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The old west wing of Kamome Academy was always unsettling after dark.
Even during the day, the abandoned corridor carried an eerie stillness—dust clinging to broken windows, the wooden floors groaning under every step, and shadows stretching far too long in the fading light. But at night, with only the dim silver glow of the moon filtering through cracked panes, the place felt alive in all the wrong ways.
And tonight, it was alive.
Nene sighed. She had no idea why she still at Kamone Academy so late at night!
Except, she did know why she was still here.
Embarrassingly enough, she accidentally fell asleep during bathroom duty—along side Hanako—and here she is now.
At eight o’clock on a school night, at said school.
Granted, Hanako upon realizing he’d accidentally kept his trusty assistant at school after hours was indeed, mortified.
He immediately scrambled for her to go home, seemingly cursing himself for actually (sort of) falling asleep.
Thankfully, Nene’s parents have gone out on a business trip, leaving her on her own today before she’d spend the rest of the week with Aoi and her parents.
At least no one’s worried sick! She sighed with relief.
Still, before she could in fact go home, an inhuman scream came blasting through the halls from the music room, bringing up to present time.
“This is a terrible idea,”
Nene whispered, clutching her skirt as another shrill, inhuman screech echoed from down the hallway.
Ahead of her, Hanako floated backward, grinning far too casually for the situation.
“Aw, come on, Yashiro! You wound me.” He pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. “When have my ideas ever gone wrong?”
She stared at him.
Then she gestured wildly to the broken hallway, the claw marks gouged into the walls, and the thing shrieking somewhere ahead of them.
Hanako tilted his head thoughtfully.
“Hmm. Fair point.”
“Hanako-kun!”
He laughed, soft and teasing, though his dark eyes remained sharp as he glanced toward the end of the corridor.
“Relax. It’s just one minor rogue supernatural. We’ll fix the rumor, give it a little smack, and be home before long!”
“That does not make me feel better!” She said, now fiddling nervously with the sea foam-colored ends of her hair.
Another scream tore through the hallway—louder this time—followed by the violent slam of a classroom door.
Nene flinched so hard she nearly stumbled.
Hanako’s expression shifted instantly. The teasing melted away, replaced by focus, intense gaze. He floated in front of her, one hand lightly catching her shoulder to steady her.
“Stay behind me.”
The words were calm, but firm.
Nene swallowed and nodded.
She hated how easily fear crept into her chest during these moments. She’d been involved with apparitions long enough to know that appearances meant nothing—something small and silly could turn violent in an instant.
Tonight’s rumor had started harmless enough. A small rumor, that no one had dared to check out anyway.
A ghost in the abandoned music classroom.
A “cry-singing spirit” that wandered the west wing at night.
Students said if you heard a humming melody buzzing through the corridors near the music room after sunset, don’t check it out. it would get self conscious by an audience, and would scratch your face and steal your voice.
Very spooky.
Surely, this rumor wouldn’t go that far, right? I mean, it’s literally after sunset. No one would sneak back into school after hours to test a rumor like that, right? There aren’t any benefits other than knowing it’s real, which meant you were either risking your life or wasting your time.
But alas, Three curious students had already been injured according to Hanako. The supernatural had become aggressive, lashing out at anyone who entered the west wing after sunset.
And so here they were.
At Kamome Academy.
At night.
Tracking down some theatrical apparition.
Because of course they were. Being Hanako’s assistant meant she would usually be in these situations.
She didn’t see that stopping any time soon.
Still, she didn’t know if she minded too much.
Hanako moved slowly toward the art room at the end of the hall, his hakujoudai hovering near around them, glowing faintly in the dark.
The classroom door hung half open, creaking as cold air drifted out. Inside, the room was in ruins.
Desks overturned.
Instruments slashed.
What looked like ink splattered across the floor and walls in streaks so dark they looked like blood. At the center of the room crouched the supernatural.
It was vaguely humanoid, its body draped in shredded black cloth, long fingers digging into the floorboards. Its face was hidden behind tangled hair, but a warped half melody-half sobbing sound echoed from it—wet and broken and wrong.
