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୨୧⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧
Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 |
──────"Yoroshiku ne, Nisemiko-san."
The word hung in the air, landing between them with a faint echo, enough to make Shiori's eye twitch. The forced calm she'd been clinging to wavered.
"So you do have a name," Her voice caught somewhere between relief and annoyance.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the hem of her sleeve brushing against her wrist.
Minamoto smiled, faintly.. "I could've let you figure it out yourself... but I thought I'd save you the trouble."
Save me the trouble? Oh, how generous. Her lips pressed into a thin line, tight enough to show she was two seconds away from throwing something.
"How terribly thoughtful of you," she said, every word dipped in sugar and sarcasm.
"It's simply efficient," the blonde replied, unfazed by the sarcasm dripping from her words.
Shiori blinked slowly, exhaling through her nose, already drained. "...Right," she muttered, meeting his gaze. "Teru, then."
"Minamoto," he corrected instantly, tone clipped but polite.
Her head fell back with a groan. "Do you ever relax?" waving her fan once before letting it rest limply against her leg.
"Occasionally," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Just not around people who suck spirits into her fan by accident."
"That was ages ago!" she shot back, the pitch of her voice rising as she gestured with both hands now.
Minamoto raised a brow, expression neutral. "It was last week."
Her mouth opened, then closed again as she frowned. Somehow, It felt like it'd been ages.
That earned her the barest twitch at the corner of his mouth-his version of a laugh.
She wasn't sure if that was progress or mockery.
Shiori deflated with a sigh, the fight draining out of her as fast as it had come.
Across from her, Minamoto wore that insufferable, shit-eating grin on his face that said everything for him.
The blonde leaned back in his chair, fingers clasped together, that perfect mix of boredom and calculated amusement plastered on his face.
"Now let's talk business," he said lightly.
Shiori lifted her head just enough to squint at him. "Business?"
"You've been here for weeks," he went on, folding his arms over his chest. "You've probably heard about the Seven Wonders by now."
She scrunched her brow. "Heard of them. Thought they were just stories people made up to scare first years."
Minamoto pulled a worn out notebook from his bag and flipped it open, revealing sketches, names, and dates-all neat and organized in sharp handwriting.
He must've been the kind of student who took color-coded notes even for disasters.
"Each Wonder keeps the balance of the school," he continued. "When one goes rogue, things get messy."
"Messy like-?" Her gaze flicked to the page.
He tapped the sketch. "Disappearances. Distorted spaces. Spirits bleeding into the human world."
"...Right. Totally normal high school problems." Shiori eyed the notebook, barely reading one line when the blonde slammed it shut.
He hummed quietly, like he almost agreed. "In fact," Minamoto glanced up, meeting her gaze. "you've already met one."
That caught her off guard.
"I-pfft, what? No, I haven't," Shiori said, though her voice cracked halfway through.
Her brain scrambled to catch up, words tripping over themselves. "Why would you even-how would I-nah."
Minamoto didn't answer right away.
He just watched her, head tilted slightly, that unreadable calm like he'd expected this exact reaction.
The silence between them stretched, heavy enough that Shiori felt like slowly shrinking in her seat.
"...You're serious," she said finally, searching his expression for a hint of humor and finding none.
Shiori frowned, rubbing her temple as if that might jog a memory. "That can't be right. I would've noticed."
"Would you, though?" Minamoto's tone was polite, dangerously close to condescending. "You're not exactly observant."
"Excuse me?" Her jaw tightened.
He didn't flinch. "You've been talking to one for months."
Her mind went blank for a second.
Then it flooded-every conversation, every weirdly timed noise, every draft of cold air she'd blamed on the AC acting up. She'd been talking to one for months? She couldn't even see ghosts. He had to be messing with her. He was definitely messing wit-
"-I already expected you to be slow," Minamoto's voice cut through her spiral, calm, annoyingly amused, "but this... haha you're pretty dumb, huh."
Shiori's chest rose with a sharp exhale, lips parting in a huff. Her fan wobbled in her grip before she dropped it onto the table with a quiet clack.
For a moment, she looked like she might retort-then her shoulders sank.
"I-okay... I can't argue with that," her voice thin with reluctant defeat.
"Think about it," he went on.
"You can't see them. You can't interact with them. Yet here you are, trying to understand things you literally have zero affinity for...That's impressive in the wrong way." His tone patient in an infuriating way.
Shiori blinked at him, unsure if she wanted to throw something or just melt into the floor.
"You really have a way with words, huh," rubbing her temple before slumping into the nearest chair.
"I try." Minamoto let out a quiet huff of amusement.
Shiori groaned into her hands. "Yeah, you really shouldn't."
Shiori had officially reached the point in her evening where her life choices were starting to look... questionable.
For a second, she almost laughed because surely no one could say that with a straight face.
"Okay, so." she said, finally breaking off the silence, "Let me make sure I got this right. You said I've been talking to a ghost for months."
