Read The Ghost of Kurokawa High :: Chapter 16 - Even on a Sunday

CHAPTER XVI

~Even on a Sunday~

Sunday arrived, bringing with it the gentle warmth of a new day. As was their cherished tradition, Yuzuki and her mother set out together to visit the orphanage. The air was fresh and filled with the quiet promise of a peaceful morning as they walked side by side, carrying bags of homemade treats and small gifts for the children.

The orphanage, nestled on a quiet street lined with blooming hydrangeas, was already buzzing with laughter and playful shouts when they arrived. The children’s faces lit up the moment they saw Yuzuki and her mother at the gate. Little hands waved excitedly, and a few of the younger ones ran to greet them, tugging gently at their sleeves.

Inside, the atmosphere was warm and lively. Yuzuki helped her mother hand out snacks and listened to the children’s stories—tales of school, dreams, and the little adventures that filled their days. She played games with the younger kids, her laughter mingling with theirs, while her mother sat with the older children, offering gentle advice and encouragement.

As the morning turned to afternoon, Yuzuki found herself surrounded by a circle of children, all eager to share their drawings and crafts. She praised each one, admiring their creativity and determination. Her mother, meanwhile, chatted with the caretakers, discussing ways to make life at the orphanage a little brighter.

As Yuzuki continued admiring the children’s colorful drawings, a sudden commotion broke out in the room. One of the mischievous boys, Haru, had snatched a handful of coloring pencils from another boy, Sota, and dashed out with a triumphant grin. Sota’s eyes filled with tears as he watched his precious pencils disappear, his lower lip trembling.

Yuzuki immediately knelt beside Sota, gently patting his shoulder. “It’s okay, Sota-kun. I’ll get your pencils back,” she promised, offering him a reassuring smile. With that, she stood up and quickly slipped out into the hallway, following the sound of hurried footsteps and stifled giggles.

She spotted Haru trying to hide behind a doorway, clutching the stolen pencils tightly. Thinking fast, Yuzuki called out, “Oh no, Haru! I just saw the caretakers coming this way. If they find you here, they’ll think you’re hiding something!” Haru’s eyes widened, and in his panic, he darted out—right into Yuzuki’s waiting arms.

Cornered and caught, Haru’s bravado melted away. His grip on the pencils loosened, and tears welled up in his eyes. “Nobody likes me,” he sniffled, voice barely above a whisper. “Just because I like the color black…”

Yuzuki’s expression softened instantly. She knelt down to his level, her voice gentle. “That’s not true, Haru-kun. Liking black is nothing to be ashamed of. Black can be cool, mysterious, and even beautiful. But stealing isn’t the way to show what you like, right?”

Haru looked up at her, still sniffling but listening. Yuzuki continued, “How about we find a way for you to use your favorite color in your next drawing? And let’s return these pencils to Sota together. I’m sure he’d love to see what you can create.”

Haru hesitated, then nodded slowly, wiping his eyes. Together, they walked back to the art room, where Haru shyly returned the pencils to Sota and, with Yuzuki’s encouragement, began a new drawing—this time with a bold, beautiful black sky at the center. The other children gathered around, curious and soon admiring Haru’s unique style, and laughter returned to the room.

As Yuzuki comforted the children, her thoughts drifted back to the mysterious boy she’d encountered on Friday—the one who had bound and hurt Kaito so cruelly. The memory unsettled her, and questions swirled in her mind. Why did that boy attack Kaito with such intensity? What could have driven him to such cruelty? And just as troubling, why had Kaito, usually so calm, immediately tried to seize the boy upon being freed?

The encounter felt layered with secrets—there was a strange familiarity between the two, and the boy’s supernatural presence, along with his lack of a name or family, only deepened the mystery. Yuzuki’s mind twisted with the possibilities: Was there a hidden history between Kaito and the boy? Could the boy’s actions have been driven by something more than simple malice—perhaps a grudge, a warning, or even a desperate plea for attention? And what did Kaito know that made him react so strongly, as if there was unfinished business or a threat only he understood?

The questions lingered, unresolved, casting a shadow over Yuzuki’s heart even as she tried to focus on the warmth and laughter at the orphanage.

When it was time to leave, the children gathered at the gate to see them off, their smiles lingering long after Yuzuki and her mother waved goodbye. The walk home was quiet and content, both of them carrying the warmth of the visit in their hearts—a simple, meaningful tradition that made every Sunday special.

