I sat at the top of my bedroom staircase, knees up, elbows resting on the caps and my chin resting worriedly on my palms. I stared shell-shocked at the closed door below me, waiting anxiously for it to burst open, for the intruders to invade the one space I refused to let them have. How exactly I was going to prevent them from taking it I hadn't yet figured.
I jumped as a light knock resounded from the other side. "Sukai-chan?"
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Yami.
Carefully, I made my way down the stairs, grabbing the knob as if to open it but pausing, leaning into the door. "Yami," I muttered. "I don't know, but I think they can see us. Something to do with the black thing on the other end of the hallway. You're going to have to just appear over here."
I could hear the frown in his voice as he responded. "Sukai-chan, I've never been on the other side of this door. I can't appear somewhere without first seeing it."
I sighed, summoning resolve, and twisted the knob. The door pushed open, the hinges obeying my desire for their silence, and Yami stepped in, skirting around me and up the stairs. Quick as I could, I closed the door again. After waiting a few moments to see if the intruders had noticed, I followed Yami, who had begun poking through the old furniture, boxes, and other rubble.
"This is it?" he asked, looking at me, flipping through a decaying book and sighing. "This is what you're protecting?" I stared at him, momentarily confused as he dropped his concentration, causing the book to fall through his grasp and slam hard against the floor. "There's nothing worth anything here," he continued. He eyed the book I had left on the chest top, reaching for it, but I snatched it up before he could get a better look at.
"So?" I muttered, holding the book close. He sighed, looking at me.
"Well, at any rate, this place is worse off than I remember." I gaped at him.
"What do you mean, you said you'd never been in here!" He chuckled at my accusation.
"I lied. I just wanted you to open the door."
"But—but—I told you!" I exclaimed. "They can see me, they can see us!" He just laughed again.
"They can't see anything; a few can sense us, if they're lucky. And besides, if you want them to go away, you have to keep messing with them, scaring them. You can't just duck in a corner of the attic and hope your silence drives them away."
"But they know I'm here," I argued. "What happens if they retaliate?" Yami snorted in disgust.
"Please, don't tell me that's what you're scared of. You, of all people…things."
"You're not very good at explaining things, you know," I muttered, glaring at him before wandering over to the window and looking out, the book still clutched tightly.
"Oh, come on, Sukai-chan," he groaned. "If you're waiting for me to tell you that you're dead, there you go." Again, I responded with a glare.
"Well, I had decided it was safe to assume that, thanks for your help. What I want to know is—"
"Sh," Yami suddenly said, throwing me a look before ducking back into the shadows. At the bottom of the stairs, the door hinges squealed as it opened.
"Hey, that's weird," came the soft voice of the brunette Mai. "The hinges never squealed over the recordings."
"How very observant of you, Mai," replied the voice of the indigo-eyed man. It dripped with condescension as he continued. "I suppose I should explain that poltergeists often have the ability to extend their will, if only just enough to keep hinges from squealing and knock expensive cameras over."
Their footsteps began up the staircase and I stiffened before leaving the book on the windowsill and darting behind the full-length mirror. Not the greatest hiding place, but if what Yami said was true, they'd be able to tell the two of were here no matter how good our hiding capabilities.
"So, you're convinced this is a poltergeist we're dealing with?" John, the young blond with the accent.
"I'm quite confident in that reasoning," said the indigo-eyed man, who had reached the top of the stairs. He did not look behind himself as he spoke, instead surveying the crowded space before him. Mai stepped up next to him, edging sideways enough to allow John to come up. I gasped as the girl in the kimono, known as Masako to her companions, appeared behind him. Masako copied me, gasping, though she threw herself onto the arm of the indigo-eyed young man. I raised an eyebrow as Mai seemed to seethe quietly. "Mai," said the young man with the girl on his arm, "what is the temperature in this room?"
Glaring, Mai looked at the object she held in her hand. "It's reading 57 degrees Fahrenheit; almost five degrees colder than the downstairs hallway."
"A draft, perhaps?" suggested John.
"A possibility, though I don't imagine that's the only reason for the immense temperature drop. Besides, this is an attic and it's the middle of summer. It would be warmer with a draft and no apparent insulation."
