Kai's thumb hovered over the delete button, but he couldn't bring himself to press it. The photo stared back at him—his dad, mid-laugh, badge glinting under fluorescent lights, arm slung around a man whose face blurred into shadow. The suit looked expensive, the kind that screamed "corporate shark," not "cop buddy." And that message: Some details bite. It felt like a warning wrapped in a riddle, the kind his father used to scribble in the margins of his notebooks.
The cafeteria buzzed around him, oblivious. Sora shoveled curry into his mouth like it was his last meal, while Aiko sketched furiously in her book, capturing the "epic showdown" of the skewer retrieval. "Kai? Earth to Kai!" Sora waved a spoon. "You zoning out on us? Don't tell me you're already on the next case. That text was from Riku, right? Apology spam?"
Kai forced a grin, pocketing his phone. "Yeah, something like that. Probably just a glitch." Lies came easier these days, a habit born from too many unanswered questions. He couldn't drag them into this—not yet. Not when the only lead was a ghost number and a gut feeling that twisted like overcooked noodles.
The afternoon dragged like wet laundry. Math class blurred into history, where Sensei droned about feudal lords and hidden alliances. Kai doodled timelines in his notebook, not of samurai battles, but of that rainy night three years ago: skid marks on asphalt, a witness who "saw nothing," the black car's plate ending in smudged ink. Details his dad would have chased to the ends of the earth. Why stop now? Kai thought, snapping his pencil.
By the time the final bell rang, the school felt heavier, like the air itself held secrets. Students spilled into the halls, backpacks thumping like heartbeats. Kai lingered, pretending to organize his locker while eavesdropping. Whispers floated by—fragments of gossip that usually meant nothing, but today?
"Did you hear? The ghost struck again last night."
"Swear I saw a shadow by the old wing. Tall guy in a suit, just... watching."
Kai's ears perked. The "school ghost" rumor had simmered for weeks, dismissed as urban legend fodder for late-night LINE chats. But paired with that text? It itched like an unsolved equation.
He caught up with Sora at the shoe lockers. "Hey, what's this about a ghost? Spill."
Sora's eyes lit up like he'd won the lottery. "Oh man, you missed the group chat explosion! Last night, during cram study, someone snapped a pic in the abandoned music room—blurry figure in the window. They say it's the spirit of Old Man Tanaka... wait, no relation, right? Some janitor who vanished years ago. Creepy, huh?"
Kai's stomach flipped. Tanaka? Coincidence, or...? "Show me the pic."
Sora pulled out his phone, scrolling through a flood of memes and shaky emojis. There: a grainy shot, timestamped 11:47 PM. The window framed a silhouette—tall, broad-shouldered, suit jacket flapping like wings. No face, just darkness. But the posture... it matched the shadow in the photo from the text.
"Photoshop city," Aiko chimed in, appearing like she'd materialized from thin air. Her sketchbook dangled from one hand, a fresh drawing of a spectral detective peeking out. "But the timing's sus. That's the third sighting this month, all after midnight. Principal's freaking—talk of locking the gates early."
Kai's mind raced. Midnight wanderings? In a suit? Not your average poltergeist. "Who snapped it? And why were they here so late?"
"Some third-year, Yumi from lit club," Sora said, tapping the chat. "She was pulling an all-nighter for that essay contest. Posted it at 12:02 AM. Comments are wild—half think it's a pervert, half a guardian angel."
Aiko leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Or a cover for something real. Remember the paint thefts? My supplies keep vanishing from the art room. What if the 'ghost' is just a sticky-fingered klepto using the rumor as camouflage?"
Paint thefts. Kai hadn't connected the dots, but now? Small crimes, overlooked details—echoes of bigger shadows. "We should check it out. Tonight. If it's a ghost, it'll ignore us. If not..."
Sora paled. "Tonight? As in, breaking curfew? My mom's radar would ping before we hit the gate."
"Come on," Aiko wheedled, batting her lashes. "For the story! I'll bring snacks. And my phone's got a killer flashlight app."
Kai hesitated, the weight of the text pressing like an invisible hand. This wasn't just curiosity anymore. It was a thread, pulling him toward whatever lurked in his dad's past. "Fine. Meet at the side gate, 10 PM. But if we get caught, I'm blaming Sora's dramatic entrance."
The sun dipped low as they parted, painting the sky in oranges and pinks—a deceptive calm. Kai biked home through quiet streets lined with konbini lights and salarymen shuffling home. His family's apartment was a shoebox on the third floor, Mom's nursing shifts leaving it echoey and half-lived. He microwaved leftovers, scrolling the mystery text again. No sender info, just a burner vibe. A quick reverse image search on the photo yielded zilch—too blurry for facial rec, and the background screamed "stock crime scene."
Details bite. Kai chewed it over. Biting like teeth? Or warning of a trap? He fired off a test reply: Who is this? What do you know about my dad? Sent. Nothing. Dead air.
By 9:45 PM, he was back at school, hood up against the chill. The side gate creaked under his push—rusted, forgotten, the kind of spot legends loved. Sora arrived five minutes late, panting with a backpack stuffed with Pocky and excuses. "Traffic! Okay, no—video games. Don't judge."
Aiko slipped in third, stealthy as a cat. "Lock picked. Metaphorically. Ready for ghost hunting?"
They crept across the quad, flashlights cutting swaths through the gloom. The old wing loomed—a relic from the school's pre-war days, boarded up after a leaky roof turned it into a mold museum. Windows gaped like empty sockets, vines clawing at the bricks.
"Music room's second floor," Kai whispered, leading the way up the fire escape. Metal groaned under their sneakers, each step a potential alarm. Sora whimpered softly, clutching a Pocky stick like a talisman.
At the window, they peered in. Moonlight slanted across dusty piano keys and sheet music yellowed with age. Nothing stirred. "False alarm?" Sora breathed.
Then—a flicker. Outside, in the courtyard below, a shape detached from the shadows. Tall. Suited. Moving with purpose toward the gate.
"Ghost!" Aiko yelped, too loud.
The figure froze, head snapping up. For a split second, moonlight caught a glint—glasses? No, a watch chain. Then it bolted, vanishing into the night.
Kai's pulse thundered. "After it!"
They scrambled down, feet pounding pavement. Sora lagged, cursing his sneakers, but Kai and Aiko sprinted ahead. The gate clanged shut just as they reached it—locked from outside? No—the figure was gone, swallowed by the alley beyond.
Panting, Kai pressed against the bars. Footprints in the soft dirt: size 11, polished loafers. Not spectral. And there, snagged on the fence—a scrap of fabric. Dark wool, threaded with gold. He pocketed it, mind whirring.
Back in the quad, Sora caught up, doubled over. "Did we... catch Casper?"
"Nope," Kai said, voice steady despite the adrenaline. "Flesh and blood. And look." He held up the fabric under his phone light. "Expensive stuff. Not janitor threads."
Aiko's eyes widened. "Our thief? Or the sender?"
"Or both." Kai's phone buzzed—another text. Curious kid. Check the piano bench. Details wait for no one. Heart slamming, he stared at the music room window. The ghost wasn't running. It was leading.
Sora gulped. "Uh, guys? That's breaking and entering territory."
Kai met their eyes, the scrap burning in his pocket like a fuse. Dad's shadow loomed larger now, whispering: Follow the details. "One peek. In and out. Who's with me?"
The old wing's door loomed, unlocked and ajar—like an invitation.
End of Chapter 2
(Next chapter tease: Inside the music room, a hidden compartment reveals Dad's old badge—and a note tying the "ghost" to a long-buried school scandal.)