Nene felt nausea twist in her stomach.
Hanako stepped forward.
“Hey there~!” he said lightly, spinning his kitchen knife once in his hand. “You’ve been causing trouble, but I’m sure you know that much already!”
The sobbing stopped. Slowly, the creature lifted its head.
Its face was blank.
No eyes.
No mouth.
Just smooth pale skin where features should have been.
Nene bit back a gasp. Shes seen many supernaturals, but this was freaky!
The creature stared for a minute longer in an aching silence.
Suddenly it lunged forward, moving impossibly fast.
Hanako met it head-on, knife flashing as the supernatural slammed into him. The force sent desks crashing aside.
“Hanako-kun!!” She shrieked.
“Yashiro!” he called. “The left side!”
She spotted it immediately.
A ink-covered cello pulsed with faint spiritual light.
This must be what Hanako-Kun was talking about! She recalled.
Some apparitions they fought in the past would possess different objects. Think of it like a spawn point.
Hanako explained to her one day,
If feeling threatened, they’d retreat back until they’re ready to spread mischief once more. If the spawning point were to be destroyed, the apparition would be tremendously weaker. In other words, it’s really difficult to kill them without getting rid of the root first.
This supernatural seemed to be no exception.
She ran. Behind her, wood splintered as Hanako drove the creature back. The room shook with the force of the blows. The supernatural had to be distracted enough so that Nene could destroy the root without it retreating or hurting her.
She dodged around fallen desks, heart pounding, she was almost there—
The supernatural screamed.
The sound was so sharp she froze.
Hanako had driven his blade into its shoulder, but instead of recoiling, the creature twisted violently—
And saw her.
Its blank face snapped in her direction, twitching disgustingly.
Hanako’s voice rang out:
“Yashiro, move!”
She tried, she really did. The creature was just far faster than a mere human girl.
It hurled itself across the room.
Nene raised her arms instinctively as jagged claws flashed toward her—
Then Hanako was there.
He intercepted the attack, shoving her aside as the claws raked toward them.
One slash however, landed.
Pain burst across Nene’s upper arm. She cried out as something hot tore through her sleeve. Hanako’s knife flashed, and the creature flew backward into the wall hard enough to crack it.
“Yashiro!”
She hit the floor, dazed.
Her arm was throbbing with pain, making her mentally wince. She soon pushed herself up on one elbow, head still buzzing from impact.
“I-I’m okay!”
Hanako was already between her and the supernatural, his expression unreadable.
The creature staggered upright again.
Hanako didn’t speak.
Didn’t glance at her.
The air in the room changed.
He moved faster than Nene could track.
One second he stood in front of her, the next he had the creature pinned against the far wall, blade at its throat, his eyes dark and empty, no soul behind them.
It was terrifying.
This wasn’t Hanako-San of the toilet—no, not at all…
This was the leader of the seven school mysteries, and it showed.
“Hanako—” Nene started.
The supernatural thrashed. Hanako’s voice came out low and deadly, with his face twisted in a sadistic smile.
“Well, this has gotten far too out of hand, hasn’t it?”
The words made the room feel even colder.
“Though, I suppose that’s my fault. I didn’t expect you to grow decently strong so quickly! Whoops~” His words sound harmless, but his tone and expression suggested anything but harmless.
Nene had seen Hanako angry before, but this was far different.
This was rage stripped silent.
The creature lashed out wildly, but Hanako drove the knife deeper.
Nene took advantage of the distraction, and sprinted back to the cello. She grabbed it by the neck, and with full force slammed it into the classroom floor.
The supernatural shrieked one last time before Hanako took his kitchen knife and slashed an aggressive, clean cut in its mid-section.
The apparition withered away in seconds.
Hanako stood motionless, before turning to look at her.
Nene tried to smile despite the antagonizing pain.
She was mentally praying to whoever would listen that the wound wasn’t too deep. Even if her parents are out of town, it would be a nightmare to explain to Aoi or her parents.
Or anyone really.
Plus, she wouldn’t want to imagine the worsening pain after her adrenaline slows down.