"There's more here now," said Masako, drawing the attention of her companions, as well as the attention of Yami, who had come forward from the shadows. "A girl, a young girl, the same presence as before." Masako's eyes darted around the room. "Though, she's hiding from us now, watching us from a corner I imagine." A forlorn expression crossed her face as the indigo-eyed, black-clad young man stepped away from her, approaching my hiding spot. He had noticed the book I had left on the windowsill.
"And what's the other presence like, Masako?" asked John. Now the dark-haired girl's expression grew worried.
"It's darker, hazier," she said. "I can't quite make it out. I think, maybe—"
"Yami!" I hissed as he stepped closer to her. He looked annoyed, even angry.
"Something twisted," Masako continued, unaware of the enclosing presence of Yami. "Oppressive. Or maybe—"
"What are you doing?" I whispered, trying to attract his attention. "Yami, stop!"
But he ignored me, violence in his eyes as he stepped ever closer to Masako.
"It doesn't want us here, I think, but there's something…" whispered Masako.
Time seemed to slow for a moment as Yami began to raise his hands. I grunted, grabbing the mirror and push-pulling it sideways so that it slammed to the ground, its wood frame cracking against the floor, the glass shattering.
Yami looked at me, his eyes expressing a feral growl before he evaporated, leaving Masako untouched. But the four of them were looking at me now, or rather, at the broken mirror that lay on its side in between me and the black-clad young man.
"What the… Naru, did you do that?" whispered Mai, coming over as her companion, Naru, bent down, analyzing the pieces of the mirror the way he had the black contraption earlier.
"I'm not going to acknowledge that question on account of its stupidity," Naru stated simply. Again, Mai seemed to seethe.
"She did it," Masako said. Mai growled.
"What? How could I—"
"Not you, Taniyama. Her."
"I believe Miss Hara means the poltergeist," supplied John. The blonde hadn't moved, remaining at the top of the stairs with a hand on the unstable railing.
"Why? To prove that she's here?" asked Mai.
"Obviously not," said Naru, standing up, the book still in his hand. "More of distraction, I imagine."
"A distraction from what?" Mai wondered aloud, though she was supplied with no answer. During this entire conversation, I had not moved an inch, my breathing shallow. I was too scared to make any sort of disturbance, fearing that it might make me more noticeable to my unwelcome acquaintances. All I could find the courage to do was hope that they went away. Quickly.
"At any rate," began Masako after a moment. "I believe it's safe to say that the poltergeist is the harmless one in this case. It's the other presence that I fear we should worry about, though it seems to have disappeared now."
Naru opened his mouth, seemingly preparing to respond, when a scream echoed from one of the floors below.
"Ayako!" exclaimed Mai, disappearing back down the staircase, closely followed by John, then Masako, and finally Naru, who cast a final gaze around the room before leaving. The book was still in his hand, but I had no energy to chase after him for it.
I fell to the ground, breathing heavily after they had left, feeling my anxiety and fear beginning to fade.
"Aren't you the slightest bit curious?" a familiar voice suddenly asked. I looked beside me, where Yami stood in front of the window, his gaze heavy but grin teasing. I gave an exasperated sigh.
"Not if it means being around them again." He laughed.
"You don't want to see what I gave to them? What I did for you?" I raised an eyebrow at him.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm telling you, Sukai-chan, you can't just hide from them. They're going to play dirty, so you've got to play dirtier."
"Yami—"
"Why did you stop me?" he asked, crouching down, his gaze pleading as it meant mine.
"What do you mean, why did I stop you?"
"When you knocked over the mirror. Why did you stop me from—" guilt flashed over his expression, if only for an instant. Defensive anger rose in me like the wave of a stormy ocean.
"I don't know, Yami. What did I stop you from doing?" I asked, my voice harsher than I expected it to be. I didn't understand why he was so insistent upon getting live ones out of this house. Anger flared up in his eyes again, the same anger I'd seen as he'd stalked Masako.
"You know what," he said, his voice louder than usual as he stood up. "Never mind. Just forget about it. But next time," he glared at me, "next time you probably won't be so damn lucky. Next time, you can bet I won't be here to get you out of the mess that you caused. Next time, you can find your own way to get them out of your hair."
"Yami," I said, trying to get him to calm down. But he only grumbled something at me before vanishing again, leaving me on floor beside the shards of a broken mirror.