A/N: Hi, I posted this in Ao3 first but decided to maybe try and see what FFnet thinks about this. Also English is not my first language, if something reads weird that's why!

Content warning: This story contains mentions of upsetting death circumstances, such as suicide and murder. Please beware before proceeding.

File 01: The Haunted Store (part 1)

What did that podcast about lucid dreaming say again?

Number one: check if any time-related objects, like calendars and clocks, never showed the same number twice. Well, I have looked at the hour on my phone five times now and it's definitely 6 AM, the time when those in the opening shift start arriving. Number two: check if the light seemed unnaturally dim. Those depressing fluorescent lights couldn't be any brighter.

The very well-illuminated scene before me had to be a dream though. I had just mopped and cleaned the floor, made sure everything was in place so I wouldn't get yelled at again. I shouldn't be doing two shifts back-to-back and yet here I was, tired and having to deal with all that. So much for trying to pay rent this month.

While I accepted that it wasn't a dream, it was still hard to believe how so much could be out of place in such a small convenience store. A jumbled mess of every single food item we carried was spread all over the floor. Every fridge and shelf was either in the wrong place, turned to the side or even broken. Written on the walls, my own family name: Kinomiya.

Standing at the entrance, the store's manager gazed at me with a death stare. Her brown hair peaked from her green cap in two braids. Her name tag was decorated with pink hearts around the cutesy handwritten "Hiromi Tachibana". The cute decorations didn't suit the expression she had on her face. It looked like she had spent at least 30 minutes getting mad, calming herself down, getting mad again, doing breathing exercises to think of what she should say. Unfortunately for me, I was there for the final strike: the "I should kill him" part of the cycle.

"You are so fired, Takao Kinomiya." Tachibana finally snarled. "You better explain yourself"

Fuck. It's happening again.

It all happened so fast, but it was my fault.

Before I continue with my misfortune, should I introduce myself?

I'm a 22-year-old who is about to be fired from a job again. I don't even know how many times I have tried to stay in a job for more than a few weeks. Well, at least now I managed to complete a second month into it before this type of stuff happened. I mean, some minor stuff happened but I managed to cover my ass. The owners pitied me. Tachibana already hated me enough for those second chances, but this sealed the deal.

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot something important in my introduction.

I can see ghosts. Yeah, you read it right. And apparently, this seems to attract them wherever I go. If I didn't pay attention to them, they sure made themselves known while trying to reach out to me.

So this was, once more, their way of getting my attention.

Fuck these ghosts, man.

Instead of explaining myself to the manager, I just ran outside. Tachibana wouldn't believe in me anyways. So why bother? I was starting to feel sick while looking at that scene, so stepping in the cold morning air helped. I didn't think of myself as a coward, but I had learned over the years there I couldn't do much after the incidents. It was out of my hands now.

The sun hadn't risen yet when I came back home.

If I can even call this a home. This apartment was all I could afford. Cheap, small, mouldy, freezing during winter and boiling during summer. The landlord must be a very smart guy because he figured out the bare minimum he had to do in the smallest place possible for a desperate loser like me to rent it.

It looks 100% haunted, but surprisingly - as someone who can speak with authority on the subject - it's totally ghost-free. All I ever wanted. So much for wanting independence and living away from my grandfather's beautiful but old and certificated haunted house in the countryside. I came here as soon as I was old enough to move out, but for what exactly? I could barely afford to live.

And I need to say again. This place was small. All my prized possessions could barely fit inside: an old futon I stole from the old man's place (a shitty bed and a shitty couch, two in one!), a shitty laptop propped into a cardboard box next to it (during winter, it could double as a heater if I did as much as open the internet browser), an old CRT I found in the trash (surprisingly, it was still working!) and my estimated collection of empty instant ramen cups. All this crammed next to the small kitchenette and the door to the bathroom. Oh, and to add the cherry on top, the only window available is covered in paper because it gives people in the street a very VIP view of my shitty basement apartment.

I had to get a new job and get the hell out of there.

And I blew out my last chance.

The Saiens - my childhood friend's parents - were angels for recommending me to the owner even though they knew about all the problems I had before. I know they did it mostly because they were close to my mother.

How would I even find a job after this? What would I even say during the interview when they ask me why it didn't work out at the previous place?

Fuck.

I rested my head against the futon. It still smelled of the cigarettes my granddad smoked. I missed him even more. It felt like I hit rock bottom. I wish I was someone who gets some relief after crying, but even that I didn't have the energy to do at the moment.