“See? It’s oka—” She started.
His gaze dropped to her arm.
Blood soaked through the torn sleeve of her uniform, dripping steadily onto the floor.
The smile died on her lips.
Hanako crossed the room instantly. He knelt in front of her, hands hovering near her injured arm but not touching. His face had gone pale.
“Yashiro,” he said quietly.
She forced a laugh, though the welled-up tears in her eyes betrayed her. “It looks worse than it is—”
“Don’t move.”
His voice was sharp enough that she went still. He stared at the blood staining her sleeve, eyes wide in a way she almost never saw. He gently took her wrist and pulled her arm closer.
The fabric on her puffed up sleeve was utterly shredded. Three jagged claw marks cut across her upper arm, blood welling from each one.
Hanako’s hands trembled.
He was shaking.
“Hanako-kun?”
He didn’t answer. His gaze was locked on the wound, like the sight of it had stolen every word from him.
“It’s not deep,” hopefully, she said softly. “I’m okay.”
Still nothing.
His fingers tightened slightly around her wrist—not enough to hurt, but enough for her to noticed the increasing amounts of shaking.
Hanako was always smiling.
Always joking.
Even in dangerous situations, he carried himself with that familiar teasing confidence.
But now all of that was gone, and he looked… scared…
Actually scared.
“Hanako-kun…”
His shoulders tightened, and his expression looked pained. He forced himself to sharply inhale a not needed breath, then, without a word, he slid one arm behind her knees and the other around her back.
Nene gasped as he lifted her into his arms.
“H-Hanako-kun?!” She managed to blurt.
“We’re leaving.”
His voice was quiet, too quiet. She looked up at him, startled. “It’s just my arm—”
“We’re leaving,” he repeated. The way he said it made it clear there was no room to argue.
He carried her out of the previously ruined classroom, holding her so carefully it made her chest ache. Nene looked at his face as he moved through the dark hallway.
His jaw was tight.
His eyes were fixed ahead.
And his hands were still trembling.
That frightened her more than the wound.
“Hanako-kun…” she said softly.
No response.
She hesitated, then she gently touched the front of his uniform with her good hand.
“I’m okay.”
His arms tightened around her. Barely, but enough.
He still didn’t look at her.
Moonlight spilled through the cracked windows as he carried her down the corridor toward the girl’s bathroom.
The silence between them felt heavier than the battle had.
Nene’s arm throbbed painfully, but the pain barely registered in her mind now, because Hanako looked devastated.
As if those shallow cuts were something far worse.
And suddenly, she understood. Her chest ached.
It wasn’t the injury itself, it was what it represented.
A reminder.
That she was fragile.
That she could be hurt.
That one day, she would be beyond his reach.
And, perhaps that day was growing even nearer than she hoped.
“Hanako-kun,” she said again, softer this time.
He finally spoke.
“You…scared me.”
His voice slightly cracked on the last word, and he sounded on the verge of tears.
Nene froze.
He kept walking, eyes fixed ahead.
“I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry…”
His grip on her tightened again. Though the hallway was cold, she could feel the panic radiating from him. He looked mortified when she glanced at his face earlier.
Not because of the blood, or because the wound was serious.
But because for one split second—
He thought he might lose her.
That she would slip right between his fingers, and there was nothing he could do about it.
And judging by the look on his face, that fear hadn’t passed at all.
Hanako had always thought fear was a familiar thing.
Fear was not new to him.
It had lived inside him for so long that it had stopped feeling like an emotion and started feeling like bone—something hard and permanent, built into the framework of what he was.
Fear was the cold hand around his throat the night he ruined everything.
Fear was blood on his hands that would never wash clean.
Fear was the memory of a door closing behind him and the knowledge that nothing beyond that moment could ever be undone.
An action that could never be taken back.
For years, fear had been his shadow.
But this—This was different.
Now, the fear clawing through him now was not for himself.
It was for her.
Hanako held Nene in his arms as he crossed the empty school corridors, and the warmth of her body against his chest only made the terror worse.
She was warm.
