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“This feels like a bad idea.”
“Everything feels like a bad idea with you, dude. C’mon, it’s exciting!”
Shoto didn’t respond, just followed Sero into the building he swore was ‘haunted’. The main reasons Shoto thought it was a bad idea were 1) it was a restricted area, and 2) it could be dangerous.
But once Sero got something in his head, it was hard to change his mind—especially when it came to ghosts, something Shoto didn’t quite believe in.
“Sero—”
“Shh. Did you hear that?”
Shoto went still, listening hard…
“It’s quiet—”
“BOO!” Sero yelled, turning around so suddenly he crowded Shoto’s space. Shoto blinked, then stepped back.
“Okay?”
Sero whined. “Damnit. I was hoping I’d get you this time!”
Shoto stared at him for a moment, letting the adrenaline settle back into something close to irritation. Sero’s grin was bright in the dim light, like he was proud of himself for even trying. The hallway behind them stretched ahead, dust motes floating in the beam of Sero’s flashlight.
“We’re still in a restricted building,” Shoto pointed out quietly, keeping his voice low, the same way he did during late-night patrols. “If someone finds us, it’s going to be a problem. We’re meant to be heroes—”
Sero waved a hand like that was nothing. “No one’s gonna find us. It’s empty. Besides,” he added, leaning in again, “what if it’s not empty? What if there’s, like, actual activity? You can’t tell me you’re not even a little curious.”
Shoto wasn’t sure he’d call it curiosity.
The place looked like it’d been abandoned in a hurry—chairs toppled on their sides by the front desk, a sign that probably used to list office numbers hung crooked, half its letters missing and the rest plastered in graffiti tags.
He listened again, trying to pick out anything that didn’t belong: the scrape of a shoe, the steady rhythm of someone else breathing. All he heard was the distant drip of water.
“Let’s just look,” Sero said, softer now, like he could tell Shoto was five seconds away from insisting they leave. “Quick. One hallway. Then we bounce. Promise.”
Shoto held Sero’s gaze for a moment. They shouldn’t. He knew that. But Sero looked genuinely excited, and Shoto was never good at shutting down that kind of enthusiasm without feeling like the villain.
“Fine,” Shoto mumbled. “One hallway.”
“Yes!” Sero breathed, triumphant. He turned and started forward, flashlight bobbing with each step. “Okay, okay—so, classic haunted house rules. If we see a mirror, we don’t say anything dumb into it. if we hear a voice calling our names—”
Shoto frowned. “Who would be calling our names?”
Sero laughed under his breath. “That’s the point, dude.”
Shoto followed anyway, eyes scanning corners and open doorways, the familiar part of his mind mapping exits and angles, even as the rest of him tried to ignore the prickling at the back of his neck.
After a while, they reached the end of the hallway. Sero had poked his head into every room along the way, growing more disappointed with the lack of, well, anything. Shoto stayed patient, because what else was supposed to happen?
Eventually, Sero sighed, like he was about to say something—’we’re leaving’, Shoto hoped. Instead—
“What are we looking for?”
Both Shoto and Sero whipped around, coming face-to-face with bright yellow eyes and translucent blond hair, wisps of something—electricity—sparking around the ghostly figure. They grinned.
“Hi!”
.
.
.
Sero screamed like a little kid, was Shoto’s first thought, as the boy’s fingers wrapped around his wrist and yanked him away and around the ghost, who yelped indignantly.
“Wait—hey, where are you guys going!”
Shoto didn’t reply, tightening his grip on Sero’s hand as they ran. He didn’t believe in ghosts, and this could still just be a prank, but he wasn’t going to risk his life on it.
Just as they hit the front door and burst into the open air, Shoto felt the guilt hit sharp and immediate—because the stranger’s voice was right behind them, thin with panic.
“W—wait! My name’s Kaminari, please—just stay a sec—!”
The door slammed shut behind them, shuddering in its frame.
Shoto braced a hand against the old wood, chest heaving. Sero stumbled to a stop beside him, breathing just as hard, and Shoto only then realised they hadn’t let go—Sero’s fingers still locked around his wrist like a lifeline.
“Was that…” Shoto managed.
“A real ghost?” Sero swallowed hard. “I—yeah. I think so,” he squeaked, eyes huge.
“A ghost,” Shoto echoed, because saying it out loud made it worse, “called Kaminari.”
Sero gave a jerky nod.
For a long beat, neither of them moved.
Shoto swallowed, forcing air into lungs that didn’t want to cooperate. They couldn’t go back in there blind. Not if ghosts were real. Not if that was real.
“We need to find out what this building is,” Shoto said, voice low and steady in a way he didn’t feel, “and who Kaminari was—before we come back.”
“We’re coming back?” Sero asked, still breathless.
Shoto’s jaw tightened. “You wanted to know if it was haunted. Now we do.” He kept his voice level, even as his pulse hammered. “We’re not just going to ignore it.”
Sero let out a shaky laugh that sounded one bad step away from a sob. “Fuck,” he breathed. Then, quieter: “You’re right.”