As the car hummed softly along the road, Yuzuki’s mother glanced at her in the rearview mirror, a gentle pride in her eyes. “You know, I heard from Hana that you spent two days at Kaito’s house while I was away,” she began, her tone warm and teasing. “And you even baked cookies to show your gratitude? My girl has grown so much in my absence.”

She smiled, shaking her head in mock disbelief. “I remember when you were too shy to even ask for seconds at dinner, and now you’re baking thank-you cookies and helping out around the house. I’m really proud of you, Yuzuki.” Her words lingered in the cozy car, the afternoon light painting everything with a golden glow.

Monday arrived, and with it the familiar rhythm of a new school week. Yet for Yuzuki, everything felt heavier. The strange events of the past days pressed on her chest—secrets she couldn’t share with anyone. Her friends remembered nothing of the supernatural happenings, her family wouldn’t be able to help even if she tried to explain, and now there was no one left to confide in. The weight of her unspoken worries lingered as she knelt at the entryway, tying her shoelaces in silence.

As she finished, Yuzuki’s mother, Mikazuki Ayame, appeared behind her, radiating gentle warmth. Without a word, Ayame wrapped Yuzuki in a tight embrace, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “All the very best for today!” her mother said, her smile dazzling and full of love.

Yuzuki mustered a smile in return, echoing her mother’s brightness despite the heaviness inside. “Thank you, Mom!” she replied, bowing politely before stepping out the door.

The door clicked shut behind her. Yuzuki leaned against it for a moment, exhaling deeply—caught between the comfort of her mother’s love and the loneliness of carrying her secrets alone.

As pampered as she was, Yuzuki had always been in the habit of sharing every detail of her life with her sisters and her mother. Yet now, faced with the bizarre and unsettling events at school, she found herself unable to speak a word of it to anyone. The strangeness of what she’d witnessed and the lingering fear that no one would believe her—or worse, that they’d worry needlessly—kept her silent. For the first time, Yuzuki carried a burden she couldn’t lighten with the comfort of family, her heart heavy with secrets she longed to share but simply couldn’t bring herself to say aloud.

Yuzuki arrived at Kurokawa High at 8:24 AM, the morning bustle swirling around her as she made her way up the staircase toward the third floor. Amid the crowd of students, she caught sight of the Korobokkuru—peering down at her from above, their eyes wide with worry, as if they’d been waiting all morning just for her.

She tilted her head, puzzled by their anxious expressions. Then, from behind the cluster of Korobokkuru, the little petling leader—the white, cat-like moth—appeared, gliding forward with a silent, graceful step before vanishing into the hallway like a cat slipping through shadows. The Korobokkuru, however, remained, their gaze fixed on Yuzuki as she ascended with the other students.

When she finally reached the third floor, the Korobokkuru wasted no time. They tugged gently at her feet with their tiny paws, urging her toward the Left Wing. But Yuzuki hesitated, glancing around at the dense crowd of students. Running off now would only draw unwanted attention.

She crouched slightly and mouthed quietly to the little ones, “Class begins in six minutes. I’ll come to the Left Wing in about half an hour, please wait.” The Korobokkuru’s worry deepened, but one among them seemed to understand her predicament. He nodded, whispering to his companions to let her go for now in their 'I see you...' language, assuring them they’d return for her in exactly thirty minutes.

Relieved, Yuzuki smiled gratefully, gave a small nod, and hurried off to her classroom, the promise of a strange meeting lingering at the edge of her thoughts.

As Yuzuki entered the classroom, her eyes immediately landed on Kaito, who sat at his desk at the end of the first column nearest to the door, absorbed in his phone. He looked completely normal—every trace of the injuries from before had vanished, as if nothing had ever happened.

Scanning the room, Yuzuki checked to see if there were any open seats behind or in front of Reina, but both were already taken. Bruh, she thought, eyeing the rest of the room. The other four columns were crowded with clusters of friends, making it difficult to squeeze through. Conveniently, the seat beside Kaito was not only empty but the path to it was clear.

She made her way over, sat down, and began settling her things. Kaito took notice.

“Good morning, Yuzuki-san,” he said, looking up from his phone.

“Good morning, Kaito-kun,” Yuzuki replied, her tone and expression neutral as she placed her textbook and pencil case on the table.

