Taro Haruma adjusted his headband and grinned at his reflection in the cracked mirror of the school's abandoned restroom. His "Paranormal Research Society" jacket—a thrift-store find with a hastily stitched logo—was the perfect look for a teenage ghost hunter. "Today's the day," he muttered, raising a fist to the mirror. "The day I catch undeniable proof of the supernatural!"
Outside the door, Hana Mikoshiba leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. Her black combat boots tapped impatiently against the linoleum. "You're really doing this? You know the piano ghost is just some bored upperclassman trying to scare idiots, right?, if you don't come out in the next five seconds, I'm leaving. And I'm taking my dignity with me."
Taro poked his head out of the doorway, his trademark lopsided grin firmly in place. "Ah, Mikoshiba-san! Patience is a virtue, you know. Tonight, we make history. The legend of the piano ghost will finally be proven true!"
Hana rolled her eyes. "The only legend here is how you managed to con me into coming. Again. I should've known you'd bring up that fake IOU lunch debt."
"Fake?" Taro gasped, clutching his chest as if wounded. "How dare you! I distinctly remember sacrificing my last onigiri for you in middle school."
"That was three years ago, and it was your fault I got detention."
"Details," Taro said, waving it off.
Hana sighed, pushing off the wall. "Alright, let's get this over with. If I miss cram school for some stupid prank, I'm throwing you into the nearest trash can."
The music room was exactly as the rumors described: cold, dark, and filled with a suffocating stillness. Dust motes floated lazily through the air, illuminated by the dim light from a single window. At the center of the room stood the grand piano, its lid closed as if it were guarding some terrible secret.
"Behold," Taro whispered dramatically, whipping out his ancient camcorder. "The cursed piano of Yuki Arakawa. Legend says that if you sit in the fifth seat at 3:33 PM, her ghost will appear to play her final, tragic tune. And if you hear it—"
"You're doomed to eternal torment," Hana interrupted, flopping into the fifth seat with a bored expression. "Yeah, yeah. Come on, ghost lady, I've got algebra to fail."
"Wait, you can't just—" Taro started, but it was too late.
The air grew heavy, like someone had turned off the world's oxygen supply. A faint melody began to drift through the room, soft at first, then louder, more twisted, each note warping into something unnatural.
"Uh, Mikoshiba-san?" Taro whispered, backing away.
The piano's lid creaked open on its own, revealing nothing but darkness inside. A pair of glowing blue eyes blinked to life within the void. Slowly, a figure emerged: a translucent woman in a tattered dress, her long, black hair floating as if underwater.
The ghost of Yuki Arakawa.
"Oh, crap," Taro squeaked.
The ghost's gaze snapped to him, her head tilting at an unnatural angle. She raised one hand, and the piano keys began to move on their own, slamming down with an ear-splitting BANG.
"Haruma, what the hell did you drag me into?!" Hana yelled, jumping to her feet.
"It's real! It's actually real!" Taro shouted, fumbling with his camcorder as the ghost floated toward them. "I knew it! I knew I wasn't crazy!"
"Yeah, you're a genius! Now how do we not die?!"
Yuki let out an unearthly wail, her mouth opening far wider than humanly possible. The sound shattered a nearby window, sending shards of glass raining down on the duo.
"Run!" Taro screamed, grabbing Hana's arm and bolting toward the door.
But Yuki wasn't having it. With a flick of her wrist, the piano bench hurled itself at Taro, who tripped spectacularly and faceplanted onto the floor.
Hana skidded to a stop, glaring at him. "Seriously?!"
"I'm fine! Just a minor head injury!" Taro groaned, trying to get up, but his foot slipped on a stray piece of sheet music, sending him sprawling—right into Hana.
There was an awkward pause as Taro's hand accidentally landed… somewhere it shouldn't.
"Taro," Hana said slowly, her voice ice-cold.
"Yes?"
"Move your hand. Now."
"I—uh—"
Before he could finish, Hana delivered a swift kick to his stomach, sending him rolling away like a sack of potatoes.
"Focus!" she snapped, picking up a broken chair leg as a makeshift weapon.
The ghost lunged at them, her body elongating unnaturally as she screeched. Hana swung the chair leg with all her might, and to her surprise, a golden hammer materialized in her hands mid-swing. The weapon connected with Yuki's face, sending the ghost flying into the piano with a deafening crash.
"What the—where did this come from?!" Hana yelled, staring at the glowing hammer.
"I don't know, but keep using it!" Taro shouted, hiding behind an overturned desk.
Yuki reformed, her translucent body crackling with energy. She let out another wail, this one even more piercing, and the piano began to levitate.
"Oh, come on!" Taro groaned. "Since when can ghosts lift pianos?!"
"Shut up and stay down!" Hana yelled, charging forward. She swung the hammer again, this time smashing the piano into splinters.
For a moment, there was silence. Then Yuki's form began to dissolve into mist, her eyes locking onto Taro.
"Marked," she whispered, her voice echoing in his mind.
Taro's vision blurred as a searing pain shot through his chest. He collapsed to his knees, clutching at his shirt.
"Haruma? Hey, what's wrong?" Hana ran to his side, the hammer disappearing from her hands.
"I—I don't know," Taro gasped, his hand trembling as he pulled his shirt down to reveal a glowing spiral symbol burned into his skin.
"What the hell is that?" Hana asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.
Before Taro could answer, the floor beneath them began to crack. A deep, unnatural laughter echoed from the shadows, growing louder and louder.
"Hana," Taro croaked, "please tell me that's your stomach growling."
"It's not," she replied, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the door.
The laughter turned into a roar as the ground split open, revealing a massive, clawed hand reaching up toward them.
"Run!" Hana screamed.