"I give up." Yata slammed his laptop shut, rubbing his eyes furiously to chase the sleepiness away. "There's not a damn single bad thing about Ashinaka high school on the Internet."
True enough, he had searched for hours starting from the very moment he had come home, but he hardly find any useful piece of information. Everyone praised Ashinaka to the clouds, such as "It's the best high school in Japan", "It provides a great environment for education", and "Omg I'm so proud my son finally got into Ashinaka!". A brief research on the history of both the school and the city had Yata figure that the whole deal with being built on an old battlefield thing was totally a fraud. No crime or shady stuff was reported. Clean records. Perfect reputation.
Heh. Could have fool me. Yata was no genius, but even the stupidest person on earth should know that there was no such thing so perfect. If anything, it suggested that the school had absolutely strong influence on medias and was fully capable of kept its dark side well hidden.
Sighing loudly, the redhead let himself fall face first into the sheet. Thinking and reading were not his strongest suits, or even his suits for that matter, so he felt way more exhausted than running a 10km marathon.
Despite being threatened directly by the ghost, The redhead didn't want to give in just like that – blame it on his infamous stubbornness and curiosity. Furthermore, now that he thought back about the incident clearly, outside the disturbance of seeing the...body mixing phase, nothing had really happened. As cold as the ghost's voice had sounded, his provocation had slightly leaned on the side of mischievousness, if not rather childish.
And a little lonely too, somehow. Like a child who was so good at playing hide-and-seek and was torn between wanting to be found and getting angry at being found.
"I still want to talk to him." Yata murmured to himself while setting his alarm clock an hour earlier than normal. "There has to be a reason why only I can see him, like I'm the chosen one! A hero! Haha!. And hell will freeze before I turn down challenge this interesting!"
With that in mind, Yata drifted to sleep with a triumphal smile.
He didn't, however, expect to get a nightmare.
He was standing on a rooftop. The sky was pitch dark, flickering bloody moon loomed dirty patches of light on the ground. The inky-black clouds seemed to crush the whole ghastly city. The wind screamed, and lashed at him at a haughtily tantalizing manner.
Someone was crying. Someone was laughing. Screaming. Cursing. Whispering. Mocking. Gasping. Yelling. So noisy, so irritating, so suffocating. All he wanted was for the noises to stop. Get lost. Be gone. Disappear.
Loud noises rang the air and his vision blurred. It hurt. Black, then white, then red and golden and blue and dark, dark red on opalescent white. It hurt. It hurt where it shouldn't be.
"Why?", he refused to acknowledge that his own voice was trembling violently, "Why!" It hurt. It hurt, and he franticly thought no, no, no! It wasn't right. It should only hurt in another way, the way he preferred, not this. This couldn't happen.
"I'm sorry...Fushimi. I know you wish for it...to be different. But..." A whisper, almost inaudible. "But..."
It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt. He screamed. It hurt so bad. He didn't want it, this kind of pain. So bad, so bad, it shouldn't be this way.
The laughter eased. Someone was calling him. Someone was pulling him up, yanking him away. The sudden change of position was unbearable – late, too late, no hope of fixing thing now. Even so, he tried to leap forward, to set everything on the right track, to change their fates somehow. But he couldn't, his strength was slipping and the weight around his torso was too strong to escape.
The last things he saw was a pair of sad, sad violet eyes, and a flash of blood tainted black coat.
And then the darkness drowned all his senses.
Yata shrieked deafeningly, eyes shooting open in horridness, hands gripping the sheet like it was his lifesaver to the point his knuckles turned white. Panting heavily, the redhead quickly glanced around the room to make sure that he was Yata himself – fine, alive, certainly not hurt and dying, in his own room just sleeping – to confirm that it was merely a nightmare.
