Kyo Shiki rubbed at the faint dark circles under his eyes as he stepped into Seiei High’s bustling corridor the next morning. After the midnight exorcism in the music room, he hadn’t managed much sleep. Memories of Aoi’s sorrowful spirit – the way she dissolved into gentle droplets of light – still weighed on his mind. At his locker, Kyo found Reika Mizuki waiting quietly. She, too, looked a touch pale, but managed a small smile when their eyes met.
“Morning,” Reika said softly. Her fingers clutched the strap of her bookbag, knuckles white. “How…how are you feeling, Kyo?”
“Tired, but okay,” Kyo replied. He gave a reassuring nod. “More importantly, how are you? Last night was…intense.” He kept his voice low; the hallway was noisy with other students, but he didn’t want anyone overhearing mentions of spirits.
Reika breathed out, her shoulders relaxing a bit. “I’m fine. Still a bit in disbelief, honestly.” She glanced around to make sure no one lingered close. “Did that really all happen? Aoi’s ghost…my—my weird voice that reached her….”
“It happened,” Kyo said gently. He remembered vividly how Reika had bravely stepped forward, calling out to Aoi with pure empathy, stopping the ghost’s rage. “You were amazing, Reika. You helped save Aoi’s soul. You have a gift.”
Reika’s cheeks warmed at the praise. “I was so scared,” she admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But when I saw her pain, I—I just knew I had to do something. I couldn’t let her keep hurting or hurting others.” Her eyes met Kyo’s, earnest and moist. “Thank you for believing in me.”
Before Kyo could respond, a cheerful voice interrupted, echoing down the hall: “Oi, Kyo! Reika! Wait up!”
Hiroki Endo bounded toward them, nearly colliding with a sophomore carrying science projects. Kyo stepped aside just in time as Hiroki skidded to a halt. Hiroki’s uniform was slightly askew and there was a Band-Aid on his chin, evidence of another clumsy tumble. But he wore an eager grin.
“You two look like zombies,” Hiroki declared with a chuckle. “Don’t tell me you went on another secret ghost hunt without me!”
Kyo and Reika exchanged glances. Hiroki had been one of Kyo’s first friends at Seiei High—a loud, enthusiastic classmate who had quickly attached himself to Kyo’s side. After hearing rumors of strange events on campus, Hiroki was determined to join any supernatural misadventures. Kyo had filled him in on last night’s exorcism this morning via text, albeit sparing some of the scarier details.
“We didn’t exactly plan it,” Kyo said, adjusting his bookbag on his shoulder. “It just… happened.”
Hiroki pouted theatrically, running a hand through his unruly brown hair. “Man, I miss all the cool stuff! First a haunted music room and now what? You guys look like you fought a demon or something.”
Reika stifled a laugh. “Not a demon, just a very sad ghost. Trust me, I’m still processing it.”
Hiroki’s eyes widened. “So it’s true! The music room was haunted? I thought you were just pulling my leg, Kyo.” He leaned in, brimming with excitement. “Was it really Aoi’s ghost? The girl who—”
Kyo nodded solemnly. “It was. But she’s at peace now.”
Hiroki exhaled, equal parts astonished and impressed. Then he straightened up, determination shining in his eyes. “Next time, I’m coming with you for sure. I can’t let my buddy Kyo hog all the heroics, right?” He thumped his chest proudly. “Hiroki Endo, ghost hunter extraordinaire, at your service!”
Kyo couldn’t help but smile at Hiroki’s enthusiasm. “Alright, alright. Just remember, it’s not all fun and games. It can be dangerous.”
Reika gave a fond shake of her head. Hiroki’s positivity was contagious, even if he had a knack for stumbling at critical moments. “We’ll be glad to have your help, Hiroki,” she said kindly. “I’m sure there’ll be more… unusual cases.” As the words left her mouth, Reika had no idea how soon they would ring true.
Just then, the first bell rang. Students began dispersing to homerooms. Hiroki sighed. “Duty calls. See you at lunch?”
Kyo nodded. “Lunch on the roof as usual.”
Reika offered a small wave. “See you then. And Hiroki—try not to get any new bruises before then, okay?”
Hiroki laughed, winking as he jogged off. “No promises!”
That afternoon, a murmur of distress swept through the school. By the time the lunch break arrived, news had spread of a mysterious incident in Class 1-C. Kyo heard snippets as he collected his bento from his locker: “…just collapsed at her desk…” “…third one this week, I’m telling you!” “They say she wouldn’t wake up at all…”
Frowning, Kyo navigated toward the rooftop staircase where his friends usually ate. Reika was already there, standing by the chain-link fence with the midday sun framing her slender figure. She was chewing her lip, clearly worried. Hiroki was pacing nearby, an unopened can of soda in hand.
“You heard?” Kyo asked quietly as he joined them.
Reika turned, her brow creased. “One of my classmates—Ayumi Watanabe—collapsed during math today. She just… wouldn’t wake up. They took her to the nurse’s office, and then to the hospital.”
Kyo set down his bento, concern etching into his face. “Ayumi… she’s your class’s rep, isn’t she? Was she ill?”
Reika shook her head. “No. Ayumi’s one of the healthiest people I know. Top of the class, always energetic. She was perfectly fine this morning, a little tired maybe, but we all are.” She hesitated, fingers twisting nervously. “Kyo, this is the second case in 1-C. Two days ago, another student, Daiki, fell into some kind of coma during homeroom. He’s still in the hospital, still asleep. And last week, there was Miho… also from my class.” Reika’s voice lowered. “Three students in 1-C in a week. All just falling asleep and not waking up.”
Hiroki clicked open his soda, the hiss punctuating the heavy silence. “People are saying Class 1-C is cursed or something.” He tried to laugh it off but his eyes betrayed anxiety. “I mean, either that or there’s some gas leak only in that classroom? But that’d be one weird gas leak.”
Kyo folded his arms, staring out over the school courtyard without really seeing it. Three unexplained comas, all in the same class… He felt a familiar prickling at the back of his neck – the instinct that something supernatural was afoot. “It does sound like more than coincidence,” he murmured.
