For a moment, the runner seemed to hold his breath. No one moved; Even the air seemed denser, as if time had shrunk to observe. The spirit floated there, as naturally as a candle that needs no wind to burn, and bowed its head with such theatrical elegance that the scene might have come out of a poorly composed dream. He smiled — a smile too exaggerated to be totally benign — and commented, with a slight irony in his voice:
"Well, well... If I had known that I was going to disrupt the honeymoon of the two of you, I would have knocked before entering.
Those words detonated something inside me. My brain froze, as if a short had burned all the strands of reasoning. Moon of... moon of what? The image of the kiss—the absurd, intimate, forbidden possibility—exploded in my mind, and I felt my face burn with such physical shame that it hurt. I wanted to scream, to protest, to deny with loud and clear words, but the voice died in my throat like a bird that loses its way.
Minamoto, however, moved with the calm of someone who observes an equation and always knows where the result will be. She got up slowly, straightened her skirt with a gesture that was all discipline and self-control, and looked at the spirit with eyes that didn't ask for explanation. His voice came serene, short, without unnecessary emotion:
"So you speak." She said. "It must be some kind of spirit with bad taste for jokes."
I could feel the world fade away a little around me; the hallway turned into a scene seen through thick glass—distant, distorted, and at the same time, ridiculously real. I almost had a heart attack, I thought, with the urgency of someone who realized that the whole show was unfolding with her calm there, as if it were just an arithmetic problem.
He laughed, a sound that seemed embroidered by a thousand little bells. Kurogane spoke with that theatrical courtesy that made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.
"Oh, wow, it's not funny... but anyway... You both called upon me.
And for a second—for a small sigh between laughter and silence—I felt something deeper than words. He did not arrive as he says; It was a wave of thoughts that crossed the space between us and hit me with the precision of a knife: he shouldn't be there for the two of us. Only one person usually invokes me, seemed to say that, not in a voice, but in a dark chain that hid behind elegance. If two did, my powers are flawed. Interesting... and dangerous. If it leaks, it could put these girls at risk. If the rules are broken, the debt is charged in blood.
The thought was cold, almost administrative—and yet there was a hesitation in it, a remnant of something that seemed all too human: I don't want this. I won't allow it — as long as they follow the rules. And, yes, I'm going to have a little fun in the process.
"Who summoned me?" He asked, as if the question was both an invitation and a timid accusation. "Oh, excuse my lack of courtesy." I'm Kurogane. Noa Kurogane. Whoever calls me is entitled to three wishes.
There was a short pause, and the air around it seemed to fill with something like letters invisible in space—contracts that existed more in silence than in sound.
"But, of course, there are conditions.
Minamoto, who had hitherto watched with that serenity that left me at the mercy of my own nerves, leaned forward a little. His voice had no need for joking; It was short, direct, and loaded with a calm authority that seemed to repress any absurdity.
"Kurogane, so you're real." Just one favor: don't disappear with people. If you do, it will be unforgivable. He looked at me for a second, and there was a protection there that didn't need to be explained. "Watch out for him, Mizuhara. He writes his stories. Don't ask for help from a spirit for this.
She left with the same quiet composition with which she had arrived, as if the scene had never left the right place. The corridor has become a corridor again; The voices have color again.
I stood there with her words echoing, and when the door closed, I turned to him, feeling the trembling of hands that I didn't want to admit.
"Look," I began, trying not to sound accusatory, just practical, "I don't want to offend you, but if I refuse those wishes, what happens?" I didn't invoke you out of malice, it was just... need. I need inspiration. I need to write something worthwhile.
He looked at me as someone who evaluates the sincerity of a heart, with that almost anthropological curiosity. There was, behind the elegant pose, something that smelled of empty dawns and old calculations.
"It's not that simple," he said, with the calmness of someone pointing to a border map. "If you don't finish what you started, the rules — the ones that make me fat and contain me — will be triggered. And I, although I enjoy the fun, cannot exempt myself from what was imposed on me. I agree with your... girlfriend.
The word fell strangely in the air among us. A lump of surprise and embarrassment rose up my throat.
"First: she's not my girlfriend. My voice came out sharper than I intended. "Second: what exactly can happen that is so bad?
He tilted his head, and for a moment the whole room seemed to shrink. His expression lost its usual smile—it became more serious, like someone who would have to pronounce a sentence that hurt both those who spoke and those who listened.
"In the worst case," he replied slowly, with a very old sadness mixed with a formal neutrality, "you disappear. And I... I would prefer to avoid that.
The words were suspended, heavy, and I felt the cold of choice going through my chest. It wasn't just a promise; It was a warning dressed as a courtesy.
