CHAPTER XXV
-Bait for the Bitter-
As they rounded a corner, Yuzuki’s footsteps slowed. Her eyes flicked upward, instinctively scanning the ceiling. There, half-shrouded in shadow at the intersection where wall met ceiling, she spotted it: the same supernatural creature from before. Its grotesque form clung to the plaster, limbs twisted, its face a mask of hungry anticipation. It hooked itself into the corner, its eyes darting down to the students below.
Just beneath the creature, a group of boys had formed a loose circle. Their voices were loud, playful at first, but quickly escalating. One boy tossed a sharp comeback, another fired back, and soon the air was thick with snarky remarks and competitive jabs.
“Bro, your hair looks like you lost a fight with a lawnmower,” one boy laughed, nudging his friend.
“Yeah? At least I don’t smell like expired ramen,” the other shot back, grinning.
Another chimed in, “You two sound like my grandparents arguing over bingo night.”
The group burst into laughter, but the energy was shifting—what started as friendly teasing was rapidly turning into something sharper, more heated. Shoulders squared, voices rose, and the boys began shoving each other, their playful banter teetering on the edge of a real argument.
Yuzuki’s heart skipped. She nudged Reina, her gaze flicking from the boys to the creature above.
Yuzuki’s mind was racing. She watched as the creature’s mouth curled into a sinister grin, feeding off the rising tension below. The air seemed to thicken, the corridor’s lively energy shifting toward something darker, more volatile.
All around them, students continued to pass by, oblivious to the supernatural drama unfolding just above their heads. Yuzuki clenched her fists, realizing they were witnessing the creature’s influence in real time—turning harmless banter into the spark for something much worse.
Without hesitating, Yuzuki darted toward the boys, fishing out a small bag of homemade gummies from her pocket—the ones she’d made in Home Economics earlier. She flashed them her brightest, most disarming smile.
“Hello! I just made these today—it’s a new recipe! Would you like to try some?” she offered, holding out the gummies.
The boys froze, caught off guard by her sudden appearance and dazzling smile. They blushed, exchanging awkward glances.
“Uh… sure?” one managed, reaching for a gummy.
“Why’s a pretty girl offering us snacks? Are we really that cool?” another whispered to his friend, both of them flustered and confused.
“Maybe she just has weird taste in guys,” a third mumbled, popping a gummy into his mouth.
Reina watched from a distance, arms crossed, her expression a mix of disgust and bewilderment. Why is Yuzuki giving her precious gummies to a bunch of random boys? she wondered, incredulous.
Yuzuki glanced up as the boys munched on the treats. The creature above, its meal of anger interrupted, scowled and turned away, dissolving into the wall and vanishing from sight. Relief washed over her. She bowed lightly to the boys. “Thanks for trying them!” she said, before dashing back to Reina’s side.
Arm in arm, the two girls headed for the exit, the chaos of the day finally behind them.
As they walked, Reina shot Yuzuki a sideways look. “So… why’d you give your gummies to those random guys?”
Yuzuki fumbled for words, cheeks pink. “Ahh, um, I just… felt like it, you know?”
Reina’s eyes narrowed, a teasing grin spreading across her face. “You like one of them or something?”
“What? No! Of course not!” Yuzuki sputtered, waving her hands defensively.
Reina just laughed, shaking her head as they disappeared into the fading afternoon, their easy banter echoing down the street.
Yuzuki swung the empty bag of gummies in her hand, a tiny sigh escaping her lips. Awee... sadly, all my gummies are finished, she thought, watching the crinkled plastic flutter with each step. I made them for Rin... oh well, another time, I guess.
She glanced over at Reina, who was chattering animatedly about something that happened in class, and Yuzuki let herself get swept up in the conversation, her earlier disappointment melting away. The two walked side by side, laughter and stories filling the space between them as they made their way home, the afternoon sun casting long, golden shadows on the path ahead.
Kaito stretched his arms above his head, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. “HAAAAH~ It’s lucky we got rid of all those Akarui on time!”
Nozomi slumped against the wall, exhaustion clear on her face. “Yeah! Or else we’d be their meal tonight,” she groaned, rubbing her temples.
Toma-sensei, ever the disciplinarian, caught sight of Ren and Haruki whispering and grinning about their after-school plans. He fixed them with a sharp look. “You students better complete today’s notes that you missed after you go home! And study for the upcoming exam.”
Haruki and Ren’s faces fell in unison. “WHAAAAT?!” they shouted together, their dreams of a carefree PS5 night instantly dashed.
