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“We’ll go first if that’s fine.”
“No, sure. Thanks for the help, Kawamura and Okuda.”
Hirose waved the pair off with one hand; the other he had laid on Nakamura’s scalp. It didn’t fly over the couple’s heads that the girls had presented them the perfect opportunity to walk alone together, and while it would’ve made them blush any other time, the uncomfortable sensation of their makeup didn’t allow for such a romantic change in atmosphere.
It was kind of the girls though to assist and even match the two with their costumes. Leftover makeup tools lay on the table, where Hirose picked them up at random. He marvelled at the foreign instruments and let his hands get stained black, although it wouldn’t stand out with his costume.
“I think it should be flat by now.” Hirose took his palm off his boyfriend’s head. Almost as soon as he did, Nakamura’s black hair puffed back up into its thick loaf shape.
“Haaah, the gel potency must’ve run out.”
If only the hair straightener hadn’t broken down on them.
Nakamura wiped the awkward grimace off his face, metaphorically and physically, which fortunately also smudged away the gel running down his forehead and had threatened to get into his eyes. Unfortunately, it also meant both his palm and his fingers were slick with viscous hair gel. On instinct, he rubbed the white, sticky substance on his thighs, staining his black slacks.
“Don’t rub it on yourself, it’ll look even worse,’ warned Hirose. While his mind isn’t as deep in the gutter as Mukai’s or Takeuchi’s is, even he took note of how inappropriate Nakamura now looked.
Nakamura groaned and cleaned himself up with the makeup remover pads.
“Using our regular school uniforms as part of our costume is starting to become a bad idea.”
“On the bright side, we didn’t have to spend much, nor do we have to wear some cumbersome get-up.”
“Really? Isn't all that paint and dye on you as much hassle?”
The girls were thrilled to have a willing ‘test subject’ to practice their future cosplay skills on. It took multiple hours for the white dye in Hirose’s hair to settle—and they had to make triple sure the formula would be white and that it could wash off easily. Intricate, multicoloured patterns–painted by hand and skin-friendly–were on the side of his face and travelled down to his chest. Nakamura tried his best not to stare, but Hirose’s halfway-unbuttoned shirt, though necessary to show off the mosaic, exposed his bare chest.
“Aren’t you cold?”
Hirose absolutely knew Nakamura was staring. He also knew it crossed Nakamura’s mind that he could offer a jacket to him once they went outside, so Hirose made a mental note not to bring his.
“I’ll probably be cold after we go outside.”
The stark difference between their costumes made Nakamura self-conscious. Besides the hand-drawn beauty marks and subtle dark circles, Nakamura only had to wear his school uniform and flatten his hair for the costume—hardly a challenge.
"I don’t really have anything unique to identify me, do I?"
"We could always put your hair into corn rows." Hirose laughed as he walked off into another room. "My dad keeps his hair gel somewhere. Let me go find it."
“Please take your time.”
To tell the truth, after his ghost scare last year, Nakamura truly did not want to go back to the “haunted” parts of his school. It was only after Hirose told him he wanted to get over his phasmophobia that he relented. Initially, Nakamura tried to persuade him that this fear was reasonable—ghosts do exist after all—but Hirose had assumed this was an attempt to make him feel better.
The school had set up haunted attractions before during their summer festivals, but Nakamura and Hirose hadn’t been dating yet, so they thought now would be a good chance for them to test their courage together (without the meddling of a director, of course). Both fools had the funny idea that if things got scary enough, the other would cling to them and they’d have one of those cringy yet cute couple moments.
Hirose soon returned. A small, old-looking canister of hair wax in hand. “Hope this’ll work,” he said with a concentrated furrow in his brows, getting to work on applying it. Nakamura shut his eyes as he ignored the discomfort. Hirose had a gentle touch that rivalled the wax's toughness.
"Is it too uncomfortable? Sorry, my dad's cheap when it comes to cosmetic products."
Nakamura rubbed the plasticky texture of his hair in disquiet fascination, then shook his head. "No, it's fine. It's only for one night anyways."
Before Hirose could worry more, Nakamura tossed the bottle of hair wax and all the other remaining drums of body paint into his backpack. Putting on a brave face, he spoke, “We should go before the others get mad at us.”
