CHAPTER IX
~The Gallery of Offerings~
Again, the phrase repeated, each time from a different direction:
“I see you…”
“I see you…”
“I see you…”
The voices multiplied, weaving over and under each other, growing louder and more insistent.
Suddenly, the two girls walking on either side of the group began to shimmer—and then, before Yuzuki’s eyes, they too vaporized, leaving only the terrified girl in the middle. She turned slowly, her body shaking violently with fear, as the chorus of “I see you…” continued to echo through the corridor, the darkness pressing in around them.
The last remaining girl turned, eyes wide, to the empty space where her friends had just stood. Her breath caught in her throat. When she looked down at her own trembling hands, she saw them dissolving—her fingers fading into mist, her arms growing translucent.
Panic and heartbreak mingled in her voice as she called out, “Yuzuki-san… tell my parents… I love them. Ok?”
Yuzuki stood frozen, her back still turned, shoulders shaking. She couldn’t bring herself to look, but she heard the girl’s voice grow fainter, until it vanished completely—along with the girl herself, who faded into nothingness.
“I see you…” The chilling voice echoed again, closer this time, filling the corridor with a cold, unnatural presence.
Tears slipped down Yuzuki’s cheeks, her fists clenched at her sides.
As the chilling chorus of “I see you…” pressed in, the air around Yuzuki seemed to freeze. Her urge to bolt surged—every instinct screamed at her to flee. But just as she tensed to sprint, she felt something unexpected: a gentle, warm pressure encircling her ankles.
She looked down through tear-blurred eyes. Small arms—soft, dark—were hugging her legs.
They clung tighter, the chorus of “I see you… I see you…” growing more insistent as the small, bear-like Korobokkuru rubbed themselves against Yuzuki’s legs. Panic surged through her—she began jumping, kicking, and swinging her legs, desperate to shake them off. But the little creatures only clung harder, their voices overlapping in a haunting chant.
Freaked out, Yuzuki stumbled and fell, landing on the cold floor with her legs outstretched. The Korobokkuru finally released her ankles, gathering in a semicircle before her. Their round, shadowy forms—like tiny bears with circular bodies, small ears, and stubby limbs—stared up at her, their eyes wide and unblinking. Behind them, more Korobokkuru appeared, clutching the stolen belongings, all repeating in a rhythmic, almost gleeful tone: “I see you… I see you…”
Yuzuki’s fear ebbed, replaced by a strange calm. She wiped her tears and, voice trembling but steady, replied, “And… I see you too…”
At her words, the Korobokkuru began to hop in excitement, their chant rising in pitch and tempo. “I see you! I see you! I see you!”
Feeling a fragile sense of acceptance among them, Yuzuki reached out and gently patted one on the head, feeling the soft fur between her fingers. “Korobokkuru… please… return those belongings.......tonight. They’re not yours,” she pleaded, her tone gentle but firm.
The little creature she touched looked up at her, ears twitching, as the others paused—still and silent for the first time since she’d entered the corridor.
Yuzuki’s choice of “tonight” was deliberate—she understood that returning the items after school hours would avoid further chaos and questions, preserving the school’s fragile order and giving the Korobokkuru a safe window to act.
The little spirits clustered around her, drawn to her calm confidence and perhaps her unusual beauty. As they gathered, Yuzuki noticed a clear pattern: the things they’d taken were either shiny, covered in writing, or edible—pencil cases with metallic zippers, notebooks with names, and an abundance of snacks and sweets.
She smiled, crawling closer to pat their heads again. The Korobokkuru responded with delighted hops, their chorus of “I see you…” now almost playful.
Yet, beneath her gentle exterior, a troubling thought gnawed at Yuzuki.Why hadn’t she vaporized like the others, even though she could see—and be seen by—the Korobokkuru? What would she tell her classmates about the three girls who vanished before her eyes?
The mystery lingered, heavy and unresolved, as Yuzuki sat among the spirits.
Yuzuki’s ears caught the unmistakable voices of Kaito and Haruki—the Student Council President—echoing from the far end of the corridor she’d come from. Relief and urgency surged within her; finally, someone she could talk to about the bizarre events unfolding all day. She stood up quickly, ready to call out and explain everything.
But before she could move, the Korobokkuru tugged insistently at her shoes, their tiny paws gripping her laces and pant legs, urging her to follow. Their dark, round eyes looked up at her, pleading.