I drifted into sleep still wearing my work clothes.

I could barely see anything with the fog. I walked some hesitant steps in the soft snow before I was able to distinguish a man's silhouette, holding something in his hands. While I got closer, I could see the old church made of darkened wood that he was looking at. His eyes were closed while he seemed to be whispering something to himself.

The oddest thing was his hair. He was dressed all formal, like a businessman, but he looked more like a rockstar with his grey and blue hair. He didn't look much older than me, now that I got closer. Usually, I don't like interacting with strangers in my dreams, but his presence didn't feel threatening. Just like me, he didn't seem to be dressed appropriately for the cold.

I suddenly noticed how cold I felt. I was shaking.

"Hey!" I tried to catch his attention. He didn't even flinch. The object in his hands seemed to be a small leather notebook. "Hey, dude! Where are we?"

I was now close enough that I could touch him. His hair looked soft, even though it had probably been bleached to death for those colours. He had very pale skin, which contrasted even more with his black formal attire.

I peered into the notebook. Whatever was written in the yellowing pages looked like absolute gibberish. It looked like someone was pretending to write during a class. At least that's what I usually did back in school.

I extended my arm to touch his shoulder. This time he jumped as if someone had just tried to kill him. He looked intensely at me, his eyes shifted hues from a burgundy colour to very greyish-violet. I had never seen anything like that, it was beautiful. "Whoa, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

In the distance, I could hear a ringing noise.

"You shouldn't be here." He stated, just as a ringing noise got louder and louder.

It felt a lot like falling before I realised I was back in my bed. A layer of sweat covered my back even though it felt so cold moments before. It was just a weird dream.

I got my phone to turn off my alarm.

I slept way too much, it was already the afternoon. My vision was still blurry from sleep when I realised I wasn't waking up to my alarm but to a call. Or many calls, to be exact.

On the top of the screen, I could see the notification: eight missed calls.

What the hell was happening?

Before I could think of anything, Manabu Saien's name appeared on the screen. I had recently changed his contact from his nickname, "Professor", to his actual name.

"Takao, what the fuck!" Manabu barely waited for me to pick up the call before he started talking. "My parents just got a very weird call about you being a vandal?"

"Uh hi, Manabu." My voice came out raspy.

"Dude, you were sleeping just now?" While the last of the sleepy fog left my mind, I realised that he was probably mad. Well, I guess Tachibana didn't waste any time on telling everyone. "And I also why do you insist on calling me by my name now?"

I finally sat on the futon. "Professor" was what the mean kids used to call him back when we were little, he accepted the nickname after a bit and even his family would call him that. And I have to admit, the guy is smart so it suits him. But after moving here, I had this urge to feel more grown-up, so I started dropping his nickname. I didn't want to remember any of my time in the countryside. We have drifted apart friendship-wise since I moved, but I had to. I couldn't stay there.

But even so, he is the only person I ever told my secret to.

"I'm sorry. About the vandal thing… It happened again. The ghost-stuff." I told him. "You know I would never do something like this to your parents. Not when they gave me a chance like this."

He stayed silent on the other side. He sighed before continuing.

"I imagined it was that." he said, now a bit calmer but still in a cold tone. His parents were probably freaking out after recommending me and having me turn back to my "delinquent days". They didn't know me as Manabu did.

But other than being jobless, my situation couldn't get any worse, right?

Well, wrong. "My parents said that someone called the police." He finally said, I heard his voice shaking a little bit.

What? Tachibana called the police on me?

I rubbed my hand against my forehead. Usually, the owners of the places I worked for never called the police, but the incidents were also very minor. Something this big had to have consequences. And my ghost friends made sure to leave no doubt about who would be suffering these consequences by having my name there.

Cool.

"Why was your name written on the wall?" he continued to inquire. Of course, Tachibana wouldn't have spared any details. She's little-miss-perfect after all.

"I don't know, man." I answered. "Sometimes the ghosts do stupid stuff when they want to talk to me."

More awkward silence.

"Manabu, do you think you could smooth it out with your parents somehow?" I finally asked, hopeful. It couldn't get much worse anyway, so why not try?

"Look Takao, I want to help you, I truly do. But this isn't like when we were kids. The police are involved." he continued. "I can't help you out with this one. My parents' reputation is in line after this one. You told me things were better now, so why is it getting worse?"

And saying that, he hung up. The last sentence stung. I didn't know the answer either. I wondered if it would ever stop and I would be able to have a normal life.

