Welcome to the ninth chapter! Once again, I'd like to thank everyone who clicked on this collection. I know horror isn't common in the Yu Yu Hakusho archives, and I'm grateful to those of you who decided to give these ficlets a shot.


While being a prestigious center for learning, Da Ichi School for Girls didn't have many strict rules which it made students adhere to. Wear your uniform, be on time to class, and treat your teachers with respect. Pretty simple stuff. Considering it was one of the top girl's schools in all of Japan, it made sense that the school didn't put its foot down on its students. Kids with poor grades and poor attitudes didn't last long, if they even got in to begin with. There was one rule that stood apart from the others though. One piece of protocol separated from the rest: Never enter Room 204

Room 204 was located on the second floor in the western wing of the building. No classes were held there and it was always kept shut. According to rumor it used to be kept locked as well, but for some reason the lock stopped working and no one bothered fixing it. Official word was that it was just an old classroom in need of repairs. However, in my entire time attending that school, I never saw a repairman enter room 204. Heck, I never saw a repairman come into the school period.

None of the teachers talked about that room. In fact, they would go out of their way to avoid it, crossing the hall to the other side whenever they passed by. Sometimes janitors would report the lights in the room turning on and off. They never went in there to clean. In fact they, like us, were forbidden to enter the room. During my freshman year, a counselor caught a new janitor trying to sneak into the room. The principal not only fired him, but barred him from ever returning to the school. Students in room 202 next door said that they would hear the occasional thump on the wall their classroom shared with room 204. The principal dismissed all bizarre claims about the classroom. My class was in room 205 across the hall. My classmates often gossiped about Room 204. Whispers and rumors were traded here and there, but nothing solid. One girl stated that she'd seen the door creak open and a little boy peered out at her. We dismissed her claim, as the girl in question was a notorious gossip who would make up just about anything if she could be the center of attention. For the most part though, nothing happened. The mysterious classroom only ever came up in conversation when someone had a new theory about it. Students in Room 202 grew accustomed to the strange sounds and stopped commenting on them.

Fast forward about a month. The cultural festival loomed a few weeks away, and the entire school was embroiled in preparations. Bright, colorful posters hung in the halls, promoting various clubs along with the activities they had chosen for the festival. The halls buzzed with the happy chatter of eager teachers and students. I was on the student council. We had decided to turn our meeting room into a café where people could come to relax and take their minds off things. A couple girls baked cookies and other sweets while another ordered various flavors of tea to be served with our goodies. My job was to advertise the café by making flyers that the rest of the council would pass out to students during the following weeks. Grunt work yes, but I was happy to take part.

One day I stayed after school to work on the flyers. The other council members had gone home, leaving me by myself in the classroom we used for our activities. I sat at one of the desks in the room, writing the same hype-inducing, fun and fancy free batch of words I'd written on the last eighty or so flyers for the past couple days on a piece of rose colored paper. To my right sat a hefty stack of finished flyers. Layers of bright color arranged in a repeating pattern of pink, yellow, and green. A trio of black markers sat near the finished stack. I'd gone through so many of those blasted things. Then again, they were cheap school markers, so I couldn't expect too much. I finished my writing and added the latest flyer to the stack. Sighing, I placed my chin in my hand and once more ran my gaze over the pile. Although I was happy to be helping out, I couldn't help but feel like I was back in elementary school. Markers, construction paper, heck just add some crayons and glitter and I would be back in the fourth grade. I reached to my left to grab another sheet of paper, but to my surprise, I couldn't find any. Confused, I glanced at the left side of my desk. Nothing. Just naked wood where a fat stack of spring colors should have been.

I rose from the desk and walked over to the supply closet. I found one lone sheet sitting on the second shelf, laying amongst the clutter of assorted pens, folders, and other supplies like a forgotten pink puppy. I groaned and shut the door, leaning against it. Great. Just great. We needed two hundred flyers to hand out. The president had been rather adamant about me making that exact number. I was not to be even one shy. I ran a hand through my hair while thinking about my options.

I could just go and buy some. That would be the easiest thing to do. Then again, it wasn't like construction paper was cheap either, at least the big packs weren't. I glanced at my watch. 5:15. Even if I decided to start walking that very moment, it would take me a while to get across town to where the shops were. By the time I strolled up, they'd be closing down for the night. I stood against the closet door, chewing my lip in frustration. Then it hit me. I snapped my fingers and grinned. The art room! They'd have what I needed!