Reika brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, the breeze tugging at it. “This morning when Ayumi collapsed… I felt something, Kyo.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “A chill, just for a second. And it suddenly felt so hard to keep my eyes open, like something was pressing down on me. It went away as soon as Ayumi fell.”
Kyo looked at her sharply. “You think it was…?”
She nodded. “It reminded me of last night, that heavy sadness in the air when Aoi’s spirit appeared. Not exactly the same, but… similar.”
Hiroki’s eyes darted between them. He set the soda down, forgotten. “So you’re thinking ghost? Another one?”
“Possibly a spirit or some kind of yokai that causes sleep,” Kyo said thoughtfully. “We should investigate Class 1-C, see if there are any clues. But we have to be careful. We don’t want to cause a panic or get in trouble wandering into another class.”
Reika straightened, resolve overcoming the worry in her expression. “We can go during lunch break. My classroom is empty now—many ran off to see if Ayumi was alright. And I have the spare key for our homeroom; I was on blackboard duty this week.”
Hiroki grinned and punched his palm eagerly. “Sneaking into a potentially cursed classroom in broad daylight – I’m in!” He then paused, looking a bit sheepish. “Uh, but careful is my middle name. I won’t touch anything I’m not supposed to.”
Kyo managed a small smile. “Alright. Let’s make it quick and quiet.”
Leaving their lunches half-eaten, the trio hurried downstairs. The halls were relatively empty with most students either outside or gossiping in clusters. Class 1-C’s door was closed, the lights off. Reika fished out a small key and quietly unlocked it.
Inside, the classroom was dim, lit only by daylight filtering through drawn curtains. Desks stood in rigid rows, an abandoned textbook here, a forgotten jacket there—eerie stillness in what should be a lively room.
Kyo stepped in first, senses on alert. The air felt stagnant and cool. “Which desk was Ayumi’s?” he asked in a hushed tone.
Reika pointed to a desk near the front, by the window. Kyo approached it slowly. Ayumi’s desk was neat, a math workbook still open to half-finished problems. A pencil lay on the floor, as if dropped suddenly.
Hiroki hovered near the door, his earlier bravado replaced by nervous excitement. He rubbed his arms. “Is it just me or is it cold in here?”
“It is a bit chilly…” Reika confirmed, stepping closer to Kyo. Goosebumps rose on her skin. It was strange; the day was warm, yet in this room, a cold heaviness clung to the air.
Kyo closed his eyes and rested a hand flat on Ayumi’s desk, concentrating. He had the ability to sense spiritual auras – faintly, like distant echoes. Right now, he detected a lingering trace of something… sorrowful and heavy, like a deep exhaustion imprinted on the atmosphere.
Suddenly, Reika inhaled sharply. “Kyo, look.” She pointed to the corner of Ayumi’s desk. Carved lightly into the wood—almost imperceptible—were kanji characters. Leaning in, they could just make them out: “眠らせて…”
“Nemurasete…” Kyo read under his breath. “‘Let me sleep…’”
Hiroki’s eyes widened. “Creepy. That definitely wasn’t there before—was it, Reika?”
Reika shook her head vehemently. “No, certainly not. Ayumi wouldn’t vandalize her own desk. And I never saw it.” She ran her fingertips over the faint scratches. They looked old, as if etched some time ago and partly worn away from cleaning.
“‘Let me sleep,’” Kyo repeated softly. A sense of unease crept up his spine. “This could be a message from the spirit. Or something left behind by someone in pain.”
Hiroki gulped and attempted a smile. “Maybe it’s just a prank? Like someone trying to freak us out, carving spooky messages.” He didn’t sound convinced.
Kyo scanned the rest of the desk and surrounding floor, looking for any other signs. He crouched and picked up the fallen pencil. Its tip had snapped as it hit the ground. Kyo imagined Ayumi sitting here, doing math, then suddenly overwhelming drowsiness hitting her like a truck.
“Reika,” he said quietly, “where exactly was Ayumi when it happened? Did anyone notice anything unusual?”
Reika moved to stand behind the chair, recreating the scene. “We were in the middle of solving equations. Ayumi was at her desk. I sit just two rows behind her. One moment she was fine, the next her head just drooped slowly onto the desk.” Reika’s voice quivered at the memory. “At first a few of us giggled—we thought she’d just nodded off. Our teacher called her name and started walking over. When Ayumi wouldn’t wake up, I… I felt that chill. And I saw her hand…” Reika pointed at the notebook. “Her hand went slack and dragged across the page, like she lost consciousness completely.”
Kyo noticed faint pencil lines streaked across the open notebook page, as if someone’s hand had slid while writing. “It sounds like her energy was drained in an instant.”
“I felt so sleepy in that moment too,” Reika added in a whisper, arms hugging herself. “Like something was pulling us all into darkness. A couple other classmates yawned really hard or almost nodded off, but Ayumi… she just went out entirely.”
Hiroki shuffled closer to his friends, looking around nervously at the empty seats. “If it’s a spirit, why Ayumi? Why Daiki and Miho before? Are they connected?”
“All from this class,” Kyo mused. He rose from the floor, keeping his voice low. “We should check those other desks too. Where did Daiki and Miho sit?”
Reika guided them to two other desks—one by the opposite window, one toward the back near the wall clock. On Daiki’s desk they found nothing unusual, but on Miho’s, Hiroki spotted something under a stack of stray worksheets.
“Guys… look at this.” He carefully lifted the papers. Underneath, scratched into the wood of Miho’s desktop, were the same kanji characters: “眠らせて… let me sleep.”
A chill settled over the trio. Reika’s hand found Kyo’s arm, and he gave it a brief reassuring squeeze.
“Definitely not a coincidence,” Kyo said, heart thudding. “Someone—or something—with the same message at two different desks. Likely the spirit’s doing.”
Hiroki scratched his head. “Could it be the ghost of a really sleepy student?” He attempted a grin to lighten the mood, but quickly cleared his throat when neither Kyo nor Reika laughed. “Er, kidding. But seriously, what kind of ghost does this? Some kind of… sleep demon? Like, a yokai of slumber?”