The sooner this night is finished, the better.
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‘Friday. Three o’clock. Storeroom at the very back of school. Séance. Come as soon as possible!’ the note had read.
Two years ago, the storeroom became infamous after a pair of delinquents playing hooky were carried out of there by teachers. Both were found in a dazed state. One muttered deliriously to the wall as if something was there, while the other, struck mute, pointed to random corners in the infirmary with the most frightened face. After the incident, the principal planted a row of trees that concealed the storeroom from view. Students would be dared to approach the storeroom and then hear harsh whispering from inside, only to creak open the rusty doors and find no one there.
And now, not even the groundskeeper seemed to maintain the area. Overgrown grass had conquered the footpath and brushed against their legs as they walked closer. The beginnings of a storm made the surrounding leaves bounce erratically from drops of rain, with incoming gusts of wind blowing both plants and the couple toward the building, as if it had a magnetic draw to it.
“Let’s make a run for it,” said Hirose, shivering in cold fear. Muddy footprints littered ahead of them signalled that they weren’t the first to arrive, but they may be the very last. The two tightened their grip on each other’s hand and quickened their pace.
The sight of the storeroom warped in their eyes as they ran. Each step grew lighter and lighter until finally—THUD—they had their chests pressed against the door. Nakamura pulled on the knob to no avail.
“Anyone there? Please open up!”
“Guys, it’s us! Hirose and Nakamura!”
No response. The downpour got heavier.
“Are they not here?”
“Why wouldn’t they be here? The note said—”
A black-cloaked figure stood up from the shrub of yellow wild flowers, making the two jump into each other’s arms, effectively meaning they dropped to the floor together.
“Zombie-kun, I see you’ve come with your own corpse bride,” said the figure in a femininely sinister yet recognisable voice, removing all mystique and anonymity.
“Aokiyama!” Nakamura’s frightened expression turned into one of annoyance. “Why were you hiding there?!”
“B-B-Bride?” said Hirose, incredulously pointing to himself, offended.
The club leader held her chin high, exposing more of her well-known face under the ridiculous hood. “Have all your limbs prepared to be torn between realms? Welcome to the in-between where ghosts, devils, and humans shall converge!”
“Yo, Hirose! About time you showed up,” said Takeuchi, now holding the door open.
The couple promptly ignored Aokiyama and rushed inside the storeroom to get out of the rain. All their friends were sitting on the floor—circling a pentagram of sorts—bewilderment and apprehension present on all their faces. Flashlights offered the only source of light in the otherwise pitch-dark room.
Hirose bowed his head in apology. “Sorry for the wait, guys.”
“My fault really.” Nakamura set his bag behind him and took a seat on the ground. Hirose followed suit.
“Don’t worry about it. I think Aokiyama got a kick out of scaring you two anyway,” said Kawamura.
A maniacal laugh proved her point. The aforementioned club leader strolled inside without remorse. “Not at all. I only gave them an appetiser for tonight’s main course of witchcraft and spiritism.”
A camera flash lit up the room. It came from Hamaoka, who had her attention on Nakamura and Hirose. She gave a thumbs-up. “Wow! When I saw Hifumi and Masako dressed as Asako and Yuuki, I knew what you two'd be dressed up as!”
Takeuchi butted in, “Now that we complimented your outfits, it’s fair that you compliment ours!” He stood up dramatically and struck a pose. “You aren’t the only couple matching tonight.”
Indeed, Hamaoka had somehow managed to convince Takeuchi to cosplay as Inuyasha while she went as Kagome. Nakamura had thought Takeuchi would be the type to mock this type of thing, but his commitment to the bit is surprisingly durable. They even brought their props with them.
"I'm surprised you aren't in costume, Aokiyama."
"Or is the day of fright and mischief the perfect day for her to be her most natural self?" Mukai snickered.
“At least I’m not alone.” She smirked at his skimpy magical schoolgirl outfit. “I see you’re dressed up as your most natural self too, Mukai.”
Madly turning red, Mukai turned away from the group and covered his face with the absurdly long twintails of his neon wig. Days before, Hirose recalled overhearing Mukai and Takeuchi taking bets on a game, and whoever won decided the loser’s Halloween costume. Apparently, this was the result.