With that, I left the classroom and began making my way down the hall. Late evening sunlight washed through the windows in a thick flood of gold. Posters hung on the walls in every shade imaginable. A kaleidoscopic bid to catch the eye of a passerby. Tacked here and there were notes from the counselor's office. A sobering white, they broke apart the rainbow dancing on the walls to remind students to be safe and not cause a ruckus of any kind. The sound of my footsteps bounced ahead of me as I walked through the halls. This late into the evening, most everyone had gone home. Many of the classrooms I passed had shut their doors, and I could hear no banter from a straggling group of students. It seemed I was one of the few people left in the building. Not that I minded. I actually prefer being in school after everyone else has left. It's a lot more peaceful. No giggling girls, or yammering professors, no shouting, just pure, calm silence.

I passed the teacher's lounge and went downstairs. More splashes of sunlight shone upon the walls and floor. A sharp squeaking caught my attention. I glanced up to see the janitor wheeling a cart of cleaning supplies around a corner at one end of the hall. Turning on my heel, I went the opposite way. The art room was located at the very end of the western wing of the building. Large windows dominated both sides of the door, allowing students to post their latest work for the rest of the school to see. In fact, aside from the door and an interior wall, ¾ of the room was encased in glass, so by the time I walked up to the door, I had to turn my head and squint to avoid having my eyes irradiated by the blast of light lingering in the room. I took refuge behind the closed door, jiggling the handle as I did so. It didn't budge. Well crap, it was locked. Just like almost every other door on campus this time of day. Sighing, I turned and began making my way back to the student council room, intent on collecting my belongings and trying my luck around town. I bemoaned my situated as I trudged up the stairs. While I understood why each classroom door needed to be locked at the end of each school day, it didn't help how inconvenient it made things for me with this particular endeavor. After all, if I couldn't enter the room, I couldn't raid the supply closets for my coveted item.

I reached the top of the stairs and strode back towards the council room, Half-way there however, I had my second epiphany. Not every classroom door on campus was locked at this time of day. There was one. I stopped, staring down at my feet as I considered the option. Did I dare? While this would be the easiest option and save me from having to make the majority of the remaining flyers tomorrow, it wouldn't be the smartest choice I'd ever made. I wasn't worried about getting expelled, I was a great student with an even better track record. At worst, I'd get a light suspension. On the other hand, I'd been working on this project for a few days and wasn't too keen on continuing for any longer than I had to. Plus, sneaking into Room 204 saved me from making a trip downtown. And if it didn't, well then I would have at least explored every option at the school. Of course, I could feel the little logic fairy in my head laying out a whole litany of how stupid such reasoning was, but I ignored it. Besides, I had always wanted to see the forbidden room myself.

With that thought in mind, I launched down the hall. When I came upon the door to the shunned room, I stopped once more, staring at the barrier to my entry. Solid wood of a light brown color, with a white plaque at eye level. The numbers 204 imprinted upon it in black. The doorknob gleamed bright silver. My heart banged against my ribcage, an incessant, violent series of thumps that grew more intense with each passing second. An icy worm of fear wriggled down my spine. If someone saw me…

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the doorknob and twisted, pulling the door open and stepping inside in one fluid motion. Once inside, I shut the door behind me. I closed my eyes and placed my hands over my heart. I could feel them trembling. For the first time in my life I had disobeyed a school rule, and a major one at that. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. It would be okay. I'd look for what I needed and leave. If there was construction paper good, if not, oh well. I opened my eyes and looked around the room.