He knew it wasn't, though. There was no way he could dream up something like that. It felt too real to be a fraction of his imagination – in fact, the unsettling dream seemed to be almost like...a blurred remembrance. He barely recalled the negative feelings and incomprehensible thoughts that swirled around his head in the nightmare, but he knew they were definitely someone else's. His guts was telling him that. Yata had pride in his instinct for a good reason.
If that was the truth, he could only think of one person who could possibly be the rightful owner of the disturbing piece of memory.
"What have I gotten myself into...?" groaned Yata as he stood in front of the elevator one hour before first class began. "Involving into a ghost's business, getting his right-before-death memory of some sorts. Yet still coming back for more. If I were my own mom I'd hit me hard."
The lift opened instantly when Yata pushed the button, given the fact that it was on the first floor. No one but the ghost was inside, once again sleeping.
The new student sighed loudly. Should have guess.
Choosing a comfortable spot beside the unconscious spirit, he examined the other carefully. Nothing about him seemed different from yesterday, or different from normal people on that matter. Yet, Yata couldn't help but feel attracted to him. Something was so captivating about this mysterious ghost that kept the new student watching him intensely for god knew how long.
Yata was tempted to touch him, just a brief one, to know how it would feel to touch an actual soul. He was already raising his hand when suddenly azure eyes blinked open slowly.
"Er...g-good morning?" Yata greeted purely on reflex, ending his word uncertainly while staring straight into the other's eyes.
The ghost gazed back in confusion for a long moment before clicking his tongue and narrowing his eyes. "Tsk. Even though I told you not to comeback. So what, you can see me now?"
"Well...sorry for yesterday. I don't know why but I actually can see you just fine." Scratching his nape, Yata nervously replied.
"Hah?"
"Uhm, yeah, hard to believe right? I never know I can see ghosts before seeing you!"
"Hahhhh?"
Were that drawl and twitching eyebrows meant to be sarcasm? Or was it surprise? Though Yata admitted he wasn't an expert at reading the atmosphere.
"I know you're the elevator ghost or whatever your preferred status is. Say, it's not everyday you find someone who can see you, is it? So let's be friend!"
The linger soul looked at Yata blankly, like he wasn't sure what the heck had just happened. Then, very slowly, a crooked smirk formed on his lips, as he announced in a low, eerie demonic voice while getting dangerously closer to Yata's face.
"How convenient, just in time for me to find a more suitable host body."
Shit.
"W-W-Wait! ARGH! NO!" Yata fumbled backward with shocked wide eyes, hitting his rear painfully on the wall. He crossed his hands in defensive pose, ignoring the way they quivered quite pathetically. "Don't you dare! Go away evil ghost! "
The dark haired boy stared owlishly for another long five seconds before he turned away and snickered into the back of his hand, shoulders trembling lightly.
"Heh, kidding."
"You – wha, what?"
"Honestly, for someone claiming he wants to be friend with a ghost, you're more of a scaredy-cat than I thought. Mi – sa – ki, if I remember it right, neh?"
"...You have a really bad personality, don't you. Was you this way when you were alive too?" Yata scowled. "Give me your name so I can insult it back."
"Tsk, that's not a proper way of asking. Anyway, I'm under no obligation of declaring my name to an idiot like you."
"Who the fuck are you calling an idiot, you stupid idiot?"
"Your poor vocabulary proves me right."
"I'm asking your goddamned name, not playing scrabble! Why are you being difficult about it?"
The spirit gave a low chuckle and glanced away. He seemed to be hesitant and spaced out, biting his lips as if he was having an unpleasant flashback.
Unsure of what to say to break the sudden awkward silence, Yata scratched his head nervously. Something nagged at Yata's mind, telling him that actually there was no need to ask. He already knew this poor boy's name. Somewhere...somewhere...
"I'm sorry...Fushimi. I know you wish for it...to be different. But..." A whisper, almost inaudible. "But..."
That's it. The dream.
"Say, is your name Fushimi?"
Blue eyes snapped back to bore themselves into Yata's, bewilderment and disbelief brimming all over.