“Maybe a restless spirit who wants others to sleep,” Reika murmured. “And by the words carved… ‘Let me sleep’… it sounds resentful.”
Kyo’s eyes narrowed in thought. “A resentful spirit born from exhaustion, perhaps. Could it be the ghost of a student who… I don’t know, overworked themselves?”
At that, Hiroki snapped his fingers softly. “Wait, that reminds me. There was a story floating around last year. Something about a student who collapsed from exhaustion.” He furrowed his brow. “Yeah, one of the honor students, I think. I remember because my cram school teacher used it as a cautionary tale about studying too hard.”
Reika’s eyes widened. “I heard something about that too, when I first transferred in. A second-year mentioned a tragedy from the prior year… a first-year honors student who…” She trailed off, looking stricken.
“Who what?” Kyo prompted gently.
Reika swallowed. “They said she fell into a coma right in class and never recovered. She… passed away in the hospital, eventually.”
A heavy silence fell. Outside the window, a few clouds drifted over the sun, the light in the classroom dimming further as if in response.
Kyo’s jaw tightened. “Do either of you know her name?”
Hiroki snapped his fingers again. “Ayane? No… Ayako? Something with an A, I think.”
“Ayumi?” Reika asked, then shook her head. “No, that’s my classmate who collapsed today. Um… I think it was… Akari Sato?”
Kyo’s face tensed with recognition. He had overheard that name before in hushed tones. “Akari Sato… yes. She was top of the year, wasn’t she? Teachers still mention her sometimes.”
Reika nodded. “That’s it. Akari Sato. Brilliant student… before…”
Hiroki shuddered. “Before she literally studied herself to death. I thought it was just an urban legend to scare us into not cramming too hard.”
Kyo exchanged a grave look with Reika. “Legends often have truths behind them.”
Reika hugged her arms tighter. “If Akari’s spirit is still here… she must have been so full of pain and exhaustion. It’s awful.”
The pieces fit uncomfortably well. A former honors student, likely from Class 1-C, dying after falling into a coma at school. Now a year later, three new students from that class suffering sudden mysterious comas, each preceded by a wave of drowsiness and those carved pleas: Let me sleep. It had to be Akari’s spirit, unable to rest, perhaps angry or desperate enough to drag others into eternal sleep with her.
Hiroki looked around uneasily, as if expecting to see a ghostly figure standing in the corners. “So how do we stop it? Should we try to… talk to her? Or exorcise her, like Aoi?”
Kyo pursed his lips. “If it is Akari Sato, she’s not just sad—she sounds resentful. She may not appear unless provoked, and when she does, it could be dangerous. We need to be prepared.”
Reika nodded, determination now steeling her features. “Kyo, whatever you decide, I’m with you. After Aoi, I… I want to help. No one else should suffer like this.”
“And me too!” Hiroki chimed in, thumping his fist into his palm perhaps a bit too hard—he winced, shaking out his hand. “Ouch—uh, I mean, definitely. I’m with you. I may not have cool powers or anything, but I can keep watch or, I dunno, swing a broom at the ghost if needed.” He offered a lopsided grin.
A faint laugh escaped Kyo, tension easing slightly at Hiroki’s earnest clumsiness. “Alright. We’ll all do this together.”
He glanced at his watch. Lunch break would end in a few minutes. They couldn’t do much more investigating now without being noticed. “We should leave before anyone comes back. Let’s meet after school to plan our next step.”
Reika carefully re-draped the worksheets over Miho’s desk to hide the carving again, just as it had been. “I have archery club after classes,” she said apologetically, “but I’ll skip it today. This is more important.”
“I’ll cover for you if needed,” Kyo assured her. Being a scholarship student with top grades, he had some leeway with teachers.
Hiroki cracked open the classroom door to check the hallway. Coast clear. “I’ll gather some supplies,” he whispered conspiratorially.
Kyo raised an eyebrow. “Supplies?”
Hiroki flashed a toothy smile. “Flashlights, ofuda if I can find some—maybe the shrine shop sells them—oh! And snacks. Ghost-hunting is hungry work.”
Reika giggled quietly, and even Kyo shook his head in amusement. “Just be careful what you tell the shrine maiden when you buy those ofuda,” Kyo said. “We don’t want more rumors spreading.”
Hiroki gave a thumbs-up. “Mum’s the word. I’ll think of something.”
They slipped out of Class 1-C, locking the door behind them. As they parted to return to their respective classrooms for the next period, Kyo’s mind churned on the plan. If Akari’s spirit was causing this, confronting her might require entering her realm – the realm of dreams.
Kyo recalled how Aoi’s ghost had physically appeared and could be talked down in the music room. But this case felt different; none of the victims had seen a ghost (they were unconscious, after all). It was as if Akari pulled them directly into deep sleep with her. If so, direct communication might only be possible by experiencing that state.
That idea was both intriguing and perilous. Kyo clenched his fist as he walked. He had the ability to connect with spirits, and he wielded Kagemusa, his spirit blade, within the spiritual plane. It might be possible to deliberately let Akari’s ghost pull him under—to face her in the dream world—while his friends kept him anchored to reality.
It was a risk he was willing to take, to save others from suffering.
The final bell rang, ending the school day. Dusk would fall early in late autumn. A faint orange glow hung in the sky as students vacated classrooms, heading home or to clubs.
Kyo waited in an empty hallway by the entrance of Class 1-C. Most of 1-C’s students had already left or been collected by worried parents, given the day’s incident. The corridor was quiet now, an unnatural hush descending with the approaching twilight.
Reika arrived first, still in her school uniform but with her archery gear bag slung over her shoulder. She had run all the way from the club room. Catching her breath, she held up a small bundle. “I brought some things… from the shrine near my house.” From the cloth bundle she revealed a few slender ofuda strips – Shinto talismans marked with protective kanji – and a tiny bell charm. “My grandmother practices some folk remedies; she believed me when I said I wanted charms for a friend having nightmares.” Reika blushed at the half-truth.
Kyo took an ofuda gratefully. “These will help. Good thinking.”
