Chapter Text
Some people summoned ghosts with rituals, chants and tools. Others used summoning circles or sacrifices to call for the souls of the dead. Some individuals preferred using sacred sigils edged into their skin, enabling them to see and call for the lost and vengeful to help them find peace.
Shinichi needed none of those aids.
To see ghosts was his gift since birth, to call for them with his mere presence the curse he bore since turning sixteen. The souls of the wronged were drawn to him; they were the moths to the flame of his soul, seeking justice and salvation from the one they instinctively knew could give it.
Most of the time, just finding the person who killed them or finding their body and laying it to rest was enough. That, he could do.
Other times, more drastic measures were needed.
“Ran, behind you!”
The enraged shiryō screamed, a shrill sound that seemed to pierce Shinichi’s eardrums and made him flinch back even when instincts he had yet to shed wanted to jump forward and in front of the extended claw-like nails of the ghost to protect his friend. Ran didn’t need the protection though. She was already whirling around, her high kick connecting solidly with the shiryō and sending her flying out of sight with another piercing scream.
On the sideline, Sonoko cheered loudly. “Yesss, you go Ran, get her!”
“Can’t you banish her already?” Ran panted back, slowly growing tired from the continued onslaught. They’d been at this for fifteen minutes now, and while fighting a human for that amount of time was no problem, ghosts were another matter entirely. It was her gift to touch them as if they were still alive, but every contact drained her as if she was giving her lifeforce for them to live on.
Sonoko shook her head, concentration edged into her face. The ofuda in her hand glowed, but it was flickering, struggling to work as its master intended. “She’s fighting back! You have to weaken her a little more and ground her so I can get a better grip! Shinichi, where did she go?”
“She’s circling us,” Shinichi answered, body turning in sync with the ghost of the angry woman they were trying to put to rest. He couldn’t see her per se, the shiryō powerful enough to conceal her presence from his eyes, but he didn’t need eyes to see.
“What a pain,” Sonoko griped. “Why can’t she just leave her kid alone? We could all be in bed right now!”
“She’s a shiryō, trying to pull their loved ones into death with them is kind of what they do,” Shinichi grumbled back, no more thrilled to spent his night like this than Sonoko was.
“And now she’s angry because you sent her kid away, and she’s taking it out on us!”
“What was I supposed to do, let him stay and risk him dying?” Shinichi snapped, his focus on the ghost wavering for just a second in his ire. He realised his mistake immediately, but it was still enough of an opening for the angry woman. All he could do was shout. “Sonoko, incoming from the left!”
Sonoko screamed and dove to the side, but she needn’t have bothered. Ran was there in an instant, and the second the spirit bore down on her, now visible again in all her long-haired, grotesque glory, Ran blocked her attack and then went on the offensive. What exactly she did, Shinichi couldn’t make out; it was dark on the expansive grounds of the family father turned murderer, even with the lanterns the police had left behind for the three exorcists. Whatever it was, it worked; with a forceful “Hyaaa!” she threw the shiryō to the ground, right in front of Sonoko.
“Now!” she shouted, and Sonoko sprung into action.
No matter how often he watched her use her gift, Shinichi could never reconcile the talented onmyoji in front of him with the spoiled, overconfident teenager she’d been when they’d gone to school together. Power sang around Sonoko as she chanted, the ofuda now stuck to the shiryō’s forehead glowing brightly in response. To her feet, the shiryō screamed, but whether it was from agony, rage or fear Shinichi could not tell. Perhaps it was all of them and some more besides.
In these moments, Shinichi could never help the mingled feeling of pity for the souls who clung to life so desperately and sorrow for every life he could not protect. He wished they could have prevented the woman’s murder at the hand of her own husband, or spared her son the sight of his mother’s twisted image coming for him at night, but all they could do now was to throw her husband into jail and sent her on into the afterlife.
Her struggles were growing weaker now, her screams abating into wails and sobs that were harder to hear with every passing second. Soon after, she’d faded and the last of her sobs were carried away with the wind.
Sonoko stopped her chant and the air around them fell silent. It wasn’t a relaxed silence; all three of them were still too tense to let their guard down just yet, even though they logically knew that it was over. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Shinichi allowed himself to relax. “She’s gone. I can’t feel her or any other spirits in the area anymore.”
The two girls heaved a relieved sigh and collapsed to the ground. “Man, I’m beat,” Sonoko complained and Ran nodded tiredly, too exhausted for anything more. “Wanna get Starbucks or something on the way home?”
Ran laughed weakly. “Sounds good. Shinichi pays.”
“Why do I have to pay?” Shinichi grumbled but it wasn’t really a complaint; it was tradition by now, after all. Of the three of them, he had the least taxing job, and so he had to contribute to their little “Ghostbusters” bureau in other ways (Sonoko’s words, not his).
He’d tried pointing out that he was the one solving all the cases and therefore did contribute a not insubstantial amount, but as usual, Sonoko’s hearing tended to get very selective when she wanted something. In the end, it had just been easier to resign himself to his fate and pay for everyone’s coffee and muffins.
And well, it wasn’t so bad, he thought to himself as he helped the two girls up again. There were worse things in life than having to pay for overly expensive and sweet coffee, and hearing Ran and Sonoko chatter among themselves after a job well done, occasionally drawing him into their banter. No, he really couldn’t complain.
Except about Sonoko’s horrendous taste in coffee, that is.
He could always complain about that.
OMAKE:
“You’re ordering what?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m not paying for that abomination, that- that mutilation of a coffee!”
“Hey, barista boy, add another shot of vanilla please, and could you also add more cream–”
“Alright, alright, just stop! I’m paying, just… just stop.”
“Ehehehe, thank you very much!”
Some things, Ran mused, watching her friends bicker and blowing on her own perfectly normal latte, just never changed. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.