CHAPTER XXI
-Illegally Yours-
The night pressed down like a suffocating shroud as Yuzuki and the boy crept into the front yard of the school. The moon was swallowed by a thick veil of clouds, plunging the world into a suffocating darkness where shadows seemed to twitch and breathe. The air was heavy—unnaturally still, as if the night itself was holding its breath.
Near the overgrown path, the little Korobokkuru waited, their twisted, gnarled forms huddled around a rickety desk dragged beneath the skeletal trees. The faint glow of the talisman papers resting atop the desk pulsed with an eerie, almost malevolent light—ancient, yellowed, and humming with a sinister exorcist power that seemed to claw at the edges of reality.
One of the Korobokkuru, barely taller than the desk, stepped forward, its wide, unblinking eyes fixed on Yuzuki as it extended a trembling hand holding a pen. The boy nudged her forward, his face unreadable, a shadowed mask that offered a strange, cold reassurance.
His grin was a slash in the darkness, low and teasing, but with an edge that sent a shiver down her spine. “Alright, Yuzuki. Time to sign your soul away—just kidding. Kinda.”
Yuzuki’s fingers trembled violently as she took the pen. The weight of the moment crushed her chest, the cold grip of dread tightening with every heartbeat. Is this really okay? Am I making the right choice? The silence around her thickened, broken only by the faint rustle of dead leaves and the distant, haunting call of a night creature.
Her breath hitched as she bent over the talisman, the paper seeming to pulse beneath her touch like a living thing. Each stroke of her name was slow, deliberate, almost reverent—etched not just in ink but in the fragile thread of fate itself. The name “Mikazuki Yuzuki” finally graced itself upon the talisman.
The moment she finished, the boy’s hand extended, palm up, waiting with a patience that felt unnatural. She placed the pen into his grasp, eyes locked on him, searching.
He rolled the pen between his fingers with a slow, deliberate motion, exhaling like a ghost releasing a breath long held.
He doesn’t have a name… or does he? The question clawed at her mind as she watched him, the faintest flicker of something unspoken lurking in his dark eyes—a secret tethered to the shadows themselves.
The talisman papers burned with an unnatural, crimson flame, their edges curling as the smoke spiraled upward—thin, twisting, and eerily alive. The night pressed in, silent and watchful, as Yuzuki stared at the name scrawled on the paper: “Amane Rin.” The revelation sent a cold shiver down her spine, the weight of the moment settling like a stone in her chest.
Without hesitation, the boy pressed the backs of their talisman papers together and set them on the desk. A tiny Korobokkuru, hands trembling with anticipation, struck a match and touched it to the edge. The flames caught instantly, casting flickering shadows that danced across their faces. The smoke rose, forming a delicate string that curled and vanished into the darkness above, as if stitching their fates together in the fabric of the night.
Suddenly, a red thread shimmered into existence, hovering in the air between them. It drifted, almost sentient, reaching out for their pinky fingers. Instinctively, both Yuzuki and the boy lifted their hands. The thread looped around each finger, tightening with a gentle, invisible pull—then faded from sight, leaving behind a tingling warmth.
The boy’s smirk returned, his voice light but carrying an undercurrent of gravity. “Seal’s packed. You and I? Bonded. Congrats, you’re stuck with me now.” Mischief danced in his eyes, but his tone sharpened as he added, “Just a heads up—don’t try to break this, emotionally or physically. If you do, you’re in for a world of hurt. We’re talking nausea, nightmares, echoes of the dead, trippy hallucinations. Not fun.”
Yuzuki watched in awe as, in the dim light, his skin seemed to flush with new vitality. The air around him felt thicker, charged—he looked more alive, more tangible, as if the ritual had pulled him further into the world of the living. The bond was sealed, their destinies now inextricably entwined, the red thread pulsing with a heartbeat only they could sense.
With a sudden, wicked grin, the boy spun on his heel, arms thrown wide as if he could embrace the whole haunted night. “Oh, and by the way—this whole thing?” His voice dropped to a dramatic whisper, eyes glinting with danger and delight. “Totally illegal under exorcist law. Like, we’re talking cosmic felony. Most ghosts do this to get a mega power-up, but me? I just needed an anchor. Someone to keep me from glitching out of existence. Congrats, Yuzuki—you’re officially my VIP pass to the human world.” He winked, cocky and cool, but for a split second, gratitude flickered in his gaze. “So, partner—ready to break a few cosmic rules?”
He threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing in the dead courtyard as he floated inches above the ground. The red thread at their pinkies pulsed faintly, casting a ghostly glow on their hands. “Well, that’s that!” he crowed, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “You just broke, like, fifty exorcist laws in one night. We’re officially soul-buddies.”
And then—without warning—a black light erupted from his body, flickering like a living shadow, devouring the edges of the world. He snapped his fingers. Reality twisted. The courtyard, the Korobokkuru, the ground—everything blurred, folding in on itself like a nightmare collapsing at dawn. Yuzuki squeezed her eyes shut, heart hammering in her chest.
When she opened them again, the world had changed. Sunlight streamed through the classroom windows. The ordinary sounds of morning—chatter, the scrape of chairs, the scratch of chalk—filled her ears. She was back in her seat, surrounded by the mundane bustle of school life. No ground. No thread. No floating boy in sight.
But when she glanced at her pinky, she felt it: a phantom warmth, a secret heartbeat pulsing just beneath her skin—a reminder that the night’s terror was no dream, and the bond was real.
Yuzuki jolted at the sudden tap, spinning around to see Reina’s eager face. “Yuzuki-chan! Yuzuki-chan!” Reina whispered urgently. “You’re up next!”
“Up next? What do you—” Yuzuki started, but was cut off by the sharp voice of their social studies teacher, Shouma Amagi, echoing from the front of the room.
“Mikazuki!”
Yuzuki shot to her feet, heart pounding. “Yes, Sensei?”
Amagi fixed her with a stern look. “What do you mean ‘yes’? Read!” His tone was clipped, impatient.
Read? Yuzuki’s mind raced. Read what? She glanced down at her desk and realized, with a spike of panic, that her textbook wasn’t even there. Her hands fumbled helplessly at the empty surface.
Amagi’s eyes narrowed. “Textbook, Mikazuki. Where is it?”
Yuzuki’s cheeks flushed. “I—I… um…”
A heavy silence fell. Amagi’s jaw clenched. “You don’t have your textbook? This is the third time this month, Mikazuki. Are you even listening in my class, or is there something more interesting outside that window?”
A few students snickered. Yuzuki’s face burned.
He stepped out from behind the podium, his footsteps sharp. “You come to class unprepared, you don’t pay attention, and now you can’t even follow a simple instruction. Do you think this is a joke? Do you want to fail?”
She shook her head, staring at her shoes.
“Then act like it matters!” Amagi snapped. “Go borrow a textbook from the back. And next time, Mikazuki, if you can’t be bothered to bring your materials, don’t bother coming at all.”
The room was silent except for the scrape of Yuzuki’s chair as she hurried to the back, cheeks burning, every step heavy with embarrassment and the sting of his words.
DAMN YOU, AMANE RIN! Yuzuki seethed inwardly, her jaw set in frustration as she trudged back to her seat, the borrowed textbook clutched tightly in her hands. The snickers and whispers from her classmates prickled at her skin, making every step feel heavier.
Amagi’s glare followed her all the way. “Mikazuki, you think this is funny? You stroll in here, empty-handed, and waste everyone’s time. If you can’t even bring your basic materials, maybe you should reconsider whether you belong in this class at all!”
Yuzuki bit the inside of her cheek, refusing to meet his eyes. The humiliation burned hotter with every word.
He didn’t let up. “This isn’t a playground. You’re not in middle school anymore. If you want to act like a child, I’ll treat you like one. Next time, you forget your textbook, you can stand for the entire lesson. Understood?”
“Yes, Sensei,” Yuzuki muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Louder,” he barked.
“Yes, Sensei!” she replied, forcing her voice steady, though her hands trembled.
Amagi finally turned away, shaking his head in clear disappointment. The tension in the room lingered, and as Yuzuki slid back into her seat, she could feel every eye on her, the sting of embarrassment mingling with a simmering anger she wished she could hurl straight at Rin.
As the shrill chime signaled the end of social studies, a wave of relief swept over the class. Shouma Amagi strode out, leaving behind a tense silence.
As soon as the classroom door clicked shut behind Shouma Amagi, the uneasy silence fractured. Whispers slithered through the rows, punctuated by sharp giggles and not-so-subtle glances in Yuzuki’s direction.
A group of girls near the windows cupped their hands, their voices just loud enough to sting: “Did you see her face? She looked like she was going to cry—again.”