Yuzuki hesitated, torn between waiting for the council members and following the spirits. If Himari was with Kaito and Haruki, she knew she’d be in serious trouble—possibly even expelled—if she was found in the forbidden Left Wing. The risk was too great.
With a deep breath, she allowed the Korobokkuru to lead her deeper into the dim, burnt corridor, the charred walls closing in around her. The decision was made in a heartbeat—self-preservation and the need for answers outweighing everything else.
As they guided her further in, ancient bells began to ring—tones older than the school itself, resonating with a haunting, otherworldly clarity. Yuzuki’s heart pounded, but the Korobokkuru’s urgency drove her forward. The corridor’s light faded, growing darker with every step, until she was engulfed in pitch black.
“Huh? Korobokkuru?” she called out, voice trembling.
A sudden burst of light shone from above—a stone, glowing with ethereal brilliance. As Yuzuki looked around, she realized she was suspended in midair, weightless. All around her, keys—dozens, hundreds—began floating, spinning gently in the illuminated void, their metallic surfaces catching the ancient light.
The world she knew had vanished, replaced by a surreal, suspended realm where the boundaries between reality and myth blurred, and Yuzuki could only wonder what the Korobokkuru wanted her to see next.
The little Korobokkuru began stacking themselves, one atop another, forming a wobbly but determined tower nearly a meter high. At the very top, the smallest Korobokkuru stretched out its paw and pointed directly at a single key spinning slowly in the suspended air.
Yuzuki stepped forward, drawn by their silent insistence, and reached out to grasp the key. The moment her fingers closed around it, the other keys in the void began to whirl rapidly, circling her and the Korobokkuru in a dizzying storm of metal.
As the spinning slowed, the keys transformed before her eyes—no longer keys, but doors of every imaginable shape, color, and texture, each one echoing the design of the keys they had been. Intricate carvings, faded paint, and unique handles hinted at the years and stories behind each door. Do they resemble the signature designs of the year they were made in? Yuzuki wondered, marveling at the craftsmanship.
On the ground, the Korobokkuru tugged at her sleeve, guiding her to a door directly behind. The tower of Korobokkuru disassembled, tumbling down and reforming around her feet. With the key in hand, Yuzuki unlocked the door. As it creaked open, only darkness greeted her from within.
Before she could protest, the Korobokkuru at her feet began nudging her forward. “EHH NO NO NOOOO!” she yelped, digging her heels in, but the determined little spirits—now joined by the ones who’d formed the tower—gathered behind her and pushed as one.
She stumbled through the threshold. The door slammed shut behind her, plunging her into pitch blackness. Then, suddenly, light burst from all directions.
Yuzuki blinked, finding herself in a hollow corridor. The walls were lined with paintings—each one depicting Korobokkuru in playful scenes, their frames adorned with shiny trinkets, just like the stolen objects. Beneath each painting stood a table, covered in colorful, wrapped candies and slips of paper with handwritten notes and wishes scattered all around.
The corridor felt both sacred and surreal, a hidden world dedicated to the mysterious spirits and the treasures they cherished.
The Korobokkuru, still murmuring “I see you…” in soft, contented voices, began carefully placing the stolen items—shiny pens, wrapped candies, notebooks, and more—onto the frames of paintings that had previously been bare. Each object seemed to complete the scene, filling the empty spaces with color and light, as if restoring something lost long ago.
Watching them, realization dawned on Yuzuki.
Sigh… so this is why they’ve been stealing stuff. They weren’t just taking things for themselves—they were decorating, maybe even fulfilling some kind of ritual or tradition. But… is there a way to stop this? she wondered, her brow furrowing.
She glanced down at the Korobokkuru, who now looked up at her with hopeful, expectant eyes, as if waiting for her approval or guidance. The corridor, once eerie, now felt almost sacred—a hidden gallery of memories and offerings.
Yuzuki thought hard.If the Korobokkuru needed to decorate these paintings, maybe she could help them find objects that wouldn’t disrupt the school or hurt anyone.Perhaps she could negotiate:
“Korobokkuru… if you want to decorate these paintings, can we use things that aren’t important to the students?” she suggested gently, kneeling to meet their gaze.
The little spirits paused, considering her words, their ears twitching. Yuzuki waited, hopeful that this new understanding could become a bridge—one that might finally bring peace between the hidden world of the Korobokkuru and the everyday life of the school.
