CHAPTER XLVIII
~Through the Spider’s Gate~
Himari’s eyes softened, relieved, and she smiled gently. “Thank you, Amane-kun. I just want to make sure we’re all on the same page, especially now.”
Rin nodded, flashing a warm, quirky smile. “Real talk, same here. Let’s keep it straightforward — we’ve got a spider realm to storm, no cap.”
Kagami, who was walking just behind them, heard this and smirked darkly, adding with his signature cocky tone, “About time. Don’t want our ‘King of Chaos’ getting us tangled in his own words before the battle even starts.”
Ayaka chimed in brightly, her voice carrying that sunlit sharpness, “Oh, I love hearing that plain talk—it really cuts through the fog, like sunlight piercing the storm!”
Shingure nodded, voice soft as rain, “Language is our thread through the weaving web... Clear words will guide us true.”
Mofumi flicked his tail quietly, eyes calm, and said simply, “Good. Clear minds and clear words. That’s how we’ll survive what’s to come.”
Rin flashed one last goofy grin, amping up the mood. “Alright, fam. Let’s roll out and show that spider realm who’s boss. Straight talk, sharp moves, and a whole lotta chaos.”
With that, the group pressed onward, their footsteps blending with the quiet hum of distant rain—ready to face the dark unknown together.
As Yuzuki held the broken kendama gently in her hands, she glanced down thoughtfully, the cool calmness on her face belying the storm of thoughts swirling inside. Rin hadn’t even noticed she’d taken it, nor had he asked for it back—something subtly said to her that perhaps, in this moment, it wasn’t as important as everything else.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze and shifted it toward the two supernatural figures trailing just behind Rin: Shingure-kun and Kagami-kun. Both carried their distinctive weapons: Shingure cradled a beautifully ornate poetic fan, delicate and hinting at restrained power, while Kagami clutched a sleek, silver pocket mirror that shimmered dully under the low light.
Her mind couldn’t help but wander. If their weapons end up broken too… then what? What do they hold onto when their tools fail? She glanced back down at Rin’s broken kendama again, the fragility of it echoing in her thoughts.
Then suddenly, the entire group came to an abrupt halt. The corridor fell into a tense silence, their collective breaths mingling with the faint hum of rain leaking from the distant windows. Rin—standing at the very front with that unmistakable mix of goofy eagerness and quiet determination—pointed decisively ahead.
“The ABANDONED staff bathroom,” he declared loudly, pushing open a thin, weathered door that creaked ominously on its rusted hinges.
Inside, the cramped space revealed itself: a lone, slightly grimy toilet sat against chipped tiles stained with age. Next to it, a faded toilet paper holder hung limp. Above, set carefully on platforms secured by thin black ropes and old pipes, a dim, flickering light struggled to cast its glow into the space.
But what truly dominated the room was the web—a sprawling, intricate tapestry of glistening strands stretched relentlessly across the walls and ceiling. Thick clusters huddled near the light, where shadows danced and shifted as the fragile illumination flickered. The web was everywhere: obsessive, suffocating, and undeniably alive.
Yuzuki’s eyes scanned the scene, taking in the eerie aliveness of the place—the spider webs creating both a cage and a gateway.
The air hung heavy with the scent of dampness and old decay, the quiet crackle of tension rising as if the dark corners themselves awaited the next move.
Behind her, the others shifted uneasily, aware they had entered a threshold far different from anywhere else in the school; this was not just a place—it was the liminal edge where worlds began to blur and danger nested.
Rin stepped forward, already bouncing with restless energy, ready to dive headfirst into this webbed realm.
Yuzuki braced herself, clutching the broken kendama tightly, knowing that whatever came next would test not just their strength but the fragile bonds holding them all together.
Rin stepped into the cramped, dimly lit staff bathroom first, motioning for the others to follow him inside. The tight space barely allowed room for the group, but one by one, they squeezed inside, except for Himari and Yuzuki, who lingered just outside the threshold, standing side by side.
The air felt heavy and foreboding, and doubt flickered in Yuzuki’s eyes as she hesitated. But with Himari standing firmly at her side, Yuzuki found the resolve she needed. Without a word, she stepped forward into the spider-webbed room, trusting the silent strength of her companion.
Shingure’s gentle voice broke the pause as he moved closer to Himari, his words soft and persuasive. “Fear not, dear Himari. Together, we walk through shadow and dew, and I shall guard your steps in this web of fate.” With that poetic reassurance, Himari drew a steadying breath, nodded, and followed the others inside.