Alive.
Breathing.
And still, panic coiled through him like barbed wire. Mere moments ago he had looked at her and seen a dark crimson soaking into torn white fabric, and for one impossible horrifying second, he had imagined the life leaving her.
It was wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
He had imagined losing her.
The thought hollowed him out. His arms tightened around her before he could stop himself. Just enough to reassure the frantic, irrational part of him that she was still there.
That her warmth was there.
Because, god would have to kill him again before he felt her pulse stop.
Before her skin ran cold. Before her large ruby eyes always shining with nothing but life and emotion, turned soulless and dull. Before what Mirai did, became a devastating reality.
But no, she’s still real. Still his to protect.
He hated how pathetically shaken he was. Hated the increasing tremor in his hands. The way the image of the wrongful blood on her skin kept replaying behind his eyes.
He was supposed to be stronger than this.
He was supposed to be in control.
Instead, he felt like glass—one sharp sound away from shattering.
“Hanako-kun…”
Her voice was soft, careful. Like she was afraid of startling him. Her voice was sweet honey to his ears.
The tenderness of it hurt, and he couldn’t look at her.
If he looked at her right now—at her worried eyes, at the blood staining her sleeve, at the way she was trying to comfort him when she was the one hurt—he was afraid the fragile composure holding him together would split apart.
The thin string holding his facade, would snap.
So, he kept walking. Counting his footsteps. Glancing at the club posters on the wall. Distracting himself from what he knew he couldn’t face head-on.
The moonlight stretched in pale ribbons across the hallway floor, silver against the old wood, and the school around them was quiet enough that he could hear every small sound: the rustle of her uniform, the uneven rhythm of her breathing, the frantic pounding of his own thoughts.
Pathetic. You should have protected her.
The words came fast and vicious.
You were careless.
You let her get hurt.
Hanako bit down on the inside of his cheek.
He had spent so long learning how to live with guilt that it usually sat rotting inside him quietly, eating him up like hungry vultures to bleeding flesh.
But tonight it was fresh in his mind and body. This wasn’t some abstract failure.
This was Nene. Someone who smiled at him like he was somehow worth smiling at.
She filled empty rooms with warmth just by standing in them. She had managed into the ruined corners of his existence, and made them feel almost human again. Slowly stitching his long-gone sense of humanity back together.
A girl that made his cold, dead heart beat frantically like a real teenage boy.
And he had paid the consequences of his carelessness, and let her bleed.
The bathroom door creaked open before him.
The familiar room—cracked tiles, moonlit mirrors, the faint smell of lemon-scented cleaning supplies, and bleach lingered.
Tonight, it felt unbearably small.
He set her down carefully on the edge of the sink counter, moving as though she were made of china.
She hissed softly as her injured arm shifted.
The sound cut straight through him.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. The apology escaped before he could stop it.
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “For what?”
Hanako stared at the torn sleeve of her uniform. For everything, he thought.
For not being fast enough.
For letting her get dragged, and too involved with the far-shore.
For every bruise, every close call, every danger she had faced simply because she knew him.
For the future waiting for her like a dreadful countdown neither of them could escape. Slowly ticking away until her imminent doom
The list goes on. He couldn’t say any of that, though.
So instead, he reached for the first aid supplies with trembling hands.
The cabinet door rattled when he opened it.
His fingers felt ridiculously clumsy.
He had fought supernatural beings without hesitation. Had held knives steadier than breath.
Hell, he’d seen countless of humans and apparitions die. Some by his own hand.
He was no stranger to danger or blood. Yet, now a roll of bandages slipped from his grasp and hit the floor. He sighed with frustration and sorrow.
“Hanako-kun,” Nene said softly, “it’s okay.”
He bent quickly to retrieve it, not answering.
Because it was not okay.
The wound itself was shallow—he knew that. Three jagged scratches, painful but not dangerous.
Any rational part of him understood that.
But fear was never rational.
It was seeing blood and remembering the fate tied around her life, like a noose tightening around her neck slowly every second. He knew exactly how fragile human bodies were.
