chuckles to see the younger puff his cheeks. 

"Nee-san, even you cry over your rabbits dying in your simulation game," Akito said, seemingly not regretting what he had shared with the other two who were watching them from the beginning of the fight. 

"Hey, that's a different thing!" Ena glares, but her reddened face said otherwise. 

And Akito didn't stop there. "Mhm, sure. The difference is that we're both crying over an emotional state- ah!" Ena's hands fly over Akito's hair, and she rumbles the orange hair until it becomes messy. 

"Nee-san..!" 

"Hmph," Ena grinned. "There, a messy bedhead like someone didn't sleep at night looks good on you, dear brother." 

Akito laughed, his heart felt light after seeing his sister's genuine smile. 

Across him and Ena, Harumichi and Ichika exchange a glance before they, too, giggle at the scene. And then— 

The doors slammed open. 

Smoke and lights popped out from nowhere. After that, Kouki leapt forward, coat fluttering like he'd just descended from the heavens. "Steel's resolve will never break—Iron Fang!" 

Touya strode in behind him, cold gaze cutting through the air. "Winter winds, carrying soft and delicate snow—Frostbite!" And there, the second daughter of Shiraishi, she spun her hand fan, pointing dramatically at the siblings. "Shining like stars in every fight—Starburst!" 

A pause of silence before Ena makes eye contact with her fellow teammate. 

Mizuki... was reluctantly dragged in after them, muttering. "Do I have to? ...Ugh, fine. Glitter." They struck their poses in perfect unison. 

Ena just stared. 

"What the—what is this?!" she demanded, pointing between them like they'd just landed from another planet. 

Akito rubbed the back of his neck. "...Yeah, uh... they're my backup." 

Harumichi, completely unfazed, stepped in with his grand flourish. "You may now refer to me as... Thunder Emperor." 

Ichika, following sheepishly, gave a little wave. "...Hi. Codename's Bluebell." 

The brunette blinked rapidly. "Hold on—Bluebell? Thunder Emperor? Glitter?!" 

"You need one too," Thunder Emperor said matter-of-factly, pulling out a small notebook as if he had been preparing for this moment his whole life. 

Nah, no way, Ena tried to refuse. "What? No! I don't—" 

"Your codename is now... Velvet Bass." 

Ena or Velvet Bass froze. "...That's not even—" 

"Velvet Bass," Thunder Emperor repeated firmly. 

Somewhere in the background, An was quietly laughing, Akito was hiding his grin, and Mizuki whispered to... Frostbite. "...Velvet Bass kinda slaps though." 

And the boy rolled his eyes. "Dad's creative in stuff like this." He whispered back. 

Ena- no, Velvet Bass pinched the bridge of her nose. "...Okay, no. I'm not going along with this until someone explains—why the hell are we even using codenames?!" 

"Because it's the only thing keeping us alive," Her brother said simply. The weight in his voice made her pause. "What? What do you mean?" Akito glanced toward Bluebell and Thunder Emperor, then back at Ena. "...It's easier if I explain, isn't it?" He exhaled, hands on his hips.

 

 

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✿

 

 

An hour before... 

The air outside the Harajuku Music School had been thick with that strange, static-like tension. Their teams are split into two: one is Akito, Harumichi, and Ichika. Then another team, Kouki, Touya, and An, stood in the narrow alley that led up to the main gates. 

That's when Akito stopped others just before they stepped into the school. 

A girl. 

Standing just past the shadow of the gates. Her dress is clean and white. Not torn, but faded in a way that made the colors look drained. Her face was pale—almost too pale. 

She wasn't a human. And yet, she smiled at Akito. 

"You're here." 

He stopped in his tracks. "...Do I... know you?" 

"No," she answered in a sing-song tone. "But the one in there does." 

Ichika whispered to him, "Shiraishi-kun? What's wrong?" Harumichi poked her shoulder, telling her, "He's talking with someone." 

Beside the older man, Kouki raised his brows. "...His eyes changed." 

The girl who was standing in front of Akito now tilted her head. "When you step inside, she'll want to know your names. All of them." She warned. "Every syllable. Because if she has your true name..." 

The girl frowns. Looked troubled by the dangerous spirit inside the school. "She can play with you forever." 

Akito bites back a sigh. "So... we just don't tell her?" 

Her frown deepened. "She's clever. She will find ways to make you say it. Or get her little shadows to trick you. So you better pick a name she can't use against you." The girl walked past him, giving Akito a little smile. "A pretend one. A fake crown for your fake self." 

Akito glanced over Harumichi and Ichika beside him. As well as others who are watching him with concern. "How can we trust your judgement on this?" 

"You don't have to," she said bitterly. 

"But if you go in with your true names, I promise you... You won't come back out." 

The wind picked up, carrying a faint childlike laughter from inside the school gates. By the time Akito looked back, the girl was gone.

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

Ena hummed. "...So you're telling me this is to stop some creepy ghost girl from... what, kidnapping our souls?" 

"Maybe... that's one way to put it," Akito said, rubbing his neck. "Thunder Emperor said we couldn't trust her, but... better safe than sorry." 

The man crossed his arms. "Plus, I look damn cool saying 'Thunder Emperor' in the middle of a fight!" He smirked, hands wide to the air as if he were blessed by the title. 

"...Oh my god," the brunette muttered. 

She looked a little overwhelmed by the sudden things that happened in a short time. Akito can't blame her, though... let's just say he's used to Harumichi's style now. 

His sister folded her arms, staring hard at him. "Alright. Then what's yours, little brother?" 

Akito froze for a beat. "...Why?" 

"Because you're acting all serious and mysterious about these fake names," she said, "so now I'm curious what you went with. I swear, if it's something dumb—" 

Thunder Emperor snorted. "What, it's a perfect name given by me! Go on, tell her, Queen." 

Velvet Bass blinked. "Queen? Like... chess Queen?" 

Akito- or now Queen- sighed as his cheeks heated in embarrassment. "Y-Yeah. Queen. Thunder Emperor picked it. Apparently because I'm the 'most dangerous piece on the board' or whatever—" 

"—and also because you strut around like one," The old man added smugly. 

"Thunder Emperor, I am not that agile," Queen muttered under his breath. Now his sister's mouth twitched into a smirk. "...Wow. My little brother, the Queen. That's going in my mental scrapbook forever." 

At this, Starburst and Bluebell giggle to see Queen's face. 

The orange head groaned. "Ugh... glad I could entertain you. Can we move on?" 

Thunder Emperor clapped his hands once, abruptly shifting the mood. "Yeah. Because joking aside... You all need to understand how this works before we go any deeper." 

Everyone turned toward him. 

"This isn't just some creepy name game," he continued, lowering his tone. "It's a hunt. The 'demon child'—" he made air quotes "—doesn't just want to know who you are. She's using the game to root you out. Once she's got your real name, you're hers." 

A cold shiver crept down Velvet Bass's spine. "Meaning..?" 

"Meaning you'll never leave this school," Frostbite said flatly, and Bluebell nodded at that. "Not in one piece." 

The air seemed heavier now. 

Thunder Emperor took a breath and went on, slower this time: She'll want you to sing. All of you. Together. It's part of the ritual. While you're singing, she's listening—looking for the shape of your voice, the slip of your name, anything she can grab onto. And her little shadows..." he jerked his chin toward the dark hallway beyond them, "...will try to help her. They will whisper. Mimic you. Trick you into answering. And if she catches on to who you are—" 

"Game over," Glitter muttered. 

Thunder Emperor nodded. "Exactly. So stick to the codenames. No matter what." 

The group exchanged uneasy looks, the weight of the rule finally settling in. Iron Fang opened his bag, then handed Velvet Bass an earpiece. "This is..?" 

"What Thunder Emperor had briefed you on is only phase one for this plan." Iron Fang said. "Ootori will explain to you your position for our backup plan." The brunette nods. When she wears the earpiece, a voice greets her in joy. 

"Hello, Shiraishi-san!" Ootori's voice could be heard with full energy. 

"Hello, Ootori." Velvet Bass greeted the other back, sensing the familiarity somewhere. "Are you Mr. Ootori's daughter?" Ootori chuckled on the line. "Yep, that's me." A sound of multiple machines beeping here and there. 

Velvet Bass then asks, "So Iron Fang informed me about a backup plan. Mind fill me in on what I'm supposed to do?" 

"Ah, right! Okay, I'll tell you what you're going to do." 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

 

They begin moving deeper into the school. 

The hallway stretched on forever. But with Velvet Bass and Queen's ability, Emu managed to map out what they're walking to. No sound but their footsteps—yet it still felt like something was pacing them, just a few steps out of sight. 

The lights overhead buzzed faintly. Some flickered. Others stayed stubbornly dead. 

"Everyone, stay close," Iron Fang murmured over his shoulder. "Don't break formation." 

"Got it, Iron Fang," Starburst whispered back, her grip tight on her hand fan. 

They rounded a corner. 

And froze to see something in their path. 

There, in the middle of the hall, sat a single old chair. Its paint was peeling, its wood warped from age. And resting neatly on the seat... was a folded scrap of paper. 

Emu's voice crackled faintly in their earpieces. "I'm reading a spike here. That's gotta be her. Or close to her. Be careful, everyone." 

Queen glanced at the paper. The handwriting was jagged, like it had been written in a shaking hand: 

Sing for me. 

The air shifted, and it felt like they weren't in the hallway anymore. 

"Oh God. The walls..." Glitter shivered. 

The walls breathed—slow, like the building itself had lungs. The shadows lengthened unnaturally, reaching toward them in tendrils. And a faint... humming... began to drift from everywhere at once. 

Kagome... Kagome... 

It was a child's voice. Sweet. Clear. And that feels really out of place. It echoed in their ears but also inside their skulls, as if it had always been there. 

Queen's heart pounded. His sight flared—and the shadows thickened. The shape of the voice writhed, like smoke given form, crawling along the floor toward them. 

He swallowed hard. "She's here." 

The humming turned to giggling. "I know you," the voice said, soft and sing-song. "But I don't know your names." 

Thunder Emperor tensed. "Remember what I said. Don't give it to her." He whispered. The shadows peeled away from the walls—thin, humanoid silhouettes with no faces. They circled the group, swaying in rhythm to the child's hum. 

Kagome, Kagome... the bird in the cage... 

It was like invisible hands pulled them forward, until they stood in a loose ring. The shadows swayed closer. The humming grew louder, sharper, hungrier for spiritual energy. 

When, oh when will you come out...? 

Queen's breath caught—he could see her now. Not fully, but just a faint outline of a little girl's figure within the writhing mass of black, her head tilted too far to the side. Hair hanging over her face. A single bare foot dragging against the floor. 

His stomach turned. 

In the night of the dawn... the crane and the turtle slipped... 

Her voice rose to a sharp note—and suddenly one of the shadows leaned toward Velvet Bass. It whispered in a perfect mimic of Queen's voice. "Ena—" 

The brunette's hand twitched. 

"Don't," Queen hissed, squeezed his sister's hand to ground her. "Don't answer it—" Velvet Bass stared back at him with a smile, as if thanking him for making her focused. 

The shadows laughed. 

Who's that... behind you? 

The pressure in the air spiked—like the walls themselves leaned in to listen. 

Nobody spoke. 

The little girl's silhouette froze. Her head tilted back further until it was almost upside down. And then, slowly... her voice soured, dripping with venom. 

"...You're not saying your real names." 

The shadows' movements sharpened around them. They're no longer swaying, but stalking. 

"Tch. I don't like that." 

The silence was so thick it felt like cotton stuffed in their ears. No breath because everyone holds theirs. No footsteps because no one moves. Not even the creak of the old building. 

And then— 

CLICK. 

The hallway dropped into absolute darkness. 

Queen's sight flared in panic—shapes blurring in and out of existence. The shadows weren't just around them anymore, but they were leaning into them, whispering, brushing against their skin like cold fabric. 

"Everyone, remember what I've told you!" Thunder Emperor's voice rang out in the darkness, clearly out of breath. 

Just what is happening to everyone? 

Somewhere close, a laugh—the high-pitched, delighted kind only a child can make. 

"...Let's make this harder." 

Velvet Bass reached blindly for her brother's arm. Her voice was taut. "Queen—" 

"I-I'm here," he said quickly. His voice was the only anchor in the smothering dark. But for everyone, they weren't too lucky to stay on their ground. One of the shadows darted close to Starburst, mimicking Iron Fang's voice: 

"This way. Hurry!" 

Another brushed past Frostbite, whispering like Glitter. "This way is safer!" 

The demon child giggled again. "Run... run..!" 

The floor beneath them shifted. No— tilted. The world itself seemed to jerk sideways, pitching them into different hallways. The sound of scraping wood, like hundreds of chairs dragging, filled the blackness. 

Queen grabbed Velvet Bass and dug his heels in. "Nee-san, don't let go of my hand!" 

But Thunder Emperor's voice cut through the chaos, barking orders—half the group was already gone, swallowed by the dark. When the lights snapped back on in a sickly yellow flicker... 

It was only Queen and Velvet Bass left in their hallway. 

The rest were gone. 

Somewhere far away, the humming started again. Faint... and taunting. Like she'd just won the first round. 

"God, what was that...?" 

"Y-Yeah... I have no idea, that's how the demon child played her game." 

The air was still trembling when Queen pressed his back to the wall, Velvet Bass at his side. His breathing was ragged—not from running, but from knowing the demon child had just moved them like pawns. 

A faint crackle in his earpiece."...Queen? You alive?" Thunder Emperor's voice. 

Queen answered in a hushed rush, "Thunder Emperor...! We're fine. But there's only me and Velvet Bass here. The rest—gone." 

"That's fine," The old man replied, oddly calm. "Then we're in phase two." 

Queen shares a look with his sister. "Phase... what?" 

"Phase two of the board, our backup plan," Thunder Emperor said. His voice was all screaming for business now. "She thinks she's scattered us. But this was exactly where we wanted her to push the pieces. Iron Fang's got Starburst on his team covering the west wing—they'll hunt the shadow scouts. Frostbite and Glitter will lock down the east wing. As for me and Bluebell, we will be at the courtyard exits. That leaves you two..." 

"...as bait?" Velvet Bass guessed flatly. 

"Queen and Knight," Thunder Emperor confirmed. "You two are the only pair with the range to see her and resonate. If you move together, she can't close the board without stepping into your reach." 

Queen's throat went dry. "Y-You want us to hunt her?!" 

"No," The older man said. "More like... I want you to trap her." 

He let the words hang in the air. 

"Remember—other teams will take away her scouts, so that she can't finish the game. Once she's pinned, Iron Fang will collapse the board. That's our checkmate." 

Velvet Bass stretched her body and fingers. Preparing her stance. She looked over her brother with a grin. "I like this plan." She said. "Let's go, Queen!" 

And the younger let out a nervous laugh. "Why I feel like you're enjoying this..." 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

◇ West Wing 

The west building of the music school is something out of an abandoned hospital—where the paint on the walls is peeling, the floor warped by water damage, and that faint smell of rot clinging to the air. 

Iron Fang stalked forward with his weapon ready, steps deliberate, scanning the walls like a predator scenting its prey. Starburst, on his side, is using her hand fan to sense the spirit's movement within her range. 

She trailed just behind him, orange eyes tracking every flicker of movement. Her fingers were flexing restlessly as if itching for a fight. 

"Two shadows on the ceiling," Starburst informed. 

Iron Fang didn't even look up. "I can feel them." 

In one swift motion, he snapped his hand upward—a flare of raw spiritual energy erupted from his palm, blasting the shadows down. They screeched, writhing on the floor like smears of living ink before evaporating. 

The girl kicked one for good measure. "That's two fewer scouts for her." 

"Let's keep moving," Iron Fang said. "If she can't see the board, then victory will be ours." 

The duo pushed deeper in, flushing out every lurking shadow spirit from the rafters, vents, and cracks between the walls—each one destroyed, cutting another line of communication from the demon child.

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

♧ Courtyard Exits 

The only place they find that is close to the gate of the school is the courtyard. Where it was drenched in mist, moonlight barely cutting through the swirling fog. Thunder Emperor stood at the center with his tense posture, like a general ready to rally his men. 

Though the one that is with him is no man. 

"Thunder Emperor, what will I do?" Bluebell asks as she knelt on the stone path, laying down talisman after talisman. As each seal activated, a faint ripple pulsed outward—like a magical tripwire. 

"Just guard me, it's fine, Bluebell." Thunder Emperor smiles, feels grateful with her offer. "These seals will fry anything that tries to pass," 

"So we will just seal the shadows here, yeah?" Bluebell tilted her head, still taking her position very seriously. Thunder Emperor then replied. "Yes. Once we've got every exit locked, the only way she leaves..." He smirked. "...is straight into our Queen's waiting hands." 

The two worked in perfect sync—Bluebell sealing the doors, Harumichi reinforcing them with barriers of his spiritual energy, until every courtyard gate and window was a shimmering, deadly trap for any spirit that dared cross.

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

 

♡ East Wing 

Glitter's brush twirled between her fingers as she tiptoed through the hallway dramatically. "Okay," she whispered to herself, but Frostbite, behind her, is sighing to his fate to end up with someone he doesn't know. "This is not scary at all. Fine. It's just another haunted murder school..." 

Frostbite rolled his eyes. "Just how much time is it for the Supernatural Club to get this work?" 

The boy readied his metal bat at the side. "Oh... I think it has been... six times?" Glitter answered, exhaustion plastered on her face. Frostbite can't help but pity her for overworking something spiritual for a long time. 

Just then, he sees shadows dart across the far wall. 

He looked over Glitter, who equally grinned—maybe her movement sense felt it before the two saw it coming. So she raised her brush and struck the air in a perfect arc. Lightning crackled from the bristles, racing along the floor until it slammed into the shadow. 

As for Frostbite, he waits and strikes his weapon at the shadows that think they escape from Glitter's attack. 

The hallway flashed white for a moment, then the shadow disintegrated with a sharp hiss. 

"Zap," Glitter said proudly. 

