CHAPTER XX
-The Price of Sight-
“Who’s there?!” Haruki shouted, his voice slicing through the chaos. Around the circle, startled voices erupted in confusion and alarm, the ritual’s cadence shattering into a cacophony of shouts and questions.
The headmaster, Kanzaki Ryouma, fumbled for his flashlight and swung its beam toward the upper corner of the MP hall’s roof. Instantly, the kendama ball shot out again, striking the flashlight with pinpoint accuracy. The device flew from his grasp, clattering to the floor, its light extinguished before it could reveal the attacker.
The next instant, the ball lashed out at Yuzuki’s shackles. Metal snapped and clattered to the ground. Yuzuki gasped, her lungs filling with air as she scrambled upright, finally freed.
The exorcists regrouped, their training kicking in as they launched spells and attacks toward the shadows. But the figure moved impossibly fast, leaping from shadow to shadow, the elongated kendama cracking through the air with uncanny precision—striking at wrists, ankles, and weapons, forcing the exorcists back with each swing.
Panic and confusion surged as the mysterious rescuer danced through the darkness, the red ritual light flickering wildly across the chaos.
Suddenly, the thread of the kendama snaked through the air, looping firmly around Yuzuki’s waist. Before she could even gasp, she was yanked backward with startling force—pulled right out of the glowing ritual circle. Her body slid across the polished floor, the red light blurring past her eyes as the chain snapped tight and dragged her like a toy on a string.
The doors of the MP Hall exploded open with a thunderous crash, the ancient wood splintering as if struck by an invisible battering ram. Yuzuki’s heart pounded as she was whisked through the doorway, her back scraping across the cold floor, the world spinning in a dizzying rush.
Inside, chaos reigned. The exorcists scrambled to their feet, shouting orders and incantations, but the mysterious figure with the kendama was everywhere at once. The ball whipped through the air, striking hands, knees, and shoulders with surgical precision. Each blow sent another exorcist sprawling, their spells and weapons clattering uselessly to the floor. Even Kaito, his face twisted in shock and anger, was forced back, unable to get close to the retreating Yuzuki.
Yuzuki caught a glimpse of the kendama’s wielder—a shadowy figure darting from beam to beam, their face obscured, movements impossibly swift. The thread at her waist tightened, pulling her faster and faster down the corridor, away from the ritual, away from the red-lit horror.
As she was dragged to safety, the last thing Yuzuki saw was the MP Hall’s doors slamming shut behind her, the muffled shouts and chaos fading into the distance. She was free—rescued by a stranger who moved like a phantom, leaving the defeated exorcists behind in the shattered ritual hall.
The boy deftly pulled Yuzuki into a classroom with the kendama thread, sliding the door shut behind them. With a soft click, he flicked on the lights. The harsh overhead glow revealed the truth: it was the same burnt room from the Left Wing, now miraculously restored—its door fixed, the walls clean, the air no longer heavy with soot.
Yuzuki stared in disbelief as the boy came into full view. It was the little boy from earlier that morning, healthy and whole, his eyes bright with determination. Around them, the Korobokkuru were already gathered, and as soon as they saw Yuzuki, they rushed to her side, wrapping their tiny arms around her in a flurry of comfort and relief.
Tears streamed down Yuzuki’s cheeks. The shock, the terror, the overwhelming relief—all of it crashed over her at once. She sank to her knees, sobbing openly as the boy approached. Gently, he knelt beside her and began undoing the shackles still clamped to her wrists and ankles.
Yuzuki wept harder, covering her face with her hands, her body wracked with sobs as the weight of the ordeal finally broke through. The Korobokkuru clung to her, murmuring soft reassurances, while the boy worked quietly, his hands steady and kind, freeing her from the last remnants of her chains.
“Just like the saying goes, ‘What goes around comes around.’ You’re lucky I recovered on time,” the boy said, his voice steady and matter-of-fact.
