Akira Miyamoto jolted awake, clutching his chest, his breaths coming in quick, panicked bursts.
His hands darted over his torso, feeling for any sign of the wounds he was sure had been there.
But there was nothing—no blood, no pain, only the dampness of cold sweat soaking through his shirt.
'Am I… alive?' he thought, swallowing hard.
"Was it just a dream?" he murmured, though his heart felt strangely heavy, as if still gripped by some unseen force.
His eyes swept around the room, slowly grounding himself. To his left, the familiar dusty windows lined the wall, and to his right, the mostly empty classroom stretched out before him.
He recognized this place. It was the classeom in an old school building—the one they'd transformed into the "Supernatural Club" room.
The gray clouds still hovered over the world outside, casting a dim light that gave everything a faded, eerie look.
In the center of the room, his seniors huddled around a small table, whispering excitedly. Their words reached him with a surreal familiarity.
"This… this is the actual cursed box, the one that only appears to those who have completed the seven ghost stories of the school!"
"How did you find it, senpai?"
"Dedication, Togarashi-kun. It's all about dedication."
Akira's heart pounded as the scene unfolded exactly as it had in his dream. Trembling, he got up and approached them, his gaze fixed on the cursed box.
As he drew closer, he squinted and felt his blood run cold—around the box was an unmistakable black aura, dense and rotten, like decay.
"Huh, Miyamoto? You're actually interested in this?" Tanaka sneered, raising an eyebrow.
The dream—or whatever that was—came flooding back to him in vivid detail: Tanaka's betrayal, the deaths, the screams.
Akira's chest tightened with dread. His instincts screamed at him to warn them.
"Don't… don't open this box. Put it back where you found it, Ishinoya-senpai!"
His voice trembled, but he didn't wait for their response. He grabbed his bag from his desk and moved toward the door, his voice rising in desperation.
"And go home! Just… go home!"
With that, Akira sprinted out, his footsteps echoing down the empty hallway as he put as much distance as he could between himself and that cursed box.
Back in the classroom, his seniors exchanged puzzled glances.
"What's gotten into him?" Tanaka scoffed, crossing his arms. "What a coward."
"Hey! Don't speak like that about your junior, Tanaka," Sasaki snapped, folding her arms in disapproval.
"Maybe you're just jealous since he's more popular than you."
"Jealous? Of a dork like him? As if." Tanaka rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed.
Ishinoya sighed, rubbing her temples as if trying to stave off a headache.
"Enough bickering. Let's just open the box and get it over with."
She reached for the lid, her hand hesitating for a moment. Togarashi gently grabbed her wrist.
"Didn't you hear what Miyamoto said? I… I have a bad feeling about this."
But Tanaka just laughed, brushing Togarashi's hand aside. "You actually believe him? If no one else has the guts, then I'll do it."
With a smirk, he lifted the lid of the wooden box.
***
"AAAAAAA—--"
Akira froze mid-step, halfway down the stairs, as the scream tore through the silence. It echoed with an unnatural pitch that sent chills up his spine.
'That scream… it's not human,' he thought, every hair on the back of his neck standing up.
He didn't know how, but he was certain it came from something far from human.
His chest tightened with dread. 'They opened it… those stupid supernatural geeks!'
He cursed under his breath, quickening his pace as he tore down the hallway.
'It's not my fault if they die… I warned them,' he reassured himself, though guilt tugged at him as he rounded the corner.
In his haste, he collided with another student, nearly knocking them over. "Sorry!" he called out, but he didn't stop to see who it was, his eyes fixed straight ahead.
Outside, thunder rolled, and suddenly, the lights in the building flickered, then went out.
The hallway plunged into darkness, broken only by flashes of lightning from the windows.
Despite the darkness, Akira could still make out shapes—students walking aimlessly through the corridor.
He slowed, heart pounding. 'Students? In the abandoned building at this hour?' he thought, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
His hands began to tremble as the realization struck him like ice. 'No… they're not human.'
Akira held his breath, feeling a surge of dread as he bolted down the hallway, praying for an exit.
His chest tightened with panic. 'Is the abandoned building this big?'
Finally, he came to a halt, panting, his eyes scanning frantically. He recognized the classroom to his right—it was the same one he'd passed earlier.
A chill washed over him as another crash of thunder filled the air, mingling with the distant, terrified screams of his seniors.
He dared not look back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. And there, at the end of the hallway, really close to him was the "student" he'd bumped into earlier.
Her face was ashen gray, and her eye sockets were empty, dark voids. Her left arm hung mangled and twisted, and her left foot dragged limply behind her, scraping the floor with each step.
She was getting closer and almost in front of him.
The smell hit him—a rancid stench of decay—and he instinctively held his breath, terrified, despite his usual unflappable demeanor.
'God, Buddha, Christ, anything, please help me!!!' he screamed inside as he froze.
Then, as if nothing had happened, the lights flickered back on. The hallway was empty, the ghosts vanished, and he felt a flood of relief wash over him.
'It should be safe to leave… right?' he thought, sprinting toward the exit.
To his relief, he finally found it and bolted outside, his shoes slapping against the rain-soaked pavement as he ran along the track connecting the old building to the main school.
The rain poured down, but he didn't care—he was free.
However, as he ran, someone suddenly overtook him. It was a man in the school's yellow training uniform, running at an unnatural pace.
But then Akira noticed something horrifying—his head hung at a sickening angle, barely attached, his face visible from the back as it lolled with each step.
Akira's stomach churned, but he forced himself to keep going, ignoring the ghostly figure. He could finally see his apartment building ahead, and he pushed himself harder.
It wasn't far—only a fifteen-minute walk, five if he was running for his life.
Bursting into the building, he dashed past the security guard, who shouted something about him being soaked, but he barely heard.
He stabbed at the elevator button repeatedly, and when the doors finally opened, he slumped against the wall, gasping for breath.
His chest heaved painfully, his whole body sore from the sprint.
"Fuck… how… How the hell can I see all of them?" he muttered, his voice breaking with frustration.
The elevator hummed as it ascended, and he allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. But suddenly, the elevator jolted to a stop at the fourth floor.
'Wait? Where does that number on the lift come from? It didn't have it a moment ago.'
Akira frowned; his building didn't have a fourth floor—it was omitted out of superstition. But the doors slid open anyway, revealing an old man standing just outside.
The old man stepped in, and to Akira's horror, the elevator's display changed to "FULL."
His breath hitched, sweat trickling down his temple as he tried to look unfazed, though his heart hammered in his chest.
The old man turned, his eyes glinting with an unnatural gleam.
"Young man," he said slowly, his voice dripping with a sinister calm.
"You can see me, don't you?"