"Not bad, Frostbite. Maybe you can fill out the form for Supernatural Club members after this." She said with sparkling eyes. But the boy nervously laughed, turning down the offer politely. "No... I've already been a member of the Tea Ceremony club." 

Iron Fang's voice buzzed in their earpiece. "Stop playing with them and keep moving, Glitter. Every second they live is another second the demon child knows where we are." 

"Geez, I know that." Glitter huffed but obeyed. Then she and Frostbite swept the halls in zig-zag patterns, picking off stragglers that Iron Fang's team flushed their way. For every shadow they erased, the air seemed to grow a little lighter—but only just.

 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

 

♤ Central Hall 

The siblings moved together in a work synchrony, like they'd done this for a while. 

Velvet Bass's resonance mapped each room ahead in bursts of soft light— silhouettes of doors, corners, and lurking shapes rippled into Queen's vision. His sight ability latched onto the echoes, scanning for anything odd. 

When they passed a side hallway, Queen raised a hand to stop her. "...She's close. Right-hand corridor." 

Velvet Bass adjusted her grip on her staff. "Alright. We will pull her in here. She can't run far." 

Somewhere down the hall came that giggle again. 

It wasn't just sound—it crawled under their skin, curling into the bones, pulling them forward. But the two siblings trusted in each other's presence and power, and they're confident to pull this off. 

The older person didn't take her eyes off the darkness ahead. Her resonance pulsed faintly in his vision—like sonar, ripples of light tracing the hallway and flashing back with something just at the edge of reach. 

"She's closer than she thinks," Velvet Bass muttered. "We just need her to step into the net." 

Queen is about to smile... until he remembers something. "Ah." Hearing his tone, Velvet Bass turned to see the boy pause on his track. "What's the matter? Did you see something ahead?" She calmly asks. 

But her brother shook his head and sweated. 

"No... I just realized..." Queen let out a strained laugh, and Velvet Bass noted he seemed nervous to say what's on his mind. Yet she stayed silent, urging him to just be honest. 

"I... don't have a weapon to fight the demon child." 

Velvet Bass stared a little too long before she blinked. "...You stepped into this dimension, saving me, but have no weapon?! What the hell did you prepare before getting in here..?!" 

Queen raised both of his hands in defense. "T-Thunder Emperor said I just worked as their GPS, not a fighter...!" 

"Just because you can see ghosts, you're the GPS?!" 

"I KNOW, I KNOW IT'S STUPID!!" The orange head fell to his knees, as if he was defeated by nothing but just because he didn't have any equipment. 

Their earpiece buzzes, "Oh, you kids. I've left something on Velvet Bass's case." Iron Fang's voice rang out, cutting the tension between the two siblings. "It's from Ootori, she said, her instinct tells her to lend it to Queen when phase two started." 

In cue, Velvet Bass lowered her weapon case on the floor, and Queen beside her watched what was inside it. 

And when they see the weapon Iron Fang mentioned... the two siblings' jaws dropped to the floor hard. It was a thin blade, obviously made of metal... but the handle was somewhat identical to Queen's mask. 

"...What the actual fuck-" 

"YOU WANTED ME TO WIELD A BLADE??" 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

 

Iron Fang's voice was calm but edged with command as he moved down the corridor. "Positions. She's on the board. Don't give her an opening." 

Starburst vaulted over a collapsed chair, taking out two shadows in a single strike, her movements fast like the wind, as if she had already seen it coming. The girl darted to the side, her weapon arcing like a flash of silver as she tore through another scout spirit trying to flee. 

The hall behind them darkened. 

Iron Fang hummed, didn't look back, and just snapped his fingers, sending a burst of energy down the passage that ignited like magnesium, burning away every trace of movement. 

"She's blind in this wing now," he said into the comms. "Move your pieces." 

Starburst flipped her long hair, wiping out her sweat. She then heard Iron Fang speaking to the earpiece, and she swore she heard her siblings' voices screaming. 

"Is that Queen's-?" 

The purple-headed man shrugged his shoulders. "Your brother is having his first denial stage to use a sword in a fight." 

Starburst gaped, "He WHAT?!"

 

 

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Thunder Emperor pressed a hand to one of Bluebell's seals. It flared bright gold. "I think... that's the last one," She confirmed. 

"Good." The older man wandered his eyes around the courtyard gates. But the only thing he sees is a thick fog. "If she tries to slip through here, she's going to wish she stayed in the dark." 

The talismans hummed like taut bowstrings. In the mist, shadowy figures prowled just beyond the seal lines, restless because they're unable to cross. They hissed and scraped against the invisible barrier, their frustration feeding into the air. 

"She's getting cornered," Bluebell said softly. 

Thunder Emperor grinned. "Exactly on the plan!" 

 

 

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Glitter skidded to a stop, breath puffing in the cold. Her movement sense screamed at her—a cluster of shadows ahead, huddled like wolves waiting for the command to attack. 

"Gosh, these shadows," she muttered, and in a matter of moments, she ducked to the floor, giving her partner a chance to strike. 

Clink! Clink! Clink! 

Following Frostbite's heavy attacks, she also spun her brush in her hand, dragging the bristles along the floor. Energy bloomed behind her like a watercolor painting—and then it snapped into raw electricity. She swung the brush up, and a storm ripped down the hallway, shredding the shadow cluster into ribbons of smoke. 

The hallway was silent again. 

"East wing clear," Frostbite said into the comms, a smirk in his voice as he high-fived Glitter. 

Then, Glitter tapped the earpiece to send her voice straight to the siblings. "Better watch out for your brother, Velvet Bass. Using a blade is just like you're facing a boss fight, which is yourself." 

Beside her, Frostbite raised an eyebrow. "You mean... you're fighting your own shadow?" 

The girl sighed, "That's a fancy word to explain it, Frostbite."

 

 

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The last giggle echoed—but this time, it faltered. It's just as if she realizes what they've been working under her nose. 

Queen's sight flared, and Velvet Bass's resonance locked onto the pulse of the demon child's presence. As planned, before stepping into one of the classrooms, Queen sneakily stuck some of the talismans given by Thunder Emperor to catch the demon child. It was needed for their showdown. 

"Guys, the girl's here!" Velvet Bass ordered. 

And so, the plan unfolded like clockwork. 

Iron Fang-Starburst team slammed into the left flank, burning away shadow scouts before they could scatter. As for duo Glitter and Frostbite, they're experimenting with an electric barrage to cut through the right flank, frying the last messengers. 

While Thunder Emperor and Bluebell's seals surged to full power, walls of light locked every exit and sealed the hall like a coffin. 

This time, the giggle came again—no longer teasing, but shrill with rage. The air tightened, thick and cloying, and pooled at the center of the corridor. 

And then she was there. 

Not walking nor flying. She's just present. Like a photo of a child burned into reality itself. Her face was too pale, her eyes were full of black without life. And her smile... stretched just a little too wide. 

The Demon Child is living up to her name. She's half-shrouded in darkness, half-reflected in Queen's sight like an oil painting warped by fire. 

The mask over Queen's face pulsed once—then twice—in sync with his racing heartbeat. 

Velvet Bass's staff slid into position at his side, the faint hum of its enchantment filling the silence. "Queen," she hissed, eyes darting between him and their prey, "this is our chance. You sure you still want to use the sword?" 

He nodded—or at least, he tried to. His hand reached to the side of the blade belt, fingers brushing over the unfamiliar weight of the hilt. 

He'd never wielded anything like this before. It felt foreign, almost alien- I mean, the mask is something unfamiliar to him too- but compared to the comfortable grip of it with the blade, it was nothing alike. 

The weapon clicked as he pulled it free—the collapsible segments unfolding with a metallic whisper, until a slender silver blade gleamed under the ghost‑light. It was impossibly light in his hand, almost insubstantial, yet his fingers cramped against the hilt as he tried to hold it steady. 

Velvet Bass caught the tremor in his grip. "Queen?" 

"I'm going to be fine," he cut in, eyes fixed forward. "I will try my best, nee-san! Even if I failed-" the orange head met his sister's eyes for a while, full with determination, as if asking for her support. That they'll do this together and not him or her alone. 

Velvet Bass, in all honesty, doesn't know how much hope his brother's holding. No matter if he wasn't good at something or bad at anything, Queen would find a way to find positivity in it. His question is holding back its words. He's asking if she'll be there for him. 

And as a Knight, she can't bring herself to say no to her Queen. 

"...Hmph." Velvet Bass gives up, offering her partner a grin. "Can't help it. I'm your Knight after all." 

Queen blinked before his face lit up with a big, confident smile. That only lasts a second before he focuses on what they're facing. 

The mask's inner glow spilled into the blade, tracing lines along the steel until it looked like a vein of molten silver. 

The boy stepped forward—clumsy as he always is, shoulders tight, and the tip of the blade wobbling slightly with each step. His stance was nothing like a swordsman's, but Velvet Bass knows he's trying. 

The Demon Child moved, let out an inhuman groan, as if she were growling—she quickly raised her hands, a blur of black silk and jagged limbs. 

Queen's hand slipped slightly on the hilt, and for a split second the blade dipped. 

Velvet Bass saw it and moved without thinking—her staff slammed against the floor in front of him, intercepting a claw swipe that would have gutted his arm. "I'm covering you, Queen. Go try searching for her weak points!" she said in precision, shoving the monster back. 

"I am!" he sounds a little bit nervous, because his voice is higher than the way he usually talks. 

But then his mask pulsed again, reacting like resonating with his sister's ability, and in its glowing vision, a streak of pale light ran up the Demon Child's arm. 

An opening. 

Without thinking, Queen lunged. The blade on his grip almost fell multiple times. The hilt even burned in his palms-he was sure it would leave scars after this. So he let the thin sword cut along that light‑vein. The creature recoiled with a shriek that vibrated the air, black ichor hissing where it hit the ground. 

It was too fast for him to believe that he managed to land a hit. 

Queen stumbled back, panting, both hands now clamped on the hilt to keep the blade from shaking. "...I hit her," he said softly, almost in disbelief. 

Velvet Bass smirked despite herself. "Yeah. You did." 

But her eyes lingered on the way his grip trembled. First time or not... she knew if he lost that focus, the Demon Child would tear him apart. The demon child's smile twitched. And in a voice that didn't match her face, she hissed— 

"...Clever little pawns." 

The hallway was no longer dark. It bled light, surprisingly. Seal flares from Thunder Emperor and Bluebell's work, Iron Fang's team burning wards still searing the air, while Glitter and Frostbite crackling arcs crawling over the walls—all of it boxed the demon child into a corridor barely wide enough for her to breathe. 

Her giggle was different now. She feels threatened. 

"...Little pieces on a board. You all are just phonies...!" 

Velvet Bass stepped forward, resonance rolling in waves from her like ripples from a stone dropped into water. Every wave caught on the demon child's form, distorting just enough to reveal the way she leaned away from them, how her smile twitched when the resonance brushed her too close. 

Queen's sight pulsed in his eyes—and the pale figure in front of him sharpened into what she was. 

The true form of the Demon Child. 

Her hair floated like strands in water, skin greyed to the color of drowned cemetery dolls. Her hands twitched at her sides, nails black and curling.
And her eyes... were pits. Endless. 

"Now!" Iron Fang's voice ripped through the comms. 

The Knight moved first—Velvet Bass lunged in, her resonance striking like a hammer to throw the child off balance. Queen darted in behind, sight locking her center mass. His blade cut through her middle—no resistance, just a burst of black vapor curling from the wound. 

We are going to win..! 

The demon child hissed. It was the first sound that wasn't a giggle. They pressed in hard to trap the spirit in their grasp. With everyone's teamwork, the duo Queen and Knight is ready to finish the game. 

Queen stepped forward, weapon raised for the finish. "...This is going to be the end of you," he said quietly. 

But the demon child just tilted her head. And then she smiled. The boy's blade now hovered at the demon child's chest. Just as he lowered the weapon- 

"Do you want to win?" 

Her tone was sweet, but the air around them felt suddenly thick. No. No, no. Focus, Akito! Queen didn't answer. He didn't have to—his stance said everything. 

And then her hand rose. 

The motion was too slow, like she was playing with time. Each second dragged like a weight hooked in the back of his neck. Fingers curled—and between her palms, something bled into view. 

A sphere. 

An orb that seemed to swallow all light around it. 

Inside it was... the boy that they've been searching for. Queen's eyes were wide open, realizing where this was going to be. No... no, no..! "...Kamishiro-san." His whisper cracked. There he was—Rui's body folded tight in the orb, breath fogging its inner surface. Why is he in there? Did the demon child have him from the very beginning?! It wasn't an image. Not a trick of the sight, nor an echo. He can see the element of breathing on Rui. 

It was truly him. 

"You've been hunting me," the child murmured, drifting closer. "But what will you do... if I'm holding your piece?" 

"Queen—?" 

Bluebell's voice pressed in through the comms, taut with urgency. "What's going on?!" Glitter cut in, concerned with the sudden silence. "Queen, answer," Iron Fang's tone dropped to command him to answer. 

He didn't answer. 

Akito couldn't. 

Damn it..! His grip on the hilt was trembling. Because it would mean every route to strike will end with Rui's body breaking apart in his hands. 

"End the game," the child teased, pressing the orb closer to his face. "..!" Her breath was like a grave left open too long, suffocating him. "Or lose him." The team's voices blurred in his ears. The pounding of his heartbeat filled the gaps. 

I can't—I can't—I can't...! 

When the demon child played with the orb, the boy saw Rui's face twitch in pain. 

And it was all that made him broke. 

"No...!" 

The single word landed like a rock dropped in black water. Her smile widens, laughter filling his mind. "Then you lose, Queen." 

The blast was instantaneous. 

An impact colder than breath under ice slammed into his chest, stealing air from his lungs. His weapon spun from his grip, skittering into the shadows. 

"QUEEN!" 

Multiple voices at once flooded his senses. 

He remembered he coughed something red—and the second wave hit—maybe he collapsed on the cold floor. This one feels like a current dragging him under. 

And now the Queen was wounded, but the board was still in play.

Notes:

queen akito is just something i didn't know i needed.

Chapter 16: Chapter 15 : "...Rui, you're awake."

Notes:

gosh, i don't know what makes me spend writing this longer than i expected.

Harajuku Music School's underground is just like combining the worst horror scenes that the casts on TV decided to explore because they're idiots. 

Well, most of them. 

Anyway, it has water flooding in here, about one meter. Then the paths are sometimes concrete or muddy ground. It doesn't have any ventilation, but there are cracks on the walls and even on the ceiling. 

It makes Ken wonder how he ended up here. 

As long as the kids are alright... Ken's boots splashed through water that lapped against his shins, the icy bite seeping into the fabric until his legs numbed. The lantern beam in his hand trembled—not from fatigue, but from the stillness. 

Three hours of walking, but no end. Three hours of searching for anything for a clue. But not even the presence of the shadows that ambushed him and the team shows up. He doesn't even know if it's night or day. All Ken has is a hand clock that he brings along in his backpack. Thank God it was useful. 

God, just give me anything, please. Ken gritted his teeth, leaning against the wall for support as his knees begged to be rested. 

If this continues, then I might die of boredom, He sighed, remembering the lively trio that always lightens the mood sometimes. Mizuki, Rui, and Ena... the three share an unbreakable bond that connects them. When Mizuki's having mood swings, Ena will tease her, and Rui will hear her troubles. When Rui's sad, Mizuki will drag him to cute cafes, and Ena will bring him to the amusement park. 

As for Ena... when Ena's troubled to express her words, the two give her space and time. But they have never failed a single mission together, even if Ena didn't share what troubles her. 

But his daughter eventually put her trust in Rui and Mizuki. She will share her troubles little by little... and the two were happy. 

And Ken missed them dearly. 

I need to get back. He stands up again, taking out a heavy sigh. Yuka made me promise to get home safely anyway. The voice of his wife is still clear on the day they leave the house. She looked more worried than ever, but Ken hates to see her like that. So he had to promise that he would be back soon. 

"...Please listen to Akito too when you meet him, okay?" Ken doesn't know what Yuka meant by that message. He didn't understand. The possibility of Akito popped up here is... something Ken didn't want to imagine. 

He has kept the secret for so, so long. 

Even if it's the truths that happened years ago, Ken can't bring himself to face Akito and explain everything. If he's angry that Ken keeps the secret away, maybe Ken deserves it. 

His senior... 

Shinonome Shinei didn't plead with him to hide Akito in the dark. Nor Shinonome Nanoha requested him to put Akito in misery. But from what Ena has told him, what happened to them... is what makes Ken want Akito to start a new, fresh, and happy life. Not for him, but for the sake of Akito himself. 

"Hm?" Ken stopped on his track as his eyes caught something. 

At the end of the path, there's a half-submerged stone jutting from the far wall, dark moss clinging to its surface. Curious, Ken approached the stone, and the water rippled around it like a heartbeat. 

His breath caught to realize what he was seeing. 

The name was almost rubbed away, the kanji faint. But the moment he traced his fingers over the grooves, he knew. 

Mrs. Kagome. 

And beneath it—two smaller characters. Unnamed daughter. 

All around the base of the gravestone were chalk lines and crude circles—summoning sigils drawn hastily but obsessively, overlapping like someone was afraid to stop. 

Ken crouched, trailing his fingers over the crude scrawls. "...These weren't made by her," he muttered. No, wait... I've seen this before.. Right..? His voice was swallowed instantly by the damp air. He'd seen these before—behind alley dumpsters in Harajuku, etched into the bricks near the old school gates. 

It all tied back here. 

When his palm pressed flat to the gravestone, the world lurched. "What-?!" 

Like teleporting to a different place, Ken feels like he isn't standing in water anymore. He was... watching. 

A lot of flashes. 

Like in a dim room, a woman standing in front of a man, her hair loose over her bare shoulders. A customer..? A man's hand closing over hers. 

Then, a soiled handkerchief pressed to her lips as she wept alone. 

It changed into a scene of a tiny paper slip from the clinic—pregnant. The single word seemed to shake her, and yet she cradled her stomach as if it were the only thing tethering her to this world. 

It changed into a brighter, happier scene where a blackboard, chalk dust in her hair. Her voice—clear, warm, and kind like a mother, guiding a group of children through scales. 

