Almost immediately, he understood what had happened as he saw himself bleeding on the asphalt. It was a bloody mess—bones sticking out where they shouldn't, more blood outside than inside his body.
He had died.
He looked around: ambulance personnel, police officers, and firemen were doing their jobs. It was quite the accident. Many people were seriously injured; luckily—or unluckily—he was the only fatality. He scoffed bitterly as a sour expression grew on the lingering soul's face.
He was one week away from his final university exams, a doctorate degree he had spent years preparing for. Now all of it was wasted. Time he could have spent with friends and family he had devoted to studying, and for what? Nothing!
He turned his back on the accident and made his way to the university. He spent days, weeks, months in the auditorium, bitterly watching other students graduate. Every day, he grew angrier, grumbling over the "what ifs" and the unfairness of his situation.
The young man started causing mischief for the living, venting his displeasure however he could by messing with the students. Rumors of ghosts began to spread among the student body, tales of unnatural events that defied explanation. It was a small, fleeting amusement for the new ghost, but depression and regret soon followed.
It was a late Friday evening in December. Snow fell gently, and the air outside was eerily quiet. The melancholy spirit watched the world from the dark auditorium as white snowflakes drifted from the sky. His thoughts dwelled on his new reality, observing students outside preparing to head home.
So deep was he in his thoughts, he failed to notice someone approaching.
"Hmm, it's been a while since I've seen snow. Rather pretty, isn't it?" a young female voice said beside him.
"AAaa!" he shrieked indignantly. The young girl gained a smug look as she stared up at the ghost, who was twice her height.
"Don't do that! You almost made me shit myself!" he blurted without thinking. Realizing his words, he continued, "Wait, you can see me?"
The orange-haired girl smiled, her intriguing blue-and-red eyes staring at him. "Well, I'm currently a soul wandering the mortal plane like yourself. Of course, I can see you," she stated softly, fully aware of his situation.
She wandered around the auditorium, while the ghost, lost for words, glanced at her curiously.
"So, your grudges anchor you here, huh?" she said, eyes half-lidded as she stood in front of the blackboard.
His dead heart skipped a beat. "How did you know?"
"I can see it—the things that anchor you to the world," she responded, tracing the blackboard with her finger. Looking back at the wide-eyed man by the window, she continued, "When we die, the thing anchoring us to the mortal plane gets destroyed, and we return to God to be reincarnated. However, some of us hold grudges and are unwilling to move on, re-anchoring ourselves to objects or people."
The young man sighed. "I see... I was a week from completing my doctorate. I studied so hard, yet now all of it was wasted. Anyone would feel bitter in this situation, right?"
She walked toward him again. "Yes, but that alone usually isn't enough to keep someone lingering. If you managed to anchor yourself here, it means you felt particularly strong about something."
A shadow fell over his eyes. A silent tear slid down his cheek as he suddenly remembered why. "I... promised my mom I would help find a cure for her sickness. It's hard, you know, watching your mother lay in bed all day, unable to do anything, just lying there in the dark, exhausted every day. It only got worse after I was born. She could never attend anything. All my dad and I did was take care of her."
Tears flowed freely now as he laid his despair bare before the young girl.
"I made a promise! I would find a cure! And now she lies at home, childless, my father desperately taking care of her while also working!" He fell to his knees, unable to hold back his feelings.
"I tried going back there, you know? But I couldn't even enter the apartment. All I could hear was her silent sobbing."
The girl embraced him, saying nothing as she pressed his crying face into her blue kimono. She silently reached up and softly stroked his ghostly hair.
Good, good. Accepting your feelings is a good start, she thought as the older ghost poured out his buried emotions.
It was a long while before the man finally calmed down. Still sad, but the embrace of the only one he could confide in lightened his heart. They sat side by side in the front row of tables.
"I'm not sure what to do," he said quietly. "Am I cursed to remain here forever?"
She hummed, swinging her legs back and forth. "You can accept your position. Once you're a ghost, there's not much you can do for the living."
Jumping off the table, she continued, "Or I could forcefully send you up, if you want." A dangerous glint appeared in her red-ringed eyes.
Cold sweat trickled down—somehow he knew she was serious. "I-I know! I just wish things had turned out differently. I wish I could at least say goodbye."
"Hmm, I could say goodbye to your mom for you," she offered, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.
"Aren't you also dead?"
She shook her head. "No, not entirely. My body is still alive."
He was confused. "How?"
Her brows furrowed as she pondered a response. "It's... complicated. I barely understand it myself. But I will tell you this: I'll tell her what you wish for her to hear."
"I-I see. Then, could you tell her that I'm sorry and that I love her?" he asked quietly. Relief washed over him as the girl nodded.
She walked up to him and gave him a final hug. "I will." From the corner of her eye, she watched the anchor on the blackboard shatter.
He witnessed his hands slowly dissolve into white particles. "I see. This is the end, isn't it?"
She nodded.
He looked at her one last time. "What is your name?" His torso was almost fully gone now.
"Fujimura Kishi," she replied, a soft smile mirroring his own.
"I see. Thank you, Kishi-chan. Maybe we'll get to know each other in another life."
"It would be my pleasure," she responded softly. He was almost fully gone.
A soft but still sad laugh echoed in the auditorium as the lingering soul returned to the Root.
Six months later, a young Kishi exited the Yamashiro household after fulfilling her promise.