Shingure closed the door behind them, the sound echoing a finality that pressed the group tightly together in the small, suffocating space.
Rin grinned mischievously, packed tight with the others, “All set?” Without waiting for an answer, he reached out and flushed the broken toilet.
Water surged unexpectedly from within the seat, spilling out in a sudden cascade that flooded the small room. The girls shrieked, startled and alarmed by the icy splash soaking their feet and mingling with the cold shadows.
Amidst the chaos, Yuzuki’s voice rang out sharply, “Wait! Where are the Kaga-Kaga and the Korobokkurus?”
Everyone’s eyes widened in alarm, their gazes darting around the confined space—but before answers could come, the water suddenly bubbled and surged, swirling upward in unnatural movements.
The room flooded entirely, and when Yuzuki blinked and opened her eyes again, she found herself immersed in a strange, otherworldly watery realm.
The scene before her was surreal and eerie: towering spider webs glistened like glass, translucent and shimmering threads spanned endlessly through the misty water, while enormous shadowy spider legs moved just beyond the silvery veils. The watery ground beneath her was clear yet unsettling, reflecting pale shafts of moonlight that flickered and danced above. In the distance, the silhouette of a vast spider-like figure loomed, its eyes glowing faintly in the gloom, watching silently.
Amid this ghostly aquatic dreamscape, the webbed traps glistened with hints of tangled memories, as if the very air pulsed with an unseen, ancient power and threat.
Then, a firm grip pressed gently onto Yuzuki’s shoulder, steadying her.
A familiar voice—Rin’s—whispered just beside her ear, warm and urgent, “Spiders…can’t hear. They feel vibrations…”
His breath brushed softly against her skin, grounding her amid the swirling, webbed world that threatened to engulf them both.
The water lapped gently around Yuzuki’s feet, cool and familiar—a cold, subtle reminder of the boundaries they crossed whenever facing the supernatural. She glanced down, feeling that faint pressure beneath her soles, wondering once again why water seemed to permeate every realm tied to the supernaturals. The Ink Realm. The Nakime’s Shrine. And now, the Spider Realm as well. There was no coincidence here, only the weight of some unseen ritual linking all these domains.
Her gaze lifted to the two vast spider webs stretched before them—immense and eerily empty, swaying faintly in the damp, still air. These had to be the webs of the twins—Hisame and her counterpart. Hisame’s twin sister? Or maybe a brother? The uncertainty fluttered in Yuzuki’s mind as she observed the silent webs.
Elsewhere, giant spider forms crawled silently, their movements graceful and unnervingly deliberate. They skirted past the statues—silent guardians—of Shingure, Himari, Kagami, and Ayaka, standing motionless yet somehow watchful.
Yuzuki clenched Rin’s broken kendama tightly in her hand, the cold wood grounding her thoughts as she searched for the twins among the shadows. Where were they hiding? How would they confront such foes tactfully, without getting ensnared in the web of danger?
Rin stepped forward, lifting a hand to flash a quick, practiced sequence of signs—precise gestures meant to direct their small team. The signal was clear: split in two, advance carefully.
Shingure’s keen eyes caught the signs first, nodding in comprehension. Kagami, a fraction slower, furrowed his brow and glanced toward Shingure, who silently mouthed, “We take the left.” Kagami’s smirk returned with a nod as he threaded his fingers around Ayaka’s hand, guiding himself and the two women toward the left flank.
At Rin’s side, his fingers tightened gently on Yuzuki’s wrist as he pulled her toward the right, Mofumi shadowing closely, silent as ever. Startled by the sudden movement, Yuzuki glanced back toward the others. The four had already veered left, their forms moving with feline grace through the misty shadows. Himari turned her head briefly to meet Yuzuki’s eyes; in that silent exchange, a subtle nod passed between them—a wordless promise to brace for whatever waited in the webs ahead.
Yuzuki, however, looked straight forward, jaw set firm. No nod. No hesitation. Just steady resolve as they delved deeper into the unknown.
As Rin and Yuzuki moved deeper into the watery right side of the spider realm, tension thickened between them. Yuzuki abruptly pulled her wrist free from Rin’s gentle grasp, her voice hushed but steely:
“We can’t go any further with your Kendama broken. Or at least…” She clutched the shattered Kendama tightly, voice trembling with resolve, “I’m not going forward with you unless your weapon is whole.” Her eyes lowered, fixed on the rippling water below.