Yuzuki’s sobs faded as she looked up at him, swallowing hard. “Th-thank—”
He cut her off with a small shake of his head. “No need. I’m just returning the favor,” he replied, settling down in front of her. The petling leader—the cat-like moth—appeared out of thin air, brushing affectionately against his folded legs.
He watched Yuzuki quietly, noticing the way her hands trembled as she wiped away her tears. She’s utterly terrified from the shock of being sacrificed, he thought, concern flickering in his eyes.
Sensing her distress, the little Korobokkuru hurried over with their morning treasures: hand-drawn pictures, bits of candy, and shiny objects. They offered them to Yuzuki, crowding around her with hopeful, comforting smiles.
Yuzuki giggled softly, a shaky smile breaking through as she tried to reassure them she was okay. But her voice wouldn’t come—caught somewhere between relief and exhaustion—so she simply nodded, her gratitude shining through her teary eyes as she accepted their gifts and comfort.
The boy locked eyes with her, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. “Mikazuki Yuzuki, right?”
She nodded, still shaky.
He scooped the cat-moth onto his lap, giving her a long, almost amused look. “You have any clue what kind of mess you’ve landed in?” His tone was light, almost teasing, but his eyes were sharp.
Yuzuki dropped her gaze, shame and confusion mixing in her chest.
He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Man, you really walked right into it. That whole scene the other day—your friend getting ‘hurt’ in the Korobokkuru’s key room? Total setup. The student council was already sus about the kks returning stuff so fast. They figured someone who could actually see them was helping out. So, they set a trap. Sent your friend in to mess with me, hoping you’d show up and out yourself as the one with the sight. And, well, you did.” He shrugged, stroking the cat’s fur with casual indifference. “That’s when I realized—if they found you, they’d use you as the sacrifice to seal the gate. Classic move.”
Yuzuki’s eyes went wide, the truth crashing over her. It… was all a trap? Is that why Kaito was so weird today? Because the ritual was happening tonight? Her shoulders slumped as she processed it all.
The boy stood, stretching his arms overhead, the cat weaving around his ankles. “Anyway, heads up—they’re probably already searching for you. Won’t take long for them to sniff us out. They’re on a tight schedule; gotta wrap up their little ritual before the clock runs out.”
Yuzuki finally found her voice, though it trembled. “Wh-what… what should I do?”
He shot her a nonchalant glance, hands tucked in his pockets. “Who knows?” he replied, cool as ever, a sly grin flickering on his lips as he strolled toward the window, the cat trailing behind him.
The boy lounged against a desk, tossing the kendama ball lightly in one hand, his gaze never leaving Yuzuki. He launched into a string of aimless, rapid-fire questions and observations—half teasing, half philosophical.
“So, you ever wonder why cats always land on their feet? Or why school hallways are creepier at night? I mean, seriously, what’s up with that?” He grinned, eyes glinting mischievously. “You know, if this were a movie, this’d be the part where the hero makes a dumb choice and everything goes sideways. Just saying.”
He kept the banter going, drawing her into his rhythm, the tension in the room shifting from dread to something strange and electric. He leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “You ever get that feeling, like you’re in the wrong story?”
Before she could answer, he pushed off the wall he was leaning onto and, with an effortless motion, began to float—feet lifting from the ground, body weightless. In a heartbeat, he drifted toward her, stopping so close their faces were mere centimeters apart. The air between them felt charged, his sly, smug smile never wavering.
“Tell you what,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting, “why don’t you become my tether?” His eyes gleamed with a challenge, as if daring her to step into a new story—one entirely her own.
Yuzuki blinked, her breath catching as the boy hovered so close. “T-tether…?” she stammered, the word awkward on her tongue. “W-what…what does that even mean?”
The question hung in the air, her voice small and uncertain, eyes wide as she searched his face for any hint of an answer.
The boy’s grin widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mischief. He spun the kendama ball lazily in the air, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make her squirm.
“‘Tether,’ huh?” he echoed, as if tasting the word. “Basically, it means you’d be my anchor. My link to this world.” He floated a little higher, then leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “See, spirits like me? We need someone real—someone alive—to keep us from fading out or going all… well, ghostly. It’s a give-and-take thing.”