In the newly cleaned, once-burnt classroom of the Left Wing, Rin perched casually on the windowframe, legs dangling outside. The little korobokkuru (kks) clustered around him, some peeking through the glass, others perched on his shoulders or tugging at his sleeves.
Together, they gazed down at the schoolyard below, where Yuzuki and Reina were laughing, their arms linked as they made their way out of the school gates. The late afternoon light caught in their hair, and their laughter floated up, bright and carefree.
Rin watched with a sly, childlike grin, the kks mimicking his expression with their own tiny, mischievous smiles. For a moment, the supernatural and the ordinary existed side by side—Rin, the ghostly observer with his quirky companions, and Yuzuki and Reina, blissfully unaware, heading home with the weight of the day already lifting from their shoulders.
As the clock in Yuzuki’s house struck 9:45 PM, the quiet was broken by the gentle creak of her bedroom door. Mikazuki Ayame, Yuzuki’s mother, peeked in, her hand pressed to her cheek in mock worry. “Sweetheart, are you planning to study the entire semester in one night?” she exclaimed, her expression both concerned and a little playful.
Yuzuki looked up from her desk, a tired but triumphant smile on her face. “Haha! Nope! Lucky you—I’m just winding up! I’m half prepared for the Science exam now! There’s a week left till exams, so I decided to at least complete something, even if it’s just half,” she replied, standing and beginning to stack her books.
Ayame let out a dramatic sigh, pretending to dab at invisible tears. “Oh! But please don’t shun me out on such days!”
Yuzuki laughed, her tone warm. “Alright. And thank you for respecting my space and not interrupting my study sessions,” she said, slipping her books into her bag.
“Hehe! Don’t thank me! But you’re most welcome, Yuyu!” her mother giggled, the familiar nickname lightening the mood.
Suddenly, Yuzuki’s eyes widened as she remembered. “Oh! Wait! I have homework to complete!”
Ayame’s face fell in exaggerated disappointment. “Whaaat?! But I thought we’d finally have dinner now!”
“Gimme a few more minutes, we can eat dinner by 10. I’ll speedrun my homework!” Yuzuki promised, already reaching for her notebook.
Her mother brightened, her voice cheerful as she backed out of the room. “Alright! I’ll set up the table in the meantime!”
With that, Ayame closed the door, leaving Yuzuki to her last-minute homework dash, the comforting sounds of home drifting in from the kitchen.
“Oh? You came down fast!” Ayame called out, balancing dishes as she set the table, surprised to see Yuzuki already descending the staircase.
“Ahaha! Yess, luckily it was little but quite a few subjects,” Yuzuki replied, rubbing the back of her neck with a sheepish grin.
The family, joined by Hana, gathered around the dining table. As is customary in Japanese households, they pressed their hands together and said, “Itadakimasu!” before starting their meal, expressing gratitude for the food and everyone who made it possible. The table was lively, filled with the clatter of chopsticks and the gentle hum of conversation as each person shared the rough and tough moments of their day.
Laughter and stories passed between bites, the atmosphere warm and familiar. Yuzuki recounted her study session and the small victories she’d had with her homework, while her mother teased her about her late-night study habits. Hana chimed in with her own tales, and the family’s bonds felt especially close in those moments.
By the time they finished, the clock read 10:35 PM. Together, they placed their chopsticks down, hands pressed together once more, and said, “Gochisōsama deshita,” thanking each other and the cook for the delicious meal and signaling the end of dinner.
The evening wound down with the comforting rituals of Japanese family life, the day’s stresses softened by shared food and connection.
With dinner concluded, Yuzuki turned to her mother, a hopeful glint in her eyes. “Mom, would you be willing to help me make gummies? I really want to!” she asked, her voice eager.
Mikazuki Ayame’s face lit up instantly. Her eyes, which moments before had shown the gentle weariness of a long day, sparkled with renewed energy. “Yes!” she exclaimed, her voice bright and enthusiastic. “Of course, Yuyu! That sounds wonderful!”
As Yuzuki’s mother beamed, Hana, with a quiet efficiency, began clearing the dinner table and heading towards the sink to tackle the dishes. The gentle clinking of plates and the running water became the backdrop to the new domestic endeavor.
Meanwhile, Yuzuki and her mother, now a team with a shared mission, made their way to the kitchen counter. Yuzuki pulled out a recipe book, flipping through the pages with her mother peering over her shoulder, their heads close together. They discussed ingredients, Yuzuki’s mother offering tips and tricks from years of baking experience, while Yuzuki absorbed every word, excited to apply her new Home Economics knowledge.