"How did you know that?" He gritted out, like his own name was a spiteful enemy.
The redhead didn't expect this strong reaction. What should he say now? I got a piece of your memory through my dream? It sounded way too cliché.
"I...I've asked around." Yata reluctantly replied with the most trustable lie he could think of.
"Nonsense. Tsk. There's no way you could dig it out by asking people Hey, what's the elevator ghost's name? or something equally stupid." The soul, apparently Fushimi, accused with a hostile undertone, head hanging low.
Harsh. But that was a valid point.
Yata was about to give up and spill the truth when the doors abruptly opened and a tired looking Totsuka stumbled in.
"Totsuka-san!" Yata yelled, making both Totsuka and Fushimi looked up instantaneously.
The older man raised an eyebrow. "Yata? Why are you sitting here alone? The elevator isn't even moving."
Fushimi looked stunned, then breathed out a self-mocking smirk. "I see. You relate to Totsuka someway. Make senses. Should have guess."
Yata stood up and smiled toward Totsuka to pretend that he wasn't casually chilling with a ghost. What Fushimi had just said made him beyond confused, though. Did these two know each other?
"Time to ignore me again?" A click of tongue.
Sorry...Can't risk letting someone think I'm insane.
Yata glanced at Totsuka. The man chose thirteenth floor and leaned onto the wall, spacing out like nobody's business. His eyes clouded in an unfocused haze, the aura around him was one of disoriented restlessness.
Exactly the same as Fushimi right then, who was curling his knees up and laying his eyes on the ground.
The ginger wrecked his head to find something to break the uncomfortable silence, but failed miserably. He sighed and looked at his PDA in attempt to distract himself, only to startle and yelp loudly.
"Shit! I forget about the class!" He all but slammed the number 10 button and swayed on his feet like he was on pins and needles. Only five minutes until the class began! He wouldn't want another detention.
"You have classes?" Totsuka asked in an oddly surprised voice.
"Yes, I'm gonna be late! Again!"
The blond man tilted his head, looking Yata up and down.
"Ah. I get it." He held his chin thoughtfully. "Despite your look, you're the really studious type?"
Yata couldn't tell if he was being made fun of or not. "Ugh...not really?"
"Misaki. I'm afraid that you have a big problem with your brain. Please shut up." Fushimi clicked his tongue, scowled flippantly.
You shut up.
"Are you being modest? I don't get that vibe from you though." Totsuka appeared to be deep in thought, still staring at Yata unblinkingly. After a while, his eyes widened a bit and let out a little gasp. "I see. Interesting."
Yata felt like he should pay more attention, still the terrifying panic of being punished for being late again prevented him from dwelling too much on whatever Totsuka or Fushimi was saying. The moment the doors move apart, he broke into a run, though not forgetting to bid a brief goodbye.
The redhead was saved by a hair – he walked into the class a step ahead of the teacher, literally. God had mercy on his soul.
"Good grief, Yata – san, I thought you wouldn't make it!"
"Shut your trap, Kamamoto..."
Yata decided he needed to investigate Fushimi's case by asking around for real. The nightmare – no, memory - kept haunting him. He couldn't help but wanting to know more, to help the ghost somehow.
"Kamamoto, do you know anything about a student in this school named Fushimi?"
"You must be more specific than that, Yata – san. A lot of people have Fushimi as their family name." The fatty responded with a confused expression.
"Er – ugh, he is rather tall and thin, has dark blue hair and pale blue eyes, wears glasses, and had a really rude personality."
"That sounds weirdly familiar", Kamamoto rubbed his chin, pretending to be an information broker, "I think I know someone fits your description, but I'm not entirely sure."
"Quit playing around and give me a clear answer already!" Yata was getting excited.
"Our class used to have a student named Fushimi Saruhiko, actually. He was a relatively quiet guy, a loner at heart, so no one knew much about him. I didn't either."