Trickles of light slithered in through the slits in the blinds, casting the faintest of illumination. A thick layer of dust coated every visible surface. Shadows writhed in the far corners. Unlike the other classrooms, which had made the change to whiteboards, this one still had the classic green chalkboard. Beneath the dust, I could make out faint traces of leftover chalk. Ghosts of lessons past. Every inch of the room looked sort of faded, the colors grayed out. I wasn't sure if this was because of the dust, the semi-darkness, or both. For a moment, I considered turning the lights on, but thought better of it. If a janitor walked by, they would see the light seeping out from beneath the door. So I stood there, letting my eyes adjust, watching the features in the room grow sharper. Large dust bunnies littered the carpet, clustering around the legs of the desks. A faded poster hung on the wall opposite the door. The desktops appeared to be made out of actual wood as opposed to the cheaper wood laminate covered plastic. I frowned. The chalkboard, the desks, all this dust, just how long had this room been neglected? And why? Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

Once my eyes had adjusted, I made my way to the supply closet at the back of the room. However, I only made it about halfway when I caught a whiff of some horrid stench. It was strange, one minute it wasn't there, and then bam! There it was. A foul odor hanging in the stagnant, dust-choked air. When I was six, someone ran over a cat on the street where I lived. They didn't stop when their front wheels crunched over the poor animal's back, mashing it into the pavement, just kept right on driving. The corpse lay on the road, cooking under the blistering heat of the summer sun. I've never forgotten that stench. That's exactly what I smelled in that classroom. The smell of rotting flesh baking in an oppressive heat. Gagging, I pressed a hand over my mouth. Had a rat gotten stuck behind a wall or something? I swallowed, and continued crossing the room, all the while my stomach doing flips an Olympic gymnast would have been envious of.

As I made my way over to the closet, I noticed the smell growing stronger. I frowned. Was the smell coming from inside the closet? I eyed the door as I approached. The smell was becoming so bad, I could practically see waves of it emanating from the area. I stifled a groan as another blast of nausea rocked my stomach and walked right up to the door. My eyes watered from the intense stink. Just what the heck was in there? Had an entire colony of rats died in that closet? I stood outside that door, imagining the disgusting sight lurking in that dark, confined space. A mass of slimy, pus-oozing flesh wriggling as whatever bugs had found their way in dined on the repugnant feast. I shuddered. Steeling myself, I curled my hand around the doorknob, ready to confront the smell, grab what I needed, and get out before I lost my lunch.

I flung open the door, but I was not prepared for what I saw. No rats. Neither a colony, nor a single specimen lay in that closet. Instead, the body of a woman knelt before me. She wore a faded gray dress, the fabric stained here and there from fluids leaked during the process of decay. Her head was down, so that her long hair concealed her face. Her hands lay in her lap, palms up. The skin had shriveled and tightened, drawing open the long, vertical slits on each wrist. I noticed, with mounting revulsion, that her lap was stained the hideous russet color of dried blood. On the floor beside her lay an open pair of scissors. The horrible stink washed over me and I retched. God, I could even smell the coppery tang of blood. All that blood…

A choked whimper slipped past my lips. The corpse's head shot up. Glazed, milky eyes stared deep into my own. With a scream, I stumbled back away from the closet, tripping over my own feet and landing on the floor, knocking the back of my head into the side of a desk. I yelped as dull pain bit into my skull. A shuffling from within the closet drew my attention to more important matters. The woman shifted on her knees from side to side, no doubt trying to get up. Gray, chapped lips fell open in a wordless exclamation. Of what I can't say. She rose up on her knees, then pitched forward, head landing bare inches from me. I scrambled to my feet, fighting my way through the desks to the door. All the while, I heard the thing behind me attempt another climb to its feet. I reached the door and tore it open. Light and clean air spilled over me. I dove out of the room, not bothering to shut it behind me. I didn't care about not getting caught, I just wanted to get away from that room, get away from the school. Just go home and hide under the covers like a frightened child.

In my frenzied attempt to flee, I failed to notice my surroundings and slammed right smack into another person going the opposite way. We tumbled to the floor, them landing on the floor, and me landing in their lap. I shoved myself off the person and found myself looking down at the guidance counselor, Mr. Nakamura.

"Ms. Yukimura, what's going on?" He asked, sitting up and rubbing his back.

I bit my lip. Did I tell him? I didn't want to get in trouble, but I didn't want to lie either, not to Mr. Nakamura at least. He was a kind man who always looked out for both students and staff.

Mr. Nakamura stood up, his dark eyes scrutinizing me. He'd worked at this school helping students for decades. I could tell he knew something was up. So, I threw my cards down on the table.

"Sir…I… There's something in Room 204! A-A woman's body, or so I think, but it moved! She tried to-"

"You went into room 204?" The sharp, angry tone of his voice cut through my terrified rambling. I flinched back. Here it comes, I thought, hello Suspension City! Here I come!