“This stupid occult stuff isn’t even real.”
"Don't be such a naysayer. I’ll have you know I've made a killing on Etsy."
"Hopefully not literally."
"And I can say with full certainty that this magic is the real deal. We will converse with spirits tonight.”
Hirose’s heartbeat rose at the idea. Everyone else leaned in to hear more of Aokiyama’s spiel.
“And these spirits, as well as this ritual, you didn’t make them up this time?”
"Not this time! This time, it came from—!"
Ta-da~!
"This grimoire!" Aokiyama held out a decrepit-looking book with ornate detailing and burnt edges. "This grimoire was written by legendary murderer Kuroiwa Onitaiji from the Kagoinu Village, a town mastering in witchcraft from the late Heian era. Their power allegedly went so out of control, it got torched by a feudal lord. Its dark history only lives on through this accursed book, and now," she gleefully recounted, “I have it!"
Hirose scooted closer to Oomori, who hadn’t said a word since this all started. “Aren’t you supposed to be the monitor this week? I’m surprised you granted her permission.”
Dressed as a kyonshi, Oomori hid his gloomy face under a flimsy talisman. “I… I didn’t…”
“Hm?”
Oomori trembled. “If I hadn’t, Aokiyama threatened to use black magic and transform me into a half-human, half-fish monster…”
"Like a mermaid?" asked Hamaoka. "That doesn't sound too bad."
"The upper half would be fish!" screamed Oomori, almost knocking off his large hat.
"If I were a fish, I’d go ‘blub blub blub blub’," Hirose added.
Aokiyama cleared her throat, essentially telling everyone to shut up. “The séance we’ll be performing here comes from its Kagonoko Ritual. A spirit medium crafted this ritual after being bitten by a black cobra. To kill the snake and purge the venom inside her, she smeared the cobra’s blood into a magic circle, lit nine sheafs afire, carved four marble statues, and summoned a ghost to drink her tainted blood from a human-sized basket.”
How did she have time to do all that? Nakamura thought.
Hamaoka lifted a hand to her mouth in shock. “That sounds horrible!”
"We didn't have the budget, however, so we acquired these alternatives instead.” Aokiyama gestured to the magic circle drawn with a red marker, nine decorative candles, and an average-sized basket. Four marble statues were there, but Kawamura mentioned that they came from the art room.
Hirose wondered if the spirits would meaningfully accept their half-assed imitation or if they’d leave them alone out of pity. He hoped it would be the latter.
Since he’s been known to exude a maleficious aura, it wouldn’t have come as a shock for Nakamura to be chosen—or rather forced—to be the medium. No one else carried as much misfortune as hi—
“Hirose should be our medium!”
The sudden mention of his name took him aback. “Me?!”
“It only makes sense, right? With your costume and all, you’d be the perfect candidate.”
The group chuckled at this oh-so-funny idea and exchanged nods of agreement, all except Nakamura, deeply concerned for his boyfriend, and Kawamura, who considered this too far a joke.
Nakamura leaned over and whispered into Hirose’s ear, “I can do it. You don’t have to do it if you don’t feel up to it.”
With everyone already looking at him, he’d be a baby for backing out now. Hirose shook his head and stood up. “N-No, it’s fine. Ghosts, haha, they a-aren’t even real,” said Hirose, steadying the shake in his voice as he steeled his nerves and walked briskly to the centre. He had the courage to take up Tamura’s offer to film in haunted places before, so he only needs to find that courage again.
“How will we know the spirit Hirose's channeling?”
Aokiyama carefully flipped through the crumbling pages. “This ritual was usually performed in flower fields or during flower festivals to lure nature spirits, but since we’re doing neither,” she calmly read, then shrugged, "It's first come, first served."
"First come, first served?!” Hirose’s face blanched. “You mean any old wandering ghost can come inside me?!"
“Phrasing, man.”
Kawamura tried to assuage his stress. "Nothing bad will possess you, Hirose.”
The fact anything could possess him terrified him enough. Good or bad, his body will be temporarily controlled by some otherworldly thing. And he's supposed to be okay with it?
