The week after the rumors spread, the west stairwell became more than a story—it became a challenge.
By the time lunch rolled around on Monday, Hayato noticed a circle of boys crowded near the back of the classroom, their voices low but sharp with excitement.
"I'm telling you, no one has the guts," one of them said. "You only hear whispers if you're actually there after dark."
"That's stupid," another scoffed. "It's just the wind. I'll go tonight if you want proof."
"You?" someone laughed. "Yeah right. You'd run the second the lights flickered."
The group burst into laughter, but the spark had already caught. By the end of the day, dares were flying around the class like scraps of paper.
"Go down the stairwell after practice.""Stay there five minutes—alone.""Prove the ghost whispers aren't real."
No one had done it yet.
Aiko slipped into her seat beside Hayato, her brow furrowed. "They're turning it into a game," she whispered.
Hayato sighed, keeping his voice low so no one else would hear. "Figures. People can't leave rumors alone."
Her gaze flicked toward the noisy group at the back. "What if someone actually goes? What if…" She trailed off, and Hayato caught the hesitation in her eyes.
"What if the whispers are real?" he finished for her.
She nodded slightly, lips pressing into a thin line.
Hayato didn't answer. He thought of the voice he'd heard—the one that hadn't sounded like wind at all.
That evening, when the classroom finally emptied, Hayato found himself walking with Aiko once again. Their steps fell in rhythm as always, carrying them almost instinctively toward the west wing.
But this time, the atmosphere felt heavier, as though the air itself knew the stairwell had become something more dangerous.
Aiko paused at the top of the landing, gripping her bag strap. "What if someone gets hurt?" she asked softly.
Hayato glanced at her. The fading light caught in her hair, outlining her in amber. She looked serious, almost worried in a way he hadn't seen before.
"…Then we'll stop them," he said. The words surprised even him.
Her eyes widened slightly. "We?"
He swallowed. "If anyone tries to go down there, we'll be there too. Just in case."
For a long moment, she didn't answer. Then, slowly, a small smile tugged at her lips.
"Okay," she whispered.
They lingered there in the half-light, the silence between them deeper than the shadows below. Neither dared to step closer to the stairwell this time. It wasn't theirs alone anymore.
Behind them, laughter echoed faintly down the corridor—the sound of classmates daring one another, pushing boundaries they didn't understand.
The whispers weren't waiting just for Hayato and Aiko anymore. They were waiting for anyone bold—or foolish—enough to listen.