The bus stopped with a jolt. I grabbed my backpack and stepped into a town that looked like it belonged in an old photograph—faded, quiet, and maybe a little haunted.
The smell of damp earth and pine hit me like a wall. Japan. Mom's home. And now mine, whether I liked it or not.
Walking down the cracked pavement toward my grandparents' house, I fought the urge to look back.
kai: "This sucks."
No one answered. They wouldn't. Not here. Not anymore.
⸻
Two months ago, I lost everything. My parents gone in a blink—some accident on a rain-slick highway that didn't care about who was inside the car.
My dad's family? They disowned my mom the moment she married him, and me right after the accident.
kai (thinking): They didn't want me. Like I was some mistake they could erase.
Only Mom's parents wanted me. Now I was stuck with them, in this sleepy town where everyone stared like I was a ghost.
⸻
The house was old—too old. Wood floors that creaked underfoot, sliding doors that whispered secrets when they closed. Grandma smiled when I arrived, but her eyes were tired.
Grandpa didn't say much, just nodded and handed me a small envelope.
grandpa: "School starts Monday. Here's your schedule."
I didn't say anything. What was the point?
⸻
Monday morning hit like a bad dream. The school was bigger than I thought, with gray walls and cherry trees lining the courtyard. Kids moved in groups, laughing, talking—like they already had lives I wasn't part of.
Walking through the gates, I caught more than a few looks—curious, cautious.
kai (thinking): Great. Just what I needed.
I found a seat at the back of the classroom and kept my head down. The teacher's voice droned on about things I barely cared about.
Between classes, the hallways buzzed with noise, but I felt miles away.
At lunch, I slipped outside to the courtyard. A ginkgo tree stood tall, its yellow leaves glowing in the afternoon sun.
A faint breeze whispered through the branches.
kai (thinking): This place feels off.
⸻
The clock on the wall ticked steadily until it hit 3:12 PM.
For a split second, the second hand hesitated, then jumped forward like it had skipped a beat.
The lights flickered. Shadows stretched longer, bending the hallway in ways that made my stomach twist.
kai: "What the hell?"
No one else seemed to notice.
⸻
Walking home later, the sun dipped below the hills. Street lamps flickered on, casting long shadows over empty sidewalks.
I passed by an old shrine tucked behind some trees. The lanterns flickered softly, like they were alive.
For a moment, I thought I saw a figure standing just beyond the trees.
kai (thinking): Probably just my imagination.
But my heart wasn't convinced.
⸻
Back at the house, silence wrapped around me tighter than a blanket. The wooden floors groaned, and distant temple bells tolled midnight.
I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering how many nights I'd spend chasing shadows and ghosts in this town.
kai (thinking): Maybe some ghosts aren't the ones you see.