"Can we get on with it already? This wig is seriously cutting the blood circulation in my scalp,” complained Takeuchi.
“The spirits don’t appreciate your impatience.”
“I’ll handle it,” said Hamaoka, cracking her knuckles. “Sit, boy!”
Hamaoka paused, grinning widely and genuinely expecting Takeuchi to drive his face to the ground.
“Imagine if it worked.”
Nervous as hell, Nakamura shifted where he sat. Visible beads of sweat formed on Hirose’s forehead.
“If it helps, I have some pressed flower bookmarks.” Oomori pulled out a handful of dried yellow flowers from his bag. “You think the nature spirit will like it?”
“Yeah, sure. Toss it.”
After the flowers were spread around the circle, Aokiyama tasked everyone to split into pairs for each candle. Since Hirose is the medium, Nakamura settled with Oomori as his partner. She also ordered Oomori to take off his talisman, deeming it counterintuitive. The final step had everyone turn off their flashlights to use the candles instead.
With the lights out and everyone distracted by the candles, Nakamura took the talisman Oomori threw away and sneakily slid it under Hirose’s shirt.
“O-Oku—”
“For protection,” he quickly whispered before jumping back to his spot.
Thus, the Kagonoko Ritual began.
Instantly, everyone experienced a shortness of breath. Aokiyama delivered a loud chant. They closed their eyes and repeated it.
According to her instructions, Hirose had to rest his head within the basket. Unbeknownst to him, the basket’s inner bowl had been thickly drawn with a red marker. The strongly intoxicating fume hit his nose like a firetruck—at least it distracted him from the nightmarish scenario he was currently in. Hirose used every muscle in his throat to resist the urge to puke, and it almost made him forget how numb his legs were from his awkwardly kneeled position.
It’s been minutes of chanting now, and Hirose hasn’t felt any presence on him. He supposed this proves ghosts don’t exist. A disappointing albeit comforting resolution.
Perhaps the fumes were getting to him, but at some point, Hirose had to choke back a laugh.
The absurdity of Hirose’s situation triumphed over his paranoia, and he couldn’t help but start to think of ways to prank his friends, debating if he should pretend to be genuinely possessed and spook Takeuchi by reciting a fake hex on him. It’d be mean of him to scare Kawamura or Oomori though.
Something long and slippery slithered against his leg.
"HARGH!" screamed Hirose. He sat up and stumbled backward, nearly falling on someone’s candle.
In the blurry corner of his eye, a creature crawled between their feet.
“COBRA!” screamed everyone in unison.
The group of friends scattered like a pack of mice. The sudden movement blew the candles out, submerging the room in complete darkness. High-pitched yells and sounds of heavy boxes getting knocked over filled the room.
As the doors were thrown open, moonlight poured into the room. The only one who remained calm, Aokiyama, turned on her flashlight and aimed where the animal had gone—under the basket.
“Don’t touch that!” yelled Okuda, clinging atop a bookshelf.
Unheeding her warning, Aokiyama flipped it over with her heel to reveal—
“ICCHAN?!”
The distinctly-not-snake-shaped octopus slinked over to the basket and anxiously shrank inside. A wet trail traced where it came from—Nakamura’s bag—to where it crawled. Black splotches evident on one of his tentacles.
Nakamura sprinted to the basket. Hirose also came out of hiding behind a stack of boxes to take a closer look at it.
“Oh no, Icchan,” murmured Nakamura with a palpable amount of worry in his tone. He inspected each tentacle delicately for injury. It must’ve crawled inside his bag without him noticing. “We need to get you cleaned up.”
“Aokiyama, I think this puts an end to the ritual now,” stated Hirose, leading both him and Nakamura out the storeroom. The couple, octopus included, hurried back to school, leaving everyone confused as to why Nakamura owns an octopus.
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In the infirmary, Hirose watched in silence as Nakamura, focused yet upset, took care of Icchan. Hirose doesn’t know much about octopus care, but he hopes it isn’t too bad. Nakamura loved that little rascal, and Hirose did too by extension.