"A ghost that, apparently, knows me. And you're just-what-fine with that?" Throwing up her hands, her tone rising.
"I'm fine with many things," Minamoto replied, scribbling something in his notebook. "That doesn't mean I approve."
"Approve?" she repeated, incredulous. "Wow, sorry, I forgot to run my life-ruining decisions by you first."
Minamoto hummed. "You wouldn't be the first."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Shiori sneered.
"Some of them get attached easily," he flipped a page. "And, you talk too much. It's a risk."
"I-what?!" She pointed her fan at him, half-offended, half-stunned. "You can't just-what is wrong with you?"
"Where do you want me to start?"
Her mouth opened, ready to fire something back, but Minamoto was already turning the page again like she wasn't even worth the argument.
Minamoto slid the notebook across the table, stopping right in front of her.
Shiori blinked down at the page,sketches, dates, notes and then at the photo clipped to the corner.
"Wait. Wait, wait, wait-no. No. That's-"
"-Tsuchigomori-san," Minamoto said flatly. "You know him."
Shiori's jaw dropped. "But he's a teacher!"
"You-he...!" She jabbed a finger at the page. "That's insane! He's a ghost?!"
"An Apparition," Minamoto corrected, as if the semantics made it better.
Shiori's hands flew to her head, almost pulling out her hair. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me-I've been cleaning shelves for a dead guy?!"
Shiori let out a strangled noise-somewhere between a groan and a scream-before collapsing back into her chair.
"Relax," Minamoto said, flipping his notebook closed with a soft snap. "You'll get used to it."
She stared at him, jaw slack. "Used to what? Finding out I'm a part-time staff for the afterlife?!"
"If it helps," he said lightly, "he's one of the more reasonable ones."
"Reasonable?!" she sputtered. "He's dead!"
He shrugged. "Still better at managing students than most of the faculty."
Shiori dropped her face into her hands for the second time that day, muffling a sound that could only be described as despair.
At some point, Shiori stopped keeping track of how weird her life had gotten.
Finding out her teacher was a ghost should've been a major plot twist, but at this stage, it barely cracked the top three on her list of recent disasters.
Now she was standing in front of what was supposed to look like a building.
Her fan drooped at her side as she stared at the crooked sign, half-buried under vines.
The windows were boarded shut-shattered, and the whole thing looked like it was one whiff of air away from collapsing.
For the first time since she got here, she actually wished she was back to cleaning shelves.
This is how people die in horror movies.
She didn't even know why she agreed to this. Must've been that rare moment where common sense just... clocked out.
"I don't understand why I have to tag along," she grumbled for what had to be the tenth time, trudging after Minamoto into the darkened building.
"Hello? Did you forget? I can't see supernaturals."
A forgotten structure that was supposedly home to something that liked to mimic children's laughter.
No one had taken it seriously until recently, when kids from the daycare next door started disappearing, and being found in one of the floors of the abandoned building.
This led to the principal of the daycare to seek Minamoto Teru's help, seeing as no leads were found during the police investigation.
That being said, somehow-
Shiori got roped into it.
Minamoto didn't even look back. "Funny how you say that when you just sealed one last week, Nisemiko-san."
Her brows remained furrowed, one hand gripping the sleeve of the blonde's uniform and the other pointing her fan at every shadow that so much as breathed wrong.
She didn't even believe in ghosts.
But for some reason, the whole ambiance of the place gave her creeps. Or was it just Minamoto's presence throwing her off?
And why does he keep calling me Nisemik-Oh.
"I don't even know how I did that," she muttered. "This place is creepy. Aren't you creeped out?"
"Really? You're asking me?"
"What? It's a serious question!"
Minamoto shot her a sidelong glance, unimpressed. "You really think that fan's going to save you?"
Shiori narrowed her eyes. "Maybe not. But it's something."
"'Something,' huh?" His lips twitched, barely holding back a laugh. "Comforting."
"Even if it won't, you're a pretty good shield."
The hallway stretched before them-long, narrow, and groaning under their weight.
Dust drifted through the slivers of moonlight sneaking past broken windows.
A soft scrape echoed ahead.
Shiori froze, eyes darting toward the sound. "Did you hear that?"
"It's probably just the floor," Minamoto said evenly, trying to pry her grip off his sleeve, but ultimately failing to do so.
Something shifted deeper inside-like a box being pushed over.
Shiori stopped dead, dragging him to a halt by the arm.
Minamoto sighed quietly, the sound echoing in the tense air as he continued forward, the crisp folds of his uniform now wrinkled beyond salvation.
Then came another sound. A faint metallic clang.
Shiori's face drained of color, her hand inching higher up his arm. "Did someone just pass by?"
Totally reasonable distance.
Then came a muffled tap-tap-tap-irregular, deliberate, like someone or something was running towards them.
Shiori's head whipped around like a maniac, fan raised like a weapon. Scanning the hallway half-expectant that something would appear.
"That can't be the wind. You seriously have a problem with your hearing." she muttered.