Fear was loving someone enough that even the smallest harm felt unbearable. Like whatever was left of him was being crushed into tiny pieces, never to be recovered again.
He wet a cloth and began to clean the blood from her arm.
The skin around the scratches was already reddening. He stared at the marks as though memorizing them. Unavoidable proof of his failure.
Nene watched him quietly for a moment. She always tried her hardest to smile. “You look more hurt than I do.”
Hanako’s hands stopped.
The attempt at humor should have eased the tension. Normally it would have. Any escape to avoid topics that could cause a crack in the walls he spent so much time building, he’d take.
Normally he would grin, tease her back, tell her she was impossible. Like a set routine in his head.
But right now the words only made something inside him twist tighter.
Nene was smiling through his mistakes.
He wrapped the bandage around her arm
once.
Twice.
His voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper.
“You could have died.”
Nene stared at him. The words hung in the bathroom between them, too heavy for the seemingly claustrophobic bathroom.
“It was just a scratch,” she said gently.
Hanako laughed once—a short, hollow sound with no humor in it.
“That’s not the point.”
Nene looked at her hands, and fidgeted around while he continued to patch her up.
He tied off the bandage, then kept his hands on her arm, unable to let go.
His head bowed.
He could feel the words pressing against his throat. Something ugly.
“I saw you bleeding,” he said quietly, “and all I could think was that this was it.” He grimaced at the pathetic crack in his voice, but when he looked back up at Nene, she just gazed at him softly.
He hated how kind she looked, and what it did to him. “I thought…” His throat tightened. “I thought if I looked up, you wouldn’t be there anymore.”
Silence.
Hanako stared at the white bandage around her arm.
“I was terrified.”
Saying it out loud made him feel exposed. He was a supernatural.
The leader of the seven mysteries.
A being students whispered about in frightened voices. Reminding him of his sins over and over until he seemed immune to it. All that yet here he was, trembling so hard over scratches that would heal in days.
Utterly pathetic.
“I’m supposed to protect you,” he murmured.
Nene’s hand moved, resting lightly over his. “I could never be more thankful, Hanako-kun. You do protect me.”
He flinched. “No.”
The word came out sharper than he intended.
“No, I don’t.”
His chest ached with the force of everything he kept buried. “If I protected you, you wouldn’t get hurt.”
“If I protected you, you wouldn’t cry.”
“If I protected you—”
He swallowed hard. “If I protected you, you wouldn’t have to carry the burden of being tied to me.”
Nene’s fingers tightened slightly over his hand. “Hanako—”
“Everything I touch ends up broken.” the words were spilling out now, impossible to stop. He felt broken.
His reflection stared back at him in the mirror—dark eyes, forced calm.
A ghost pretending to be a boy.
“I should have kept you away from all of this.” His voice was shaking now.
“From me.”
Nene was quiet.
Hanako forced himself to continue.
“You know what I am,” he said. “You know what I’ve done. Even now, I keep dragging you into danger. I tell myself I’m helping you, that I’m protecting you, but the truth is—”
His breath caught, and he felt hot with so much emotion that he so usually kept chained away.
“I’m so selfish for constantly wanting you, and keeping you stuck here rotting with me.”
He finally looked at her.
Moonlight spilled through the window behind her, outlining her in silver. It cascaded through her cream-colored hair, and shone brightly in her ruby eyes.
She looked impossibly soft. Far too bright for someone like him.
“I can’t let you go,” he whispered.
There it was. The truth he hated most.
“I know being close to me puts you in danger. I know I should step back, I know I should make things safer for you, but I can’t.”His hands were trembling again. “Because every day you’re with me, I want one more.”
One more giggle.
One more smile.
One more day.
All greed to him, plain and simple.
“I’m scared all the time,” he admitted. “Scared something will happen to you. Scared your time will run out. Scared I won’t be able to stop it in time. “His eyes burned.
“And no matter how scared I am, I still keep you here because I—”
The words lodged in his throat, burning. Because saying them would make everything real. Something he doesn’t deserve.
He’s not supposed to feel this for someone he can’t have. It’s not possible.
