I do Not own the Anime/Manga Ghost Hunt, or its characters.

Make that four chapters.

At first, I couldn't make out what I was looking at.

There were bumps jolting and shaking the equpiment inside the vehical, moving the stretcher I was laying on. There was a man working, is hands steady but movement jerky and beginning to panic, "We're losing him! Go faster!"

I stared down at my own body, almost like I was looking into a mirror. The wound on my head, starting from my brow and running to the back of my skull, had been sloppily stitched in an effort to stop the bleeding, but blood had already soaked my hair and clothes. I could see splotches of it marring the silken fabirc of my purple scarf. Blood was smeared across my face, my eyes still and lips tinting a ghastly blue. My priest uniform had been opened to reveal glass embedded deeply into my skin, blood oozing from the angry looking wounds.

My eyes were drawn to the purple silk. I hoped I could save that artical of clothing. It had been a gift from Father Eli from Australia. He had given it to me before I left, as a froget-us-not gift. He had been so worried when I had moved to Japan's newest monestary. I sat down, trying to stay out of the man's way. I didn't want to be in his way. It looked like he was trying to do something important.

Deep down, I knew I should be worried.

Especially when he put that mask over my face, and started to pump my chest. "Breath, kid! Come on, don't die on me!"

Death?

So this is what death was like. It was like floating on a cloud, a strong river current dragging you one way and a hand gripping you tight to the earth. Nothing made sence, but it was understandable. I frowned again; I didn't like it. I wanted to go home.

A blinding white light poured down from the top of the van. It was warm, and there was laughter - voices I knew, from the very edges of my memories. I squinted in the light, wondering why the man didn't give pause, why he wasn't stopping to look up like I was. I stood, looking back down at my reflection and the blood.

The choice is yours, my child.

I looked up again, but now everything had hit home. I was dead. I could go with Him, the one belief that held firm throughout the years, the one person who could give me back my family. I could stay here, with the blood and the pain and the loneliness. I understood.

"I-"