"SPIRITS...ARE ALWAYS...WITH YOU! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Time seemed to freeze for a moment. And then, everyone in the cafeteria stood up, crossed their arms over their chests, and 'BWHAHAHAHAHA'ed' right back at the strange man. Merciful Buddha on a pogo stick…

"Greetings students and loyal watchers! I, the charismatic spirit medium for the new century, Don Ka'nonji, have come to your school to film the first segment of a special episode of Ghost Bust!"

He pulled something out from his cloak and unrolled it. I nearly choked for the second time. It was a picture, blown up to poster size of a man in a long, modern coat and a black mask.

"All about the mysterious Ghost Writer!"

Damn, I was certain I had avoided getting my picture taken. Meanwhile, the crowd oooh'ed and awww'ed.

"You may be wondering…why here? Why this school? True, it was the first place reported to have been visited by our mystery mailman…but that's not all! After much thought and communion with the good spirits, I realized it!"

He jumped down from the table and began pacing back and forth, posing every few steps as if in deep thought, the cameras and crowd following his every move.

"Every letter was delivered by hand or by mail…but the first letter was found inside a locker! And since no-one saw the Ghost Writer on the premises…" He turned to the crowd as if questioning them, and several people began to murmur to each other, shaking their heads. "Then that means he must have delivered it without wearing his mask! And since a strange adult would stand out on school grounds…the writer must be a young man!"

He wasn't as stupid as he dressed, apparently.

"Perhaps…even a student of this school!"

Oh, crap.

The rest of the school day progressed normally, more or less. The principal had burst into the cafeteria, but BWAHA-ah, crap, I've got that damn sound stuck in my head now. Other than the camera crew following Don Ka…kano…kanny-boy? Whatever around, and the students paying even less attention than normal to the teachers, it was an average, boring day. And I was more then happy when it was over. Stuffing my books inside my locker, I closed it and turned to get a facefull of Don Ka-whatever.

"Hello, young man! Are you excited about the mysterious happenings of late?"

"Uhh, yeah! I mean, letters from beyond? C'mon! I thought it was a hoax at first, but lately…"

"Yes! The truth of the supernatural shall enlighten those willing to open their hearts!"

He leaned over slightly, a slight bow, the cameraman behind him shifting to get a better angle of the two of us.

"If I may ask…I have heard that your parents died in an accident not long ago. Are you looking forward to receiving a letter from the ghost writer one day?"

Son of a B-dragging that out onto TV!

"Yes. A car accident. Thank you for the reminder."

I turned and stomped away, but the man quickly ran ahead of me and bowed low to the floor.

"A hundred humble apologies, truly. I did not mean to bring up such unpleasant memories."

"…Yeah. Well…I'd be nice to get a letter from them, I suppose…but I was on pretty good terms with my parents, but that girl who got the first letter, I hear she didn't see much of her father. The ghost writer should be spending his time on people like that."

The man jumped off the floor and bowed again, opening his mouth but interrupted by a motion from the cameraman. He quickly turned to the camera, posing with one arm in the air.

"That's our time for this day's episode, stay turned as we continue our search! And remember! SPIRITS…ARE ALWAYS… WITH YOU! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The actor and his flunkies fell into a discussion, and I took the time to escape. Outside, a child was standing by the gate, a broken chain attached to his chest.

"E-excuse me…are you…"

I can't resist children. Death is crappy enough, but dying so young…seems just…wrong, somehow.

"Yeah, I'm the ghost writer. Come on, we can talk at my house."

The child and I wandered home together, focusing my reiatsu so I could physically hold his hand, and unaware that there was someone else who could see the child as well.

I like motorcycles. Sure, they can't carry stuff like a car can, or keep you warm in the winter, but considering my lifestyle, it's a good fit. Which is why I'm roaring down the freeway, mask and coat in my backpack, heading for the suburbs, ghost kid sitting in my lap and I'm holding onto his chain so it doesn't get caught in anything. I slowly drive past the apartment the child points out, feeling the weight of a letter, scrawled farewells in crayon, cold and solid against my leg. I park in the garage, taking my backpack with me and slipping the mask and coat on somewhere I'm sure no one can see me.

Climbing the stairs, I pass a man and his child carrying groceries. They jump at the sight of me, and I offer a silent nod as I pass, the ghost next to me waving to his friend. When she doesn't respond, I feel a tug on my coat and stop, listening a moment before turning back to them.

"Akina?"

"Y-yes?"

"Kintaro says it's okay to keep that ball of his… the one with the flowers on it that you like."

The girl's eyes open wide, tears forming on the edges as I turn and continue on my way.

I find the apartment easily enough, flowers and gifts piled by the door. The child runs past me and through the door, poking his head back out and waving me over frantically. I get to the door just as it opens, a young woman stopping in shock as she stares at me. Silently, I pull the letter from my coat and hand it to her, the ghost at her side looking up at her with a sad smile on his face as she takes it with shaking hands. Fumbling it open, she falls against the doorframe, sliding down to her knees. A man, her husband I assume, comes running and stares at the sight of me, walking to his wife's side and wrapping his arms around her. I take that as my cue to bow and leave.
Three flights of stairs down, and I'm blinded for a moment as a man jumps out and a bright light is shined my way. Raising my arm to shield my eyes, a familiar, and horrible, voice reaches my ears.

"For the first time on camera, the one and only-hey! Wait a moment!"

I'm already running.

"Shunpo? What's that?"

"It's a specialized death god ability."

A few weeks back, I'm standing with Yumichika and a few of the other numbskulls from the eleventh division in my backyard, getting my 'rent' out of them.

"Here, watch."

He lifts his foot to take a step, and he flickers out of sight, reappearing several meters away.

"Awesome!"

"It's something only death gods can do, but with a little practice, I'm sure you can do something like it. Here, you focus your reiatsu like this…"

An hour of practice later, I'm limping into a hospital with dislocated toes and a broken nose when I shunpo'ed myself into a brick wall.

I'm so glad I got that practice with Nemu…

Nemu…

I shake my head clear and focus. I've got an overzealous camera crew coming up behind me fast and my only escape is off a seventh-story ledge onto a rooftop a dozen meters away. I step back. I step back again. I jump up and down and loosen my legs, and I'm glad the cameras aren't here because I look really stupid right now. I jump up to the ledge, and then I jump.

"Where? Where did he? There!"

The last look they get of me is a masked figure standing silently on a distant rooftop, turning and walking calmly down the other building's fire escape.

"Ow ow ow ow ow crap crap crappityyyyyy…"

"Nothing looks broken, but you really should stop pushing yourself so hard during training."

"You know what they say, doc, no pain, no-erggggggg!"

I really need to work on my landings.