He winked, his tone teasing but oddly sincere. “You help me stick around, and I help you not get, you know, sacrificed by a bunch of exorcist boomers. Win-win, right?”
He hovered back just a bit, giving her space, but his eyes never left hers—watchful, sly, and full of unspoken promises. “So, what do you say? Wanna rewrite the ending to your story?”
Yuzuki’s brow furrowed, her voice trembling. “You’re saying… you’ll help me escape from those exorcists, but only if I become your anchor? In what sense?”
The boy flashed a lopsided, Gen Z grin, spinning the kendama ball around his finger. “Yeah, exactly. I’ll be bound to you—like, literally tethered. So even if the gate slams shut, I don’t get yoinked back to the supernatural realm. I get to chill here in the human world, thanks to you.” He floated backwards, hands behind his head, totally unfazed. “Think of it as a supernatural VPN—keeps me connected, keeps you protected. Not a bad deal, huh?”
He winked, the smugness in his voice impossible to miss. “So, what do you say? Wanna be the reason I stick around—and, you know, not get sacrificed?”
Yuzuki eyed him skeptically, her voice edged with doubt. “So you’ll keep fighting for me every time they come after me?” She knew the question was almost pointless—she’d seen him hurt before, and if he could be overpowered once, what was stopping it from happening again? This whole deal could be just another trick.
The boy snorted, rolling his eyes with a dramatic flair. “Nahh! Why bother with all that anime fight scene stuff? I’ll just wipe their memories—poof, gone. They won’t even remember you can see spirits, let alone that you’re the sacrifice. Problem solved, easy mode.” He shot her a finger-gun and a smug grin, floating upside down for emphasis. “Trust me, it’s way less exhausting than throwing hands every night.”
Yuzuki’s eyes lit up, a flicker of hope breaking through her fear. “Are you serious?” she asked, barely daring to believe it.
The boy smirked, crossing his arms casually. “What else?” he shot back, sounding way too chill for the situation.
Yuzuki narrowed her eyes, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “You’re not tricking me, are you? Baby boy!”
The boy rolled his eyes so hard it was almost audible. “Bruh, do I look like I’ve got time for 4D chess? I’m literally offering you a cheat code here.” He floated a little closer, pointing at her with mock offense. “And yo, don’t call me baby boy. That’s illegal.”
She grinned, shrugging. “Well, you don’t have a name. What else am I supposed to call you?”
He opened his mouth to argue, then paused, deflating a bit. “Okay, fair. Still—don’t make it weird,” he muttered, suddenly a lot quieter.
She giggled, the sound light and genuine. “Alright, BABY BOY!!!”
The boy groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Ugh!” He flicked the kendama ball with a smirk, the tension between them easing just a little.
The little Korobokkuru clustered around Yuzuki, rubbing against her arms and legs, their soft fur and tiny hands offering comfort. Their presence was warm and grounding, a stark contrast to the fear that had consumed her moments before.
Suddenly, the sound of something crashing echoed from the hallway outside—sharp, violent, and unmistakably close. The Korobokkuru froze, their ears twitching, and the boy’s playful expression vanished, replaced by sharp alertness. The tension in the room snapped back in an instant, the fragile sense of safety shattered as chaos threatened to break through once more.
Without missing a beat, the boy’s eyes flashed with urgency. In one swift motion, he flicked his kendama, the thread snaking around Yuzuki’s waist with practiced precision.
“Hang on!” he called, his voice a mix of excitement and warning.
Before Yuzuki could even gasp, he yanked her close and launched himself toward the shattered window. Glass crunched beneath his sneakers as he leapt, pulling her with him. The world outside blurred past in a rush of night air and city lights, the kendama thread keeping her securely tethered to him as they soared out of the burning classroom and into the unknown.
Behind them, the sounds of chaos grew fainter, swallowed by the wind as they made their escape.
To be Continued...
Comments (0)
See all