And finally— 

Two shadowed figures at the top of the stairwell. They're having a heated argument. But the woman stumbled backward. And a scream—cut short by the sickening crack of bone against the steps. 

Ken jerked his hand away, gasping as he stumbled back into the freezing underground water. His lantern beam shook violently. He blinked, his eyes somehow returned to the dark place. 

"...What the hell did I get myself into...?"

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

He remembered the familiar feeling when Akito first felt like he floated in an empty, but not void world. His limbs felt weightless, recalling that he had fallen unconscious when fighting the demon child earlier. 

"...I failed to end her." It was the first thing he muttered in his breath when he awoke. 

Akito frowned, clutching his hands together, as if that could calm him down. His hands were shaking. Anytime he takes a look at his hands, he remembers the way the sword trembles in them. The way he stopped after he saw Kamishiro inside an orb... and then, that's where he passed out. 

If only I weren't a coward... Akito shakes his head over that thought. No... If I choose to strike, I can end the demon child, but Kamishiro-san will... 

The orange head groaned, slapping his cheeks for thinking something negative. He then froze to hear footsteps. 

Kisa. 

The girl walked towards him. Her usual kind smile changed into a... concerned expression. Like the last time Akito had seen her, she was still dressed in a white dress. 

"Kisa-san?" 

Her lips tilted in a small smile. "Akito-kun, I've been watching you since you stepped into the school. You've... been reckless." 

"Eh-" Akito tried to respond, but the air felt thick, like speaking would shatter this fragile space. "I want to protect you," she said softly, stepping closer, "I thought you wouldn't step into danger. But... when I wanted to get out,  something's stopping me." She shared her trouble. "It's like there's a wall inside you. I can't... get out." 

Her gaze flicked to the side, as though listening to something only she could hear. 

Finally, she met his eyes again. Her voice lowered to a whisper that rang like a warning, "Listen... If something happens again...  avoid using Monochrome. Please." 

Avoid using... Monochrome? The last time he used it was when he and Touya were practicing together in Yoyogi's Shrine trial ground. After that session, Akito felt something in him had shifted. 

And he wanted to master the power so he could use it whenever the team needed him. 

So... why should he avoid using the power? Akito wanted to ask for details, but Kisa's hand already reached his temple, and—

 

 

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—and he woke with a jolt. 

The first thing he felt was warmth. The steady, uneven rhythm of footsteps. And... the faint dandelion scent of shampoo. "...Hey, you awake?" His sister's voice—firm but trembling—came from just above his ear. 

It took him a second to realize—he was leaning on her back. She was... carrying him? 

Akito blinked slowly, his vision still bleary. The dark ceiling above swayed with each step Ena took. His cheek pressed against her shoulder blade, and the fabric of her jacket was rough but also warm. He could hear her breathing—a little heavier than usual. 

"...You awake, idiot?" she repeated, though her tone was softer this time. 

"...Yeah," he croaked, his voice barely there. Akito tried to swallow, but the metallic tang of blood was still faint on his tongue. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. 

"...You scared me," she said finally. Her words were quiet—almost lost under the sound of her boots splashing through shallow puddles. 

Akito blinked. "...I'm sorry..?" 

"At least you felt bad," she sighed. But then Ena shot back, but there was no bite. "I'm serious, Akito. One second you are standing there, and the next... you're gone limp. I thought..." She trailed off, tightening her grip on his legs slightly. 

"I feel... fine now." 

"And we both know that's a damn lie." 

Oh, she's pissed, alright... Akito sweated. The silence stretched again, but this time, Akito didn't try to fill it. Ena kept going about what she felt when he fell unconscious, but with a low and soft tone. 

As if raising her voice would break his brother. 

Akito didn't really... pay attention to what she's rambling. The image of Kisa's solemn eyes lingered in his mind. Her voice—avoid using Monochrome—felt heavier than the pain in his body. 

"-Hey, do you hear me?" 

The orange head yelped when Ena pinched his thigh. "-I heard you." 

Ena sighed, rolling her eyes. "Really? Then what have I said, hm?" Yikes. Her mood is not good. Come on, Akito, think of something! 

He has a 50/50 chance to not fuck this up. 

"...About my uh, injuries?" 

Ena raised her brow, staring at him in the eye, then she continued to walk. Akito quietly let out a relief. "Okay, so I've contacted everyone to regroup. And Mizuki's ability can heal you, so we can hunt the demon girl again." 

Oh, right. The demon child. 

"...I'm sorry." He said almost as quickly after Ena explained. "I should've just-" 

"What? No, Akito." Ena cut him off. "You choose not to risk it. If you blow the final strike, Rui could've died too." And her brother frowned, hiding his face on her shoulder. 

"Don't worry." She tried to calm her brother's messy thoughts. "I'm glad you didn't do it." 

"Huh..?" 

Ena smiled. "Even though you haven't known him, you choose to protect rather than kill. That's so... you, Akito." The younger boy couldn't hide his little, grateful smile when he heard that. Ena has never talked so kindly to him before. Her words were always cold and a bit harsh... to the point Akito thought he was at fault for troubling her. So when they had the real talk after years, and fight, too, their bond... changed. 

Akito understands her now. 

And Ena... maybe Ena understands him too. If not, she wouldn't be smiling, all warm and proud, in the past, where she always frowned and pissed whenever he wanted to talk with her. 

Akito coughed, trying to hide the obvious joy he was feeling. Yet then again, the state he's in is more questionable. "...You didn't have to carry me, nee-san," he muttered, almost embarrassed. Ena scoffed. "What was I supposed to do? Leave you there and die? Idiot." 

"...I'm not an idiot." He made a sulky voice. 

"Yeah? Then stop asking stupid questions. Ugh, honestly... kids these days..." and... she started rambling about the gap of their generation. Akito rolled his eyes in amusement. Ena and him is just one year apart, yet she talked like she had lived for 30 years. 

Akito wouldn't stop her from talking, though. He's happy to see her so talkative. 

But then, her steps slowed for a moment, and he felt her shift her shoulders slightly, almost adjusting him like she was making sure he was comfortable. 

"You're heavier than you used to be," she added. "Guess you've grown. Even if you still run around like a reckless brat." 

"Hey, rude!" Akito gasped, looking betrayed by her kindness. "...Well, I'm sorry for dragging you to this," he said quietly. The admission slipped out before he could stop it. 

Ena's steps faltered—just slightly—and then resumed. "...Hmph. Well, too late for that. Now we're both in this mess." 

For a while, she just walked. With Akito behind her, she showed no signs of dropping him on the floor, despite complaining that he had gained weight. No more jabs. No more denials. Just the muted echo of her footsteps in the dark corridor, her back solid and warm beneath him. 

Akito closed his eyes, appreciating the moment. 

 

 

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"Hm?" The echo of boots and voices swelled ahead. 

Ena turned the corner, Akito still draped across her back, and was immediately met with the sight of familiar faces spilling into the hall. 

"Ena-nee, Akito—!" An's voice broke into a relieved smile when her eyes locked on them. She immediately approached the two. "Oh my god, you're still injured!" 

"Mizuki, please." That was what the first thing Ena said when she met Mizuki's worried eyes. Harumichi also decided to help her, carrying Akito and putting him down on the floor. 

"Akito, kid, you okay?" 

The younger boy blinked to realize the warmth of Ena's scent on her jacket was gone. What he sees now is many concerned faces watching him. "Oh, thank goodness," Harumichi said, offering his usual, quirky grin. Though the tension that finally eased from his shoulders betrayed how worried he'd been. 

Ichika was right behind him, helping Mizuki to assist her, exhaling a soft sigh. "We were about to storm half the building looking for you two." The pale pink-haired girl's hand touched the boy's shoulders and started healing him. 

Akito blinked sleepily, still disoriented. "...Sorry for the trouble, everyone." 

"You look like you just got carried out of kindergarten," Touya deadpanned, folding his arms. That earned a laugh from An. "Seriously, look at you—same age as us, and somehow you've got the 'lost puppy' vibe going on." 

Akito groaned. "Can you not—" 

"Shh, everyone. I'm trying to cure him." Mizuki cut the atmosphere, as if sensing Akito's muscles strained. "Relax a bit, Akito-kun. Don't listen to these guys." She said, offering him a smile, and resumed her work. 

"...Mm, okay, Akiyama-san." 

"Heh," Ena slid in beside Mizuki, eyes grinning. "You're all whining and complaining about your story to us, but kind and soft to my brother? That's cute." 

Mizuki rolled her eyes. "He's my patient. Of course I'm gentle!" 

"They're at it again..." Kouki sighs, shaking his head. "Are they always like this?" Touya scoots closer to the older, asking him. And Kouki just nods his head, smiling too. "This is a normal interaction I've faced every day. If Rui were here, he would be that panic peacemaker." 

Touya smiles, "Sounds like a lively team, Kamishiro-san." 

"...They are." 

The bi-colored haired boy tilted his head to see Kamishiro Kouki's eyes flooded with something like... sadness. But his lips curled into a little smile; maybe it wasn't quite getting into his eyes. Perhaps his son's absence is the reason behind those emotions Touya has never seen before on Kouki's face. 

"So," Mizuki's voice brought them back to the scene. "This is the younger Shiraishi I've been hearing about. Ena, you went from iron wall to princess-carry big sis real quick, huh?" 

"It's not a princess carry," Ena averts her eyes, cheeks heating. 

Mizuki grinned wider to see the reaction. "Sure, sure. But you're being so soft on him. I'm starting to think you didn't hate him like that." 

The brunette muttered something about "being surrounded by idiots," but she didn't leave her brother's side. 

Kouki stepped forward then, eyes scanning Akito carefully. "Is the injury bad, Mizuki? No fractures? No deep cuts?" 

"...Just a scratch," Akito tried to reply, but his voice just came out airy, full of exhaustion. 

"What? No, Akito-kun." The girl who has been healing him for three minutes shakes her head. "He's lying, Kouki-san. There are a few rib fractures, a bruise on his lungs, and some tiny damage to his heart's muscles." 

After hearing this, all eyes watched Akito in sync. 

As if... they're having those same thoughts because the injured boy just lied about his condition. "...Why—" he coughed. "Why you guys look at me like that..?" 

Touya sighs. "And he didn't feel bad for lying, too. Wrap it up, guys." 

"Eh?!" 

Ichika stands up, face full of disapproval. "Shiraishi-kun, you still think we can't read you, huh?" An beside her, just nodded and raised her hand as if she was not siding with him. 

Traitor. 

"Akito, you're bad at it, so don't do that again." Now it's Ena's turn to sigh; she looked so done, and Akito didn't know why he suddenly panicked. 

"I...!" And he pathetically coughed again. "I-I'm sorry. I was trying to—" 

The poor boy coughed up even worse; he tried to cover it up as he wanted to say something. But the only thing Akito can do is grip Mizuki's hands, who's currently connected to his chest. 

"...Guess the blow is heavier than what I've expected." The healer said, keeping her professionalism at work. 

Both Shiraishi girls exchange a look. An raised eyebrow to her sister, who was still silent after Mizuki's statement, as if she wanted to hear her explanation. "Um, right." Ena folded her arms, getting the message. "In that battle, I was covering him every time the demon child wanted to strike. But when we managed to weaken her, she used... Rui as the bait." 

The brunette's lips changed into a thin line; clearly, she's frustrated. "If Akito decided to end her back then, it would mean—" 

"—Kamishiro-san... could've died?" 

Touya didn't mean to finish the sentence. The last word holds more weight than what could have happened. But he could not stay silent here, especially when Akito didn't fill them in on what made the mission fail. 

Ena closed her eyes, averting her eyes. 

That silence is just too thick to make them breathe, not from the spirit's presence, but from realization. 

"Then," It was Harumichi who broke the tension with a long sigh. "I'm glad he didn't do it." He said, offering others a smile. He looked over Kouki's glassy eyes, but his junior quickly composed himself. 

"But as the price... he chose Kamishiro-san's safety over his life." Ichika bitterly remembered the sight of her continuously witnessing Akito's injuries over and over again. From the very start, the boy seems to have that faith that if he helps others first, then a greater opportunity will save him after. 

It's just like— 

—like he is trying to spread hope. 

"...I'm not regretting... what I've chosen." Akito's weak voice snapped others' thoughts. "The reason... I came here to bring everyone home." It looks like his body relaxed. Face smiling even though he closes his eyes. 

"...Everyone is dear to me, after all." 

How can he say that so casually? That's what Ena thought after hearing that. Doesn't he know... how much that means? 

It was this moment that Kouki and Mizuki understood why they were saved and helped by the rescue team. Maybe Ena realized this when they were fighting earlier because of that honesty. To new people like the Supernatural Club, they're still strangers to Akito. But both Kouki and Mizuki never felt that feeling when everyone is doing their part in the mission. 

And even now. 

Because Shiraishi Akito simply lets anyone come into his world without any judgment. That earnestness is something you can't get so easily in this broken, but still beautiful world. 

"...Mizuki, you done?" 

"Hmm? Ah." The healer had long worked her part; she didn't realize she had healed Akito. "Akito-kun, do you feel anything uncomfortable?" 

The boy was helped by Harumichi and An to slowly change his posture; in that way, he could feel other parts of his body that were still itching. But as Akito tried to move his hands, his legs, and his body, it seemed like his movement was sharper than earlier. "I feel fine..." 

"Come on, let's get you up." An said, holding her brother's wrist and hand. She and Harumichi slowly helped Akito to his feet. 

"I-I think I can—" They stepped back and let the boy walk. But when he raised his leg a little higher, his other leg didn't move together. And he was saved by Harumichi from falling. 

The older man chuckled. "Maybe you're not that better. Touya, can you carry him?" 

"H-Huh?! No, I can walk—" 

"Thank you for the help, Aoyagi-kun," Ena said. "My back's a little hurt from carrying him earlier." 

Touya grinned, "No problem, glad I could at least help. Is he that heavy?" 

Akito gaped. "You— you've carried me before!" Beside him, Mizuki snorted. She looked not too pleased to see Ena get her new friend to roast people. "Ah, yes, of course. He was as light as paper a few years ago. But now he's heavier than that." The brunette says, having fun talking with Touya. 

"I bet he always ate pancakes." 

Ena gasped. "Damn, you're on spot! Yeah, he likes them so much in a sane amount." 

"Don't talk like I'm not here!" 

While Akito is trying to step in between the two, others find themselves laughing at the scene. The reunion chatter softened as a burst of static crackled from Harumichi's earpiece. 

"—chi-san? Harumichi-san? Can you hear me?" 

Harumichi pinched the mic closer. "Yes, I can hear you clearly and loud, Ootori!" 

From the other end, Emu's voice came in bright, though even she sounded like she was holding back excitement. "Good news! My scanner just got a big ping—someone alive underground! Human vitals. Strong readings, not hostile. I think it's Shiraishi Ken-san!" 

Ena stiffened slightly at her father's name, taking a look at Akito, who was comfortably leaning on Touya's back. "You're sure?" 

"Ninety-nine-point-nine percent!" Emu chirped. "The readings match what I saved from the med-scan earlier. I can guide you to him if you follow the main hall, three corridors east, and then down a maintenance stairwell!" 

Harumichi glanced over the group. "You heard her. But before we rush in, we need to get our heads on the same page." 

Kouki nodded. "Right. Let's pool what Mizuki and Ena found before they get ambushed. Maybe we'll find some answers." 

They knelt or leaned in a rough circle, dust settling around them like snow in the stale air. Ena went first, pulling her phone from her coat. She opened the camera and showed the group a picture she had taken. 

"In the faculty lounge, I found this." On the screen was an image of the painting Olympia. Except beneath it, in jagged red chalk: Don't be like—followed by an erased name. And below that: —has too many men she played tricks with. Touya frowned. "Sounds like a warning. Or a slur." 

"Maybe both," Ena muttered. "But the handwriting looks recent." 

"They do," Mizuki muttered. "Ena, can I look a little closer at the picture?" The brunette shrugged and gave her phone to someone who was an expert in this field. "Olympia is a painting about a prostitute woman. You see the black cat here? In this painting, the black cat is often associated with prostitution and nocturnal promiscuity." 

Ichika nodded her head, getting the message. "The orchids are a symbol of beauty, right?" 

"More like transient beauty." Mizuki hummed. "Or it can be a symbol for sexuality too." 

"That's impressive, Akiyama-san." Akito joins the conversation, impressed by Mizuki's knowledge of painting. "I've never known orchids could be a symbol for something inappropriate." 

The girl's face flushes. She coughed nervously. "Yes, well... Flowers' meanings are different in other countries. In this case, the way Manet painted the flower is unnatural. It's nothing like orchids themselves. That's why many said it was depicted differently." 

Kouki hummed, observing the picture a lot longer as if he was trying to understand what the message could mean. 

Ena then changed the picture. A bird cage with blood handprints. It earned a disgusted look from Touya, as he remembered his bad experience with blood. "I found this in a group study room. The blood... well, is old and stained the rusty bird cage." The brunette explains. "Don't ask me how rotten the place smells." 

An sighed. "No, Ena, we wouldn't ask you that." 

This time, Harumichi seems to know the meaning behind it. "Oh! I think it's a metaphor." Ichika tilted her head, also thinking the same thing. "I guess it's tied to the 'prostitute women' we've been saying." 

"Yes, yes. Also, I think I know where this is going to bring us next, but let's take a look at other clues first." He says, totally in the mood. 

"The most creepy thing I found is this," Ena takes out an old paper, crumpled and has many words on it, with red lines everywhere. "I didn't have the time to read the whole... name list." When she properly opened the paper, all they saw was a list of male students. 

Akito blinked to see something else at the corner of a handsign. "...Tsukishiro Manatsu... is that the teacher's name?" 

Harumichi's eyes caught Kouki's jaw tightening from afar. 

"Probably. It looks like a choir subject name list for male students. See here?" An pointed out some letters beside a random student name. "Tenor... ah, you're right. They use this method to divide their positions." Kouki said, understanding what An had just pointed out. 

