So there's something under the stairs. A mass of shadow, eyes, and teeth. Milky eyeballs slowly swivel to watch him when it catches him staring. The motion of one sets off the many—a grotesque chain reaction that freezes him in place until finally, he is their sole focus. It has nothing to say to him, but whispers find him at night, falling on the only ears that can hear them.
Takashi is packing his things a week later.
Because they won't leave him alone (and oh, why won't they leave him alone?) Takashi exists in extremes.
The longest way back to the house, backtracking when he has miscalculated. Sometimes they're like wild animals, but sometimes they're cunning. A smile is a little too sharp when it is stretched over an ill-fitting disguise.
Monosyllabic answers will do when trying to appease his guardians or teachers. When he wakes up at night screaming or flinches too hard at (the dark shadow in the corner) nothing.
Their expressions go from understanding to tired to irritated in time. It's only inevitable.
He learns this lesson time and time again, but still, there are moments when he hopes it could be different.
But deep down, he knows. How could it be?
Now he's under the stairs, trying not to breathe too loudly, playing mouse to a one-eyed cat.
If he'd found himself in this situation sometime earlier, he would probably be thinking, 'Oh, Grandma,' but now it's more fitting for her to be thinking, 'Oh, Takashi' from wherever she's resting. He certainly is. The Book of Friends is somewhere in this moss-covered mansion and wherever that is, it's not with Takashi.
For the first time in his life, there are things he wants to protect. People, creatures, beings. More often than not, they're at odds with one another and Takashi is caught in the middle. But if he has the power to do something, what excuse does he have?
Takashi presses himself as small as possible and breathes deep to slow his pulse. It doesn't really work. Sensei's nowhere in sight and dust falls in correspondence to the footsteps on the stairs above him.
There's a paper doll wedged between the steps on the stairs. It's struggling for freedom, fluttering erratically. Takashi tugs it out before Aunt Touko can notice and before Nyanko-sensei can pounce. It doesn't zip away, instead coming to rest on the palm of his hand. Mission seemingly accomplished.
Back in his room, he scans for sparkles through his window. When he doesn't find any, he suggests that they go for a walk. Sensei still wants to shred the doll to smithereens, but Takashi holds it out of reach and tucks it carefully into his pocket.
"There's something under the stairs!" Taki had exclaimed during lunch, her voice hushed. She's more excited than anything, but a trace of nerves shows in her expression.
She asks him and Tanuma if they wouldn't mind coming over after school to take a look around.
A chill has set in with the storms they've been having lately, so maybe the wandering spirit is simply taking refuge in a warm, dry place. Taki makes him promise to describe every detail, a sketchbook at the ready.
So, now he's here: with his friends by his side and a cat-not-cat on his shoulder.
Now let's see, what's under the stairs?