Moments later, Hiroki came hustling down the hall. He wore a hachimaki headband with a crudely drawn warding symbol in marker (“Did you draw that yourself, Hiroki?” Reika asked in disbelief, to which Hiroki proudly nodded) and carried a plastic bag.
“I got a couple flashlights,” he announced, pulling them out. “And salt. Figure it can’t hurt to have around, right? Salt wards off evil, they say.” He also produced what looked like a half-eaten energy bar. “Oh, and snacks, as promised. Need any extra pep, Kyo? You’re going into dreamland, might as well carb up!”
Kyo chuckled quietly, shaking his head. His nerves hummed with anticipation of what lay ahead; eating was the last thing on his mind. “I’ll be fine. But thanks.”
Hiroki shoved the bar back in his pocket and gave a thumbs-up. “Alright. So what’s the plan exactly? We having a slumber party with a ghost?”
Reika and Kyo had discussed the outline of the plan briefly via text after class. Now Kyo explained for Hiroki’s sake: “We think the spirit might only manifest by pulling people into sleep—into her dream. So I’m going to go in after her.”
Hiroki blinked. “Go in… to the dream? You can do that?”
Kyo exhaled. “Not sure. But I’ve confronted spirits on the spiritual plane before. Essentially, I’ll allow the ghost to put me to sleep, and then try to face her—talk to her—directly in that state.”
Reika laid a hand on Kyo’s arm. Her face was steady, but her voice trembled just a touch. “And I’ll be right here to anchor you. I’ve been reading a prayer in my grandmother’s books that is meant to tether a wandering soul. If I keep this bell by you and keep reciting, it should help you return.”
She held up the tiny bell charm. It glinted in the dim hallway light. “Also, if anything goes wrong, I’ll try to reach you like I did with Aoi—through empathy or… or even entering the dream after you.”
Kyo looked at her in alarm. “Reika, no. We don’t know if that’s safe for you.”
She bit her lip but nodded. “Alright. Only if it’s absolutely necessary. But I’ll do everything I can from here to help.”
Hiroki shifted, clearly not wanting to be left out. “And I’ll stand guard! Maybe sprinkle salt if the ghost pops out. Or, uh, shake you if you start, you know, dying or something.” He gave a nervous laugh.
“Let’s hope none of that is needed,” Kyo said wryly. He slid open the door to Class 1-C. The room was now bathed in the orange-gray of sunset. Long shadows draped across the rows of desks.
They entered quietly. Reika closed the door behind them; Hiroki clicked on a flashlight and set it on a desk pointing upward, so its beam diffused gently off the ceiling, giving them a bit of light without attracting attention through the curtained windows.
Kyo took a calming breath. He moved to an empty desk roughly at the center of the room—notably, the desk that used to belong to Akari Sato last year, according to Reika’s recollection. It felt fitting to sit there.
He pulled out the chair and lowered himself into it. His heart beat steadily as he laid Kagemusa—his sheathed spiritual sword, invisible to normal eyes—across his lap. He wouldn’t be able to physically draw it here, but once in the spirit realm, he expected it to manifest.
Reika stood at his right, placing the bell charm on the desk beside his arm. Then she gently pressed an ofuda strip to the back of Kyo’s hand. “For protection,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and began to softly chant an old Shinto prayer, her voice lilting and low.
Hiroki stood by the door, one hand tightly gripping a little packet of salt, the other holding another ofuda uncertainly. “If anything non-Kyo tries to walk out, I’ll whack it,” he offered, attempting confidence.
Kyo allowed a faint smile at his friend. “Thank you, Hiroki.”
Now, with his allies in place, Kyo focused inward. He recalled every meditation technique Masaru-sensei had taught him for sensing spirits. He slowed his breathing. In… out.
The classroom around him faded to a hush. Only Reika’s soft chant and the blood coursing in his ears remained. Kyo allowed his body to relax completely, almost as if inviting the exhaustion to take him.
“Akari Sato,” he said quietly into the still air, eyes drifting half-shut. “We know your pain. We know you just wanted to rest…” His own voice sounded distant to his ears. “I’m here. If you wish to be heard… I’m here.”
For a long moment, nothing happened. Kyo could sense Reika and Hiroki holding their breaths. The room’s silence was thick.
Then, at the edges of his awareness, Kyo felt it—a gentle tug, like unseen fingers running through his hair, lulling him. An immense heaviness draped over his shoulders, familiar from earlier when Reika described the wave of sleepiness. Only now it was far stronger, focused entirely on him.
It’s working, he thought vaguely, even as his body started to succumb. His chin dipped to his chest as drowsiness overwhelmed him.
Reika’s chanting grew a fraction louder and faster, a bead of sweat rolling down her temple as she maintained her focus on the tethering prayer.
Kyo’s last sight of the physical world was the soft glow of the flashlight and Reika’s worried eyes. Then his vision blurred and darkness pooled in.
He fell forward, unconscious, his head coming to rest on the desk with a soft thud. Reika jumped but quickly caught his shoulder, easing him to lie pillowed on his folded arms. She glanced at Hiroki, who looked back with wide, anxious eyes. Hiroki mouthed, “Is he…?”
Reika checked Kyo’s pulse on his neck – strong and steady. “He’s asleep,” she whispered, and resumed her chant, the bell charm trembling ever so slightly beside Kyo’s hand.
Kyo opened his eyes to find himself still sitting at the desk, but the atmosphere had changed dramatically. The classroom was dark—darker than before—bathed in an uncanny bluish twilight. The corners of the room were lost in shadow, and the windows showed an endless night sky, no moon or stars.
He stood up slowly. Everything felt muffled. His footsteps made no sound against the floor. When he spoke Reika’s name, his voice was muted, swallowed by the heavy air. This was the spiritual plane or a dreamscape crafted by the ghost.
On Kyo’s left hand, he could faintly feel warmth – likely the presence of the ofuda Reika had placed, anchoring him, reminding him of the world beyond. He took solace in it and moved forward between the desks.
“Akari Sato,” he called gently. His voice echoed strangely, as if the room itself were much larger than it appeared. “I’m here to talk. I know you’re hurting.”