"Hmm..." And as Ena read the name list, the only name that wasn't strikethrough was... Her eyes widen in realization. 

"Kamishiro Rui..." 

Mizuki looked surprised, too, so she leaned over to read where Ena stopped. "No way... Rui has been here before?!" 

Kouki immediately stiffened when everyone ended up looking at him. Harumichi, as the oldest one, folded his arms while looking at his junior. "Are you hiding something from us, Kouki?" He asked, as if that wasn't obvious already. 

"What? No—" 

"Your body language says the opposite, Kamishiro-san." When Ichika states that, it feels like a whole water bucket fell on him. Eyes wide, tight jaw, hands gripping his jacket like a lifeline. 

"It—It wasn't like that, I swear." Kouki finally says after a long pause. "I just... don't think it would affect Rui this much..." He muttered, but his voice got slower and slower. Mizuki and Ena exchange a look, a concerned one. "Kouki-san, do you mind telling us what is happening right now? Why is this tied to Rui?" 

The man deeply exhaled, his whole body a lot smaller now—not small like a kid—but it's like he still tried to hide even the truth is in his untold story. 

Harumichi sighs, shaking his head in disapproval. "Let's give him time." He said, making eye contact with the two members of the Supernatural Club. "Take out all of your clues." 

Both girls are taking out their backpacks. The last clue Ena found is a weird key, and for Mizuki, her clues are a crumpled music sheet, a set of students' name cards, and some old journals. For the music sheet, the title in faded ink read, 'Circle You, Circle You'. And beneath the notes, there are messages that were given to remind the students. 

"'Play this to run from the executioner.' I think the situation we're in on that mission earlier is—" 

Harumichi cuts off Touya. "That's right. It's the game we've played with the demon child." 

The younger Shiraishi gasped. "I get it now why the girl outside the school warned us about our real names... It's because if the 'demon' of the game knows your name, that means..." 

"...your soul is hers." Ichika finishes. 

"No wonder the notes are familiar." An muttered, looking over the music sheet. "It's just the lyrics were missing in this paper. But if we recall how the demon child makes us sing the song, it's the exact key." 

"The notes look wrong," Mizuki said flatly. "Well... to me it looks jagged. Like someone warped it on purpose." 

An gave a low whistle. "Maybe... that's because there are other survivors here before us? Those shadows from the demon child could probably twist the notes so people couldn't sing it properly to run from her." 

"That's... sounds fucked up." An nods, agreeing to her sister's thoughts. 

Then Akito, still leaning against Touya for balance, looked over a pile of name cards. "And this is..." he helped Mizuki lay out the cards on the floor, so that they could find some familiar names and faces. 

But suddenly, Mizuki's hand froze. 

"Akiyama-san?" Akito called her out, weirded to see her stop so suddenly. Everyone's leaned in, looking at what she's seeing. 

Ichika mumbled a name, "Hinomori... Shiho..?" On the card, there's a timid and kind girl with light grey hair and bright green eyes. And it's just the same as— 

Wait... Akito blinked. This is the girl who waited for them... outside of the school before they stepped in. So this girl is... 

They were shocked to see tears flow from Mizuki's eyes. She was just happy and serious earlier, but seeing her sobbing and clutching a girl student's name card in her hand with sobs is just... something they worried about discovering. 

Just who is this girl to Mizuki? 

"Shiho... Shiho..." and they can't do anything, instead of calming her down. They've tried hugging and offering her napkins. Even Touya gives Mizuki his precious hot tea to calm her. 

"...Shiho is... my dear friend." 

Mizuki slowly begins her story about the girl that she's still mourned for about years now. In her story, it started with Shiho reaching for her first on social media after Mizuki drew a fan art of Shiho's song. Maybe because Shiho felt happy and appreciated her art, she even offered to form a music circle. This consists of four people, and each of them has their position to make several projects as a solid group for publishing songs and music videos. One evening, Shiho told them about a problematic music school that was forced to close after several cases had occurred there. Other members were concerned, but Shiho calmly said she was going to transfer to another school next month. 

"...You guys have never once met?" This is what Touya asks when Mizuki stops the story there. 

"...That's right. Our schedule never aligned. So when Shiho's mother contacted us personally... we're devastated to know she..." Mizuki's voice trailed off as she sniffs. Ena's hand gently patted her back, soothing her. 

Akito frowned too, now with a bitter taste in his mouth after discovering a tragic story behind the girl who was probably one of the victims in this school. 

"I'm sorry for your loss," Ichika said, representing herself to speak what others thought. 

But Mizuki smiled gratefully at them. She was glad to have the team by her side. "It's fine... Thank you guys..." Others offered her a smile, too, to ease her trouble. 

Harumichi's hands were already full with students' journals as he flipped through them page by page to find something useful. Touya leaned in beside his father. "Do you find something?" The old man hummed, "Some entries are all about the students' everyday life. Music, friendship, love stories..." 

His hand stopped at a male student's journal. "Oh?" 

"'Entry no.38... Half of the students in this school are gone now. I wonder if it's going to be me next to disappear without a trace, too'...What the hell?" 

Ichika steps beside Harumichi, mirroring Touya. "What does he mean by 'people are disappearing'?" 

From below, Ena hands them another journal. Looking at the decorations, it is likely owned by a female student. "I've found one that said ghosts are hunting down the students. It's probably the demon child she's talking about." 

Harumichi takes the journal and reads the entry. "'Entry no.29, The child ghost appeared again, and she took five of my friends. I've talked this to the teachers... but they seemed to have the same problem...'" 

"So it's not only students..." Ichika muttered, understanding the situation of the disaster. 

Silence pressed in for a beat. 

Kouki exhaled slowly. All eyes turned to him as they waited to hear him explain anything so they could piece the puzzles together. The purple head takes a deep breath before slowly setting his gaze on the team. 

"...Two years ago, Rui enrolled in this music school." Kouki started, breath trembling. "He's in eighth grade at that time, pursuing music because I've simply complimented his voice as a raw talent." 

The man is now sitting down on the floor, joining some of them. "But that year, something happened when one of his music teachers passed away in this school. And that is when Rui's sixth sense, touch, awakened. Then, a teacher whose name you've known, Tsukishiro Manatsu, is the one who is involved in Rui's sense awakening. I've quickly contacted Harumichi-senpai for help, and thus protect my son from this school." 

Mizuki frowns. "...And that's why you created the club?" 

"...Yes," Kouki answered Mizuki's question with hesitation. "Same as Rui, you and Ena possessed a sixth sense, too. That's what makes Ken and me decide to train you three. So that you can control it without suffering from the power." 

"You said the teacher, Tsukishiro Manatsu, is the one who is involved with Rui, but what is his connection to the demon child?" Touya raised his confusion. 

"No, wait. There's something else, too, right?" Akito cuts in. "With all of this—prostitute woman—clues. Is she the teacher? Is she the mother of the demon child?" 

"Or, is it she who writes the... Kagome Kagome song?" Ichika trailed off, sensing some connection to the story they've known for now. 

Harumichi coughed, catching their attention. 

"Well, with these journals, now I've understood the thing that is going on." He said, smiling proudly. "Let's start with Mrs. Kagome. Like what Kouki has said, she's probably a teacher who taught Rui. Perhaps they have a strong, student-teacher bond that affected the baby she was carrying at that time. But when she passed away, students and teachers started to disappear without a trace." Harumichi placed down the journals that said the same case. 

"The disappearances of them eventually awaken Rui's sixth sense, catching another teacher's interest that would probably help him... resurrect Mrs. Kagome." 

At this, the kids let out their gasps. Shock and chatters echoed in the hall. 

"Why is this... Tsukishiro teacher trying to resurrect Mrs. Kagome? For what?" Ichika decided to ask, as she felt something was off with Harumichi's explanation. Not knowing if it's just a theory or if it was already answered in their clues. 

Harumichi looked over his junior with a side smile. The man frowned even deeper. 

"When I was filling in forms for Rui's exchange school, rumors were running around the school," Kouki said. "The rumors were told by a female student who accidentally overheard an argument between Mrs. Kagome and this Tsukishiro. She was about to leave, but after hearing a loud sound, she turned and saw Mrs. Kagome already... bleeding out on the floor." 

Akito realizes what Kouki just meant. "...She fell from the stairs?" 

And his sister blinked. "Like, isn't that what the lyrics told us?" She grabbed the old music sheet and turned to An for confirmation. "I think... It's around here." The girl with star clips pointed out the final bar lines for treble. "'The crane and turtle slipped'... is the lyrics if I'm not mistaken." 

Mizuki trembles. "Damn, the song has told us from the very beginning..." she muttered. 

"So," Touya folds his arms, thinking. "It's possible to think this Tsukishiro bastard is the demon child's father, right? Since Mrs. Kagome's career before becoming a teacher was a prostitute, it's not possible that he searched her back in this school." 

Harumichi and Kouki looked at each other before hesitatingly nodding their heads. 

The group fell into silence after the answers were given by their investigations. No one seemed to believe the tragedy was a big disaster. 

"Okay..." Ena hummed after the long pause. "Now what?" 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 

 

 

 

After all of those bad memories— no, not memories. But nightmares. Nightmares that Rui had only left his heart more and more stressed out. 

But weirdly, he remembered hearing someone's voice. Calling him in such a clear and fearful tone. It wasn't Airi. It wasn't his dad. When he feels like floating somewhere, drifted by the winds, he hears echoes of clashing. It still hummed in Rui's chest, like people were fighting. 

He blinked. 

And the sound of younger Shiraishi's shouting, Ena's sharp voice... the clash of power—was gone. 

Instead, he stood in a place where there was no sky, no ground—just a pale, endless mist that bent like a living thing. His breath made no echo, as though the world itself was holding it close. 

When did I...? 

Then, in the mist, small hands tugged at his sleeve. 

Rui froze. 

It was her. The demon child. The same one who'd mocked him earlier, who'd laughed while binding him in that orb to... trapped him..? But here... she looked different. 

Her black hair wasn't a wild cascade but soft, falling to her cheeks like dew-streaked silk. Her eyes, though glowing faintly with the same strange fire, were calm. No rage, no mischief like the one he recalled, he's seen her once before, falling into the abyss. Just a quiet, searching gaze. 

"...Hmm, you're not afraid here," she whispered, voice faint, as if afraid of being overheard even in this place. 

Rui's throat tightened. "...Should I be?" 

Also, it's not like she has the power to make him suffer... right? A smile ghosted across her lips, sad and gentle. "Out there... I was forced to wear a mask my father made for me. A body that screams, claws, frightens. They fear that one. Hate that one." She tilted her head in a childlike manner. "But I wonder how you... can see me and be here." 

Her small hand reached toward his, hesitant. Yet, weirdly, Rui didn't move away. 

"Why me?" he asked softly. 

The girl's eyes lowered. "I... don't know." She admitted. "But maybe because you don't push me away. Even when you're afraid, you... stayed. You let me be close. I like that." 

Rui's heart twisted—an ache he couldn't quite name. For all her power, for all the terror she'd sown in others' eyes, here she was just a child who wanted to be seen. 

"...What are you, really?" he murmured. 

Her form flickered, as though the mist wanted to steal her away. The other version of her—the wild, feral one—flashed like a shadow across her face. She looked frightened, clutching his sleeve tighter. 

"I... don't know either," she whispered, voice trembling. "Father said, when he takes the sun away... that's all he needs so he can get rid of me." 

Sun? Like, an actual sun or... a person? 

As if sensing Rui's confusion, the child bitterly smiles. "The sun. You know... the brightest kid you've heard him calling for you?" 

Rui's eyes widened. "The sun—" 

No. Is it..? Ena-san's— Before he could speak more, the mist cracked like glass. The child's expression shifted—fear, longing, something almost human—as she was pulled back into the void. 

"W-Wait!" Rui reached out, but his hand closed on nothing. 

And when his vision cleared, he was back—somewhere dark, maybe ruins, his chest heaving, his hands were tied by strong shackles... and at the corner of his eyes, a familiar figure trapped in a situation like his. 

"Ken-san..?" 

The figure moved, and true to what his eyes are seeing, there at the corner, trapped in here like him, is Shiraishi Ken. 

"...Rui, you're awake."

Notes:

about 3 chapters left, and we'll be done with the kagome arc.

then we will get straight into moreeeeeee horror stuff

Chapter 17: Chapter 16 : "Shiho!"

The shackles dug into Rui's arms, stiff against the skin, but it was not the pain that unsettled him—it was the silence. The air was so heavy it pressed against his lungs, making each breath shallow. Far from him, Ken avoided his gaze, head lowered, as if staring long enough at the cracked floor might dissolve the reality they were in. 

"Ken-san," Rui's voice was gentle, almost fragile. Yet in the silence, it echoed sharply. "You can't keep pretending you don't see it." 

Ken's shoulders twitched, but he didn't lift his head. 

Rui drew in a breath, steeling himself. His usual softness carried something new—an edge, a conviction that surprised even him. "When I was unconscious... I heard your son." 

That made Ken flinch. His fists clenched against the shackles, knuckles whitening. 

"He was calling out," Rui continued, his eyes narrowing, not trying to expose whatever Ken is denying, but the younger uses something like resolve. "Not just for anyone. For me. Even when I couldn't answer, he tried to reach me. He tried... to save me." His voice trembled, but he pushed through. "And I realized then—he's the one you've been trying so hard to protect from this corner of the world, isn't he?" 

Ken's lips pressed into a thin line. The ropes creaked as he shifted, restless, his chest rising and falling faster. 

"It's Akito-kun," Rui said deliberately this time, the name slicing through the stagnant air. "It's not me. I'm only here because my presence keeps the demon child from obeying the Mastermind." 

The boy turned his head, staring straight into Ken's. "Akito-kun. He's the actual target, isn't he? They've said how hollow vessels can help you resurrect your loved ones." 

"Stop—" Ken's voice cracked, low, desperate. He finally raised his eyes, and Rui saw it: fear and unguardedness. 

Very unlike him. 

Of course. This is Shiraishi Akito they're talking about. As the father, Ken should've seen how dangerously things suspiciously danced around his son. And Rui knew Ken had tried ways to keep Akito from stepping into this world. But, oddly, the boy kept coming back. 

Rui didn't know if it was fate or Akito's unlucky curse that played the story ahead. 

"No, Ken-san." Rui leaned forward, as much as the shackles allowed, and his softness turned into fire. "I won't stop. Because if I can see it, then everyone else will too. You're losing control of this, Ken-san. And if you don't face it now... Akito-kun will come here himself." 

Ken's breath hitched, eyes darting as though searching for escape in a room that offered none. 

Rui's words pressed in, each one a weight he couldn't shrug off. 

For once, both of them feel like the Mastermind's grip slipped—and Rui, timid Rui, was the one forcing the truth open. But also, he has another question to ask regarding his suspicion of Kouki. 

"Do you mind telling me the truth about why I feel some familiarity here?" 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

The group's footsteps splashed against shallow puddles as they followed Emu's directions, the air growing colder the deeper they descended. The walls were tagged with curling red chalk symbols—some half-washed away, others bold and fresh, radiating a faint, wrong hum. 

Touya shifted Akito's weight on his back. "These symbols... they're everywhere." 

"They're summoning seals," Harumichi muttered. "Some old. Some are very new. Whoever made them's been in and out recently." 

"Makes sense for a mad person who wanted to bring back someone alive again," Touya muttered as he shifted Akito's limp weight against his shoulder, heart pounding as the boy's shallow breaths brushed against his collarbone. "...Why is he burning up?" Touya asks Ena who's beside him, panic sharp in his throat. 

"Hold on. Let me—" 

Before Mizuki could step in and help, Emu's voice cracked across the comms, higher than usual, trembling. "Shiraishi Ken-san's signal—just disappeared!" 

The group froze, the reality sinking in all at once. 

Their grasp on the situation was slipping, fast. "What? What do you mean his signal is gone?" 

"Ootori?—" 

"I—I swear it was there, beeping just now! Seconds ago!" 

Touya adjusted his hold, tightening his arms around Akito's body as if anchoring him against the weight of exhaustion that threatened to pull them both down. "...I feel tired..." Akito stirred faintly, sweat clinging to his temple, but his eyes never opened. Every shallow breath sent a spear of unease through Touya's chest. 

"Akiyama-san..!" 

The said girl just sent her backpack away—thankfully, Ichika saved her from falling—and she rushed beside Touya to check on the younger Shiraishi. 

Mizuki gently touched Akito's cheek to feel the warmth slowly rising. When she looked at Akito's body overall... Mizuki's hands twitched to sense heat creeping up the boy's skin. What is this? The heat feels like a fever, but why is it moving so fast? 

For once, Mizuki felt helpless. She was always proud of herself for knowing art and medical studies. 

But now... 

"What is it, Mizuki? Is something wrong with Akito?" 

Mizuki, with a bitter taste in her mouth, nodded. "I... I'm sorry, Ena." She mumbled weakly. "I don't know what's going on with him. I-I thought it was a fever, but—" 

"Guys..." 

The three turned to face An, where she stood just in front of them, five steps ahead. Her hand fan trembles. "Something is approaching us." She informed. 

God, why now?! Ena thought. They were already moving as fast as they could through the fractured terrain when Emu told them where Ken's signal was. 

The warning dropped like stones into their stomachs. Mizuki stiffened. Kouki swore under his breath. Ichika's hand tightened around her weapon. And Harumichi guards beside Touya, if anything happens. 

Then, true to An's warning, the light dimmed, unnaturally, like the sky was being pulled behind a curtain. The windows on their right and left darkened, too. And surprisingly, a voice comes out. A voice that didn't belong in the battlefield, but in a classroom—where it had once promised guidance, knowledge, and safety. 

"...You've got someone who can sense me from far. What an elite team." 

A tall man stood just beyond the reach of their flashlights, half in shadow. His coat was long, worn, its hem brushing the damp floor. His hair was streaked in uneven shades of gray and black, as if the years had touched him unevenly. His gaze, cold and deliberate, swept over the group before settling on Kouki. 

"Well," the man said in a voice like velvet drawn over steel. "The little stray dogs finally followed the trail." 