After a brief pause, Kaito spoke up again. “Yuzuki-san… about the other day. I forgot to thank you for saving me.”

“Oh! No worries. It’s alright,” Yuzuki replied, waving her hands dismissively. “I’m glad you’ve recovered at best.”

“Haha… thanks,” Kaito said, his voice tinged with awkwardness as he glanced away.

Yuzuki inhaled sharply, gathering her resolve, and turned to Kaito. With unwavering confidence, she pressed him: “Kaito-kun. Lately there’ve been weird things going on. Tell me, I’m not the only one who’s seeing all those!” Her insistence cut through the morning chatter.

Kaito’s expression dulled, his eyes dropping as he turned away, refusing to meet her gaze.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me,” Yuzuki pleaded, frustration creeping into her voice.

He turned back, slumped over his desk, arms folded over his head. He looked at her, lips parting as if to speak, but then he shut them tight and averted his gaze again.

“Kaito-kun! I’m your childhood friend! Aren’t friends supposed to trust each other with anything and everything?” she pressed, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and determination.

Kaito’s eyes narrowed with pain, uncertainty flickering across his face as his thoughts raced. Yuzuki’s sense of betrayal grew as she leaned across her desk, voice raised, “Kaito-kun!”

He let out a heavy sigh, finally turning to face forward, his silence weighing heavily between them.

Feeling the sting of rejection, Yuzuki straightened in her seat.

The classroom buzzed with quiet anticipation as Yakumo Toma, the tall, bespectacled homeroom teacher of Class 3-B, entered and called the class to order. He set his attendance book on the podium and began roll call, his voice crisp as he read out each name. Students responded one by one, the familiar routine settling everyone into their seats.

Once the roll call was complete and the last name checked off, Yakumo-sensei cleared his throat and launched into the day’s English lesson. Today’s topic was narrative tenses, and he guided the class through examples, asking students to translate short passages and explain the use of past perfect versus simple past. His brisk, no-nonsense style kept everyone attentive—at least, almost everyone.

Yuzuki, however, could barely focus. She kept glancing at the clock, counting down the minutes. Exactly half an hour had passed since her silent promise to the Korobokkuru. She scanned for a chance to excuse herself, but the teacher was engrossed in explaining the difference between past perfect and simple past.

Suddenly, Yuzuki felt a gentle but insistent tug at her shoes. She glanced down—there were the Korobokkuru, peeking up at her from beneath her desk, their tiny faces anxious and urgent. She quickly pressed a finger to her lips and whispered, “Shhh,” hoping none of her classmates noticed. Luckily, Kaito was dozing on his desk, oblivious to the commotion.

Seizing her moment, Yuzuki raised her hand and stood up. “Sensei, may I please go to the restroom?”

The teacher frowned, clearly annoyed. “Why didn’t you go before class started, Mikazuki?”

Yuzuki bowed her head apologetically. “I’m very sorry, Sensei. I didn’t realize I’d need to.”

He sighed, waving her off with a stern look. “Fine, but hurry up. Don’t make a habit of this.”

“Thank you very much!” Yuzuki bowed deeply, then hurried out of the classroom, the Korobokkuru trailing after her in a flurry of tiny footsteps, their mission clear and urgent.

Yuzuki stepped briskly out of the classroom, the Korobokkuru trailing behind her. She knew she couldn’t head straight for the Left Wing—the path would take her in the opposite direction of the bathrooms, and Yakumo-sensei would easily spot her if he glanced out the door.

Instead, she made her way toward the girls’ restroom as expected, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching too closely. Once at the bathroom entrance, she slipped inside, waited a few seconds, then quietly exited through the side door. The nearest staircase was just beyond the restroom, leading down to the second floor.

She hurried down the stairs, the Korobokkuru keeping pace, their tiny feet pattering softly on the steps. On the second floor, Yuzuki moved quickly through the quieter hallway, weaving past a couple of students before reaching another staircase that would take her directly up to the third floor, closer to the Left Wing.

Climbing the stairs two at a time, she reached the landing and paused, making sure the coast was clear. Then, with the Korobokkuru urging her on, she slipped into the corridor that led to the Left Wing, her heart pounding with anticipation and nerves. The detour had worked—she’d avoided suspicion and was free to meet the Korobokkuru without drawing unwanted attention.

To be Continued...