CHAPTER XLIII
~The Chaos Squad Assembles~
“Ah~ There comes the dragon’s minions,” he said smoothly, his gaze flicking to the shadows behind them where the Korobokkurus charged forward, urgency etched into their every step.
Without missing a beat, Rin pivoted with practiced ease, his posture fluid and commanding. He brandished his Kendama, the familiar shape gleaming under the dim light. “Alright, time to keep my promise,” he declared, voice low and steady, a poised warrior ready for the fight.
With a swift, graceful motion, Rin swung the Kendama’s string out wide, the wooden cup and ball spinning in a perfect arc. The thread flew like a whip, encircling the Korobokkurus in a tight loop, binding them together effortlessly before they could react. The tangle of threads made the Korobokkurus stumble and collapse, trapped in place as if caught in a masterful snare.
Standing tall amid the captured adversaries, Rin’s voice deepened further — cool, assured, and dripping with authority.
“Y’all need to keep your distance tonight. This ride’s about to get wild, and spoiler alert—you’re not invited.” His eyes flashed sharp fire as he added with a sly grin, “Consider this your first and last warning.”
The Korobokkurus struggled, caught and silent now, the quiet tension thickening the air as Rin released the end of his Kendama string. He folded his arms, ready for whatever came next — an unshakable guardian standing firm in the storm.
Rin’s voice cut through the quiet, playful and full of that familiar mischievous energy as he leaned a little closer, raising an eyebrow with a sly grin.
“Yo~ Yuzuki, whatcha starin’ at? Daydreamin’ about pocket-sized chaos or got your eyes locked on me?”
Yuzuki froze, caught off guard by the directness, cheeks flushing faintly. She blinked rapidly, shaking her head as she stammered, “N-no, not really...”
Rin grinned wider, unfazed by her hesitation. He smoothly extended his hand toward her, all casual charm and boyish swagger. “So…you still wanna be escorted, or nah? C’mon, m’lady, the chaos dealer’s got your back.”
Yuzuki’s eyes dropped to his outstretched hand — now noticeably bigger, rougher than the playful “pocket-sized” one she once held. She hesitated, fingers twitching uncertainly at the space between them.
After a brief pause, she slowly placed her damp hand in his, the warmth and firm grasp grounding her.
With a sly chuckle, Rin tugged gently but decisively, breaking into a run toward the staircase. His speed was unreal — Yuzuki struggled to keep up, barely managing a few hurried steps behind him.
“Hey, hey, wait up!” she called breathlessly, but Rin just glanced back with a teasing wink. “Gotta keep the night interesting, yo. No dull moments allowed!”
Rin stepped forward confidently, pride gleaming in his eyes as he slid open the door to the new classroom they had secretly made in the Left Wing—a hidden sanctuary crafted with the Korobokkurus’ help. The faint scent of freshly painted walls and the soft hum of new electricity filled the room, a stark contrast to the storm lingering outside.
Behind him, Yuzuki struggled to steady her ragged breaths, still catching up after Rin’s swift pace through the school halls. Her soaked uniform clung to her, and the adrenaline of the moment made her heartbeat thunder in her chest.
As they both stepped inside, Rin flicked the switch, and bright fluorescent lights flickered on, illuminating the space with a clean, almost surreal glow.
The Korobokkurus who had been waiting inside nearly jumped at the sight of Yuzuki, their surprise evident. Some stiffened, others exchanged quick, guarded glances, sensing the tension in the air.
Without hesitation, Rin moved instantly, pulling Yuzuki protectively closer against him. With swift reflexes, he brought his Kendama forward, the string stretched taut like a barrier between Yuzuki and the Korobokkurus.
“Alright, back off,” Rin said firmly, voice low but charged with authority. “Hands off her. This ain’t your playground.”
The Korobokkurus hesitated, caught in the invisible thread of the Kendama, held at bay by Rin’s clear warning.
Yuzuki pressed her body lightly against Rin’s side, feeling the strength and determination radiating from him as he stood sentinel. Her breath slowed, comforted by his protective shield and the guard he held between her and any unwanted approach.
Rin’s eyes scanned the room, sharp and unwavering, his grip on the Kendama steady. “Nobody gets close unless I say so. Got it?”
The Korobokkurus, recognizing Rin’s seriousness and the unspoken vow of protection, recoiled slightly, allowing the moment to settle as Rin stood firm, a guardian between Yuzuki and anyone else.
Rin threw his head back and let out a carefree laugh, waving off any tension. “Nahh, go on, enjoy the spotlight—this is your moment!” he said, grinning playfully, folding his arms as if to proudly present the scene for her.