A few boys in the back, emboldened by the teacher’s absence, chimed in with mocking laughter. “Hey, Mikazuki, maybe next time bring your brain with your textbook!” one called out, earning a round of snickers. Another leaned over his desk, smirking, “Careful, she might forget her name next.”
The humiliation pressed in from all sides, the laughter and taunts swirling around Yuzuki like a suffocating fog. Even as she tried to keep her head down, she could feel the weight of every stare, every whispered jab. Her hands clenched tight around the borrowed textbook, knuckles white.
Just as the tension threatened to boil over, Himari’s voice rang out from near the door, clear and commanding: “Alright, everyone! Two lines for the music room, let’s go!” The class scrambled to obey, but the snickers lingered, echoing in Yuzuki’s ears as she shuffled into line, her cheeks burning and her heart pounding.
The class shuffled to their feet, chatter rising as they organized themselves into lines. Yuzuki, still burning from humiliation, kept her gaze low as she walked back, clutching her borrowed textbook to put it back before leaving and trying to drown out the snickers behind her.
The music room was already filled with the faint scent of polished wood and sheet music when the class filed in. Their music teacher stood by the piano, arms folded, eyes watchful as the students shuffled to their places. The tension from earlier still clung to Yuzuki, making her shoulders stiff as she tried to blend into the crowd.
Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around her from behind. Sayaka’s grip was cold, her breath hot against Yuzuki’s ear. “Get ready to be harassed,” Sayaka hissed, her voice low and laced with cruel amusement. “You thought Amagi-sensei was bad? Just wait. Today’s going to be hell for you.”
Sayaka’s laugh was sharp and mean, drawing the attention of a few nearby students who snickered, some whispering gleefully as they watched. Yuzuki tensed, her heart pounding, the humiliation and dread from earlier twisting tighter inside her. The music room, meant for harmony, felt suddenly claustrophobic and hostile.
The music teacher’s firm voice echoed through the room as students filed in, the piano lid gleaming under the fluorescent lights. “Everyone, line up by the piano. Today, we’re practicing with the flutes. Single file, please—no pushing.”
Students shuffled into place, some whispering, others rolling their eyes, the earlier tension still hanging in the air. The teacher scanned the room, then called out, “Hey! You there, can you bring the box of flutes from the shelf at the back?”
Yuzuki nodded, her voice barely audible. She made her way to the far end of the room, where a tall shelf stood crammed with boxes labeled in neat handwriting. She crouched down, searching for the one marked “Flutes.” Her hand closed around the box, and she tugged it free from beneath a stack of heavier cases.
Suddenly, her foot slid out from under her. The world tilted—her hands lost their grip, and the box of flutes shot into the air. Plastic instruments clattered and bounced across the polished floor, scattering in every direction. Yuzuki crashed down hard, the sting of impact shooting up her arm.
She looked up, dazed, to see a cluster of classmates staring at her—some wide-eyed in shock, others already dissolving into laughter and snickers. Her cheeks burned as she tried to gather herself, but her gaze caught on a figure near the front of the group. Himari, water bottle in hand, was trying to blend back into the crowd, her eyes darting away as Yuzuki stared at her in disbelief. The glistening patch on the floor told the rest of the story—Himari had spilled the water, setting her up.
Before Yuzuki could say a word, the music teacher’s voice exploded across the room. “HEY! What on earth are you doing? Look at this mess! Are you even paying attention? How careless can you be?” His tone was harsh, booming with frustration. “You’ve disrupted the whole class! If you can’t handle a simple task, maybe you shouldn’t be here at all!”
The shouts battered Yuzuki, her voice dying in her throat. She shrank under the glare, the laughter and whispers of her classmates swirling around her as she knelt among the scattered flutes.
The music teacher’s rage didn’t let up. His face was flushed, voice rising with every word. “Unbelievable! Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re causing? This is basic responsibility! Are you even listening? Or do you just enjoy making a spectacle of yourself?”
Yuzuki scrambled to gather the scattered flutes, her hands shaking as she stuffed them back into the box. The teacher’s tirade continued, echoing off the walls. “Hurry up! We don’t have all day. Pick them up—now!”
She moved as quickly as she could, cheeks burning, her classmates’ eyes boring into her. As soon as she managed to collect the last flute and stood up, the teacher strode over, snatching the box from her hands with a sharp, impatient gesture.
“Class prefect!” he barked.
Kaito stepped forward, stiff-backed and silent. The teacher thrust the box into Kaito’s arms, barely glancing at Yuzuki. “Distribute the flutes. Make sure everyone gets one—properly this time.”
To be Continued...
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