For a moment, only stillness. Then a soft sound of chalk on a chalkboard. Kyo whipped his head to the front of the room. In the gloom, he saw the teacher’s chalkboard, and words scrawling themselves across it in jagged script. It read: “Let me sleep.”
A chill went through Kyo. “Akari… you can sleep. You don’t have to force others.” He stepped closer to the board, heart pounding.
Suddenly, a desk behind him scraped loudly. Kyo spun around. All the desks were now occupied – by shadowy figures slumped over, as if an entire class of students were sleeping at their seats. They hadn’t been there moments ago.
His breath caught. The figures were featureless, dark human-shaped mists. They emitted a soft chorus of breathing: some sighs, a few whimpers of distress as though in troubled dreams. It was as if he stood in a room full of sleeping souls.
At the very back of the class, one figure was upright. Not slumped like the others, but sitting rigidly. As Kyo’s eyes adjusted to the bluish dark, the figure gained clarity: a girl in a Seiei High uniform, her hair falling long and unkempt over her face.
She slowly lifted her head. Even through the veil of hair, Kyo could see her eyes – two pinpoints of pale light peering at him.
“A…kari Sato?” Kyo ventured, voice soft.
The girl rose from the chair without a word. As she stood, Kyo realized her feet didn’t touch the ground; she hovered just an inch above it. She drifted into the aisle between desks, moving toward him.
As she neared a shaft of phantom blue light from a window, her features became clearer. Her skin was ashen, with dark shadows under her eyes. The name tag on her uniform – though faded – read Sato Akari.
But what struck Kyo most was the expression on her face: a mix of exhaustion and anguish twisted into quiet rage.
“Let me sleep…” she whispered, but her lips didn’t move. The voice seemed to come from the walls, the air, everywhere – a tired, broken whisper that turned into a growl. “Why won’t they let me rest?”
Kyo held out his hands placatingly. “Akari, I’m sorry for what happened to you. You worked so hard, and no one realized how much you were suffering—”
Before he could finish, Akari’s ghost jerked closer, sudden and startling. One moment she was a few desks away, the next her face was inches from Kyo’s. Her eyes were no longer just pinpoints but wide, glowing orbs of ghostly blue fury.
“They never stopped!” she hissed. Now her mouth moved, and the voice was bitter and echoing. “Study harder, achieve more, don’t waste your talent… don’t stop, don’t rest!”
As her anger spiked, the dream-classroom reacted. The sleeping figures at the desks all sat up in unison, their eyes glowing the same eerie blue, and they began to monotonously chant, in adult-like tones: “Don’t rest… Don’t rest… Don’t rest…”
Kyo’s heart ached at the torment in the ghost’s voice, even as he braced himself. The chorus of chanting grew louder, the pressure in the air intensifying. He sensed a wave of oppressive force radiating from Akari.
Outside the dream, in the real classroom, Reika’s bell charm jingled faintly and she felt Kyo’s body tense; she tightened her grip on his shoulder and continued chanting her prayer fervently.
Within the dream, Kyo staggered back as desks started rattling. Papers fluttered into the air like ghostly birds. Akari’s hair whipped around her face, the fury of a storm building.
“They pushed me and pushed me until I broke!” she howled. The windows around the classroom cracked under the pressure of her wail. Shards of glass splintered, yet oddly hung suspended in the air, quivering.
Kyo fought off a surge of panic and summoned his courage. This was like facing Aoi’s rage; he had to endure it, not retaliate with harm. He had to reach the human still inside this suffering spirit.
But then, spectral chains of darkness burst from the floor around him, clamping around his arms and legs. They were cold and heavy – the chains of expectation and regret given form. Kyo recognized this phenomenon: ghosts born of intense emotions could manifest such bindings.
He struggled, planting his feet. His right hand closed around empty air—but he visualized Kagemusa, his soul-sword. With a sound like ringing steel, the katana materialized in his grasp, its blade shimmering pale blue in the dream-dark.
Kyo slashed at the chains restraining him. The spiritual blade cut through two, and they shattered into mist. But more chains snaked forth from the ghost’s form, trying to ensnare him again.
Akari’s specter looked momentarily surprised that her prisoner could resist. She let out a shriek and the sleeping figures in the desks lunged forward toward Kyo, as if controlled by her will. They reached with shadowy hands, dozens of them, trying to drag him down.
Outside, Kyo’s physical body twitched and a soft grunt escaped his lips. Immediately Hiroki noticed, whispering in alarm, “He’s struggling…!”
Reika’s chanting hit a desperate cadence. She placed a second ofuda directly on Kyo’s forehead, hoping to strengthen his protection and anchor. “Come on, Kyo… you can do this,” she whispered, voice strained but determined.
Within the dream, as the phantom students clutched at Kyo’s arms and legs, he felt a surge of warmth on his forehead—a burst of clarity. Reika’s prayer cut through the haze of despair for a moment.
He gripped Kagemusa with renewed resolve. The blade flared brighter with his spirit. “Akari!” he shouted, voice carrying over the din. “This has to stop!”
He swung the sword in a wide arc, not aimed at the ghost herself but to disperse the mob of shadowy figures. The glowing sweep of light sliced through them, and they evaporated into wisps of smoke with sighs of relief—as if those trapped echoes of living students were being freed from her influence.
Akari recoiled, floating back a few feet, her chains swirling protectively around her. Without the chorus of chants, the room fell silent again, save for Akari’s ragged breathing (did ghosts breathe? In this dream realm, it seemed so).
Kyo took a steady step forward. “Akari, I know you’re hurting,” he said, lowering his sword though he kept it in hand. “You felt trapped by everyone’s expectations—by your own drive too, maybe. They pushed you too far. What happened to you is a terrible tragedy.”
The ghost hovered, eyes flickering. Tears of frustration welled up in those ghostly eyes, spilling over as glowing droplets. Her face contorted between fury and sorrow. “I just… wanted it to stop…” she cried, voice cracking with despair. “One moment of rest… They wouldn’t let me… not until I…” Her words devolved into a sob.
