The abandoned school building stood silent, its frame groaning under the weight of years. Faint gusts of wind seeped through cracks in the walls, carrying the scent of dust and mold. Kōki's grip tightened on his phone, its flashlight casting a narrow glow that barely cut through the murk.
"Let's split up and search for clues," Kōki said, his voice low but steady, trying to push away the unease crawling up his back. He glanced at his two companions. "You guys can check the places I can't reach. I'll stay here and look around for now."
"Okie dokie," Takuto replied in his usual cheerful tone, before his translucent form drifted through a decaying wall, vanishing from sight.
"Alright then, I'll search through the rubble over there," Sayoko added. Her faint glow shimmered briefly before she floated toward the darker end of the hall.
Left alone, Kōki swallowed, his throat dry. His ears picked up faint echoes: the drip of water, the brittle creak of old boards that shifted under their own weight. He shifted his feet slightly, the crunch of broken glass beneath his shoe startling in the stillness.
"Now that I think about it," he muttered under his breath, "this place really is creepy… There's no light at all, and the sounds echo weirdly. Feels like the whole building could collapse any second."
His chest tightened for a moment, but he shook his head hard. "No, don't think about that. I already met two ghosts, and somehow I've gotten used to them. There's nothing left here that should scare me." He let out a breath and flicked his flashlight beam across the hall, forcing himself to walk deeper inside.
The beam revealed warped doors hanging crooked, collapsed desks piled in corners, and long cracks running through the floor. Dust rose with each step, scratching the back of his throat.
"If a crime scene really was here five years ago," Kōki whispered to himself, "then there might not be much left. Still… this is the only place we have to search."
He stopped suddenly. His light caught something smeared across a wall—dark, uneven, long dried.
"…This looks like blood," he murmured, his stomach tightening. He leaned closer but quickly recoiled. "It's old… not fresh at all. Still…"
Forcing himself to move on, he turned over scattered objects in the debris. A corner of paper poked out from under a plank, and he crouched, pulling out a pile of yellowed newspapers.
"What are these…? Newspaper articles?" He flipped through them quickly, but the ink was too sharp, too new. "These aren't old. Someone dumped them here this year." He tossed them aside, the sound echoing sharply through the hallway.
Then his light caught something else. A dull metallic sheen. He straightened, his heart skipping.
"…Wait. There's a bag up ahead." He stepped carefully over a fallen beam, his breath quickening. The bag slumped against the wall, rusted clasps and faded fabric telling of long neglect. "This… looks ancient. Could the detectives have missed this back then?"
Kōki crouched, reaching out with cautious fingers. His pulse thudded faster as he flipped open the cover. Inside were books, their pages stiff with age. His eyes widened as he saw the name scrawled inside.
"…Sayoko."
His voice came out low, almost a whisper. He flipped through the books quickly, his chest tightening further with each turn of a page. Something slipped free—an envelope. A heart-shaped pin glinted faintly in his light.
"What's this?" He picked it up, his fingers tingling slightly. His curiosity burned, overtaking his hesitation. He slid the envelope open and unfolded the letter inside.
His lips moved, reading aloud without thinking.
"Dear Takumi,
This is Sayoko, your secret admirer. I'm the one who's been sending you those anonymous love letters."
Kōki froze mid-breath, blinking. "…Wait, is this… a love letter?" His voice cracked slightly, his face warming. Still, he read on, unable to stop.
"I'm tired of watching from afar. My heart hurts every time I see you, and I can't hide these feelings any longer. I…"
"Kōki-kun, stop reading that!!"
Sayoko's panicked voice echoed sharply as her ghostly figure darted toward him. She flew straight through his body, the chill making him shiver as she spun around to face him.
"Please, don't look at that!" she cried, reaching out desperately, her hands passing uselessly through his arms.
Kōki jerked the paper away from her attempts. "Will you stop it already? This is an important clue! We can't just ignore it!" His voice was strained, frustration breaking through.
Sayoko's cheeks burned red even through her faint glow. "It's embarrassing! You have no right to read it! It's personal!" Her voice trembled, a mix of anger and humiliation.
"Well, you can't exactly stop me, can you? You're dead! Just let me help you already!" Kōki shot back, his own embarrassment twisting inside his chest. He clenched the letter, gulping as he glanced down at the words again, his ears burning.
This was written by her… to a boy she liked. The realization hit harder than he expected, and though his chest tightened, he couldn't look away. His face grew warm, blood rushing up as if betraying the thoughts he wanted to keep hidden. He wanted to know what it said. He needed to. Even if the words weren't meant for him, even if they carried feelings that once belonged to someone else, he wanted to see them, to hold them, to understand what had been in her heart at that moment.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to continue reading.
"I can't hide my true feelings anymore. After you read this letter, please meet me in the old school building at noon. I'll tell you everything then…"
Kōki exhaled slowly, the letter trembling in his grip. "So… she arranged to meet him here. Then this has to be connected to her disappearance."
Sayoko, her face flushed with shame, lunged at him again, raising her hand in frustration. "I said stop it!!"
The sharp crack of skin meeting skin echoed through the hall.
Kōki staggered back, clutching his cheek in shock. "Ow—!? Wait, what just hit me!?" His eyes went wide as he realized.
"I did."
Sayoko's own eyes were wide, her hand hovering in front of her face as if it didn't belong to her. "I just… hit you. My hand… actually connected."
Kōki's heart pounded in disbelief. He stared at her glowing form. "That's impossible… You're not supposed to touch me. You're not even part of the physical world."
"I… I don't know how it happened either." Sayoko looked down at her hands, her fingers trembling. Her voice was hushed with astonishment. "But I really touched you."
Before Kōki could speak again, a sharp voice cut through the tension.
"Guys!!"
Takuto phased back into the room, his expression unusually pale. "Someone's coming. I don't know who she is, but she's creepy—really creepy! I think she might be another ghost!"
Kōki froze, the letter still clutched in his hand. His stomach dropped.
Sayoko's expression hardened, her glow dimming slightly.
"Where is she?" Kōki asked, his voice low, his pulse racing so hard it felt audible.
"I… I don't know exactly," Takuto stammered, darting nervous glances around them. "But she's… she's right behind you!"
Kōki's breath caught. He spun, the light from his phone jerking across the ruined hall. Shadows stretched unnaturally along the walls, moving with the flicker of the beam.
Sayoko's voice was sharp now. "What do you mean, right behind us!?" She floated closer to Kōki, her posture tense.
But the space behind them was empty. Or at least… it looked empty.
Kōki gripped the letter tighter, sweat breaking out on his palms. The air felt heavier, each breath harder to draw. The sound of creaking wood grew louder, like footsteps pressing slowly down the corridor.
"…Did you hear that?" His voice trembled despite himself.
Sayoko nodded slowly, her expression unusually serious. "Yeah. It's getting closer."
For a long moment, the three of them stayed still, the silence broken only by that sound. Each step—or creak—grew nearer.
Kōki's thoughts spun wildly. Who could it be? Another spirit? A person? Or… something worse?
The beam of his flashlight wavered as his hand shook, and he braced himself for whatever was about to appear.