“No adverse reaction so far. And it luckily only got on one tentacle. Still, one is one too many,” said Nakamura, gently cleaning off the paint and soothing the pet octopus. “You’re so lucky, Icchan!”
Hirose sighed. That’s a relief.
“There’s still more I need to do, but you can go back to the others if you want.”
Hirose could see tears forming in the corner of Nakamura’s eyes. He must still feel guilty.
“I’ll be outside the infirmary waiting for you, okay?” Hirose stood up to leave, feeling paper crumpling between his chest and shirt, then he remembered something.
“Oh, and Nakamura…” He lifted the side of his shirt, letting the talisman peek through. “Thanks for protecting me.”
Despite tears threatening to fall, Nakamura smiled at Hirose. Hirose was glad he could remind him that he’s not a total screw-up. He is sometimes, but he’s his lovable goofball first and foremost.
Leaving the infirmary, Hirose slumped against the wall.
This has been one hell of a night.
He watched the storm gradually disappear from the window. Perfect timing for them to go home and relax. His reflection on the window also made him remember that he was still in costume, and he groaned knowing that he’d have to shower off all that makeup and wash his uniform before he went to bed—at five o’clock in the morning.
Nakamura was right. Using their uniforms as part of their costumes was a mistake.
Waiting patiently by a nearby stairwell, Hirose suddenly sensed a weird feeling behind him.
The hallway windows gave enough light for him to see most of his surroundings. However, the stairs, due to their design, were naturally not given the same generosity. He stared at the steps leading up to darkness, and swore something moved there, but he wanted to believe it was paranoia.
Footsteps echoed from above.
Hirose wasn’t an idiot. Soon as he heard creepy muttering, he bolted back to the infirmary.
Right on cue, Nakamura came out with Icchan in a transparent container. “Hirose?”
“We gotta go!” The smaller boy somehow managed to drag his boyfriend by the arm with relative ease through the hallway and back toward the storeroom. Adrenaline is a superpower.
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Meanwhile, in the dimly-lit storeroom, Hamaoka was chasing Takeuchi, running around wildly with her phone, which he was using to chase Mukai, who had been escaping Takeuchi’s attempts to photograph him.
“We should’ve just gone to a regular haunted house attraction,” lamented Okuda to Kawamura, silently sharing the same sentiment. The pair looked over to Aokiyama going over the magic circle with Oomori.
“Why did the séance fail? Did you not draw it as instructed?”
“Please don’t turn me into fish…”
All of a sudden, stopping the rest of their antics, Nakamura and Hirose rushed inside the room and shut the doors. “Everyone, hide! Someone else is here!”
On account of them having broken curfew to trespass inside the school, they knew to immediately follow Hirose’s orders and promptly hid. Whether it was a ghost or a serial killer or the janitor, getting caught would be bad, bad news.
“Did you get a glimpse of who it was?”
“No, I only heard them walking towards me, but the voice sounded male.”
“It could be—” Aokiyama lit a flashlight under her chin, “The Aka Manto!”
Shrieks rang out as the doors swung wide open. The silhouette of a tall male figure stood before them, his features obscured by shadow and his stance menacing.
As expected, everyone lost their cool again.
For some reason, Mukai and Takeuchi hid together. Trying to make a run for it, Mukai stepped on Takeuchi’s wig, forcing Takeuchi to hug the ground face-first. Takeuchi then splayed his arms out, tripping Mukai and making him perform a perfect body slam onto some dusty books. Since she can't actually use her bow, Hamaoka opted to grab an arrow off her back and hurl it at the stranger. “We don’t need toilet paper!” she screamed.
The stranger caught the arrow mid-flight, brisk and precise in his manoeuvre. He felt one hand against the wall and flicked on the light switch. How long has that been there?
The identity of the man became crystal clear.
“Otogiri-sensei!”
“You… kids,” he said with mild displeasure, “ought to have better hobbies.”
Okuda gasped. “Mukai, have some decency!” She pointed at the boy’s shameless panty shot.
"D-Don't look, you perv!" he yelled, voice muffled under the mountain of books atop him.
Behind Otogiri was leading drama club member Tamura Arandou, eagerly rubbing his hands together. "So, Otogiri-sensei,” He could barely hold back the joy in his voice, “as a reward for helping you bust these trespassers, any chance you'll vouch for an increased budget to the drama department?"