Kyo felt a lump in his throat. He slowly extended his free hand toward her, palm open in compassion. “You collapsed because you were exhausted beyond what anyone should endure. That wasn’t your fault, Akari. You didn’t fail — the people who drove you like that failed you. They should have seen you were suffering.”
Akari’s ghost shook her head, tears flying. “They did see— and they said I was weak,” she whimpered. Her form flickered, and for an instant Kyo saw her not as a vengeful spirit but as a trembling first-year student, eyes brimming with tears of disappointment and shame. “I heard them… even as I lay in the hospital bed. My mother crying that I should have been more careful… my father saying all that effort was wasted…” Her voice turned sharp with bitterness again. “Even in death, they talk about my grades!”
The windows rattled anew, a phantom wind swirling through the room. Kyo had to brace against the sudden gust of her anger. He raised his voice over the howling air. “They were wrong to say those things! You gave everything you had, Akari. You were strong. It wasn’t you who wasted anything—it was them. They didn’t treasure you over your achievements, and that was their failure, not yours.”
The wind hesitated, papers frozen mid-air around them. Akari stared at Kyo, her glowing eyes wavering. The chains around her loosened fractionally. The raw fury on her face wavered, revealing deep hurt underneath.
Encouraged, Kyo pressed on, gentler now. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry no one told you that you’d done enough, that it was okay to rest. You deserved so much more care than you got. And now you’re still so tired….”
Akari’s lips trembled. “Tired… so tired…” she whispered. The dark chains that had bound her began to crumble away on their own, clattering to the floor before dissolving. The papers fluttering in the air gently drifted down, blanketing the floor like pale leaves.
In the physical classroom, Reika sensed a change. The oppressive atmosphere lightened; the temperature began to rise from its chill. She kept chanting, but hope glimmered in her voice. Hiroki stepped closer to Kyo’s sleeping form, drawn by the subtle warmth returning to the room.
Back in the dream, Akari floated in place, tears streaming silently. “It hurt so much,” she confessed in a small voice. “All I wanted was to make them proud… and then I never woke up. I never got to see another morning. It’s just been endless night… and I’ve been so alone.”
Kyo’s eyes stung with sympathy. He moved nearer again, until he was within reach. She hovered slightly above him, a lonely figure wreathed in sorrow. Slowly, so as not to startle her, Kyo reached up and laid a hand on her shoulder. Her spirit form was cold and insubstantial, but the gesture made her blink in surprise.
“You’re not alone now,” he said softly. “I’m here. Reika and Hiroki are here, too, keeping you company in your classroom. None of us want you to be alone in the dark anymore.”
Akari’s ghost gave a shuddering gasp, as if a sob escaped. Her form flickered, the eerie light in her eyes dimming to a softer glow. “I… I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” she whispered. “I just… when I see them studying, stressing… I remember how it felt. I wanted to pull them out, make them rest with me… so I wouldn’t be by myself…”
Kyo nodded slowly. “I understand. But stealing their consciousness wasn’t truly helping them, was it? Their families were terrified, their lives put on hold. You wouldn’t have wanted that for your friends when you were alive.”
Akari bowed her head. “No… I just couldn’t stand it. Hearing the school bell, day after day, while I was trapped in a hospital bed, slipping further away… It made me so angry that life just went on without me.”
Kyo felt a tear roll down his cheek. “Life can be cruelly unfair,” he agreed. “You deserved to live, to have fun, to be young without all that weight. What happened to you shouldn’t happen to anyone.”
The ghost looked at the floor. The remaining broken glass shards and papers around them began to vanish, turning to motes of light. The other desks were empty again; the shadowy figures had all faded.
“Kyo…” came Reika’s voice, faint and echoing in the dream realm. It was as if her voice carried on a breeze from far away. “We’re here with you… and with Akari.” The bell charm’s soft ringing accompanied her words.
Akari’s ghost glanced up sharply at the mention of her name. “Reika…?” For the first time, her tone held recognition rather than wrath. Perhaps she remembered a kind underclassman’s face or voice from life. Or perhaps Reika’s warm empathy was reaching through on a spiritual level, just as it had with Aoi.
“They care about you, Akari,” Kyo urged gently. “We all do. Your story won’t be forgotten, I promise. And those students you tried to keep with you – they’ll be okay. We’ll make sure their teachers and parents understand they need rest and care, not endless pressure. In a way, you might have saved them by warning us.”
Akari’s eyes widened, the last traces of her rage flickering out. “Saved… them?”
Kyo gave a small smile. “We’ll tell people that Ayumi and the others need a break. That no one should go through what you went through. Your suffering can teach them to be kinder. So even though you’re gone, you’ll be helping those who are still here.”
The ghost of the honors student stared at Kyo for a long moment. Then she let out a soft sob and suddenly leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Kyo in an embrace. Kyo was startled for a heartbeat – her form was cool and light as mist, but he could feel the shape of her slender shoulders against him. He gently returned the hug, one arm around what felt like nothing more than a chill breeze, the other still clutching Kagemusa’s hilt loosely at his side.
“Thank you,” Akari whispered brokenly against his shoulder. “I… I don’t want to be angry anymore. I’m so tired…”
“Shh,” Kyo soothed, as if comforting a friend. “You don’t have to be angry now. You can rest. You can move on, to the morning beyond this endless night.”
Akari drew back, her face finally easing into something resembling peace. The ghostly glow in her eyes softened to a gentle, human brown. For the first time, Kyo saw her as she must have looked in life: a 15-year-old girl with a bright academic future, a stack of books in her arms and a shy smile… a girl who should have had many more sunrises.
She returned Kyo’s smile tremulously. “I think… I see a light,” she said, voice full of wonder.
Behind her, at the front of the classroom, a doorway of warm golden light had appeared – like the rising sun breaking through night. It bathed the desks and chalkboard in a honeyed glow.
Akari’s form began to shine with the same light, tiny motes lifting from her edges like fireflies. Panic flashed across her features for just a moment, as if she feared what lay ahead.
“It’s okay,” Kyo assured. “Your rest is there. You’ve earned it.”
Akari gave a final nod. “Will you… stay until…?”
“I’ll stay,” Kyo promised.
