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He looks around surreptitiously, to make sure that there’s nobody around. Unlike his fellow students who are huddling together, milling around during the school-wide test of courage, he’s not looking around in paranoia out of some deep-seated fear.
…well, it is kind of like fear.
He doesn’t want anyone to see him, because he doesn’t want to be disturbed.
Any self-respecting school has this, some kind of urban legend. Their school, being over one hundred years old, has a wealth of them. Enough for a collection of Seven School Mysteries. And one of them is—
A Wish-Granting Ghost that lives in the fourth mirror inside the fourth floor men’s bathroom. One must declare their wish four times in front of said mirror, while all alone, at exactly twelve midnight.
This test of courage is a good opportunity and he’s not about to waste it!
At 11:59 PM, he paces in front of the mirror.
At 12:00 midnight, he rapidly fires off the series of words:
“I want to be taller, I want to be taller, I want to be taller, I want to be taller—!” A quick glance at his watch shows that a full minute hasn’t passed yet, which means he managed to pull it off. He pumps his fist to the air and does a little jumping dance. “I did it—!”
“—that wish is rejected,” comes swiftly, as though to cut off his celebration in the rudest way possible.
Chuuya whirls around, fists ready to punch the intruder, and when he sees a white shirt, he extends his arm and delivers the punch. He’s always been the ‘attack first, interrogate later’ kind of guy.
A scoffing sound, and then Chuuya feels his entire arm passing through his target’s torso, goosebumps rising on his skin from the odd sensation. He’s got excellent balance, which is why he doesn’t actually fall face-first to the bathroom floor tiles, but it’s a near thing. Spluttering, he whirls around again, and sees the intruder float off the ground, translucent without any reflection on any of the mirrors.
Oh.
Cold, pale and no reflection on mirrors… This creature must be a…
“…are you a vampire?” Chuuya asks cautiously, raising his hands to cover his neck. Then, he notices the bandages peeking out of the other’s uniform—similar to the one that Chuuya’s wearing. “Or perhaps a mummy?”
“Are you actually an idiot?” The intruder returns, expression warring between outrage and haughtiness. “Isn’t it obvious?! I’m the guardian ghost of this floor!”
“What the fuck is a guardian ghost? Never heard of that.”
“Your ignorance is depressing, I could just die.”
“If you’re really a ghost then that means you’re already dead,” Chuuya points out, rubbing at his arms, feeling the gooseflesh settle down. He’s never been the type to get frightened easily, plus this ghost seems so… normal. It’s almost like talking to a classmate, if a lot taller and a lot snootier.
“I could just die again,” the intruder amends, placing both of his incorporeal hands over equally incorporeal hips. And then, the ghost floats closer to him, peering into his face. “Actually—you can still see me?”
Helpfully, Chuuya points at his face. “I have eyes.”
The ghost clicks his tongue and flattens his mouth. “That’s strange. Most people can only see glimpses of me.”
…Oh, so this guy is probably the ghost that the test of courage is supposed to ‘hunt’. There has been a number of reports of students seeing glimpses of a white-clad ghost during the latter hours of the night. It has been attributed to active imaginations and stress from the examinations; the test of courage is the finale of the school festival, proposed to help students blow off some steam and make them feel like their concerns are being listened to.
It seems that there’s some truth to the reports then.
“Maybe after they see your ugly wannabe-mummy fashion, they just refuse to look at you again.”
The ghost’s eyes narrow in obvious displeasure. He looks like a smarmy git, the type who’d bully people with words and pranks; he’s probably not used to people bickering back with him. “Once people look at you, chibi,” sharply, “ah, dear me, they can’t, because you’re too short to see.”
“Oi, I’m not that short!”
“You’re wishing to be taller, you clearly are aware of your height deficiencies.”
A shriek of, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be taller!”
“There really is nothing wrong with that,” the ghost agrees, nodding along like a reasonable person. Then, he transitions into a something terribly unreasonable: “The wrong lies in the fact that you’re so pitifully short.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being short either!”
“Oh, how wrong you are.”
“Urghhhh.”
Despite his general disgruntlement at the situation—bickering with some floating, bastard ghost isn’t exactly in his expectations—Chuuya feels quite refreshed.
“Hmm,” the ghost hums in consideration, before drawing up to his full height, as though to hammer home their height difference. Even with the ghost’s feet flat against the bathroom floor, he’ll still come out a head taller than Chuuya. “If you still want your wish granted, I may be persuaded to grant it to you, under a condition.”
