Enough recap now onto the present.
"Go on in, kids," Arata said, leaning casually against the cracked school wall.
"We can just wait, right? Watch from here? Safer that way?" I asked hopefully.
Arata grinned, rolled his shoulders, and then—
SHOVE.
"WAAAAAHHH!"
I tumbled face-first through the double doors. Saiko flew in right after me, laughing like a maniac, and Genkei simply landed with perfect poise, sword in hand.
From the doorway, Arata waved. "You'll be fine! Just don't pick the wrong color."
Miu's voice drifted from outside. "If you die, you'll prove life. If you live, you'll prove death."
"That makes zero sense!" I groaned, dragging myself up.
The hallway ahead, lights flickering overhead. The air carried the weight of mildew and blood.
Then she appeared again.
A figure cloaked in crimson at the far end, her voice echoing through the corridor:
"Red… or blue?"
A chill snapped down my spine. Genkei didn't flinch—he stepped forward, blade unsheathing with a metallic hiss.
"I'll cut through your colors," he said.
Saiko cracked her knuckles. "About time I punched a ghost in the face."
"Lucky us," I muttered, already feeling my veins burn with faint grave-embers.
The fight came fast.
Genkei's blade slashed arcs of light, it looked like his blade arrived before it did, cutting through the cloak's false bodies. Saiko's fists detonated against lockers and walls, shattering illusions with raw force.
I scrambled, ducked, tried to grab her—but every time I latched onto the cloak, it slipped through like water.
The hallway warped—bathroom stalls, shadows bleeding out. The spirit tried to swallow us in its question.
Genkei carved through phantom doors with. Saiko ripped a stall clean off its hinges and hurled it, laughing wildly.
And finally—when the cloak lunged for me—I shoved every last ember into one desperate punch. It landed. Genkei's slash stunned her in place. Saiko slammed down with a flaming axe kick that cracked the floor.
The cloak shrieked. The hallway snapped back into silence.
Aka Manto fell still.
We stood there, panting.
"Did we—?" Saiko began.
The crimson fabric twitched. Not attacking, not resisting—just pulling.
Right into me.
I staggered. My veins lit up. And before I could tear free—
The world shifted.
I stood in her dreamscape.
Endless bathroom stalls stretched into nothingness, mirrors reflecting too many faces, water dripping upward.
And she was there.
Aka Manto's face was pale, porcelain, framed by dark hair, her crimson cloak dragging behind her like wet paint.
Her voice cut through the silence. "You bound me… without a grave."
My throat went dry. "This—this doesn't feel like grave-binding at all…"
Her lips curved into something between a smile and a wound.
"Because I am no corpse. I am a ghost. What did you do?"
The stalls all creaked open at once.