The ghost closed her eyes. As the light from the doorway grew brighter, her figure started to break apart gently, shining fragments floating upward. A look of relief, profound and serene, came over her face.
“Thank you,” her voice echoed once more, sounding both near and far. “And… I’m sorry…”
With that, Akari Sato’s spirit burst into a soft bloom of light. For a heartbeat, the classroom was filled with what felt like morning sunshine—pure and gentle. Then the light faded, and the dream-world of the classroom dissolved around Kyo, the last remnants of Akari’s presence twinkling out like stars at dawn.
With a sharp gasp, Kyo’s eyes flew open to the real world. He was back in Class 1-C, slumped over the desk. Immediately he felt a warm hand steadying his shoulder – Reika’s.
“Kyo! You’re back,” she exclaimed softly. Her face hovered close, worry and relief mingling in her expression.
Hiroki practically vaulted over a desk to reach them. “Buddy! Oh man, you gave us a scare.” He was grinning in relief, though his eyes were a bit shiny as if he might’ve been close to panicking moments before.
Kyo slowly sat up, his muscles stiff and head a little light. His face was damp – he realized he had tears on his cheeks and even a bit on the desk where his head had been. Embarrassed, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve, but Reika shook her head, smiling kindly.
“It’s alright,” she murmured. She obviously understood those weren’t tears of pain.
Kyo managed a tired smile. “It’s over,” he said. His voice came out rough. “She’s gone. Peacefully.”
Reika closed her eyes in visible gratitude. “Thank goodness…”
Hiroki let out a whoop before clapping a hand over his own mouth, remembering to stay quiet in the school. “Haha, sorry! But seriously, that’s awesome.” He pumped his fist in a quiet celebratory gesture. “Our Kyo did it again!”
Kyo chuckled weakly, feeling a wave of exhaustion catch up to him. Spiritual battles always took a lot out of him, literally. Reika noticed his sway and quickly offered her arm for support. He took it gratefully as he got to his feet.
The classroom felt normal – more than normal, actually. The oppressive chill was completely gone, replaced by the stale but benign air of an unused room. The faint smell of chalk dust and old books reassured Kyo that everything truly was back to the mundane.
The ofuda that Reika had placed on Kyo’s hand was now blackened and curled at the edges from expending its power. She peeled it off gently and tucked it away. The tiny bell charm lay silent on the desk, a thin crack running through it. Reika picked it up carefully, her fingers trembling just a bit from adrenaline crash.
“You did amazing, Reika,” Kyo said sincerely. “Both of you did. I couldn’t have done it without your support.”
Reika shook her head, smiling. “We just stood here and prayed. You’re the one who faced her.”
“You did a lot more than just stand,” Kyo insisted, recalling how Reika’s voice reached him, strengthening his resolve. “I heard you. I felt you with me.”
Reika’s cheeks pinked slightly, but she looked pleased. Hiroki thumped his own chest. “And I, uh, provided excellent moral support and dramatic tension!”
This earned him a soft laugh from his friends. “You did great too, Hiroki,” Kyo said. “Just knowing you were guarding us made it easier to focus.”
Hiroki beamed at that. “Well, you know. Not to brag, but I can stand guard like nobody’s business.” He noticed bits of salt scattered around where he’d been standing and quickly toed them into a corner, whistling innocently.
A rattling from the hallway suddenly caught their attention. The doorknob of 1-C twisted a bit. Someone was right outside.
All three froze. Kyo’s heart leaped – if a teacher or staff caught them locked in here after school, they’d have a lot of explaining to do, none of which they could actually explain.
The door slid open a few inches. Kyo instinctively stepped in front of Reika, and Hiroki held his breath.
“Reika? Are you in here?” called a tentative female voice.
Reika’s eyes widened. “Yui?” she whispered. Without thinking, she answered, “Yes, I’m here.”
That seemed to embolden the intruder. Yui Nakahara – the Class 1-C vice-rep – pushed the door fully open and stepped in. Behind her was another student, a tall boy Kyo recognized from Reika’s class as well. Both of them took in the scene: the darkened classroom, Reika with two boys from another class, a flashlight on a desk, and what probably looked like… was that salt in the corner?
Yui blinked in confusion. “What are you guys doing?”
Reika improvised quickly, slipping into her role as class president’s reliable friend. She held up the cracked bell charm and thought up a quick excuse. “I… I lost my good luck charm earlier and really wanted to find it. These two offered to help me search before we head home.”
Kyo nodded along, picking up on her lie. “Reika thought she might have dropped it here while cleaning the room, so Hiroki and I were lending a hand.”
Hiroki held up the flashlight with an easy grin. “Found it under a desk! This little bell caused a lot of trouble,” he joked.
Yui looked somewhat skeptical, but the tall boy behind her chuckled. “You and that lucky charm of yours, Reika. I told you tying it loosely on your bag would get it lost.”
Reika gave an embarrassed laugh, clutching the bell to her chest. “You were right, Ryuji. I’m sorry if we startled you.”
Yui shrugged, though her eyes lingered curiously on Kyo. “It’s okay. We just heard voices and, uh, maybe saw some weird light. We thought… well.” She flushed, perhaps thinking of the ghost rumors. “Anyway, I’m glad you found your charm. We should all get going; it’s pretty late.”
“Yes, let’s,” Kyo agreed smoothly. He flipped off the flashlight and tucked it under his arm.
As they all filed out into the hallway, Ryuji placed a hand on Reika’s shoulder. “You sure you’re alright? After what happened to Ayumi today… everyone’s shaken. I was worried about you.”
Reika gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, really. It was scary, but,” she glanced subtly at Kyo and Hiroki, “thanks to these two, I feel a lot better now.”
Ryuji acknowledged the boys with a nod of appreciation. Yui, walking alongside, lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Between you and me, Reika, I think whatever was happening to our class is over. Right at last bell, the hospital called – Ayumi woke up. And the others, Daiki and Miho, apparently came out of their comas too, all within minutes of each other.”
Reika feigned wide-eyed surprise. “Really? That’s wonderful!” She looked over at Kyo, playing along as a startled friend. “Did they say how?”