Kouki's jaw clenched. "...Tsukishiro." 

The kids glanced at each other, shocked. "This is him?" Mizuki slowly prepared her weapon at the ready. Standing just behind An, she's sharpened her gaze on the unknown man. 

Kouki didn't take his eyes off the man either. "He's no one worth remembering." His voice was sharp, but there was an undercurrent—old bitterness. 

"He was once a handler for gifted students. Especially those with... sensitivity to the other side." Harumichi added, recalling some words in the journals he had read. The man smirked faintly. "Handler, ah, yes. Shepherd, if you prefer. Rui was one of mine—before you stole him away." 

Ena stiffened at the name. "You. You bastard—" 

"—Oh, come on. What's with those eyes?" Tsukishiro chuckles, relaxing his muscles freely. "Yes, yes. Rui's voice has potential beyond your comprehension. But he is... delicate. Like a soft, cotton candy." 

Ichika frowned at the man's silly words when she thought too hard about it. Kouki stepped forward. "You manipulated him. You think you can play god—but you're just another parasite feeding off grief." 

The figure stepped into view from between the shadows, his gait unhurried, almost casual. The white of his coat was untouched by dirt, the faint smell of chalk and old incense carried on the wind. His face was familiar, painfully so—and yet corrupted by the calm gleam in his eyes. 

"Dear God, he has that one face for a businessman to become evil," Touya whispered, totally random, but disbelief breaking in his throat. 

Kouki's fingers trembled at his sides, the scars of old nightmares clawing to the surface. 

Tsukishiro Manatsu smiled faintly, that same smile he had once used to reassure students during long lessons. Only now, it was cruelly hollow. "You children... still circling in the dark. You couldn't possibly understand. But soon... soon she will return. Kagome will shine again—and the Sun you cling to so desperately will burn away with her rebirth..!" 

His words cut through the group like a knife. Touya's grip on Akito tightened instinctively. 

"...Sun? What the hell are you talking about?" Ena bites back, a genuine confusion decorates her face. Tsukishiro blinked, then his serious smirk broke into a laugh. 

"You—you seriously walked around him like planets in orbit, too, yet you didn't realize it?" He said with a mocking tone, still laughing. 

When Ena turned, she met everyone's eyes. An, far in front of them, Ichika's not so far behind her sister, then Touya carrying Akito with her, Mizuki and Harumichi beside them, then lastly Kouki just behind all of them. Like a tower watching the team. And Kouki—he couldn't even breathe. 

They've just realized they're orbiting Akito like he's the Sun. 

And he's burning up too. Is that fever or something else? 

"...?!" 

It wasn't the cold. It wasn't the dark. It feels like the weight is slowly pushing them down. Like a great invisible tide was pressing down from every direction, squeezing the breath out of their lungs. 

Touya's breath hitched, shifting Akito's weight on his back. "Why... is it so heavy all of a sudden?" 

"Not the air," Harumichi rasped, one hand braced against the wall. "It's him. He's—" 

Tsukishiro took one unhurried step forward, his boots making barely a splash in the shallow water. "You've all wandered far enough. A little further... and you might've been a problem." 

The symbols on the walls bled red light, pulsing like heartbeats. 

Each flash seemed to steal something—warmth from their skin, steadiness from their legs, even clarity from their thoughts. 

An swayed where she stood, clutching her head. "Ugh... It's like my blood's... slowing down." Touya gritted his teeth, muscles straining as if every movement was through waist-deep mud. And with Akito behind him? 

It's like the weight is on its way to break his bones. 

Emu's voice in Kouki's comms was warped, distant. "—Kou..! —u hear—?" Then the signal was cut, and they couldn't hear anything on the other line. 

Touya felt Akito go still against his back. "Akito? Hey—" he turned, shaking him slightly. His eyes were now open but unfocused, pupils narrowing like a cat's in blinding light. 

"Don't—" he whispered. "Don't let... him..." 

Tsukishiro's gaze was locked on Akito alone now, every step deliberate. "I've waited for your arrival, hollow vessel. All vision, all reach, all resonance, you can sense but not awaken properly, as I've heard from the spirit's realm. And now... I can't let you move freely." 

Touya moved to set Akito down, to shield him with his body—but the floor itself seemed to rebel. The weight, yanking him down to one knee. 

"—Touya-kun!" Akito's voice cracked, sudden and sharp, like the sound of glass under strain. 

He tried to reach him, fingertips grazing Touya's sleeve. But— 

Tsukishiro's hand rose lazily. 

And at that moment, Akito's eyes throbbed. The pink highlights seemed to wrap around Tsukishiro, and at the tips of his fingers, thin lines reached for their... limbs. 

Oh no. 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

Outside the building of Harajuku Music School, the night hung unnaturally still. 

The air shimmered faintly, as if carrying whispers that weren't meant for the living ear. Dozens of faint, translucent figures drifted—the souls of students and teachers, frozen in their uniforms or work clothes from the day they died. Some clutched at their chests, some wept quietly, others simply stood, gazes blank and resigned. 

They were the victims of the demon child. 

That is, if we truly believed it was the demon child to blame. 

A woman's form emerged from among them—calm, graceful despite the transparency of her outline. Her presence drew the other spirits to quiet, as if a teacher had stepped once more into her classroom. 

Mrs. Kagome. 

She approached one figure who stood slightly apart from the others—her student, Hinomori Shiho. 

Though pale and ghostlike, Shiho's posture was steady, her arms crossed loosely as she gazed upward at the looming school. The moon glinted faintly off her long, light grey spectral hair, and her bright green eyes, though soft, carried the weight of resignation. 

"Shiho," Mrs. Kagome's voice was gentle, but firm, "tell me... will this plan of yours settle things? You gave the Supernatural Club directions, led the hollow vessel to his role. Was this enough?" 

Shiho didn't answer immediately. 

Her gaze shifted beyond the bars of the gate to the trio of frantic figures visible from here: Kanade, Airi, and Emu. 

They were holding themselves against the barrier in desperation, shouting names, trying to force the signal inside the machines. Human voices truly carried panic, urgency, and raw fear. 

The contrast made Shiho's lips curve into a faint smile. But it never reached her eyes. 

"...I can't be sure," Shiho said finally, her tone steady, almost too calm for the situation. "But I know this much—" she turned her face toward the towering school building, where the clash inside rumbled faintly through the walls, "if we stop praying... if we give up hope, then this place will never release us. The chains that bind us will only grow tighter." 

Mrs. Kagome's expression softened, sorrow and pride mixing in her spectral eyes. 

Shiho exhaled a quiet breath, like she'd already accepted her fate. "So we help them. Even if we're only shadows now. Even if all we can do is believe in him—in the boy carrying the vessel's weight. He has to be the one to save us." 

Her voice, though calm, quivered ever so slightly at the end. The souls around them stirred, some lowering their heads, some clasping their hands as if in prayer. 

Mrs. Kagome touched Shiho's shoulder with her pale hand—it passed through, yet the gesture still carried comfort. 

The teacher closed her eyes, her expression soft with bittersweet relief. Around them, whispers spread through the crowd of souls. One by one, heads began to lift. Silent lips began to murmur prayers. Shaking hands, folded together. The collective murmur grew like a low hum, filling the courtyard with a quiet strength. 

Shiho looked once more at the school. "We'll pray. For the hollow vessel, for the Supernatural Club... and for the chance to finally escape this place."

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

The school's air grew heavier, each clash of blades and shattering of cursed energy sending ripples across the hall. Akito's breath came ragged, his hands trembling as he steadied them against the sword. 

He has tried slashing off the thin lines on his friends' limbs. 

He didn't know what that thing was, but it gave him a bad feeling about it. As if it wrapped around them, it could break their hands and legs in a flash. 

When some of the thin strings are cut, Ichika stood close, bow taut, eyes locked on the shifting shadow that was Tsukishiro Manatsu. 

And then—faint at first, like whispers through water—came the voices. 

"...please..." 

"...let this end..." 

"...save them, save us..." 

The boy froze, his heart lurching. The sound was soft, but endless—an overlapping chorus of voices he couldn't see. His eyes darted to Ichika, and she too stiffened, ears twitching as if catching notes of a melody only the two of them could hear. 

"Did you—?" Akito whispered. 

Ichika nodded, her expression sharp but shaken by the weight. "Voices. Everywhere." 

The sound grew stronger, swelling like a tide. There are shadows outside the windows, but they didn't get the chance to go inside, probably because of Harumichi's talismen. Children's laughter distorted into sobs, stern teachers' tones breaking into pleading prayers. All carried one desperate undercurrent... hope. 

And through the mounting chorus, a single voice rang clearer than the rest. 

"Shiraishi Akito. Hoshino Ichika." 

Both turned wide-eyed. The timbre was unmistakable—a woman's voice. Is it... Mrs. Kagome? Her tone was neither commanding nor wrathful; it was solemn, burdened with both sorrow and resolve. 

"You walk the path we cannot. If you falter, this curse will not break. Our prayers are yours now—take them, carry them forward." 

Akito felt his chest tighten. 

His hands clenched around the sword as he slashed the strings that were coming for them. His throat burned as he croaked, "...They're watching us..?" 

"No," Ichika whispered back, her gauntlets pushed against the wall, eyes glowing faintly under the flickering flashlights. "They're with us." The chorus swelled, surrounding them like a storm of whispers. The trapped souls, bound in twilight, poured their strength into fragile threads of prayer. They could not fight—but their voices became a shield, their resolve a blade. 

"Tch. Those souls." 

The air in the chamber thickened like smoke as Tsukishiro Manatsu extended his hand, the faint shimmer of threads unfurling from his fingertips. They weren't real strings—no fiber, no light—but everyone felt them latch onto their limbs, tugging with subtle insistence. 

"Puppets," he whispered, his voice calm, measured, almost tender. "Each of you, dancing on borrowed will." 

Ena staggered as her arm lifted against her command, her staff clattering out of rhythm. Harumichi gritted his teeth, muscles straining as though he were wrestling invisible chains. Mizuki's breathing turned sharp, frustrated, caught between her desire to resist and the sick familiarity of being controlled. She couldn't freely paint the spell if the threads kept coming. 

Akito's knees buckled. His body, still weak, trembled as if those unseen strings sought to break what little strength remained. 

Ichika jerked her head, hearing it too—whispers woven into the air, threads of encouragement where the Mastermind's strings sought only subjugation. 

Tsukishiro's lips curved. "Ah, so you hear and see them... how fitting. Children cursed with a sense for otherworldly powers." 

Then he shifted, and the strings snapped taut. 

"Ah— shit!" Touya's body twisted, his metal bat nearly blew across An's side before she leapt back with a gasp. Kouki himself, forcing his arm down as though it belonged to someone else. Ena shouted, furious, "Stop playing with us!" 

The Mastermind tilted his head. "You speak of play as though this isn't war. You'll understand—when you've tasted the agony of dancing while your heart screams no." 

And then the chamber shook. From the shadows, dragged forth by those cursed strings, stumbled a small figure—the demon child. 

Eyes vacant, body trembling as if her very existence were in pain, she was thrust forward like a weapon. "Dodge!" Kouki's voice broke, horror flashing across his face. His trauma made flesh again—because this wasn't just an enemy. The team rolled on the floor almost instinctively, even the parts of their body screaming. 

Ena couldn't help but notice her friends' fearful eyes as they saw the big shadow—the demon child-sized up scaled—in front of them. Oh, right, they've never seen her, she thought, frowning. 

"Fight her," the Mastermind ordered smoothly, as though announcing a line in a play. "Or fall beneath her. Either way, your strings will tighten." The child's hands curled into claws. He moved with jerking, unnatural speed, lunging toward the team—her expression one of innocent sorrow twisted into fury. 

Akito's hands shook at his sides. A child... she's just a child...! 

The chamber quaked under Tsukishiro Manatsu's laughter, shadows moving like marionette strings across the walls. The team staggered, each one feeling invisible pulls tugging at their limbs, their thoughts. 

For a moment, panic threatened to take root. 

But Harumichi inhaled sharply, his gaze sweeping the battlefield, noting the shifting strings of darkness and the strain on the team's faces. His voice cut through the chaos. 

"Listen up, everyone! Don't let him toy with you—we'll be the ones pulling the strings here!" 

The team snapped their eyes toward him. Even under pressure, Harumichi's calm command steadied them. "Akito, Ichika—you're our sight and ears. The sound of the threads, you hear them clearest. Call out where the strings shift, where they bind. Guide us!" 

Akito's breath caught, but he nodded firmly, Ichika's enhanced hearing already straining to catch every whisper. 

"Kouki, Touya—your fire and precision will cut the threads when they appear. Don't waste a single strike; Manatsu wants us reckless." Kouki grit his teeth, haunted rage flickering in his eyes at the sight of Manatsu, but Touya's hand brushed his shoulder, grounding him. 

They both nodded. 

"Mizuki, An—support the frontline. If anyone falters, you cover them. Mizuki, you'll distract with illusions when needed. An, your focus is to guard Akito and Ichika so they can keep calling the shots." 

"Geez, how troublesome!" The pale, pink-haired girl complained, but she held her anger within. 

"Ena—you're our anchor. If he tries to scatter us or break our rhythm, pull us back together. Keep your voice and resonate the field steady; remind us of who we are." Ena's grip on her staff tightened, her usual spark tempered into a steady flame. The crystals, already glowing, started to resonate the bitter taste in her mouth. "Got it." 

"And me..." Harumichi's eyes narrowed on Manatsu. "I'll try my best to read his patterns. Every move he makes, I will break it down before it reaches you." 

Manatsu chuckled, his tone dripping mockery. "Oh, I'm getting bored! General's giving orders? How quaint. But let's see how long your strings hold!" 

The threads lashed out. The demon child lunged forward, blade glinting under the strings' control. 

But this time, the team moved with purpose. Akito and Ichika's voices rang out— "Left! Just above your arm!"— and Kouki slashed them away without hesitation. "Behind you!" Touya strikes down the demon child's attack. Mizuki changed her position with Touya as she conjured the demon child to mislead her claws, and Ena's shout pulled An back just as her foot nearly stepped into a trap. 

And at the center of it all, Harumichi’s voice cut clear, like a commander guiding soldiers: "Don't chase her—he wants you isolated! Rotate! Cover the child—don't strike her unless I say! Remember: strings can be cut!" 

Right, their mission before this failed because the demon child used Rui as a hostage. They needed to see if she used the same method again. 

The battle is chaos. Strings of shadow whip around, forcing them into positions, jerking their bodies to clash against each other. Even with Harumichi's commands cutting through the noise, they're constantly fighting not just the enemy, but their limbs. Akito staggers back, his breathing ragged. His gaze falls on the child—small, trembling, moving like a marionette on invisible threads. Like the actual opposite; the team is fighting the threads, but she... looked to be controlled by it. 

She wasn't moving stiffly like that when fighting us, he thought, sensing something odd to see the demon child's movement. 

Her motions aren't her own. She was more wild and childish, as he remembers. She also whines and talks a lot. But hearing none of her voice coming out, it just raised more suspicion. And then—his pink eyes see it. The faint shimmer of a mask covering her face, cracked and stitched. 

"...help." 

What..? No, what is that? "Akito, watch out for the strings!" Ena's voice snapped his thoughts; he turned immediately with sword in his hands, slashing down more threads. 

Ichika nudged him. "Do you hear that?" 

He blinked. "Hear what?" The girl beside him called out to Kouki to dodge an attack from the demon child before looking at him. "Cries. I heard a child's voice, crying." She explained. 

Akito then followed her gaze to the demon child. "I think... it comes from her." 

Ichika wasn't sure; her eyes were fighting to believe what her ears were hearing. "It's not her fighting us... She's being made to. Don't you think the same?" 

For a moment, everything else dulls around Akito. The puppet strings. The forced battles. The hollow eyes behind the mask. 

Ichika, straining against her strings, hears Akito's sharp breath and follows his gaze. Her enhanced hearing catches the small, strangled sounds slipping from the child—barely audible cries, like someone trapped in a nightmare. "She's crying..! I can hear her... she doesn't want this!" 

The younger Shiraishi's chest twists. He raises his voice to the team. 

"Stop, don't hurt her! She's like us!" 

And the team turned their heads almost in disbelief to hear that from Akito. Mizuki even just slapped the demon child's hand away. "Sorry, please continue." She said as she cringed at the way everyone was staring at her. 

"She's just another puppet! We can't... we can't treat her like the enemy!" 

That declaration cuts through the battlefield. Harumichi, sharp enough to register what Akito saw, immediately pivots the strategy. "Then listen up—our target isn't the girl. It's the strings. Cut the bindings, not her! If we sever the connection, we free her from Tsukishiro's control!" 

"God damn it, this is confusing as hell." Touya cursed, pushing down the demon child's legs from fleeing. Mizuki follows him, strangles the child's hands too, with Kouki's help. 

Suddenly, the fight's focus changes. They no longer see the demon child as an enemy—they see a trapped soul, perhaps like Rui was, like all of them could be. And for Akito, it's the first time he realizes just how deep Manatsu's cruelty runs. 

Not just controlling, but isolating. Forcing someone to bear the weight of being the monster, all alone. 

"You think you've escaped my strings? Then watch as I tighten hers!" 

The demon child lashes out with brutal force. Her attack catches them off guard—Kouki is knocked back, Mizuki is grazed badly, and Touya is almost pulled into the threads. The blows are merciless, faster, sharper, as though Manatsu no longer cares about restraint. 

Akito feels his panic crawling up to him—he's watching them fall. 

Harumichi tries to rally the team, but his voice is distant in Akito's ears. The Sun within him flickers weakly, drowned by the suffocating pressure of guilt and fear. Ichika has long left his side, trying to support Mizuki, and others pinned the demon child down as Ena and An lashed their attacks on Tsukishiro. 

The demon child's strings lashed out again, striking with a speed that forced Harumichi to bark commands like a battlefield general. 

"Mizuki, pull her left! Ichika—keep your hands tight!" His voice was sharp, calculated, and desperate all at once. "Touya, keep distance, disrupt her sight! Kouki—cover Akito's flank!" 