The Korobokkurus, their little eyes sparkling with pure joy, rushed toward Yuzuki in a flurry of tiny feet and excited squeaks. In seconds, she found herself surrounded by a fuzzy tangle of arms and soft, round faces, all of them cuddling her lovingly. She crouched down with a smile, arms wide to embrace as many as she could.
As they hugged her, their voices rose up, small and eerily in unison:
“I see you… I see you… I see you…”
The words were gentle, almost reverent, circling around her like a quiet song of gratitude.
Are they…trying to thank me?Yuzuki wondered, overwhelmed by the warmth in their soft voices and the way their hugs seemed to chase away all lingering fear. Surrounded by caring little souls, something in her chest loosened—just a little.
Moved, she cuddled them closer, letting herself melt into the moment.
She raised her voice a little, teasing but heartfelt: “You’re welcome, you adorable teddies!” Then, softer, with a chuckle, “The Nakime’s Shrine must’ve been really scary for you all, huh?”
Pausing as the Korobokkurus nodded or squeaked shyly, she added warmly, “But thank you for waiting for me to come rescue you!”
The Korobokkurus squished in tighter, their chorus of “I see you…” swelling a little louder, as if promising they’d never forget.
Rin finally laughed and stepped between Yuzuki and the Korobokkurus, clapping his hands for attention. “Alright, that’s enough cuddles for one night! Come on, back up—where’s Hi-no-tama?” he asked, scanning the crowd.
The Korobokkurus looked at one another, wide-eyed, and began softly chanting, “I see you… I see you…”—their uncertain chorus making it clear they didn’t know where Hi-no-tama was. Rin groaned, rolling his eyes in exaggerated frustration. “Ughhh, not helpful, guys.”
He turned to Yuzuki, offering a mischievous smirk. “Alright, Yuzuki, come with me. Let’s get you dried up before you turn into a raisin.”
As they left the newly lit classroom, Yuzuki’s relief faded, replaced by a vague, uneasy tension.Why was Rin so desperate for me to stay? Why does it suddenly feel so unsafe?she wondered, clutching her sides as the weight of her drenched uniform and hair sent shivers down her spine.
The group moved deeper into the dim Left Wing, their footsteps echoing against cracked tiles and battered walls, the storm’s roar growing louder as they climbed to the third floor. The darkness was thick, only brief flashes of lightning illuminating ruined hallways.
Rin slid open the scorched, ruined bathroom door. Black soot streaked the walls, and the acrid scent of long-extinguished fire still clung to the air. All the mirrors were shattered, glinting fragments like ice scattered across the tiles, and the metal sinks along the wall were warped by heat, some hanging from the wall by barely a screw. Yuzuki hovered at the threshold, the Korobokkurus clustering behind her.
Rin tried the tap—amazingly, a few muddy droplets splashed out. “Lucky,” he muttered, then waved toward the hallway. “C’mon, Yuzuki. It’s safe enough.” She hesitated. “I can’t see you,” she called, anxiety prickling her skin.
A moment later, Rin emerged from the shadows and gently took her hand, his palm inexplicably warm. “Here,” he said quietly, guiding her carefully through the shards to the old sink. The faintest glimmer of comfort cut her suspicion as her fear eased just enough to follow him.
Standing together before the battered basin, Rin raised his voice, ringing through the burnt darkness:
“Hi-no-tama!”
From the air, a sudden spark ignited—a floating orb, fiery red, almost mischievous, appeared above the fragments. The room lit up in eerie orange, and Yuzuki gasped, startled by the ball’s sudden presence—a gently bobbing, playful spirit of flame, just as the old tales described.
Rin grinned at the glowing spirit. “What’s up, dude? Been a while!” He gave a wink and a nod. “Mind helping out an old pal? She’s freezing.”
The Hi-no-tama flickered in apparent affirmation, then darted into a swarm—splitting into swirling, tiny fireballs that instantly surrounded Yuzuki, spinning around her from head to toe. She flinched, but the warmth was soft, not burning. The chill and wet faded; her clothes and hair dried, the sensation oddly like being in the center of a gentle, swirling oven.
Within moments, the tiny flames zipped back into a single blazing orb. The bathroom now shimmered in its warm, supernatural glow.
Suddenly, Rin burst out laughing—unfiltered, irrepressible. Yuzuki spun around, frowning, “Why are you laughing?”
He doubled over, wiping a tear. “Your hair! It’s—seriously, it’s like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket!” he teased, grinning cheek to cheek.
Yuzuki blushed furiously, scrambling to smooth down her wildly frizzed, static-plagued hair—her reflection caught in the warped shine of the shattered mirrors as Hi-no-tama fizzed quietly overhead, casting them all in dancing orange light.