Instead, Mr. Nakamura let out a heavy sigh. "Come with me Ms. Yukimura. There is something we must discuss." To my surprise, he did not lead me to the counselor's office, but instead began to walk in the direction of room 204. Panicked, I tried to convince him otherwise.

"Sir, wait! It's dangerous down there! That woman, she…"

One stern look from him was all it took to make me cease talking. He was an authority figure. I was a student. A disobedient student. I had no choice but to follow him and do as I was told. We made our way back to room 204. As we approached, I eyed the open doorway. I kept expecting to see that woman crawl out into the hall. Images of her sightless eyes and open-hanging mouth burned in my brain, igniting more terror. We reached the open door to the room. Mr. Nakamura stood in the doorway, saying nothing. I peered around him. Nothing. Just shadows, dust, and an open empty closet at the back of the room. Still silent, he switched on the lights.

"Step inside." He commanded.

I frowned, "Sir?"

He sighed, "Yukimura, please."

I entered the room. Even with the lights on, it still didn't feel normal. In fact, the room's years of disuse became far more apparent. I could see balding patches in the carpet. A thin crack ran along the wall behind the teacher's desk which was coated in so much dust it looked like an oversized brick of gray fuzz. A clump of black cords sprouted from an unresponsive light at the back of the room.

Mr. Nakamura shut the door behind me. "I'd suggest you take a seat, but given the state of things, I doubt that would be a good idea." He chuckled at his attempt at humor. I didn't join him.

"Sir, what's going on?" I asked, plucking the hem of my skirt. Both the smell and that woman were gone, but that didn't mean I wanted to be in here again. Mr. Nakamura didn't respond. Instead, he walked over to the supply closet and stood in front of it, staring inside. I had no clue what was going on. I just waited for some form of response. After a few moments, he sighed, shut the door and turned to me.

"Why did you enter this room Ms. Yukimura? You know it's against the rules."

"I-I'm sorry sir. I was just looking for some supplies, and every other room was locked." I replied. He kept his gaze locked onto me. Nervous, I glanced down at the floor. "Um, sir?" I murmured, "Why bring me here? Why are we not having this conversation in the office?"

Eyeing me, he said, "I share that office with a couple other counselors who are still here at the moment. I don't want to talk about this around them."

Confused, I cocked my head. Talk about what? Mr. Nakamura continued, "You said you saw a woman, or rather the body of a woman, correct?"

I nodded.

"Describe to me what this woman looked like."

"Well she looked," I shivered, "she looked horrifying. Like she'd been dead for days, or maybe even weeks. The lap of her dress was stained with dried blood, and her wrists had long slits carved into them. It was…awful."

Mr. Nakamura nodded. "I see. Does the name Yuko Tamura mean anything to you?"

I shook my head, "No. Should it?"

"She taught here back in the mid-eighties, late '85, early 86 something like that." Nakamura explained, "Warm, kind, dedicated. Her students adored her. Unfortunately, not long after her career at this school began, she and her husband divorced." He leaned back against the door and closed his eyes, no doubt letting the memories of those bygone days flood though him.

"It was an awful, messy affair. It seemed that one day, Yuko's husband decided he no longer wanted to be married. Poor Yuko. She tried everything she could to convince him to stay, but he'd made up his mind." He pointed over to the dusty square lump at the front of the room, "There were a lot of evenings someone would pass by and see her sitting at that very desk, sobbing into her hands. We all tried to help her get through. Students made her little gifts. Some of the staff treated her to lunch. Nothing got her out of it. And then summer vacation arrived. I don't know the exact day she did it, but during it must have been during those first few days of summer vacation. Not all faculty vacate the building immediately like the students do. Most of us have paperwork and other things to catch up on, and as a result, the school stays open for the teachers.

"I don't know if she came to school with the thought in mind, or she reached it over the course of the day, but during one of those early days of vacation, Yuko Tamura came into this room, shut herself the supply closet, grabbed a pair of scissors and slit her wrists. Her body wasn't discovered until a while later, after the smell of hot decaying flesh had permeated the entire room as well as a good portion of the hallway. I'm not sure if you know this, but the school turns the AC off during vacation. There's no sense running up a bill for the sake of a few lingering faculty members. You'd be amazed at what summer heat can do to a corpse.

