Chapter 4 - The Reality Of It

"You can see me, don't you?"

The question sent a jolt through Akira's heart, freezing him in place. 

He couldn't move, couldn't make a sound—his gaze remained locked on the dull, gray elevator doors reflecting both his own terrified expression and the old man's.

"You can see me, don't you?" the ghost repeated, his voice chillingly calm. 

Akira's breath caught as the old man's face morphed before his eyes—his skin split open, blood dripping down his hollow cheeks, and his eyes began to melt from their sockets, leaving dark, empty voids.

"You can see me, don't you!" 

The voice grew louder, tinged with rage, as the old man's mouth stretched impossibly wide, unhinging like it had no bone to hold it back.

Akira clenched his fists, squeezing his eyes shut as he looked desperately at the elevator's display. 

His chest heaved as he tried to control his breathing, feeling each number change like salvation drawing closer.

11...  

12...  

Ting!

The elevator doors slid open, and Akira bolted out, the old man's furious cries echoing behind him. 

He could hear the slap of footsteps trailing him, ghostly and relentless, chasing him through the hallway. 

His lungs burned as he sprinted to his apartment door, fumbling frantically with his keys, glancing over his shoulder as the hallway lights began to go out one by one, plunging the space into darkness.

'Damn it, open! Why won't this damned door open?!' 

His hands shook violently, making it harder to fit the key into the lock. 

With a final, desperate shove, the key turned, and he flung himself inside, slamming the door shut with a loud thud. 

Slumping to the floor, he pressed his back against the door, gasping for air, his heart pounding like it was about to burst from his chest.

'Is this still a dream? Am I just… dreaming?' 

His mind was spinning, unable to process the terror he'd just experienced. The visions, the twisted faces—were they real?

Suddenly, a knock at the door made him jump.

"Miyamoto, it's me, Tanaka. You forgot your book," a familiar voice called from the other side. "Here, I brought it for you."

Relief flooded through him, and he let out a shaky sigh, resting his head against the door. 

'Thank God…' He reached for the door handle, but then his hand froze as a cold realization struck him.

'No… Tanaka… Tanaka should be dead.'

Memories flashed in his mind—his seniors' terrified screams, the sound of that eerie voice in the abandoned building. 

He'd heard Tanaka's scream himself. He couldn't be here.

Akira took a step back, trying to put as much distance between himself and the door as possible.

"Miyamoto? Why won't you open the door?" 

The voice outside was shifting, louder, almost desperate, as if Tanaka's tone was bending into something more sinister. 

"Oi! You bastard! Open this door, I'm your senior!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The door shook with violent pounding, the sound changing, melding from Tanaka's voice to the familiar, bone-chilling tones of the old man's voice.

"OPEN THIS DOOR! OPEN IT, DAMN IT! YOU PIECE OF SHIT! OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The banging grew more frantic, echoing through the room. Akira clamped his hands over his ears, his body trembling, his mind spiraling with fear.

"The ghost only haunts you when you're scared… The ghost only haunts you when you're scared…" 

He chanted under his breath, repeating the words over and over in a desperate attempt to hold onto his sanity, trying to keep his mind steady as he curled in on himself.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

And then… silence.

Akira slowly lowered his hands, letting out a long, trembling breath. He dared to open his eyes, relief washing over him.

But then—

"WHY DON'T YOU OPEN THE DOOR, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

The old man's face was suddenly right in front of him, his bloodied, empty eye sockets staring him down, his jaw hanging grotesquely wide as if ready to swallow him whole.

Akira stumbled back, his foot slipping on something, sending him tumbling backward. 

His head struck the floor with a sickening thud, his vision fading as darkness overtook him, his last thought a twisted, echoing scream in his mind.

*** 

Akira's eyes opened to the sight of the white ceiling above him, and he immediately felt a pounding ache in his head. 

He groaned, raising a hand to press against his temple, trying to steady himself as his vision spun. 

As he glanced around, he confirmed he was still in his apartment's living room; the sofa, coffee table, and television all sat in their usual places, grounding him in reality.

"All of that… wasn't a dream?" he murmured, noticing his damp uniform sticking to his skin.

He looked down, almost as if hoping to wake up again. 

"Does this mean… I can actually see ghosts now?"

Akira had never believed in ghosts. 

He'd always dismissed them as the product of human paranoia—a way for people to make sense of what they couldn't understand. 

But now, after last night's terrifying encounter, he no longer had the luxury of disbelief. The reality of what he'd seen was undeniable.

Running a hand through his disheveled ebony hair, Akira pushed himself up from the floor, feeling a flush of embarrassment at how frantic he'd been last night. 

"Guess I panicked," he muttered, "but… it was my first time seeing a ghost, and... my seniors…"

He trailed off, a chill crawling down his spine. "But… are they really dead?"

Determined to shake off the fog from last night, Akira decided to take a quick shower and change into fresh clothes. 

Afterward, he checked his phone, only to find a flurry of missed calls and messages from his classmates. 

Most were concerned about his safety and whereabouts; a few were asking about what had happened to the members of the Supernatural Club.

Akira's hand began to tremble as the memories resurfaced, realizing that it hadn't been a dream. 

Either he'd somehow seen into the future… or he'd returned to the past. 

'Which one is it?' he wondered, feeling a sweat bead on his forehead. 

Just then, another notification came through, urging him to check the news.

Heart pounding, Akira rushed back to the living room and turned on the TV. The screen filled with a breaking news report about his school.

"The condition of four students found in an abandoned campus building at XXX Academy is extremely concerning," the anchor reported grimly. 

"There is no official statement yet from the school board or police regarding this tragic incident."

"However," the anchor continued, "credible sources indicate that the students were found in a horrifying state, having lost both their hearts and eyes."

Crack!

A flash of lightning illuminated the window, followed by a rumble of thunder that echoed through his apartment. 

Akira sat frozen on the sofa, his legs trembling as he watched the news, his mind reeling. 

He glanced at his phone and saw today's date. He'd been unconscious for an entire day.

While there was some relief in knowing the school would be closed temporarily due to the incident, another worry crept in—the police.

A sudden knock on the door shattered his thoughts.

"Yamamoto-san," a voice called from outside, calm but firm, "this is the police. There's something we need to discuss with you."