After the ghost stuff started happening when I was a kid, a lot of attention was on me. People thought it was my way of expressing grief after my mother passed, including Manabu's parents, so I got out of most things with a slap on the wrist. But now that I was older, there was no easy way of explaining it. And well, telling people about the ghosts will only land me in a psychiatric hospital.

And who knows what type of messed-up ghost will be there?

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang at the door.

Fuck.

The police made sure to treat me just like the worst criminal before they even started interrogating me. Of course, in their minds, I was just a guy who one day decided to vandalise his workplace and on top of it sign his masterpiece. They made sure my handcuffs were tight while they attached them to the table.

The police officer in charge of the case was saying something to me, but my mind was spinning so much that I couldn't focus on the words. I had never gotten in trouble like this before. I could handle the yelling, I could handle being fired, but this was too much.

I didn't have anything with me to tell time, but the interrogation felt like it lasted hours already. I kept saying that I didn't do it, but of course, my version was completely unbelievable to any outsider.

My thoughts drifted to my grandfather, back in the countryside. I replayed our last moments together before I left. I was much younger and much angrier, so I left spitting harsh words out of my mouth at him. Apologies weren't my best skill, but they were desperately needed if I wanted him back into my life. I never spoke to him after I left, but I have dialled his number on a payphone just so I could hear his voice. I wonder if the news had already travelled to him. What would he think of me?

"...and we will also be reviewing the video footage on the security cameras handed by the store owners today." Landing back into reality, I managed to catch that last sentence. Why didn't I think of that? Aside from my name written on the walls, the security footage would surely show that I had nothing to do with the incident.

A jolt of excitement went through my body like electricity. I got up by instinct, without noticing the very startled police officer in front of me. "That's it! You will see that I didn't do it!"

"Sir, please remain seated while we continue the questioning." he reprimanded me.

I don't remember having any incident properly caught on camera before. Ghosts usually don't like to appear when they're being documented, and if they do they're so discreet you would think it was just a gush of wind that messed stuff up. I wonder what the footage would show… I was just so excited to have people believe in my account of the facts.

Just as the police officer was getting finished, there was a light knock at the door. A very flustered police officer went in before there was even an answer. "Officer Kurusu, I tried to stop him, but the boss said that…" she started saying, before being interrupted by whoever was behind her.

"I think your job here is finished." The voice behind me said. I couldn't properly turn around to see him. "This case belongs to the HPRC now."

The officer looked annoyed like it was something that happened quite often.

Did that mean that I was in even worse trouble than I had imagined? What even is the HPRC?

The man that sat in front of me wasn't wearing any police attire. He was dressed in a black blazer and black button-up. Funny, it was kinda familiar. Like I've seen him somewhere before.

Only then do I notice it. The hair.

Wasn't that the guy…

That grey and blue hair was unmistakable. But how could it be?

I thought I caught a glimpse of surprise in his eyes before he switched back to the deadpan expression he had from the start. In the dream, he was just an intriguing figure, but now sitting there in the investigation room he seemed way out of place. He looked like he was about my age. Shouldn't he be fresh out of university or something? Then why did he seem to be so important that even the police rushed out of his way?

He opened the folder he was carrying with him. I saw a glimpse of the photo they took of me earlier when arriving at the police station and a lot of text, but I wasn't able to read it from across the table.

I didn't know what was happening, but I had to explain myself before the situation got any worse. Whoever that guy was.

"Look, if you just look at the video-"

"I already did." He cut my speech short almost rudely.

I kept waiting for him to continue and explain what was happening to me. It was a stark contrast with the other police officer, who spent long minutes explaining to me what my rights were and what the situation was. Was this guy even in the police force? He had nothing identifying him as such.

I had a myriad of questions, but my train of thought was cut short when he spoke again.

"I haven't seen anything like this recently." He finally said, but I wasn't sure if he was even addressing me. He looked at the last page in the file, which looked like stills from the security footage. From my side of the table, I couldn't see much but very blurry images.

I started to feel sick. What if the ghosts messed up with the video? I hadn't thought about it yet, but the very unclear images could mean that there was no proof for my innocence. My heartbeat accelerated while I felt the cold sweat down my back. What could I even say to prove that it wasn't me?

"If you could just explain to me what's happening..." I managed to finally say, but most of my voice was caught in my throat. Going to prison is one of my biggest fears. I don't know how my grandfather would handle it.

He finally looked directly at me, I could swear that his eyes looked more violet than earlier.

"My name is Kai Hiwatari, private paranormal investigator from the HPRC. The chief of the police department seems to believe we should be involved in this case."