Chuuya considers the other as well. They’ve only known each other for minutes, but he feels like he has a rather solid grasp of the other’s personality. “…You’re not just going to cut off your legs then stick them to mine, are you?”
The ghost lets out a sudden bark of laughter. “You may have a tiny brain but it is rather imaginative, no?”
“I would rather like to see you cut off your legs,” Chuuya retorts, feeling childish for the empty threat of violence, but unable to stop himself.
There’s a faint hint of something like wonder and interest when the ghost hums, “Mm, I must admit, this is probably the first time that someone didn’t simper at me or try to flatter me.”
“Why the hell would I flatter you? You already look conceited enough.”
“Because I can grant wishes?”
“Right now, my fondest wish is for you to shut the fuck up.”
“Mm, let me see…” The ghost strokes his chin in mock-contemplation, before he finally says, “…Rejected.”
“You should change your advertisements, I’ve been led to believe that you can grant any wish.”
“Fufufu, I reserve the right to reject requests I do not like.”
He can’t help the click of his tongue as he says, “What an annoying genie you are.”
“Is that really how you should talk to someone who can grant your wish?” A heavy pause, and then, “What was it again? ‘I want to stop being a slug’, you said?”
Chuuya grits his teeth and thinks up a storm of uncharitable thoughts towards the other. “I said ‘I want to be taller’, asshole!”
“Ah, it’s that.”
A pause.
They blink at each other.
And then they blink some more.
Chuuya twitches. “So?! Can you do it or not?!”
“Fufufu, you’re that excited to see my magic at work, hmm? Can’t be helped, can’t be helped, I really am wonderful, after all~”
A baleful glare and a flat twist to his mouth. “Has anyone told you how infuriating you are?”
“Weren’t you listening earlier? I did say that everyone else can only catch glimpses of me, ne? Have you gone senile already? How pitiful you are, short and senile, oh so very pitiful…”
…Well, it must be true – if everyone can see this stupid ghost, then there would be zero mystique in the Wish-Granting Ghost. Everyone would just run the fuck away and save themselves the headache.
More importantly, this means… “I’ll tell you then. You are one infuriating bastard.”
“Fufufu, that kind of insult can’t reach me. You know why? Because I’m that much taller than you.”
Chuuya leaps and tries to strangle the other. Sadly, the ghost remains a ghost, and Chuuya’s entire being simply passes through him again.
“Now, now, being so angry will just make you shorter,” the ghost says in a placating tone ruined by the fact that he’s busy sniggering like some annoying twat. “I’m willing to help you out, you see?”
An assessing look. “What’s the catch?”
The ghost smiles, absolutely beatific. “My, you’re not as stupid as I thought.”
“You are proving to be more annoying than I had originally thought, how about that.”
“I don’t work for free, you see.” The ghost breezes past his insult and circles him, all while tapping a finger against the corner of his lips. “So I can grant you your wish, in exchange for being my lackey.”
Chuuya abruptly turns around, so he can walk out of the bathroom.
The ghost lets out a loud whine, and then his cold hand suddenly turns slightly more solid, when he grabs Chuuya’s arm. “Come on, chibikko, this isn’t a bad deal at all~!”
“You sound like a very shady salesman,” Chuuya points out.
“I promise to grant your wish, you just have to act like my dog for some time!”
“A dog?! Bastard, I’m gonna kill you!”
“You want to be taller, right?”
…That… that is true, so Chuuya can only let out a series of grumpy, grudging noises in affirmation.
“Okay, that’s settled!” The ghost takes his hand away from Chuuya’s arm so he can clap his hands in glee. “I, Dazai Osamu, will grant your wish to be taller and in the meantime, you’ll be my dog for life!”
“Oi, I didn’t—!” Whatever else he’s about to say is unceremoniously cut off when he feels an odd sensation settling over his entire body, almost like he’s being swallowed up by invisible chains. “You asshole, what did you just do?!”
“It’s our contract,” the ghost—Dazai—says so matter-of-factly, as though Chuuya is incredibly stupid for not realizing it. “Now, you’re my dog for life!”
“Asshole! I didn’t agree to that!” Chuuya stomps his feet. “At least make me taller already before you demand such annoying things!”
Dazai tilts his head, radiating so much innocence that it hurts his eyes. “Oh, I’ll do it eventually. You didn’t specify a timeframe in your wish, did you?”
Chuuya can only gape at the blatant shamelessness, before yelling, “YOU ARE SO FUCKING DEAD, SHITTY DAZAI!”
Bright laughter is the reply he gets, and the bond of their contract thrums in satisfaction.