Otogiri rubbed his chin as if in thought. “Hmm, no."
"Eh?! But why?"
"No one likes a tattle-tale, Tamura,” stated Otogiri matter-of-factly. “Have a good rest of your Halloween."
With no rebuttal, Tamura stomped off in a huff.
Otogiri turned back to them, adopting the stern teacher face he typically reserved for serious occasions. “What do you all think you’re doing here at this time of night?”
Hirose, not one to lie to his favourite teacher, confessed with zero pressure.
The maths teacher laughed in response. "If you believe something paranormal will happen, it's more likely for you to think it's happening when it isn't."
“But what about those delinquents who went into shock after going here years ago?”
“Oh, them?” Otogiri leaned in, a devilish glint in his eyes, and whispered, “This is confidential information. The truth is those misfits were hallucinating as a result of a bad trip, and to discourage students from turning this place into a chemistry lab, school staff allowed ghost rumours to persist.”
“A… bad trip?” repeated Hirose, not understanding what he’s hearing.
"What about when we entered the room? We all started to feel a heavy pressure in our chest.” Kawamura punctuated with a cough.
But Otogiri had an answer for that too. "The mixture of thick dust, mold growth, and poor ventilation made the air stale and breathing difficult. Notice how Nakamura and Hirose are fine after they went outside."
The molten candle wax on the floor left a faint odour reminiscent of satsuma mandarins.
“Those candles, while they smell nice, also use up your oxygen. Not to mention they're a fire hazard."
From there, Otogiri continued to disprove every major haunting rumour the school had. Those “whispering” noises? Simply wind coming from a cracked window. Mysterious rustling in the room behind the gym? A family of rats. Phantom sightings in the multi-purpose room? Otogiri wasn’t certain about that one; hell, maybe it was a ghost.
It didn’t escape Nakamura’s attention that his personal ghost encounter wasn’t mentioned, but he’s had too long a day to bother thinking about this anymore. Icchan needed a nap.
"I think we’re finished here. Now go home, all of you."
Thankfully, Otogiri’s only punishment was to give them extra cleaning duties for the week. For how lenient he was to them, he must’ve done something similar in his youth, or he just didn’t wanna deal with the paperwork this entailed.
After the group packed their things and went their separate ways, Hirose and Nakamura went down the footpath once again, being the last ones to leave after Hirose apologised a gazillion times to Otogiri.
The path, previously seen under stormy weather and with creeping plants, now was lit up by fireflies. The sight befuddled the two, never having witnessed fireflies in this area before nor at this late in the year. It gave a mystifying quality to them that would’ve made them fit the strange vibes of their occult ritual earlier, but now seemed magical as they danced along each green leaf and yellow petal.
Speaking of the ritual, Hirose was curious. "Okuto, you were afraid of ghosts too, weren't you?"
He still was. "N-Not quite, but yeah, maybe a little…"
Unlike Hirose, who wanted and succeeded in getting over his phasmophobia, Nakamura didn’t really have a reason to say yes to the séance. "Wouldn't you have liked it more if we had stayed inside and watched horror movies instead of this?"
It would’ve been a less confusing mess too.
“Kinda at first.” The nearby glow highlighted Nakamura’s pink-tainted cheeks. “But I thought I’d look like a scaredy cat if I refused. Plus, you were so excited to go, I didn’t wanna let you down,” he said, mumbling the last parts as he looked down at the sleeping Icchan, still in the container he carried.
I see, thought Hirose, he did it for me.
What was that quote about bravery? Something about how bravery isn’t the absence of fear, but the determination to act despite it? Well, Hirose duly believed they both got a little braver tonight.
But wait, didn't that mean Nakamura views Hirose as a source of determination—one that empowers him and gives him strength? That line of questioning was enough to make Hirose blush a deep red over his whole body. He shook his head, throwing that train of thought off its rails. To make up for this troublesome night, maybe they can spend the rest of the morning watching movies at one of their houses until they both fall asleep.
“I take it you’re no longer afraid of ghosts.”
“Yeah, but now I think I have a fear of red markers.”