Yui shook her head. “Doctors are completely baffled. But who cares, right? They’re okay. We’re all so relieved.” She sighed heavily, a week’s worth of tension releasing. “I guess Class 1-C isn’t cursed after all.”
“Just very, very unlucky for a bit,” Ryuji added wryly.
Hiroki piped up, unable to resist, “Or maybe it was like an evil spirit that got bored and left!” He laughed as if it were a silly joke, but Reika and Kyo shot him tiny don’t push it looks.
Yui, thankfully, just rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right, Hiroki. Save it for the Horror Stories Club.”
Soon they reached the school’s front entrance. The evening sky greeted them with early stars. Yui and Ryuji said their goodbyes, with Yui adding, “Thanks again for helping Reika. See you Monday!”
As the classmates walked off, Hiroki exhaled dramatically. “Whew. That cover story was gold, Reika. Quick thinking.”
Reika laughed, cheeks dimpling. “Seemed less crazy than the truth.”
Kyo gazed after Yui and Ryuji, watching them depart with relief in their posture. They had no idea how close the danger had truly been, but that was for the best. The important thing was their friends were safe now.
He stepped out into the cool night. The threesome began walking away from the school, the tension of the day finally uncoiling. Stars winked above, and the breeze carried the scent of autumn leaves.
Hiroki stretched his arms overhead, then swung one around Kyo’s shoulders in a cheerful half-hug as they walked. “So, team – mission accomplished, huh?” he chirped. “We make a pretty good trio of ghostbusters, if I do say so.”
Reika giggled. “I think I prefer to leave the actual ghost-busting to Kyo. But I’m happy to be part of the support crew.”
“You both were invaluable,” Kyo affirmed. He truly meant it; facing Akari’s torment alone would have been far harder. “Thank you.”
Hiroki waved it off with a broad grin. “Anything for my buddies. Besides, that was the most exciting thing I’ve done since… well, ever! Way better than cram school.” He then rubbed his stomach. “Speaking of, I’m starved. All that adrenaline burns calories. How about we grab a bite at Ryu’s Ramen on the way to the station? My treat!”
Reika’s face lit up at the mention of food. “Oh, that does sound good.” She glanced at Kyo. “We should make sure you eat, too. You look exhausted.”
Kyo couldn’t deny it; he felt like he’d run several miles. But a warm bowl of ramen and the company of friends sounded perfect. “Alright,” he agreed with a gentle smile. “Ramen it is.”
As they unhurriedly made their way down the street, Hiroki launched into a dramatic reenactment of his valiant “battle” stance by the classroom door, complete with salt-packet flourishes, drawing laughter from Reika. Kyo listened, chuckling now and then, but his mind drifted thoughtfully.
He found himself gazing back over his shoulder at the silhouette of Seiei High’s rooftop and upper windows behind them. Class 1-C’s lights were all off now; the building was dark and calm against the twilight. In that darkness, he imagined Akari Sato finally finding the peace she had longed for. No more endless nights of study, no more loneliness in the quiet halls. In his heart, he wished her well — a silent prayer for her to find happiness wherever her spirit was headed.
“What are you thinking about?” Reika asked softly. She had fallen back a step to walk beside Kyo, noticing his distant look.
Kyo was quiet for a moment before he answered. “Akari. And others like her.” He looked at Reika, his amber-brown eyes earnest. “It just struck me how many students out there might be carrying unbearable burdens that no one notices… until it’s too late.”
Reika nodded sadly. “I’ve seen it. In my old school, there was a boy who… well, he didn’t make himself a ghost or anything, but he had a breakdown under pressure. Ended up leaving school. Everyone was so shocked, but I wonder if anyone really tried to help him before it got that bad.”
Kyo clenched his fists in his jacket pockets. “It’s made me think, we shouldn’t wait for supernatural problems to help people. The living can be haunted by expectations and stresses that are invisible but just as deadly.”
Reika gently looped her arm through Kyo’s, a bold gesture for her, but it felt natural. “Maybe that’s something we can do, then. Be more aware. Reach out more. We don’t need powers for that.”
A small, grateful smile touched Kyo’s lips. He felt warmth from Reika’s presence and encouragement. “You’re right.”
Hiroki, who had been walking ahead, noticed them lagging and called back, “Oi, lovebirds, come on! Ramen waits for no one!”
Both Kyo and Reika blushed and quickly unlinked arms, hurrying to catch up while Hiroki gave them a playful, knowing grin.
As they continued on, their laughter and chatter resumed, Kyo allowed himself a final quiet reflection. The weight that had pressed on Class 1-C was lifted, but it left behind a valuable lesson. The burden of expectations placed on youth — on himself, on Reika, on every student like Akari — was all too real, even without a ghost to embody it. Kyo silently vowed to do what he could to ease those weights wherever he encountered them, whether through his unique powers or just by being there as a friend.
Tonight, at least, three classmates would sleep peacefully and wake to a brighter tomorrow. And a lost soul had finally found rest after a long, lonely night.
Kyo looked up at the stars beginning to sprinkle the sky and felt a gentle hope stir within him. Every life truly was, as he often reminded himself, a gift beyond measure. No one, especially not his peers, should be made to forget that.
“Every life is a gift…” he found himself murmuring.
“Hmm?” Hiroki glanced back.
Kyo just shook his head with a soft smile. “Nothing. I’m just glad everyone’s okay.”
“Me too,” Reika agreed, her eyes warm as they met Kyo’s.
Hiroki spread his arms wide as if to hug the whole night. “Mission accomplished and now celebrating with food! I’d say this day ended pretty well!”
The trio’s laughter echoed down the quiet street as they headed off to their well-earned meal, leaving behind the school and its ghosts—at least for now. In the crisp night air, Kyo felt lighter. The challenges were far from over, he knew; there would be other mysteries, other spirits, and everyday struggles to face. But with friends like these by his side, he felt ready to shoulder whatever burdens came, and to help others shoulder theirs.
And somewhere beyond the veil of stars, perhaps a once-weary honors student slept soundly, finally free, as a new dawn waited just a few hours away.
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