"Okay... So, three wishes, right? I mumbled, my voice sounding smaller than I intended. "And what exactly should I do?"
Before I could breathe properly, he transformed. A fleeting glint streaked through the air, and in an instant a small fox appeared behind me, eyes shining with a mixture of malice and curiosity.
"You must become friends with Minamoto," he said, his voice now strangely soft and amused. "By the way, she wanted to talk to you, but you... He chose me.
In the blink of an eye, he transformed again. This time, an elegant girl in a red dress appeared before me, as if she had come out of an old painting. A perfect smile adorned his face.
At that moment, a thought shot through me like an arrow: I missed a great opportunity... but, my God, what impresses me most now?
"Wow..." I managed to say, my voice almost cracking. "Do you shapeshift?" Right... That's impressive, but...
A lump tightened in my throat. How could I become friends with the most popular girl in school? It was impossible. I felt every inch of my body burning with shame.
"Ahh..." I mumbled, almost to myself.
And then, as if reading my thoughts, the fox bent down, staring at me in a way that was impossible to ignore. He looked down on me in a way that made me instinctively retreat. On an impulse, I kicked him.
"Get out of here, you pervert!" I screamed, and started running through the bathroom towards the exit of the school, heart racing.
But he was not intimidated. In an instant, it was on my shoulder, perched like a parrot.
"Don't forget to become friends with her, you see," she murmured, in that voice that mixed authority and fun.
I felt torn between irritation, shame, and a strange admiration. And at that moment, I realized: Kurogane was not just a spirit... He was a walking enigma, and I was completely caught up in his game.
When I got home, I acted as usual. I greeted my parents calmly, as if nothing had happened that day—as if there wasn't a wacky spirit with a dubious sense of humor wandering through my thoughts.
My father, Hiroshi Mizuhara, adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat before speaking:
"So, daughter..." I ended up receiving a job offer to go to France for about two or three months. Your mother is going with me. It's a company thing. And... Well, we want some alone time, if you know what I mean.
My mother, Ayumi Mizuhara, smiled with that sweetness that only she had:
"That's right, daughter. It will be good for us to know if you can take care of yourself without us. But any problem, we'll be back on time, okay?
I took a deep breath, keeping the tone as stable as possible.
"Oh, it's okay, Dad, Mom. Don't worry. I'll take care of the house properly.
"Great." - said my father. "We'll leave early tomorrow." The flight is long.
- Take care, see, daughter... - completed my mother.
We had dinner as if it were a normal night. But when I went upstairs to my room, a silent storm awaited me.
I sat down at my writing desk and, in my head, chaos began:
Judge: Today we begin the trial of Mizuhara's feelings.
Defendant: My feelings: "There's no way I can become friends with the most popular girl in school. She is beautiful, serious... impossible."
Prosecution lawyer (my rational side): "Look, judge, if you don't give a verdict soon, we're all going to die."
Judge: "You're right... let's listen to Mizuhara herself."
Jury (myself): "Sorry for putting us all in danger. I'm going to try to be friends with her..."
I sighed, burying my face in my hands. And it was at that exact moment that Kurogane appeared. He just appeared in front of me in the form of a fox, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I jumped up, almost knocking over the chair.
"So... Haven't noticed anything yet? He asked, with that shrewd look.
I narrowed my eyes.
"Oh no... you did something for my parents to go to Europe, didn't you?
"About that..." he began, smiling in that enigmatic way.
"I knew it!" I exclaimed, standing up. "But what are you planning, you pervert?!"
"Hey, don't jump to conclusions." He said, feigning innocence. "I just like the fun that chaos provides, you know?"
I crossed my arms, taking a deep breath.
"Look, I'm going to try to become friends with her, but I can't guarantee anything." Incidentally...
I stared at him with growing anger.
"Why did you push her on top of me, huh?!" That was shameful!
He just laughed, his tail wagging.
"That's logical. I wanted to see a kiss, that's all... hehehehe.
"Oh, you bastard!" I screamed, trying to hit him with my hand.
But he escaped, turning back into a fox and disappearing into thin air before I could reach him.
I was alone, taking a deep breath, the room silent again. And now, what will be your next step, Kurogane...?
I picked up my book —Stephen King's It—and started rereading it to distract my mind. Before I knew it, sleep overcame me.
In the dim light, a voice echoed softly, like a whisper in the wind:
"Oh, you little fool... I'll take you to your bed..." Kurogane muttered, his ethereal form hovering around me. "Wait... You remind me of someone I knew a long time ago... Someone I wanted to forget...
And then the silence returned, heavy and sweet, lulling my sleep.