Soon, the kitchen was alive with activity. Measuring cups clinked, spoons stirred, and the sweet scent of fruit juice began to fill the air. Yuzuki carefully measured gelatin while her mother prepared the molds, their movements synchronized in a quiet, comforting rhythm. They laughed as a bit of juice spilled, and Yuzuki’s mother gently corrected Yuzuki’s stirring technique. The usual nightly winding down was replaced by the warmth of shared creation, a simple yet profound moment of connection between mother and daughter.
At 11:15 PM, the house had grown quiet, the gentle hum of nighttime settling in. Yuzuki finished cleaning up with her mother, exchanged soft “good nights” with her family, and slipped away to her bedroom. She closed the door behind her, the familiar comfort of her room wrapping around her like a blanket.
She changed into her pajamas, flopped onto her bed, and let out a content sigh. Instead of drifting off to sleep, though, she reached for her phone, curiosity getting the better of her. The screen’s gentle glow illuminated her face as she scrolled through her notifications.
There, nestled among the day’s messages, she spotted one she hadn’t seen before—timestamped during the afternoon break. It was from Kaito:
Kaito-kun:
Yuzuki-san, you left the infirmary right?
Yuzuki blinked at the message, memories of the chaotic day flickering through her mind. Her eyes widened as she scrolled down just below Kaito’s calm message:
Kaito-kun:
YUZUKI-SAN! LEAVE THE INFIRMARY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The sudden burst of urgency in all caps made her heart skip a beat. She stared at the screen, the contrast between the two messages stark and unsettling. What had happened in the infirmary? Why the frantic warning?
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, torn between replying immediately or trying to piece together what had unfolded earlier. The night suddenly felt heavier, the quiet of her room now charged with unanswered questions.
Yuzuki dashed through the morning corridors of Kurokawa High, her bag bouncing against her side as she hurried into the Primary Section. Only 15 minutes remained before classes would begin—it was 7:15 AM, and the school was already humming with early activity.
She paused outside the staffroom door, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. Inside, the staffroom was its usual blend of organized chaos: teachers hunched over piles of papers, the hum of quiet conversation, and the soft clack of keyboards. Yuzuki spotted her primary teacher at her desk, red pen in hand, correcting a stack of assignments.
Yuzuki approached, bowing politely. “Good morning, Sensei! I won the project. We’ll be starting the campaign today,” she announced, her voice bright with excitement.
Her teacher’s face lit up instantly. She stood, eyes wide with joy, and called out to her colleagues, “Everyone, come here! Yuzuki-chan won the project!” She grabbed Yuzuki’s hands, her words tumbling out in a glittery stream of praise and congratulations. “I knew you could do it! This is wonderful! So proud!”
Other teachers quickly gathered around, their faces breaking into smiles. One of them, already prepared, dashed out and returned moments later dragging a large black bag stuffed with student drawings. “Here’s all of it, Yuzuki-chan! We’ll collect more next month, so make sure to come back then!” she said, handing over the bag with a flourish.
Yuzuki’s heart soared. She bowed deeply, thanking each teacher in turn, her gratitude sincere. “Thank you all so much! I’ll do my best!” she promised.
With the bag in hand, Yuzuki slipped out of the staffroom, careful not to draw attention. She dragged the bulky black bag discreetly up the stairs, weaving through the morning crowds, and made her way all the way up to the third floor—her mission accomplished, her spirits high.
Yuzuki slipped through the quiet corridors of the Left Wing, dragging the bulky black bag behind her. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then called out in a clear, cheerful voice, “Korobokkurus! I’ve got something for you!”
Almost instantly, the little korobokkuru came scurrying from all directions—some tumbled out of the newly fixed classroom, others darted from shadowy corners and burnt-out rooms. Their tiny faces lit up as Yuzuki handed over the bag, her smile wide. “Here’s all of it! I’ll bring the next bag next month, so wait for me, okay?” she promised, giving them a quick wave before turning to dash off.
She paused mid-step, spun around, and cupped her hands around her mouth, her voice echoing down the long, empty corridor: “Tell Baby Boy I’ll give his gummies during breaktime!”
The words bounced off the walls, carrying down the Left Wing. In the newly fixed classroom, Rin’s head snapped up at the sound. He rushed to the door, sliding it open with a dramatic flourish. One hand gripped the frame, one foot still inside as he leaned out, eyes scanning the corridor, a sly grin already forming on his lips—eager for whatever mischief or treat was coming his way.
To be Continued...
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