The team moved, shaky but unified, a machine of reflexes under Harumichi's guidance. Each one plays their part, forcing the demon child's steps to falter just enough to catch breath. Yet every clash echoed with something unnatural—the sharp hiss of strings tightening in midair, binding not just the child, but them all. 

Akito froze as his gaze sharpened. The demon child... Her eyes trembled from beneath them, wide and hollow. She wasn't their enemy. She was just a puppet. 

She is Tsukishiro's daughter... how could he use her like this?! 

"Damn it..." Akito whispered, fists trembling. Like me. Like all of us. 

The realization burned, but the battle left no room for mercy. The demon child lunged forward, her mask cracking as she screamed soundlessly—and this time, her claws slashed across Harumichi's side. 

Blood sprayed. 

"Harumichi-san!" 

The strategist staggered but held his stance, grinding his teeth. "Don't falter! Stay on formation—!" 

But Akito's world began to cave in. His breath stopped to see Ena and An thrown back by Tsukishiro's threads, Ichika reeling, Mizuki staggering, Touya covering for Harumichi, Kouki switched his place to attack Tsukishiro. Their lives dangled on threads, Manatsu's threads, and all of it pressing against Akito's chest until he could no longer breathe. 

Focus. 

He needs it. This time, maybe he can use— 

"If something happens again... avoid using Monochrome. Please." 

Akito tightened his jaw, shaking his head at the memory. I'm sorry Kisa-san. But my friends... They could've died if I didn't do something! 

As Akito focused his sight on Tsukishiro, he ignored the pain knifing through his ribs, his lungs, his heart. And that's where he knew the Monochrome was already activated. Black and white dimension bleeds out from him, but this time, it wasn't as big as before. 

Now it's small, because he focused his gaze—no, more like his rage—building up in his heated body, to only one person. 

Immediately, Tsukishiro stopped on his steps, and his hands froze in the air. Akito's lips curled into a smile. Yes..! I stopped him! Now we can— 

"Nee-san, An!" 

"On it!" Ena and An rushed to slash the remains of the strings; it stopped the demon child from wreaking havoc again. Kouki also helped them after recovering from the threads on his limbs. 

Good. This way, it just left— 

As Akito turned back to Tsukishiro, where he set his power, suddenly, his knees slammed into the floor. "Wh—" A wet cough ripped out of his throat, black flecks spattering against his palm. His body burned, vision tunneling to gray. 

"Akito?!" Ena screamed, breaking the three formation and approaching him. 

The team turned in horror, their rhythm shattered as they saw him on one knee, gasping, clutching his chest. The Monochrome feels like it was no longer whispering—it was devouring him instead of helping the team. 

And then the air cracked. 

Manatsu appeared right before Akito in a ripple of distorted light. No shadow, no gray—he stood cloaked in radiant, unnatural colors, swirling like stained glass shards alive. His smile was cruel, and his laughter struck through the room like thunder. 

"You thought using that power could stop me?" Manatsu leaned closer, his hand dripping with that kaleidoscopic power. "No. It only made the game worth playing." 

Akito's eyes widened in fear, tangling his chest. 

He had wanted—desperately—that giving in his power would end this. That awakened Monochrome would stop Tsukishiro from hurting his friends. He thought maybe triggering Monochrome would stop the strings, or scare Manatsu into halting. 

Instead, it was exactly what Manatsu wanted. 

How the hell does he escape Monochrome? The Mastermind himself suddenly manifests in front of him. Unlike the monochrome aura around Akito, Manatsu radiates a vibrant, almost mocking spectrum of color—harsh pinks, greens, blues that clash violently. 

The team reels back at his appearance. "Get the fuck away from him!" Ena yelled, panicking. "Azure—" 

Tsukishiro smirked. "I'd rather flee away if I were you." He snaps his fingers, and the threads pop out, wrapped around Ena's arms and legs instantly. The Mastermind also stops whoever rushes to him to launch their attacks. Keeping them away from interrupting his moment. 

His laughter echoes, louder and triumphant. 

"Now... where were we?" Tsukishiro gently wiped off the water droplets on his shoulders before turning back to Akito. 

"Ah, right. You broke right on schedule." He tilts his head, grin widening as he playfully looks over his wrist where his watch is. "Monochrome fits you, Sun. But you see... I am not bound to shadows like you. I am brilliance, I am every color you cannot touch." 

Harumichi curses under his breath—they've lost the initiative. Touya, beside him, shaken, whispers, "...He planned this." 

The poor boy, still clutching his chest, tries to rise but stumbles. But Tsukishiro's laughter keeps ringing. "With this, I can bring my love back to life easily now!" 

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

The perimeter scans flickered and warped, the once-stable readings now jittering with sharp spikes of energy. 

Kanade tightened her grip on the console, her pale fingers trembling as another pulse rattled through the ground beneath them. 

"...It's changing again," she whispered, eyes glued to the lines that no longer made sense. The machines weren't built to interpret this. Airi sat nearby, hugging her knees, trying not to cry each time the building's walls groaned. "Th-that noise... that's them, right? That's Shiraishi-kun and the others in there?" 

A low rumble answered her before Kanade could. 

The air outside carried an echo of something unearthly—metal screeches, muffled crashes, and a laugh that wasn't human. 

Emu, usually bursting with cheer, was deathly quiet. Her hands fidgeted restlessly with the wires, her lips pressed into a thin line. "The signal wasn't working." She muttered, frustrated with herself. "How is this possible... I can't reach them like this." 

Another violent crack split the air, followed by a surge of color bleeding faintly through the cracks of the sealed doors—unnatural hues that painted their shadows. 

For a moment, all three froze. 

Airi finally broke, her voice shaking. "We should go in—we can't just sit here—" 

"No." Kanade's voice was firm, but Airi knew she was desperately holding herself to think logically. "If we go in, we will just get in the way. They... they'll protect us, because we don't have those abilities to protect ourselves... even if it costs them everything." 

That thought made her chest ache worse than the tremors. 

Kanade, Emu, and Airi sat together in uneasy silence, monitoring the scans flickering across their devices. None of the readings made sense—energy spikes clashing, surging, vanishing, only to flare again stronger. 

But they didn't need the data to tell them what was happening. 

The sounds carried through the thick air: explosions of force, the metallic screech of something breaking, and that made Kanade's fingers freeze on her screen. "They're fighting, Kanade!" Airi snapped, her voice trembling. She pressed the heels of her palms against her knees, grounding herself. "They're fighting so hard in there—" 

Emu bit her lip, her hands wringing the hem of her jacket. 

Normally, her endless cheer lifted everyone, but now she stared at the school's sealed doors with a defeated frown. "But... we can't even see them. We can't—" 

"—They're dying in there!" Airi’s voice cracked. She didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words escaped before she could swallow them back. "Calm down!!" Kanade yelled back, grounding the two thoughts. 

"If we get in, then how can we believe we could truly save them?!" Airi swallowed back her panic to hear Kanade's statement. 

The white haired girl groaned as she ruffled her hair. Curses under her breath like a mantra. 

"...The readings just collapsed. Someone's weakening inside." 

The silence that followed was heavier than any sound. The only thing that broke it was Airi, who whispered like a prayer, scared, "Please... don't let them lose." 

The three stayed there, trapped between the instinct to run in and the cruel necessity of waiting, every sound from the building driving another nail of fear into their chests.

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

Outside of the building, the souls who lingered by the barrier stirred. They had been silent guardians until now, but even they could no longer ignore what they saw. Among them, Shiho stood trembling, her small fists balled tightly at her sides. 

"They're losing..." Shiho said, her pale eyes blazed, brimming with something between fear and fury. With a glance at Mrs. Kagome, she then rushes inside, with a resolve to help the humans. 

"Shiho, wait!—" one of the older souls tried to stop her. 

But the girl already had wings of light tearing from her back. With one sharp motion, she shot forward, phasing through the barrier like it was nothing. 

"Shiho!" another student cried, lunging forward too late. 

And in the very next heartbeat, another figure followed—Mrs. Kagome, her expression a grim mix of dread and resolve. She glanced back only once before diving after her student.

Notes:

we can see the spirits breaking the rules now LMAO

not every spirit has its specialities like power. what do you think Shiho's or Mrs. Kagome's abilities are?

Chapter 18: Chapter 17 : "...Smiles...that I gave... others..."

Notes:

this is where my asian side is showing

"—Don't you think the sunset's beautiful, Akito?" 

A pair of brown eyes like his sister look at him in a gentle and soothing voice. In that peaceful silence, another figure peeks out from behind the older man —a woman with orange hair. 

Huh? 

Her eyes were shining like the sun. He almost mistook it for orange colored, but no, it's olive. 

Same as him. 

"...Mom? Dad?" 

The two figures smile, as if responding to him. Then he felt a hand on his head, a little bigger than his. "What are you zoning out at, Akito?" Her sister laughed, messily playing with his hair. 

Dumbfounded, the boy— 

Akito quickly drew a smile to his lips. "Ah, no. I was just... thinking stuff..." 

His mother made a confused noise. "At this age? Really?" Her bewildered question made both his father and Ena laugh. "You're too young for thinking stuff, Akito." She said, leaving his father's side and kneeling in front of him to match their height. 

"Hey, let's get your favorite food for dinner." His mother holds his hand, full of warmth and affection in her touch. 

"Wha—" Ena stands up abruptly, stomping her feet. "T-That's not fair! What about me, Mom?" At this, their father chuckles, patting Ena's back to calm her down. "Don't worry, Ena. We'll get yours too." 

His calm voice is just too kind to hear. 

It's nothing like— 

"—kito. Akito!" 

Akito's eyes fluttered open to suffocating darkness. His body felt heavy, every joint aching as though bound by invisible chains. Then he heard it—an old, familiar voice he never thought he'd hear in this place. 

"...So, you finally woke up." 

Akito jerked his head up, and his heart stopped. 

His father. Shiraishi Ken is just sitting a little far at his right—worn down, eyes hard and sunken, yet unmistakable. The face Akito had etched into memory, both admired and feared. The voice was strong enough to shake him to the core. 

"...Dad," His voice cracked, relief blooming for the briefest second. "You're okay—" 

Ken's lips twisted, not into a smile, but a scowl. "Okay? Look around you, Akito. Do you call this okay? Trapped like rats in this pit because of your foolish choices." 

The boy froze. "Eh?—" 

Ken's gaze cut through him like a blade. There was no relief. No warmth. Only a cold fire, burning with something Akito couldn't name. "You are here," Ken muttered, shaking his head. "Damn it, Akito. You just had to throw yourself into this world, too, didn't you? Do you have any idea what you've done?" 

What is he talking about? I've come here to save him! 

"You always thought you knew better, didn't you?" Ken's strong voice rang out, every word spat like venom. "Disobeying. Running around. Dragging people into your mess. And now look at where you've brought yourself—where you've brought us." 

Akito's hands curled into fists. "That's not—!" 

"Not what? Not your fault?" Ken's voice rose, bitter and sharp as always. "Don't you dare pretend, Akito. You've always been reckless. Always chasing after things you couldn't grasp. Do you even realize what you've done? To Ena? To us?" 

The mention of Ena twisted something deep inside Akito's chest. Oh... I'm here because the Mastermind takes me away. But Ena-nee and others... His throat burned. "I... I didn't mean—" 

"You never mean it!" His father snapped. His eyes glimmered with something ugly. "You've always liked this. Excuses, more excuses. You think good intentions will fix anything? You think hope and dreams will protect the people you love? Look at you—pathetic, weak, and useless! Always relying on others to save you!" 

Why is he? 

Why is he blaming me? 

Akito's nails dug into his palms, his body trembling. "Stop..." 

Ken tched, chains that bind him echoed the dirty place. His every word snapped against the boy's skin. "You think this is some childish game? You think you can just waltz into this place—a place you don’t even understand—and everything will magically be fine? Do you realize how many times I've tried to keep you safe? How many ways have I fought to keep you out of this hell? And yet here you are—reckless, foolish, dragging everyone else down." 

"Stop—" The younger Shiraishi's voice cracked, but Ken cut him down again. Never letting him speak. 

"No! You don't get to speak! Do you even realize what you are now? You're nothing but a vessel—an empty shell that Manatsu will use to tear open and bring back a dead person! Do you understand? You're the reason we are doomed." 

I can never win in the first place. 

Akito's breath caught, the words slamming into him harder than any chain. 

It's father. Of course, I couldn't. 

Ken's eyes were trembling with both fury and despair. "And to think... your mother told me to listen to you." His voice cracked, but he forced it into venom again. "I should have known better. I should have ignored her. Because look what listening to you has brought us—ruin. If she could see this now, she'd know how much of a mistake it was to believe in you." 

But. 

Akito swore he felt like his heart split wide open, tears already stinging his eyes. He thought his father would stop there, but no. He pressed the blade deeper. 

"You are the curse that chained your family." 

But why are his words just too harsh? 

Silence fell, thick and suffocating. Rui is just a little far on the left, shifted in the shadows, but said nothing, his face grim. He had expected Akito here... but not like this. 

Not this merciless breaking between father and son. 

He watched as Akito's lips quivered, but no sound came out. The boy hung his head low, his vision probably blurred with hot tears he tried to blink away. 

Rui knew better than to interfere. This wasn't his battle, and any words from him would only worsen the wound. He merely lowered his gaze, allowing father and son to drown in the storm of their history. 

To Akito, he struggled to breathe as he tried to keep the sobs hidden. 

The words from his father struck harder than any wound. They weren't scolding or strict advice—no, they were knives, deliberate and cruel, stabbing into his chest again and again until he felt nothing but hollow air where his heart should be. 

How could you... Father...? 

Ken said that her mother's message she left before Ken left is to only listen to him. It had sounded so simple. A plea. A hope that even if the world was against him, his father might still reach out a hand. 

But here he was, faced with a man who had not just rejected him, but denied his very existence. 

Ken's eyes were not those of a father, not even like his true father—they were cold, merciless eyes of someone who wanted nothing to do with him. Akito's knees trembled. His fingers curled against the shackles as if he could keep himself from collapsing entirely. 

I should've known... 

I should have known he never wanted me here. That he would never— 

Never wanted to— 

See me. 

Despair wrapped around him like chains, each word his father spat weighing heavier than the last. Rui was there, silent, eyes darting between father and son, but Akito barely noticed. The battlefield around them faded, the storm of chaos muted into a ringing void. 

Hope? 

What hope? 

He almost laughed, though his lips only trembled. There's no hope for me. Not even from my own family. 

Betrayal gnawed at him, hot and suffocating. He wanted to scream, to demand why his father only ever saw flaws, failures, and stubbornness in him. Why couldn't he acknowledge the blood, sweat, and pain that brought Akito here—not for selfish reasons, but because he couldn't stand by while others suffered? 

Why couldn't he see the boy who still longed for his father's approval, who still hoped one day to be told, "I'm proud of you"? 

But Ken's gaze told him that hope had been a lie all along. 

He thought he had already reached the bottom when he lost trust in himself, when despair first swallowed his courage. No—the abyss deepened, darker than he ever imagined. If even his own father believed he didn't belong here... then maybe he really was nothing but a burden. 

Maybe— 

Maybe I should never have been born at all. 

"My, my," Manatsu cooed, stepping forward, his tone carrying that saccharine quality of pity. "What pitiful sight... The abandoned child of a strong man. Your blood turns against you, and you still sit there hopeless as though waiting for a miracle that will never come." 

Ken rolled his eyes, not wanting to meet the man's face. Rui flinched to see the Mastermind here, but the demon's smile only widened. 

"You are... suffocating, aren't you?" Manatsu whispered, every word curling into Akito's ears like smoke. "So desperate to be seen. To be heard. To be loved. But here, no one listens. No one saves you. Not even your father." 

His hand extended, palm open, as if offering mercy. But his eyes gleamed with something else. 

"I can give you freedom from this cage. A world without these chains, without this pain. A promise—you only have to come with me, little sun." 

Akito hesitated. 

No... why am I hesitating? He wanted me to— 

But the words Manatsu spun dripped like poisoned honey, each syllable sweet, each promise wrapped in velvet shadows. Freedom... release... escape from this endless pain. And Manatsu already has his shackles, yanking them, forcing his weak body to follow the promise Manatsu offered. 

He slowly glanced back at the others. Only Rui's gaze locked onto him through the gloom. 

For one wavering heartbeat, Akito feels like he wants to run to at least... Kamishiro, to claw his way back into that fragile circle of warmth, even if hope was only a thread. But then his father's face resurfaced in his mind—those cold eyes, that harsh voice that had broken him again and again until he could no longer tell the difference between love and cruelty. 

If my father could discard me, what right do I have to lean on anyone else? 

His hands trembled, and in that trembling, something slipped loose—small, metallic, barely a whisper against the cracked stone floor. 

None noticed, save Rui. 

"Akito-kun—!" Rui's voice broke with a desperation he rarely allowed. He lunged forward, only for his wrists to be yanked back. And... something to clatter at his feet. He froze, eyes flicking down. 

A key. 

It lay there gleaming dully, fragile hope incarnate. 

Rui stooped, feet closing around its cold iron frame, his mind racing. Shackles. Their shackles. This wasn't chance—it couldn't be... 

Slowly, realization spread across his face as he looked back up. 

Akito was no longer standing there. Manatsu's hand had already swallowed the boy's, leading him away into the blackness. Yet Rui's jaw tightened not only with dread, but with fierce certainty. 

The boy who had heard so many harsh words from his father... hadn't surrendered entirely. He had chosen despair with his body—but with his heart, with that quiet act of rebellion, he had left them the key. 

"...You're still fighting," Rui whispered, clutching the iron tight, as if the boy could still hear him through the dark. 

And in the wake of Akito's vanishing form, there bloomed the faintest spark: not the false hope Manatsu offered, but Akito's own—the kind that could not be killed. 

Rui's hands trembled faintly as the lock clicked open. 

The iron shackles fell away with a dull clang that echoed through the damp stone chamber. The sound should have felt triumphant—freedom, at last—but his chest ached instead, filled with a gnawing mix of relief and despair. The key was warm in his palm, as if it still carried the lingering trace of Akito's hand. 