Nene slid off the counter before he could stop her, tears welled in her pretty eyes. Her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She stepped close enough that he could feel her warmth.
Then she reached up and cupped his face.
Hanako froze.
Her injured arm trembled slightly with the effort, but she didn’t pull away.
“Then say it,” she whispered.
He blinked at her with shock. His brain was finally catching up with his word vomit
She looked at him with those impossibly gentle eyes—the same eyes that had looked at him with trust, with affection, with warmth he had never deserved.
She made it look so easy. Suddenly, holding the words back hurt so more than speaking them aloud.
His heart won him over. He took an unneeded breath.
“I love you,” he said. The confession came out quiet and ragged.
Nene’s eyes widened, shining.
Hanako let out a twisted laugh, tears threatening him. “I can never have you. It should be impossible.”
“Hanako-kun… why?” Nene asked quietly.
“An apparition and a human? I’m sure you already are aware of anything of that sort being a taboo.” He hated to say it. Hated that he couldn’t selfishly indulge in his desires to listen to her for hours.
To kiss her.
he couldn’t give her the future she deserved.
Tears spilled down Nene’s cheeks.
Hanako brushed one away with trembling fingers. “Though, if I could give you anything,” he whispered, “it would be years. Time. A life untouched by all of this.”
Nene shook her head. “Hanako-kun please—!”
“But I can’t.” His smile turned sad. “All I can do is stay beside you while I wait for the day I lose you.”
She covered his hand with hers. “Listen to me!”
He went still.
Her tears were falling now, but her voice was steady. He even adored her angry face.
“I love you too. More than you’d ever know.”
The words hit him like light breaking through water.
Sure, he’d fantasize about her reciprocating his feelings, but she’d made it clear as day to him that he wasn’t her type.
But, to hear it out loud firsthand?
His face flooded with warmth, and his cold heart fluttered against his chest.
“I love your stupid jokes,” she continued, now laughing through tears. “I love how you pretend not to care when you care more than anyone. I love that you protect me, and constantly remind me that there’s someone out there that I can rely on.”
She now pointed her index fingers together bashfully. “I even enjoy cleaning after school, because I know I get the chance to see you again.”
Hanako stared at her, unable to breathe.
She pressed her forehead gently to his. “And I don’t care that the future is uncertain.”
Her voice softened. “I don’t care how much time I have.”
The words pierced him.
“I don’t even care what dumb supernatural rules you expect me to follow. T-This is what I want, and you can’t change that!”
Hanako closed his eyes. The warmth of her forehead against his felt like something sacred. Something to cherish.
“I don’t need perfect,” she whispered. “I need you.”
Something inside him—something locked, frozen place—finally broke.
He let out a shaky breath that sounded almost like a sob and wrapped his arms around her carefully, as though she might vanish, and softly met his lips to hers.
She was taken aback for a moment, before kissing him back.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, the fear inside him loosened.
Not because it was gone, it would never be gone.
He would still fear losing her tomorrow, and the day after that, and every day she remained in his arms.
But now that fear was no longer eating at him.
She knew everything incriminating about him, and she still loved him anyway.
To him, that was worth more than any star in the sky.
He pulled back soon, remembering that unlike him, she had to breathe.
“I love you,” he whispered again.
She smiled warmly. “I know.”
With all the care in the world, he kissed her once more.
Soft.
Tentative.
Like touching something holy.
Nene melted into it immediately, her fingers curling lightly into his uniform. The kiss was gentle, trembling with everything neither of them had said for so long.
When they parted once more, Hanako rested his forehead against hers.
The moonlight wrapped around them in silver silence. And for that moment—just one fragile, impossible moment—the future did not exist.
There was no dreadful fate.
No clock counting down.
No fear beyond the edges of the room.
There was only this:
Her breath mingling with his. Her hands in his. The quiet certainty of being loved.
Hanako had spent so long believing he was a ruin.
A broken thing.
A ghost stitched together with regret.
But in her arms, he felt—if not whole—then held. Loved.
And maybe, for tonight, that was enough.