"At any rate, her body was removed and buried, with her entire class and most of the faculty in attendance. The school tried to get things back to normal, but with the death of a teacher, especially one so tragic, it was slow-going. And then the activity started. Reports of lights turning on and off, sounds of things being moved around, an awful lingering smell. Custodians often scrubbed that room, sometimes twice a day, but nothing worked. The room continued to smell of baked rot. It was decided that room 204 was not to be used. For anything. The door was shut and the room left alone."

I frowned, "So, wait. It was never locked?"

Mr. Nakamura sighed, "We tried keeping it locked. But every morning, we'd come in and find the door popped open and the lock broken. In the end, we gave up."

I shuddered. That poor woman! I couldn't imagine the pain she'd been going through. Still though, to kill yourself, and to do it in such a public location. I always thought suicide was a private thing. Then again, considering her home was the source of her anguish, it made sense that she wanted to end her life somewhere else. Mr. Nakamura stepped away from the closet, motioning me towards the door. I did as he bade me, and the two of us exited the classroom. Back in the hall, everything felt strange to me. I looked around at the warm, tranquil setting. The happy posters adorning the walls, the splashes of evening sunlight pouring in through the windows, the sane, rational, sterile white of the tile floor beneath my feet. It felt so strange that with all this normalcy around me, that the room at my back could exist. That within this portrait of a perfect school, a dark and terrible secret hid in the background. Mr. Nakamura turned to me.

"I'd appreciate it if you kept what we discussed a secret Ms. Yukimura."

I nodded, "Yes sir."

As he turned to walk away, a thought struck me. "Sir, wait!" I called out to him. Mr. Nakamura turned, "Yes?"

"Why hasn't a priest been called in to exercise Ms. Tamura's spirit? I imagine she'd like to pass on, and the school would like to make use of the room. It seems like a good idea."

Mr. Nakamura shook his head, "As much as I'd like to, we need to think about the school's reputation. Da Ichi Prep School is a prestigious academy. If word of this haunting got out, it would damage the school."

My jaw dropped. Seriously?! They were just going to close their eyes and pretend the room wasn't haunted, all for the sake of the school's reputation? How idiotic!

Noticing my anger, Mr. Nakamura regarded me with a sad smile, "I understand your frustration Ms. Yukimura. I knew Yuko while she was alive, and to just ignore a thing such as this saddens me. It truly does. I have asked the principal on numerous occasions, but that is the answer I get. And, unfortunately, in a twisted sort of way, he's right."

With that, Mr. Nakamura turned and walked back to his office, leaving me standing in the hallway, contemplating it all. I turned and stared at the door to Room 204. It still didn't feel real. That room, Yuko Tamura's suicide, her terrifying ghost. In the end, I gave up trying to make sense of everything. I turned and walked away.

I went straight home. Didn't pass any shops, didn't collect construction paper, just went straight home and shut my brain down for the night. The next day I got up early and swung by a small shop, picked up a pack of construction paper, then went off to school. The day passed by without any major events. Mr. Nakamura didn't report me, and I didn't spread around what he'd told me. I finished the flyers just in time for the festival, which went quite well. Aside from one broken tea cup, the Student Council's café went off without a hitch.

About a month later, the school temporarily closed for 'renovations', or so they claimed. I say that because when we came back, the only difference was that Room 204 had been walled off. Where once the door stood right smack in between rooms 202 and 206, there was now only a blank sheet of wall. This, of course, did not escape the student body's notice. Mr. Nakamura left shortly after that. Or was fired. I'm not sure. All I know is I heard some heated arguing coming from the principal's office after school one day, and come the next day, Mr. Nakamura was gone. Not that I blame him. The rest of my academic career came and went. Nothing new came out of Room 204. In fact, by the time I graduated, it had become a distant memory for both teachers and students.

I'm in college now, and I still think back on Yuko Tamura's ghost from time to time. It's a bit of a shame that the principal was so concerned about the school's reputation that he would outright ignore a haunted room rather than do something about it. Who knows, maybe shutting the haunting away will fix things, maybe not. I just won't be surprised if that entire hallway ends up being walled off someday.


Alright! One more chapter, people! Stay tuned! Thanks for reading as always! Drop me a line if you like, you know I love to hear from you!