"He used to be in our class? What happened to him?"
"I heard Fushimi transferred to another school half a year ago."
To say Yata was shocked was an understatement. "...What?" Just transfer? What. Was the guy Kamamoto was talking about not Fushimi the ghost after all. "Didn't he die?"
Kamamoto pursed his lips. "Don't talk ill, Yata –san. You heard the bad rumors about him, didn't you?"
"Are you talking about Fushimi - kun?"
Both the redhead and the blonde startled as a soft, girly voice chimed in above their heads. They looked up to see their monitor, Yukizome Kukuri, smiled down at them.
Yata's first reaction was to blush to his ears. The second one was to hide behind Kamamoto and panic.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!"
"N-n-no, it's alright, I-I'm just, ugh, surprise, that's all." Damn it, he just couldn't bring himself to not being embarrassed when a girl was near.
"Anyway, I overheard that Yata – kun wanted to know about Fushimi – kun, so I thought I should provide you some correct information! The rumors were all over the places but don't you believe them!" Kukuri sat down at a nearby chair, careful not to invade Yata's quite big personal space that applied only for girls.
"Wait a minute. I didn't hear anything about him. What are the rumors about?"
Yata had street wisdom, for him being a rebellious reckless guy and everything, to at least have a knack that rumors tended to have hidden truth in them than formal published news. The elevator ghost thing was an outstanding evidence.
Kamamoto helpfully supplied "Fushimi - kun suddenly stopped coming to school from the last summer. Thus, people make up various stories about him. Some say he transferred to an exclusive school for geniuses. Other say he was expelled."
"That's right. However, the majority claims him to be dead, for a thousand reasons. It ranges from rare illness, traffic accident to being killed by underground gangsters. They're so cruel to make up something like that." Kukuri continued with sorrowful tone.
"But as the class's monitor, I was informed about his situation! The teacher said that Fushimi – kun had gone study abroad in Germany because he received a special scholarship!"
"I won't be surprised if everything was an excuse for him to not go to school and just hide somewhere chilling."
"Very funny, Kamamoto – kun. In my opinion, I think he went without a word because he didn't like being fawned over, or he just hate us."
"That sounded like Fushimi." Kamamoto laughed out loud, "He was such an anti-social guy."
Well, in this case, the rumors held the truth alright. Fushimi really was dead. Most likely even being killed in a rooftop. The teachers must hide the truth and change it to fake information. As he thought, this Ashinaka school was shady as hell. Yata briefly thought back about what Kamamoto had said yesterday – there might be murder inside the school.
"Do you guys talk to Fushimi's friends to confirm it? His friends may know about his whereabouts better."
"I don't know if he even had friends. He always did everything alone and pushed people away. Back then...sometime I felt like he was never really there, like he would just simply disappear into thin air when no one pay attention." Kukuri sighed as he looked sadly at the seat in the left corner in the back, her voice turned soft, almost reduced to a whisper. "Then just like that, he really had gone."
Yata turned around to see where Kukuri was looking too. Fushimi's seat was occupied by another boy, but for a flitting moment, Yata swore that he saw a dark blue haired figure sitting there playing with his PDA with an apathetic expression.
He was yanked back to reality when Kamamoto snapped his hand. "Oh, but if my memory serves me right, Fushimi had a guardian and he used to be in a club, right?"
"Ah, yes. He joined a club called Homra, which led by Mikoto – sensei, when he was 14, I read it somewhere in his profile, though the club was disbanded half a year ago. It seemed to be a private club, so I don't know much. About his guardian, I believe he is the head teacher of Literature department, Munakata – sensei."
Yata perked up, eyes shone with excitement. Mikoto – sensei was his favorite teacher from the very first day Yata transferred, having him involved in this case was such an interesting coincidence. He didn't know about the other teacher, though. Well, more leads and clues made a boy happy.
"Kukuri! Please direct me to this Munakata – sensei!"