Mofumi’s ears flicked in surprise—mouth briefly falling open before snapping shut, his gaze rising to Rin, who stood unmoving, stunned by her firm line in the web-laced sand.
“Rin. She has a point. Get it fixed,” Mofumi said, voice firm, leaving no room for debate.
For a moment, Rin met Yuzuki’s eyes with a deadpan look—a flicker of maturity hiding behind his usual playful aura. Then he rolled his eyes, letting out a resigning sigh. “Aight, bet,” he muttered. He shifted his stance, turning slightly to face Mofumi, arm extended toward Yuzuki with a casual flick of his fingers. “Slide me the Kendama, yeah?”
Yuzuki’s eyes were sharp and unsure as she stepped forward, placing the Kendama gently in his open hand. She watched closely—Rin’s jaw tensed, lips moving soundlessly as he faced ahead, steadfastly avoiding her gaze. Suddenly, a pulse of black light glowed in his palm. In that moment, the faint shimmer of the red thread—their spiritual connection—reappeared, wrapping around their pinky fingers.
When the light receded, the Kendama was whole again, glinting like new in his grasp, its two broken pieces now seamlessly joined.
“All set,” Rin quipped, curling his fingers around the restored Kendama and striding ahead, not sparing so much as a glance back.
Mofumi was having none of that. With a low growl, he scampered up and chomped down gently on Rin’s pant leg near the ankle, refusing to let him dodge away.
“RIN. Play fair,” Mofumi admonished, his words edged with uncharacteristic sternness.
Rin rolled his eyes in theatrical exasperation, then finally spun back to face Yuzuki. He raised his right wrist to his mouth, biting expertly at the red thread tied around it, snapping a section free with his sharp canines. He held the strip gingerly between his teeth, careful not to let his tongue touch it—a practiced, delicate ritual.
Reaching Yuzuki, he jutted his chin her direction with a sneaky grin, “Yo, hold out your hand—don’t make this weird.” His voice was playfully cool, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that wasn’t lost on her.
Yuzuki, alarmed, hesitated a moment—and then, despite herself, instinctively held out her right hand. Rin gently looped the red thread around her wrist, tying it snugly but respectfully. She tensed, wide-eyed, panic flickering across her face as she blurted, “Wait! Why—why are you putting it on me?!”
Mofumi slid into view behind them, flicking his tail as he explained in his smooth, knowing tone,
“That’s the tradition. When a tether assists their supernatural in something important, the supernatural is supposed to offer something in return. It’s balance—a rule set down by God, Himself.”
Rin winked, tying the finishing knot with flair, “It’s a vibe—like spiritual cashback. You help me, I gotta return the energy. Mutuals only, ’kay?”
Still nervously eyeing the red thread, Yuzuki looked at Mofumi and pressed, “But that doesn’t count for… untethered types? Like you and me?”
“Correct,” Mofumi purred, stretching luxuriously on the water’s surface before curling in to softly lick his forepaw, utterly relaxed. “Ours is a different story entirely.”
Rin, catching Yuzuki’s eye, flashed a sly, lopsided smirk, dropping his voice to a quirky whisper, “You good, now? Or, like, want me to tie a bow on it? I can make it ✨aesthetic✨ if you want.”
“Anything you want,” Yuzuki murmured, her eyes fixed on the red thread newly tied at her wrist. The length of it looked a little worn—edges fraying, but still neat, like something cherished and stubbornly mended over time.
Rin caught the seriousness in her gaze, and his sly smile softened into something genuinely warm, almost teasing. “Anything, huh?” Rin’s grin widened, a flicker of genuine amusement in his eyes. “Say less,” he replied, scooting a little closer so he could focus.
He gently tugged her wrist forward, fingers surprisingly deft as he worked the thread. “Alright, let’s give it some drip. A cord this sacred deserves more than just a basic knot.” His tongue peeked out in concentration as he looped and twisted, creating a neat, small bow just above her wrist bone—a playful flourish at the end of the ritual.
“Nah, for real though,” he added, voice dropping to a hush meant just for her, “you did good. Helped way more than you know.” He tied an elaborate, lopsided bow at her wrist—flamboyant and totally extra, the way only Rin could manage.
“There! Custom fit,” he announced theatrically, displaying her wrist with a little flourish. “Now, whenever spiders see this, they’ll know you roll with chaos royalty.” His grin was full of mischief, but something warm and genuine flickered beneath the bravado.
To be Continued...
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