You would think walking into the third music room meant host club, or by some stretch of the imagination, some musical group. Somehow modern culture has twisted our thinking here in Japan so much that a music room is a place for boys' love. Don't ask me why, or how, for that matter.

Sometimes I worry the god of bad luck has cursed me, however, as my Music Room Three experiences ended up being the headquarters to some spooky guy in a jersey (with awful sweaty hands, I might add).

Um, let me move back a little. Sorry to cold open on you like this, reader. I didn't mean it. By the way, I'm Yukine - but I was really rather surprised by this guy in the jersey, so I wasn't thinking straight.

An hour ago, it was still class and I wanted nothing more than to get out. My first day in second-year term, all I really wanted to do was find another member of the Go-home club, preferably one of my friends, and do just that - go home. I couldn't get out of the room fast enough; I guess I didn't really mention how hot it was. Although in trying to find Kazama, one of my buddies, I ended up closer to the music wing. As I was not in the least bit artsy, I'd never visited this wing, and I realized I needed to ask for directions to get out.

If you don't already know me, reader, I'm socially awkward sometimes, and I especially didn't want to get into a situation where I looked like I was joining a club. After all, here it's considered rude to stay at a club you don't intend to join. Naturally, I didn't want to look like I was joining some band, but it appeared that Music Rooms 1 & 2 were empty for today. By the racket 3 was making, though, it was either empty and possessed or full and possessed. One of those two, take your pick.

I took a long time contemplating the effects of my opening the door in front of me. Suddenly thinking better of it, I turned around and screamed like a little girl as a third-year girl barreled out of the door like a hurricane, past me, muttering curses under her breath.

"And I'm done with you and your sweaty hands! Eugh!" she grumbled, which is how I found out that Jersey Guy had sweaty hands. Jersey Guy was, in fact, standing in the doorway in her wake.

"Don't ask about her. She's in a bad mood," the Jersey Man said. I had to agree with Storm Girl behind me, I could smell him from here. Or was it the old-looking wardrobe I could spot behind him?

Jersey Guy seemed totally fine with me being there. I wondered why-it wasn't like I was an active member of his club...

...Unless he thought I was going to join his club.

I admit, the thought of joining a band seemed pretty okay compared to Sweaty Hand Jersey Guy's club.

He wasn't currently begging for me to join his club, so I figured it was okay to proceed with: "Do you know how to get to Homeroom 2C, room of the Go Home club-"

"Yato," he said, offering his hand and interrupting me. In shaking it, I got confirmation that, yes, officer, his hands were sweaty. Just what was going on in that room? I was starting to have thoughts of making a break for it, like Storm Girl. "Can you help me for a mo'?" Yato continued, grabbing my arm and dragging me inside to whatever horrors awaited in the club room.

The first thing I saw was the chest of drawers. It stood smack in the center of the room, unmoving, all drawers open. It looked like a tornado had swept through, but whatever loud noises I'd heard coming from inside earlier seemed to have stopped. The room around it was dark, so it was basically given a spotlight from the window, the only source of light in the room besides a few candles.

Come to think of it, the room was very dark for a music room. Thick curtains surrounded almost every window, except for the aforementioned unobstructed one. Every corner was lit by a dim candle.

Also, it smelled like Jersey Guy's hands.

"Mr. Yato..." I started.

"It's just Yato. No, wait, actually, it's Lord Yato. Yeah, I like that. Call me Lord Yato-"

I interrupted him. "What did you need from me exactly? I...crud, I'm late for homeroom."

THUMP.

All the drawers in the chest shut loudly. No one had touched it. I felt chills running down my back.

"I need a member for my club," Yato said calmly, striding up to the chest and staring. The chest of drawers began to shake noisily.

I tried to ask what he meant without peeing myself. Whatever was happening now was seriously spooking me.

"After all," the ever-surprising Jersey Guy continued, "I can't run a club if I'm the only member." He inhaled deeply, but was stopped by one of the drawers flying towards him. He stepped to the side with ease. I began to sweat bullets.

"Wh-what kind of club is this, exactly?" I choked out.

The chest of drawers was becoming louder and louder. It was starting to hurt my ears, and I had to shout.

Yato ignored me. Now able to inhale fully, he struck the chest with his palm. The chest seemed to ripple, and something invisible hit the wall, then exploded violently. In its wake, one drawer flew straight towards my face.

"Tell me," Yato said, still extremely calm. He snatched the drawer out of the air, stopping it in front of my nose, and setting it down without even looking at me. "Tell me, do you believe in ghosts?"

I didn't believe in ghosts. I hadn't, for most of my life. But the explanation this Yato guy was giving me was seriously making me rethink it all.

"This is the Paranormal Research club. We - actually, I - research ghosts and other spectres, and more importantly, expulse them. What you just saw was a poltergeist, hiding in that chest of drawers. We heard the Philosophy club was having trouble with it, so we borrowed it.

"Unfortunately, as you saw, Tomone just walked out on me during the most important part of the job. Luckily, it was a low-level spirit, and I was able to handle it all by myself, but I'll need another member if I'm going to keep doing this stuff. If a stronger spirit comes along, I'm not much use by myself. I'd need a Regalia."

"You've lost me..." I muttered helplessly.

"You don't happen to be dead already, right?" Yato said, looking hopefully at me. I stared back, confused. "Apparently not. Thing is, I'm a Necromancer. I use the powers of the undead to kill these spirits. But I have to form a contract with these undead people, and it's not very often that people become undead - it's complicated - and Tomone was the only one I had a contract with. And she was so hot, too!"

I decided this guy was both a creep and delusional, so I started to walk out of the room before I could hope to understand any of this stuff.

"Wait!" Yato protested. "At least promise to join my club!" he said, following me out the door.

I began to walk faster. "I just met you! And all I wanted to do was go home!"

I lost Yato somewhere on the way out. Either way, I was headed home without him following me, thank goodness. What a weird place.

A Paranormal Research club? That's the kind of thing you only see in movies. Poltergeists and ghosts? That had to be a trick, right?

I wasn't looking where I was going.

A train sounded in the distance.

Necromancers and the undead? Surely he was delusional.

I still wasn't looking where I was going.

I came close to a train crossing.

And contracts? This guy was just making stuff up, right? But then, what exploded? Why did the drawers fly everywhere? It's not like there was a bomb or anything - I didn't see a single hint of anything!

I didn't hear the train. I stepped in front of the automatic crossing guard without seeing it.

The train didn't stop.

The train collided with me head-on. I don't believe a single part of me survived, but I was also dead before I was able to figure that out.

I died on the night of August 31, hit by a train.

That was when the weird part started.

My eyes snapped open. I don't want to die!

I could feel my feet. Did I die? Am I okay? What's happening?

I could feel my hands, too. I wiggled them. I'm terrified! What is going on here?

Something was uncomfortable beneath me. I sat up. The last thing I remember is not wanting to die...

I looked down. I was seated on the train tracks. Did I survive the train collision?

I was also five meters from my dead, horribly twisted, and unrecognizable corpse.

I vomited. It was translucent.

Right then and there, I realized that Yato was right. And more importantly...

...I was an undead.