The boy had given it to him—thrown it behind him in that one, subtle act of rebellion against Manatsu's grasp. 

Akito had walked away, but he hadn't surrendered completely. 

"Akito-kun..." Rui whispered, the name brushing past his lips like a prayer. Ken stirred from his corner, his eyes narrowing as he noticed Rui was free from the chains. 

"What... how?" His voice was full of shock, disbelief laced with bitterness. "That manipulator let you free?" 

Rui's gaze hardened. "No. Your son did." 

Ken froze, his expression flickering between shock and a grimace of denial. "...You're lying." 

The boy turned, the dim torchlight catching in his yellow eyes, giving them a sharp glint. He didn't raise his voice, but each word rang with precision, cutting like a blade. "I don't lie, Ken-san. It was your son who gave me the key. Your son, who actually could've talked, we could escape if you let him. The very boy you called weak, foolish, a failure—he's the reason we're standing here at all." 

Ken's lips parted, then sealed into a hard line. 

His fists clenched, the veins at his temples standing out. "He walked away with that man. Do you not see? He chose him over us." 

Rui straightened, and he caressed his red wrists. "No. He chose hope over despair. And if you cannot see that—if you cannot see the strength it took to put his own life at risk to free us—then perhaps... you're even blinder than he thought you were." 

The words struck like thunder. 

Ken's shoulders were taut as if Rui had physically struck him. His breath came harsh and ragged, his pride wrestling against something rawer, something heavier in his chest. 

"You don't know him," Ken hissed, though his voice faltered. "You don't know what he's like when he—" 

"Perhaps... I know him better than you think," Rui interrupted, his tone calm but merciless. "Because, unlike you, I never closed my eyes to him. I saw him struggle. I saw him doubt himself. And I saw him choose to rise above it. Even when your words—his own father's words—cut him down." 

Ken's jaw worked, but no reply came. His silence was louder than any denial. 

Rui lowered his voice, softer now, though no less firm. "Do not mistake his sacrifice as betrayal. Akito-kun's still fighting. In his way. And if you truly wish to call yourself his father, then you'd better open your eyes before it's too late." 

The air between them hung heavy, thick with the sting of truth. For once, Ken had no fire left to spit back.

 

 

⁞
✿

 

 

They walked deeper upstairs, leaving Rui and Ken shackled behind. 

"You poor thing," he murmured, each word curling with mock pity. "You've been carrying that burden for so long, haven't you?" The man shakes his head as if he had heard the fight earlier. "Always the sun for everyone else, always the warmth they depend on. But no one ever asks if the sun itself is burning away, do they?" 

Akito pressed his lips into a thin line. He didn't answer. His fists only gripped tighter, letting his nails bite into his palms. 

Manatsu noticed, of course. 

He noticed everything. His smile deepened, though it was far too sharp to be gentle. "They all want you to hope, don't they? That old man you called father, your sister, your friends. Hope, hope, hope—such a cruel little word. They cling to it like children clutching toys, while you're the one forced to bleed for it." 

The boy said nothing. His silence was its surrender. 

"That's why I pity you, Akito," Manatsu continued, his voice velvet and rich with affection at once. "Because I understand. I don't come to you with promises of hope or pretty lies about a future. No." 

He bent slightly, his lips close to Akito's ear, words like poison whispered into him. "I offer you freedom. Freedom from carrying them, from breaking for them. Freedom... from yourself." 

That's when the boy's steps falter. 

"Freedom..?" he echoed, almost as if testing the word on his tongue, a word that carried no light but an abyss. 

"Why, yes." Manatsu's smile was... genuine. Like a crescent moon hanging low and sharp. "You've been waiting all this time for someone to tell you it's all right to stop hoping. To rest. To let go. Come with me, Akito, and you won't have to suffer under the weight of their chains ever again." 

Freedom... 

That one word echoed in his mind. Freedom from this curse, from this unluckiness... from his family. It would mean embracing death, wasn't it? 

Akito still remembered the day he almost... followed someone home. 

He accompanied them home. But that someone was not a human. They tricked him into the abyss. To death, too. It makes him wonder if fate truly writes his destiny like this. All of the dangerous things that happened. 

He ended with his death. 

And Akito... 

It wasn't a bad idea. The thought comes in. I could be together... with mom and dad back... 

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

 

The ground was still stained with their failure. Harumichi lay sprawled against the wall, blood soaking through his shirt as Mizuki pressed trembling hands to his wound. Her voice wavered between sobs and determination, "Don't... you dare close your eyes. Not after everything." Yet her strength was nearly gone, her vision dimming with every push of her fading energy. 

Touya knelt nearby, his arm barely able to move after the strain of battle. 

Ichika's hands shook as she tried to wrap makeshift bindings around her leg, pain flashing across her pale face. An tore strips of the extra clothes to patch Kouki's shallow injury, whispering frantic reassurances despite her bloody scratches. 

Ena stood apart, her staff dragging against the dirt. Her body screamed in pain, but the anguish in her eyes was louder—anger at herself for failing to protect her brother. "That damn old man—" she muttered, choking on her voice. Her hand clenched white around the staff. "I don't understand. We are failing twice!" And she continued to yap her thoughts. 

"Ena..." An sighed to see her sister this talkative when... everyone is on the edge. 

Harumichi groaned, stopping Mizuki's hands. "...Akiyama, that's enough." He talked between coughs. "If you continue to heal me... You could die from using too much of your energy." 

"B-But I was made for this!" Mizuki counters back, fear-filled in her voice. "At least... your open wounds... I need to stop the blood..!" 

But Harumichi prevents her from using the power. He shakes his head, smiling, though the pain is eating him alive. "...Harumichi-san." Mizuki sobbed, clutching the older man's sleeve. "...I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." 

The son just sighed as he took a place beside his father. A bitter frown was planted on his face. 

"Don't you die on me, old man," Touya warned. "If you're gone, no one's gonna talk to the koi fish anymore. No one is going to exorcise the house at 3 am anymore. You hear me?" 

Harumichi laughed. "No... not my coworkers, koi fishes..!" He whined, as if the fish were truly his friends. 

Touya noticed how his father's breath became shallow and weakened. And he can't grasp the reality of facing his father's dying figure. If you asked him, of course, he never prepared for this! Harumichi may be goofy, eccentric, and all... 

But he is also... Touya's closed friend. 

To think Harumichi would leave him like Saki did... is just something he wouldn't want to imagine. 

Yet... here they are. 

God, can you hear me? Touya held both of his father's hands, gripping them as if that could heal him. This wasn't the consequences I've thought I would face this early. I thought you would take my health instead. Or my other senses, or my limbs... and not my father. 

It was this moment that Touya realized... he had been crying. 

No... no, no! Someone...! God, help my father, please! I couldn't bear the guilt of losing him. Not again, please..! 

It was then that the air shifted. 

A soft wind brushed against Touya's hair and... Mizuki's fingers. Not cold, but warm—like a hand guiding them, steadying their trembling pressure against Harumichi's wounds. 

What..? 

The gentleness almost made him sob harder. Even Mizuki looked equally confused as he. "What... is this?" 

To her attuned senses, the air itself hummed. 

Notes. 

A melody written into the world. It wasn't just a sound—it was a feeling. Hope stitched between each strain, like the memory of a lullaby once sung to calm a storm. Mizuki blinked, her tears catching in her lashes. Something about it was familiar. Someone's dream. Someone who once said they wanted their music to save. 

Ichika straightened, startled, when a faint voice threaded itself into her ears. Clear, resolute, though nobody stood before her. "You're not alone. Stand back up." 

"Who..?" Ichika whispered, her gaze darting around. 

Ena raised her staff in alarm, her body instinctively readying for another threat. But Ichika held up a hand. Her eyes softened. "Wait. This spirit... it wants to help us." 

The melodies grew stronger, filling their broken circle. 

Mizuki's chest ached as the familiarity deepened, like she could almost put a name to the warmth weaving through her—but she couldn't, not yet. Only that it felt like a friend's dream living again through the notes. 

Because two years ago, she had stood at a different graveside, helpless, watching as Shiho was taken away from her forever. 

And no matter how hard she screamed, no matter how much she begged, she couldn't stop it. Her voice broke suddenly into the tense air. "...You know what's funny?" she said, though her laugh was hollow, but full with grief. "How do you know what it feels like to lose someone you love? Do you know what it's like to wake up every single day and realize the one person who believed in you isn't there anymore..?" 

"Akiyama..." 

Her eyes shimmered, and she blinked fast, but the tears spilled anyway. "Shiho's gone. Two years, and it still hurts like it happened yesterday. And yet..." Her fingers curled into fists. "And yet sometimes—sometimes it feels like she's still here. Maybe not with my eyes. But in the way the air feels lighter when I'm about to give up. In the way my chest aches when I'm walking home alone. In the way, I still hear her voice when I can't stop crying. It's almost as if—" 

She bit down on the sob threatening to escape. "As if she never left me. As if she's still helping me even now." 

The silence that followed was unbearable. Kouki's expression softened. Touya glanced at Mizuki not with sympathy, but with thoughts he could relate to. 

Mizuki's hands trembled, clutching the torn sleeve of her coat as if it were the only anchor she had left. Her breath came in shallow bursts, uneven, every inhale weighted with the years she had spent burying her grief. 

"...It's not fair," she whispered, though her voice cracked into something too fragile to hold. "Shiho... why did you leave me here? Why... why wasn't I enough to keep you in this world?" 

The words tumbled out like glass shards, each one cutting deeper into her chest. 

She nearly collapsed, but a sudden warmth pressed against her—subtle, fleeting, like the brush of a familiar hand she had thought she'd never feel again... felt real. 

Her eyes widened in sureness now. "...Shiho?" 

The others froze. There was no one near her. No hand, no shadow. But Mizuki's expression—hope clashing with disbelief—was undeniable. She reached out into the air, trembling fingers stretching into emptiness. "Is that—Is that you? I can feel you. I swear I can feel you. Please, don't go..!" 

Ichika's breath hitched sharply. Her body stiffened as a faint, shimmering voice appeared before her. 

And then she heard it: a girl's voice, clear and steady, echoing where no one else could hear. 

"Tell her I'm here." 

Ichika's throat tightened. She had no time to think—only to speak, her voice cracking as the words slipped out. "She... she says she's here, Akiyama-san. Hinomori-san... is here with you." 

Mizuki's head snapped up, eyes wide, shimmering with tears that broke free instantly. "She... she said that? She's here?" 

The bluenette nodded fiercely, pressing her hand to her chest as if holding the echo there. The voice repeated, insistent this time. 

"Tell her... I never left. Even when she couldn't see me. Even when she thought I was gone. I stayed here, chained." 

Ichika's lips trembled as she repeated, "She says... she never left you. Even when you thought she was gone, she's... always here." 

"Shiho..." Mizuki let out a sob, loud and shattering. She clutched the empty air tighter, curling around the warmth only she could feel. It wasn't enough to see Shiho, it wasn't enough to hear her, but this—this was everything she had prayed for in the silence of her grief. 

"—I'm sorry," she choked out. "I was so angry at you for leaving... but all I wanted was to see you again. Even once. Just once..." 

Ichika feels like tears blurred her vision as Shiho's voice grew softer, like fading starlight. 

"Tell her... I'm proud of her. That I always was. That I'll keep holding her, even if she can't see me." Ichika's voice cracked as she translated, "...She's proud of you. She always was. And she'll keep holding you, even if you can't see her." 

The pale pink-haired girl's cries were raw, unrestrained, the grief and love of two long years tearing free at last. 

But for the first time since Shiho's death, her sobs weren't hollow. They were filled with presence—with proof. 

She wasn't alone anymore. 

The composed melody danced around them like a lullaby, enough to soothe their thoughts and senses. Like a miracle, it fills them with a feeling that could be translated as hope. 

Wounds gone, strained body no more... and comforted their emotions the most. 

Harumichi coughed, snapping them from the silence. "Dad! You okay?" Touya squeezed his father's hand desperately. The lullaby is just too comforting until he forgets that his father had almost died. 

"Ugh... yeah." The old man responds, trying to move his limbs. 

And oddly, he looked over everyone in surprise. "Huh? Eh?" Harumichi blinked, checking that his wounds weren't there anymore. 

"...What just happened? Did I miss something?" 

Touya just laughed, patting his father's shoulders. Kouki approached his senior in relief. "A lot." He said, chuckling as Harumichi made a face. "But we're fine now. Thanks to Mizuki's friend." 

Harumichi observed Mizuki's tears and happy face. 

Hold on... I know that face... Harumichi thought. Then a gasp leaves him shocked. "Her DEAD friend?!" And Touya just laughed harder like Harumichi made a big fat joke. 

"Geez... at least saying a thank you would help." Ena reminded him, shaking her head. 

"Ah," Harumichi nodded, quickly bowed his head to where he didn't know. "Thank you, kind spirit. I owe you my life." Ichika smiles to hear the spirit's amused tone. "She said, You're Mizuki's friend, too. This is the least she could've helped." 

"Wha—" 

"Dad, you looked like just wake up from death." 

Harumichi groaned. "Because I am at the edge of dying!" 

Mizuki wiped off her tears, still sobbing. Although now she felt grateful and happy. "Thank you... Shiho..." From behind, Ichika smiles, glad that fate brought them miracles. 

And beside this unseen music, a woman's spirit appeared like a quiet anchor. 

She moved to Ichika's side, her presence calm but firm, tending with spectral hands to steady her injuries. "You've fought bravely. But your battle is not over. You still have reason to rise." 

The bluenette frowned, "We've already failed twice." She said, bitter still lingering on her mouth. 

"What can we do to face Tsukishiro this time? We don't have any power to counter him. We don't even know how his power works..." 

An scooted closer to her sister. "Who is she talking to?" 

Ena shrugged. "Sounds like someone's older. That's not Hinomori." 

"His power is borrowed." Ichika's eyes widen at the information. "It wasn't his. But someone else who promised him that if he helped them, they could bring me back to life." 

The girl closed his eyes to process the whole thing. 

"A power... that can be borrowed..?" She mumbled in her breath. And well damn, this shit is crazier than she thought. 

Mrs. Kagome continued, "The power is exactly opposite of Monochrome. Full of color and... destruction." Ichika couldn't help but confused. Wasn't Monochrome power draining life energy? So it wasn't a power of destruction... instead of this opposite power? 

"Then... what the hell is Monochrome power doing? You said it wasn't destruction, then what is it?" 

Mrs. Kagome's voice came in with uncertainty, but Ichika wanted to believe in it. "Monochrome power is creation. Draining energy works like destruction because it was meant to be triggered at the enemy instead of your fellows. That drained power from the enemy will become yours, who's an ally with Akito-kun." 

"What??" 

Ichika exhaled, holding her temple as she felt every information flooding her mind. 

"Then... it would mean this... colorful power works just like a prism?" And Mrs. Kagome agreed with her opinion. "As for now, that's what we know." 

"Dear God, this is more complicated than I expected..." 

The team watches Ichika having... like five stages of denial after talking to the mid air. "Is she done?" Ena nudged her sister. "Shh... don't interrupt her moment!" But really, they didn't think they could watch the ever serious Ichika, falling deep into character development. 

"So... now what?" 

Ichika felt the warm wind blow again, as if pushing her slowly back to where everyone else gathered. "Let's combine our powers, Ichika." Mrs. Kagome said. "I could help you out of this maze. And we could save Akito-kun before it's too late." 

Hearing Akito's name mentioned sends a shiver down Ichika's spine. She couldn't say no when her friend was in danger. 

"Hold your hands together." 

Ichika then followed her instructions, holding Ena's and An's. "Everyone, hold each other's hands." The team nodded, trailing her actions. 

"Focus on me, Ichika." The teacher ordered. 

"Relax your body and let the aura in you flow smoothly." Ichika takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. "Now think as if your energy resonates with mine and Shiho." 

Resonate... resonate... 

The air inside the warped school vibrated, humming like the low strings of a cello drawn taut. Ichika's thoughts threaded through the unseen soundscape, clear like sunlight breaking through the building, carrying Shiho's gentle notes in harmony. Then came Mrs. Kagome—her presence blooming like an orchestra striking its first chord. 

The walls groaned. 

The endless corridor that had stretched into infinity began to ripple, like water disturbed by a stone. 

The classroom doors, endless halls, once leading nowhere, shuddered and melted into shifting lines. Desks stacked upon ceilings clattered, chairs suspended in the air slammed to the ground as if gravity had finally remembered them. 

"Keep holding it steady!" Ichika informed everyone, gripping both Shiraishi's siblings' hands as her power translated Shiho's unheard reassurance to the others. 

"Frequency, retuned." Ichika imagined as if Mrs. Kagome lifted her hand like a conductor at the podium. Her eyes blazed with conviction. 

And then—like the snapping of strings pulled too tight—the distortion fractured. The walls peeled back into place. Windows that had been nothing but shadow suddenly spilled daylight across the dusty floors. Blackboards reformed from smeared voids into familiar green chalk surfaces. The suffocating loop of corridors shrank and aligned, halls that once ran into themselves straightening into recognizable paths. 

Classroom doors clicked back into existence, one by one—each with its proper label and handle—until the school looked ordinary again. 

But still, the sound lingered. 

A wave of whispers rippled through them—not from the living, perhaps from the souls still tethered to the school. Soft prayers drifted in the air, weaving with the cadenza of Frequency. 

Fragments of hope. Confessions. Silent apologies.

"...Can you hear that?" Ichika's voice trembled, wide-eyed. 

The sounds layered over the fading echoes of prayer and the fragile relief in their hearts, a new voice slithered in. It wasn't part of their resonance. It cut across it, against it—smooth, low, almost soothing, but sharpened with something... that surprised them. 

"You have talent, Rui." Mrs. Kagome's voice gently appeared nowhere. "But you still hesitate. Music isn't only notes—it's courage. Courage to let others see your heart." 

The team looked around to find nothing but voices. 

"Courage, huh... I don't know if I have that. It feels like... if people saw everything, they wouldn't understand." 