A low, ragged chuckle peeled out from the corner—Kagami, surrounded by shadows, flicked his thumb along the rim of his silver pocket mirror, gaze half-lidded, electric with mischief. Under the flicker of the old dance room’s exit sign, his black hair shimmered with a blue-violet sheen, stray strands falling over sharp, fox-like eyes. Those iridescent pupils cut through the gloom—fractured, just like the mirror he adored.
He watched the glass hungrily, lips quirking in a twisted, possessive smile as the scene inside unfolded: Rin doubled over with laughter, Yuzuki’s cheeks flushed as she fought with her wild, static hair, the orange glow of Hi-no-tama licking along the scorched tiled walls.
“Ah~ Now that’s a view,” Kagami drawled—voice syrupy with flirty danger, a delinquent’s melody—speaking only to the mirror. He rolled his shoulder, tugged down the sleeve of his disheveled jacket, and tapped his single earring, glinting against the hoodie’s mirror-patterned fabric. “You’ve got nowhere to run, pretty doll. Not on my stage.”
From the center of the abandoned room, Ayaka pirouetted across warped floorboards, her voice bright and fizzy as confetti. “What’s with the villain laugh now, Kagami? You plotting world domination—or just crushing on your own reflection again?” She tipped her chin, sending a sunbeam smile that didn’t quite warm the ice in her eyes.
Kagami didn’t look up, steady grin sharpening. “Not the world, princess. Just the parts that sparkle under the right light. And tonight’s got all the glitter I want.” He let his gaze linger on the vision of Yuzuki in the glass, fingers tracing lazy circles on the mirror’s back.
Ayaka slowed her spin, pausing mid-twirl, ponytail swishing. Her tone was coy, cotton-candy sweet, but her stare was needle-sharp. “Must be something special out there for you to miss my solo act.” She pouted playfully. “Don’t tell me you’re getting distracted by backstage drama instead of my performance?”
Kagami cocked his head, smirking with loaded intent. “Oh, don’t worry, My Doll. Every lead gets an audience—mine just see a little more than the spotlight lets on.” His words rolled out soft as silk and twice as dangerous.
As Ayaka danced on, light feet tapping a tempo only she heard, Kagami remained crouched in the shadows, devouring every flicker in his mirror—the secret master of ceremonies for a show Yuzuki and Rin never knew they’d entered.
Rin glanced at the flickering fire orb and grinned, tapping the air with a theatrical bow. “Hi-no-tama, would you do us the honor of lighting the way? Shine your brilliance, mighty orb. We need the VIP treatment tonight!” The Hi-no-tama bobbed up and down, glowing a bit brighter as if giving a cheerful nod, then zipped out ahead to illuminate the dark corridor.
Yuzuki, now finally finished straightening her shimmering, moonlight-silvery hair with her fingers, stepped away from the ruined bathroom mirror. Just then, a massive thunderclap crashed above, shaking the old wing. The whole room jolted—the Korobokkurus squeaked and ducked, tumbling into one another in a pile of startled, wriggling bodies. Even Rin blinked at the noise, then burst into even louder laughter.
Yuzuki froze as Rin turned to her, his grin wicked. “Don’t tell me that was your tummy growling, not the thunder!” he teased, wagging his eyebrows in full mischief. The Korobokkurus giggled, peeking between their fingers.
Yuzuki flushed scarlet, her eyes going wide as she quickly looked away.
—WHAT THE HELL—How did he hear my stomach in the middle of all that? With that thunder a hundred times louder?! Are supernatural ears seriously that sharp?—she thought in a panic.
Rin just snickered, waving off her embarrassment like it was nothing. “Relax, Yuzuki. Happens to the best of us. Besides, this chaos squad runs on snacks—time for dinner!” At the announcement, the Korobokkurus bubbled up in unanimous joy, cheering and bouncing on their feet.
Yuzuki, cheeks red and eyes averted, mumbled a quick apology, her voice barely above a whisper. “S-sorry about that… I didn’t mean—” She pressed a palm over her stomach, mortified, wishing she could melt right into the floor.
But Rin just tossed his head back and laughed, the sound echoing.“It’s all good. If anything, it means you’re officially part of the crew now.”
With Hi-no-tama bobbing ahead, bathing the hallways in gentle supernatural glow, the whole group followed—Rin leading the way, Yuzuki close at his side, Korobokkurus shuffling eagerly behind. They left the ruined Left Wing, crossing over into the brighter, still-functioning Right Wing of the 3rd floor, making their way to the Home Economics classroom where the smells and warmth of a normal school life promised a brief break from the night’s wild, haunted adventure.
To be Continued...
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