"Depends on your definition of wind," Minamoto replied, suspiciously calm.
"Pretty sure mine doesn't include footsteps."
He didn't answer, but his shoulders tightened ever so slightly.
Another faint sound-a scuff, closer this time.
By now, she was glued to his side, one hand still clutching his sleeve, the other trembling midair.
Something clattered behind them.
Shiori yelped and-before logic could intervene-threw her arm across his face.
"Did you see that?" she hissed, eyes squeezed shut.
Then, in that calm, unbearably dry tone of his, Minamoto said, "Hard to say. Your arm is blocking my view."
Shiori looked down, realizing only then that her entire forearm was plastered across his face, his hair sticking out at weird angles where she'd smushed it.
Mortified, she yanked her hand back like she'd just touched fire.
She cleared her throat-once, twice-and adjusted her grip on the fan like she meant to do that all along. "Right. Okay. That's fine. Everything's fine."
Minamoto didn't say anything at first, but she could feel his stare-one of those quiet, unreadable ones that carried way too much judgment for a single look.
"...You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she muttered, side-eyeing him.
"Was it that obvious?" Minamoto inquired, and somehow made it sound polite.
She huffed, irritation spiking. "Unbelievable."
"On the contrary," he replied mildly, "this is starting to feel pretty standard with you."
Shiori shot him a look that could have singed holy paper. "You're hilarious, you know that?"
Before she could come up with a comeback, the floor beneath them shuddered a deep, low rumble that vibrated up through the soles of her shoes.
Thet stopped dead on their tracks.
Dust drifted down from the ceiling.
"...Was that you?" she whispered.
Minamoto's gaze flicked past her shoulder, eyes narrowing. "No."
A faint, echoing sound carried down the hall-soft at first, almost delicate.
There shouldn't be a kid anywhere near a place like this.
The sound bounced off the cracked walls, light and fleeting, before it disappeared into the kind of silence that pressed against her ears.
Shiori swallowed hard, eyes darting around the dim hallway.
Her fingers twitched, tightening around her fan. "You heard that, right? Please tell me that it wasn't just me."
Minamoto tilted his head slightly, completely calm. "Try not to scream."
Her head snapped toward him. "Oh, I'm the problem now?"
"You usually are," he said without missing a beat.
Her mouth fell open, then shut again, muttering curses under her breath instead. The soft snap of her fan closing hung in the air.
They walked in silence for a good minute, Shiori's eyes darting between doorframes, shadows.
Every sound seemed louder-her own breathing, the shuffling of her sleeve brushing her wrist, the hum of air slipping through cracks.
"This place is disgusting," she murmured finally, trying to keep her tone light but failing. "Feels like the kind of building that gives people tetanus just by looking at it."
"That's not how tetanus works."
She shot him a glare. "Do you ever stop talking?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing." The corner of his mouth twitched-barely there, but enough to make her narrow her eyes.
A faint shift in the air made her pause.
Just then, a sound drifted down the hall.
A laugh that didn't quite remember how to be one. The walls rippled like water, swallowing what little light there was.
A low, hollow hum filled the air.
Shiori felt her pulse in her throat. "...That's a kid?"
Beside her, Minamoto's hand moved, steady, drawing his sword in one clean motion. The faint crackle of lightning followed, threading along the blade in quiet arcs.
The light it cast was bright enough to see the outline ahead.
Small shoulders. Bare feet. A head that tilted at the wrong angle.
Shiori's voice shrank to a whisper. "Yeah, no, I'm out."
The corridor groaned, air warping around them. Minamoto moved in a blur, blade cutting clean through the apparition.
The thing shrieked, its form collapsing inward as the first bolt split the air. The flash filled the hall, leaving only the smell of burnt dust.
Shiori stood there for a long second, blinking through the afterimage burned into her eyes. "...Is it over?"
Minamoto sheathed his sword with a quiet click. "For now."
Her shoulders sagged, every muscle realizing too late how tense they'd been. The adrenaline drained out of her all at once,
Once they stepped outside, Shiori stopped just past the gate, taking a slow breath, the night air felt cool against her skin.
For the first time in what felt like hours, the world wasn't humming with static or shadows. Just the faint buzz of streetlights and the rustle of leaves.
She let out a breath. "You know, for once, I'm actually glad to be back on solid ground."
Minamoto locked the gate behind them. "You say that like it won't happen again."
"Oh, it won't," she said, nodding firmly. "Next time you're on your own."
He shot her a knowing look. "Sure."
Minamoto's lips twitched-barely, but it counted.
Shiori rolled her eyes and muttered, "Unbelievable," before tugging her sleeves up.
Then, quieter, almost to herself, "At least we're finally done here."
A soft thunk echoed behind them.
Shiori turned slowly, eyes narrowing at the door that had just creaked open again on its own.
Minamoto gave that annoying smile. "You were saying?"
Her shoulders slumped. "...I hate my life."