Rui's voice appeared next; he sounds healthier, and... younger. "Is this... this building's memories..?" Ena muttered, just guessing about the abnormal experience. 

"That's the beauty of music—it doesn't need to be understood completely. It only needs to be felt. Don't be afraid to let them feel you." There was silence for a moment, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves... by the sound. "Kagome-sensei," Rui's voice began hesitantly, "have you chosen a name yet? For... the child?" 

"Not yet. Would you like to give one?" 

Rui's voice came in alarm. "Me? That... that would be inappropriate. I'm just a student. Names are... they should come from the people closest to her. The parents." 

"Well," Mrs. Kagome said with a warm chuckle. "I trust you. Sometimes a pure heart can see a name more clearly than anyone else." 

Rui's voice hesitated, as if trying to swallow the weight of responsibility. "I... shouldn't. It feels wrong." 

But then there's a long pause. 

"...So this is why the demon child is fond of him." Harumichi hummed, waiting for Rui's name suggestion. 

"...Kaori." 

"Kaori?" 

The team also looked at each other, seemingly taken aback by Rui's answer. 

"Yes." Rui’s voice softened, but steadied. "It's like... Kagome, but different characters. Still carrying the meaning of fragrance, of beauty. I thought... she would be like carrying a part of you." 

For a moment, the teacher said nothing. But it sounded like she liked the suggestion. "Kaori... It's beautiful. Thank you, Rui." 

The group who have been hearing the conversation has a smile on their face. They had no idea how to find out about this warm moment Rui had with Mrs. Kagome. But... it seems like this is just like the silence before the storm. 

"Kagome... don't turn away from me." 

Ichika flinched to hear a low voice suddenly appear. "Tsukishiro..?" She mumbled. So now they changed scene... with voices. 

"That night wasn't a mistake. It was fate. You and I—we were meant to be together." 

Mrs. Kagome's voice sounded tired. "Fate? Is that what you call it? You forced yourself into my life, Tsukishiro. You left me with this—" there's a subtle echo like it's from underwater—"a child you don't even love." 

The word 'child' seemed to snap something in them. Their expression twisted to realize the ugly seeping through the veneer of Tsukishiro's obsession. "Damn, he's obsessed with her. But not love the daughter." Touya sighed, sensing red flags from Tsukishiro. 

"Don't speak of it like it matters. That thing means nothing to me. You—" his voice deepened, trembling with possession—"you're all I want. Don't you understand? Why can't you just love me back?!" 

Kagome's voice trembled from grief. "Because you don't love her. She's yours, Tsukishiro. Yours. And yet you look at him as if she's a burden. How could I ever give my heart to a man who rejects his blood?" Her voice faltered, but she forced the words out through tears. "I could endure your cruelty to me, but I will never forgive you for denying her." 

For a moment, silence swallowed the room. 

"Why... why can't you see?! Everything I did—everything—was for you! I don't need anyone else. Not her, not anyone. Just you, Kagome. Only you!" 

A sound of footsteps stepped back echoed. "Then... you don't know what love is." 

Her rejection—raw, final—maybe struck him deeper than any blade. Perhaps his desperation boiled over into recklessness. He reached for her, his voice breaking into a scream. 

"Don't you dare turn your back on me!" 

A silent sound of motion, Ichika's ears caught at that second. It sounded like something sent Mrs. Kagome stumbling back, her foot catching the edge of the stairwell... behind her. 

"Kagome—!" 

"W-What is happening?!" An asked, concerned to hear Tsukishiro's voice screaming. 

The sickening sound of her body striking the steps shattered the air, louder than the storm outside. 

The team froze, breath ragged by the tension. "S-She's..." Mizuki looked like she wanted to cry again. Even Touya, too. "...She fell here." He whispered, but enough to be heard by everyone. 

"Kagome..?" Tsukishiro's voice was hoarse, fragile. The team could imagine the scene, better with the sound like it was injected in them. Blood pooled, staining the floor. Broken bones, wrong position... 

Then, they heard Mrs. Kagome's final... voice. Lips moved faintly, a whisper—broken and fleeting—slipping through. 

"...love... him..." 

And then the tragic scene ended there. 

A child's voice rang out, raw and trembling with rage. "Tsukishiro Manatsu!" Her scream reverberated through the halls, rattling windows. 

The team confusion shifted into terror as they realized—this is probably the child that were masked with the name demon child—expressing her anger. 

"You took everything from me! You—you don't deserve to live!" 

There are sounds of blades, of nails clawing... shredding paper, splintering desks. Teachers rushed into the halls, shouting for calm, for order—but she wasn't aiming for them. Wind roaring at her command. She screamed again, the storm exploding outward. "I am your child! And I will kill you with my own hands!" 

"Child," he said, his voice low but carrying over the chaos, "you don't even understand what you are." 

It seemed the sound suddenly stopped. Her storm faltered. 

"What am I?" 

"You think you were born for revenge. That your existence has purpose in defiance." Tsukishiro's voice is full of... a fake pity. "But no, you were born for me. To be mine. To be what I command." 

There are sounds. Like invisible strings pulled at her, twisting her wrist, her ankles, her breath itself. 

The child screamed as her power turned inward, coiling like a serpent. Her storm lashed out—not at him, but at the walls, at the ground, at the innocents around her. 

"Stop!" she shrieked, tears burning her cheeks. "What are you doing?! I don't want this!" 

But his voice cut her cries like a blade. 

"You are no daughter of mine unless you destroy what I choose." 

Ena squeezed her sister's and Ichika's hands with a boiling rage inside her, face twisted in disgust. "That fucking bastard... he's the real monster." She said, trembling. 

Then, it changed again. A scream tore through the air. 

It was sharp, guttural, and raw with terror. It echoed from deep inside the building. The group froze. Their anger suddenly disappeared like snuffed flames. 

"...What was that?" one of the voices whispered, her voice trembling. Mizuki and Ichika immediately know whose voice it belonged to. 

"Don't. Just... just leave it. It's not our business." Another voice sounded like she grabbed the girl's sleeve. "The teachers will handle it. Let's just go." 

Mizuki closed her eyes to hold her tears, closed her ears to hide the nightmare she was about to hear. 

The friends held the girl back, their voices frantic now. "Shiho, don't! It's dangerous—" and the team—minus Ichika—glanced over, sobbed Mizuki. "If I run away now... if I close my ears and pretend I didn't hear it... I will regret it. I can't live with that..!" 

With that, the sound of wind broke free and deafened the room. 

Shiho's footsteps echoed harshly against the empty hallways, her heart hammering louder with each step. The screams had stopped, leaving only silence that pressed down like a suffocating weight. 

Then silence comes. 

Slowly, the sound of the desk and chairs being crushed one by one echoed. An impact collided with the walls, the floor. A sound of a controlled breath. 

"Another one," the... demon child hissed, voice layered with something inhuman. "Another who will just turn away... and leave me..." 

Shiho stepped inside the room, ignoring the instinct screaming at her to run. Her voice was soft but steady. "Hey... I won't turn away. If you're hurting, I want to help—" 

"LIAR!" 

The team flinched to hear a force slam something backward, like... a body crashing against the wall. Shiho gasped, struggling to breathe. "Why..." the child snarled. There was a sound of shadows curling like chains. "Why won't you all just die already?!" 

It wasn't her, Ichika thought. It was Tsukishiro controlling her. 

Shiho coughed; there was a sound of struggling to even stand up. "Because... saving everyone... even you... That's my dream." 

The team froze after hearing Shiho's determined voice. So this is... Mizuki's friend. Even she was just human at this time... all Shiho wanted was to save anyone she could reach. Although Mizuki knew better, that Shiho didn't have the strength to fight back. She loved composing. That should've been what she focused on instead of saving someone impossible to fight. 

The chains writhing violently. 

And... the sound of swallowing cut the tension. Making the room feel silent. Mizuki fell to her knees, sobbing even harder. Kouki rushed to calm her down... even he can't do anything. 

"Mrs. Kagome..." Ichika called for the spirit. "Is this... is this necessary?" 

"...You will know why eventually." That's what she said. Before they were brought to a different scene yet again. Now it's a familiar voice. 

"...Dad," 

The voice cracked with relief. "You're okay—" 

"Okay? Look around you, Akito. Do you call this okay? Trapped like rats in this pit because of your foolish choices." 

The team looked over each other, confusion on their face. 

"Eh?—" 

"Damn it, Akito. You just had to throw yourself into this world, too, didn't you? Do you have any idea what you've done?" 

Ena couldn't help but feel her adrenaline almost combust. "What is this? Why is Dad blaming him?" Beside her, An frowned bitterly, holding Ena's hand. "They're fighting..." 

"You always thought you knew better, didn't you?" Ken's strong voice rang out. "Disobeying. Running around. Dragging people into your mess. And now look at where you've brought yourself—where you've brought us." 

But Akito had tried to fight back. "That's not—!" 

"Not what? Not your fault?" Ken's voice leaves no room for Akito to even speak. "Don't you dare pretend, Akito. You've always been reckless. Always chasing after things you couldn't grasp. Do you even realize what you've done? To Ena? To us?" 

The mention of Ena's name made the team freeze to realize where this was going. 

"I... I didn't mean—" 

An looked like she almost broke. "No, no, Akito... don't let him—" 

"You never mean it!" Their father's voice snapped. "You've always liked this. Excuses, more excuses. You think good intentions will fix anything? You think hope and dreams will protect the people you love? Look at you—pathetic, weak, and useless! Always relying on others to save you!" 

Even Harumichi's face twisted to hear this one-sided fight. "That's not true." He said with a trembled whisper. "Akito's not weak." And his son agreed, eyes full of anger. "You're right. Akito is not useless. He's his son. How could he say something like that?!" 

"Stop..." the boy's voice now close to crying. 

Ken tched, chains echoed. "You think this is some childish game? You think you can just waltz into this place—a place you don't even understand—and everything will magically be fine? Do you realize how many times I've tried to keep you safe? How many ways have I fought to keep you out of this hell? And yet here you are—reckless, foolish, dragging everyone else down." 

"Stop—" The younger Shiraishi's voice cracked, but Ken cut him down again. Never letting him speak. 

"No! You don't get to speak! Do you even realize what you are now? You're nothing but a vessel—an empty shell that Manatsu will use to tear open and bring back a dead person! Do you understand? You're the reason we are doomed." 

"...Bastard." Kouki couldn't agree more with Mizuki. 

"And to think... your mother told me to listen to you." His voice cracked, but he forced it into venom again. "I should have known better. I should have ignored her. Because look what listening to you has brought us—ruin. If she could see this now, she'd know how much of a mistake it was to believe in you." 

Ena feels like her heart is split in two. "No! No, Dad. Stop!" Unfortunately, Ken's final words hurt her more like a slap to her face. 

"You are the curse that chained your family." 

The brunette's fist suddenly makes contact with the wall—everyone is surprised, but they can understand the anger Ena felt when hearing the meaningless, harsh words. 

There's a sound of silent sobs. 

That's all they need to know that Akito is hurting. Not from the Mastermind, but his father. The resonance shuddered, as though the voice had found its way into the very frequency Ichika and Mrs. Kagome had unlocked. 

Hope? 

What hope? 

There's no hope for me. Not even from my own family. 

"Is that..?" An's voice wavered. "Is that Akito's..?" 

Maybe I should never have been born at all. 

Ichika winced, clutching her head. "That voice— Shiraishi-kun's... thoughts..?" 

Ena, pale and trembling, glanced toward the team in panic. "That's mean..! Does that mean he wanted to end his life?!" Touya's breath hitched, his fists clenching. "Damn it, Akito—" 

And when they remembered Akito's voice drips into their minds, it hurts—because Akito's silence after Ken's words stretches long and heavy. They can feel the despair bleeding into him, as if the hope that lit him before is being slowly smothered. 

Harumichi instinctively clutches his chest because the heavy words—die—didn't fit Akito's happiness, joy, and innocence at all. 

The boy's the warmth they're clinging to. All of them are here because they owed him their earnest kindness. Inside Ena and An... begins to bend, threatening to fracture under the sorrow. 

Because... Akito's tremor soul shakes them too. 

For a moment, the group stood still, caught in the vibration as if listening to the very heartbeat of the school itself. 

And then— 

The air split with the sound of heavy steps and a sharp voice. 

"Guys!" 

From the shifting shadows of the hallway, two figures emerged—Rui and Ken. Rui's eyes, frantic and relieved, scanned the group, while Ken's presence bore the weight of a storm held back. Their arrival grounded the air, but it was not the relief Ena felt. All of them felt it. 

It was rage. 

Rage so hot it rose past the despair, past the confusion of the maze. Ena turned, her voice like a whip cutting through the silence that followed. 

"You..!" Her eyes snapped to Ken, her father. "Do you hear him? Do you hear what your son is going through right now? How could you—how could you let him reach that point?!" 

The Frequency's resonance still hummed faintly in the walls, but Ena's words rang sharper than any note. Her voice was not the sound of despair. It was fury, raw and trembling, a daughter finally unmasking her grief. 

And for a heartbeat—everything was suspended. 

The voices are fading. The father and daughter face each other, with Akito's despair still echoing in all of their chests. 

As Rui steadied his breath, ready to explain to them, he held back the thought. Ena stepped forward. Her hand trembled, not from fear, but from the furious weight of what she had just heard. Her brother's hope fell hard to the bottom, swallowed by the abyss—the sound of her brother, her sun, breaking. 

"You think you're protecting us? Protecting him? Like that?!" Ena spat, the walls trembling faintly as if the school itself resonated with her fury. 

"Do you know what I just heard, Father? Do you know what Akito sounds like when you crush him? When you make him believe he isn't enough?!" Her father flinched, but said nothing. Rui watched, silent for once, his gaze flicking between them. Then to the team behind Ena, who were equally disappointed with the older Shiraishi. 

Ena's voice cracked, but she pressed on. I need to stay strong for Akito. "All my life, you taught me to be strong, to survive—but now all you've done is chain him down. Do you understand? You are the reason he's drowning in despair! You talk about safety, but Akito doesn't need your walls. He needs your trust!" 

Her chest heaved. For a second, silence filled the hall like suffocating smoke. 

Ken's eyes flickered, his posture stiffening, as though he was trying to hide the blow her words had landed. Rui, quiet but firm, added, "Ken-san, I could argue with you until the stars fade, but her voice—her truth—is something you cannot turn from. If even your daughter sees the cage you built, then maybe it's time you admit it exists." 

Ken's fists clenched. He looked over everyone else and couldn't bring himself to say anything. 

Ena's tears welled but did not fall, because they were not of weakness—they were fire. An's sobs wailed like he failed her. Two Aoyagi's mirrored disappointment, mixed with ugly disgust, looks down on him. Even the Supernatural Club and Kouki... share the same expression. 

"Father," she whispered, broken and furious at once, "That's it. You're losing our trust. You're losing him." 

And for the first time, Ken's eyes wavered. 

Where did I go wrong...?

 

 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❀ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

 

 

 

The chains clattered as they fell away. Manatsu's cold hands lingered for a moment on Akito's wrists, but the boy didn't move an inch. He just sat there, limp, shoulders slumped forward as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. 

"...You didn't fight me," Manatsu said quietly, studying him with a strange tenderness. "Do you truly want this?" 

The boy gave him a faint laugh, if it could even be called that. 

It was empty, the sound of someone who had run out of tears. "...What else is there left for me?" he whispered, voice frayed like torn cloth. "I shouldn't have been born in the first place. If this... ends it... Then good." 

For a moment, silence weighed between them. 

Manatsu gently cups the younger's face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. But Akito's eyes—once filled with warmth and fire—are hollow now, dulled to a gray glassiness. 

That breaks something in Manatsu. 

His expression twists between pity and determination. He presses his forehead against Akito's. 

"...Then let me give you peace. You won't have to carry this curse anymore." 

He raises the ritual blade. 

Akito doesn't flinch. Doesn't blink. Doesn't even breathe properly. His silence is his consent. The ritual circle is activating, power swirling like wind. Manatsu grips the weapon tightly. 

"...Be free, Shiraishi Akito." 

Akito's lips trembled, but no words formed. Deep inside, his heart was raw, bleeding with the thought that he truly wanted this. 

What about Ena? 

What about your dream to become an idol? 

It doesn't matter anymore. 

When the steel arced downward, a sharp wind tore through the air. 

Petals burst from Akito's chest in a blinding rush—pink, glowing, endless. A storm of cherry blossoms exploded outward, scattering with a fierce gale that pushed Manatsu back, his blade screeching as it halted inches from Akito's body. 

"W-What—?!" Manatsu hissed, shielding his face from the whirling blossoms. 

From within the cascade, a figure emerged. 

Kisa. 

Oh... Her form shimmered, as if born from Akito's soul itself, eyes glowing with fury he had never seen in her before. The winds circled her like a shield, blossoms slicing through the air with sharp, cutting force. 

Her voice cracked like thunder. 

"Shiraishi Akito—what are you doing?!" 

Akito blinked, stunned, unable to comprehend. "Kisa-san...?" 

"You—giving up?!" Her voice shook, furious and trembling. "The boy I know—the boy who stood tall despite the weight on his shoulders—he would never agree to this!" 

That. Akito's chest constricted, tears brimming as her words struck deep. 

Kisa's glare burned into him, a storm of grief and rage all at once. "You think you're worthless? That you should never have been born? Then what about all the smiles you gave others? What about the warmth that you carried—even when you didn't see it yourself?!" 

The blossoms spiraled faster, shredding the ritual marks around them, scattering the oppressive air. 

She pointed at Manatsu, her voice sharp as a blade. "If you strike him, you’ll have to go through me first." Manatsu staggered back, eyes narrowing. For the first time, his calm cracked. And Akito— 

Akito could only stare, because for the first time since he fell into despair, something flickered in his hollow eyes. 

"...Smiles... that I gave... others..."

Notes:

shiho's ability is just like composing the air, guys. while mrs. kagome's worked like a conductor. maybe it's fitting for this arc

and sorry

i lied about akito getting better after chapter 10... 💔

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of My Soul Will Always Finds Their Way Back To You