Yuzuki knelt among the little spirits, her voice gentle but hopeful. “If I bring you pieces of writing with beautiful things—even drawings, colored and filled with glitter—will you stop stealing?” She knew she couldn’t promise them sweets, but she could offer her creativity, hoping it would be a fair compromise.
For a few moments, the Korobokkuru gathered in a tight circle, chanting their soft “I see you… I see you…” as if in conference. Then, suddenly, one of them hopped out of the group, looked up at Yuzuki, and nodded enthusiastically, repeating, “I see you!”
Yuzuki’s heart soared with relief and joy. “Thank you!” she exclaimed, her smile brightening the strange, sacred corridor.
But just as her spirits lifted, the memory of the three girls who had vaporized tugged her back to reality. Worry clouded her face. “Korobokkuru, the three girls who vaporized earlier… can you please bring them back?” she pleaded.
The circle of spirits stilled. One Korobokkuru, noticeably upset, broke away from the group and began pounding Yuzuki’s knee with its tiny paws—though to her, it felt more like a soft, insistent pat than a punch.
“Why are you angry?” Yuzuki asked, concern in her voice.
“I see you,” they chanted, their tone now sharp and agitated.
Yuzuki’s mind raced. “Is it because they stole things without your permission?” she guessed.
One of the Korobokkuru hopped up and nodded, its little face scrunched in frustration.
Yuzuki sighed, her voice gentle but firm. “Then, wouldn’t the people you stole from feel equally angry?”
The Korobokkuru’s faces fell, their excitement fading into sadness. Their ears drooped, and their chorus grew quiet, the weight of her words settling over them like a gentle, necessary rain.
Yuzuki reached out, patting the nearest spirit on the head. “We all have things we care about. If we respect each other, we can all be happy.”
The corridor was silent for a moment, the message lingering in the air, as both Yuzuki and the Korobokkuru waited to see what would happen next.
The heavy oak table in the headmaster’s office rattled as Kanzaki Ryouma slammed his fist down, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.
“So out of a billion students on this third floor, you’re telling me, five girls have gone missing—and that too, ALL FROM ONE CLASS?” he roared, glaring at the five people assembled before him.
President Shiranui Haruki stood stiffly at attention, his eyes fixed on a spot just above the headmaster’s head. Beside him, Vice President Kurosawa Ren looked equally tense, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Takasago Himari and Tsukigami Kaito, the two prefects from Class 3-B, exchanged uneasy glances, while Yakumo Toma, the homeroom teacher, tried to maintain a mask of calm professionalism.
Haruki cleared his throat, voice steady but strained. “Headmaster Kanzaki, we are doing everything in our power to locate the missing students. We’ve already begun a floor-by-floor search and are coordinating with the staff—”
Kanzaki cut him off, his glare intensifying as he jabbed a finger at the attendance sheet.. “That’s not good enough! One is Mikazuki Yuzuki, another is Kisaragi Ayaka, and the other three are that inseparable group of best friends. How does this even happen under your watch? And why is it always Class 3-B?”
Himari stepped forward, her voice quiet but determined. “Sir, we believe there may be… unusual circumstances at play. There were reports of strange happenings before the disappearances—students talking about missing items, odd noises, and—”
Kaito interrupted, his tone urgent. “We’re not ruling out any possibilities, sir. We’re taking this extremely seriously.”
Yakumo Toma, the teacher, finally spoke up, his voice calm but firm. “We’ll continue searching, Headmaster. But I recommend we keep the rest of the students calm and contained for now. Panic will only make things worse.”
Kanzaki Ryouma leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You have until the end of the day to find out what happened. If I don’t have answers, there will be consequences for everyone involved. Dismissed!”
The five bowed and filed out, the weight of the headmaster’s words pressing down on them as they returned to the chaos unfolding in the halls.
At exactly 3:10 PM, the bell rang throughout the school, its chime signaling the start of souji jikan (掃除時間)—the daily cleaning time that is a real and cherished part of Japanese school life.Immediately, students across every class set aside their books and stood up, ready to take responsibility for their environment.
In each classroom, students grabbed their assigned cleaning tools: brooms, dustpans, rags, and mops. Groups formed quickly, each with a designated area to tackle—desks were wiped down, chalkboards cleaned, and floors swept with practiced efficiency. Laughter and cheerful conversation mixed with the rhythmic sound of brushes and dusters as students worked side by side, transforming their learning spaces.
To be Continued...
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