Unpublished New book in progress

Hey guys, I am working on a chapter book, similar to a manga, without the drawings, please tell me if this is good, and make sure to check back for new chapters 

 

Chapter One - The Gunslinger Arrives

The soup lady rejected me with an outstretched palm before I could even say anything.

"But…" I protested. "Come on, grandma. I've been waiting in the line for almost seven hours!"

As though to prove my point, I gestured to the queue of ghosts floating behind me. All of them were dressed in white gowns like patients in the hospital, an indication of the spiritual dimension's lack of fashion sense. There were a few young ones, many old ones, some very old ones, and a single ancient one; no matter the distinction though, their bowed heads and forlorn expressions clearly showed their feelings about drinking grandma's special home-made brew.

"No," the soup lady replied with a raised eyebrow. "And I am not anyone's grandma."

"Please, grandma. I am begging you," I said. "Can't you feel my sincerity? I bet there's no other ghost who would patronise your shop like this. I'm like your number one fan!"

The soup lady nodded.

"That's true, because they would have stepped through the gates by then."

At this, I stared longingly at the ogive gates opening into a sea of pure, blinding white. Step through the gates and you would be reborn in another generation, ready to take in whatever crap that life throws at you ("Screw the weather.")— or welcome the new adventures with a bubbly attitude ("Oh my god, it's raining. How exciting! Oh my god!"). Take your half-glass pick.

But first, I had to navigate through the source of my troubles: the cauldron bubbling with a purple thick liquid.

Grandma's soup.

The reason why the other ghosts shun it wasn't because of the flavour, not that it should matter since us spiritual beings were already robbed of our taste buds. The reason why they looked like visitors to their own funeral, was quite simple.

The soup robbed them of their living memories. Memories of their childhood, memories of their school, memories of their first kiss, memories of losing their virginity, memories of their work… sweet ones, bitter ones, random ones, they would all be flushed down into a black-hole of no return. Only then would they be qualified for the reincarnation process.

And of course they couldn't let them go. The older you get, the harder it is to let go. I knew that because the ancient ghost looked like she just swallowed a sour plum, ever since she had taken the escalator down to limbo.

The funny thing was, I possessed no memories myself. I was a blank slate. Zilch. Nada.

But I had no intention of finding out who I was, and how I died.

For all I know, a flowerpot carelessly flung from an apartment window could have caused my death. Upon impact, I would have collapsed and lie spreadeagled on the concrete, the back of my head submerged into the reddened soil, my facial features twisted into a retarded grin by cruel coincidence.

Certainly not the way I would have wanted my family members to remember me by. And certainly not the kind of memories I would ever want to shock me from my amnesia.

In that case…

"Just let me through into the gates, grandma. I'll skip your soup. I don't remember my past life anyway."

The outstretched palm again.

"Rules are rules, lad. I would advise you to go back," the soup lady took the ladle and began stirring the contents in the cauldron. "And stop calling me grandma."

Fourth attempt: Failure.

Maybe I should really give up.

"Can you at least tell me why I can't drink the soup like the others?"

The soup lady stopped stirring for a moment. She lifted a wrinkled finger and touched her chin, pondering. The temptation to make a run for the gates came, but I decided otherwise as the soup lady possessed deceptively quick reflexes. I thought I counted twenty ghosts apprehended from trying to escape the soup punishment from my visits here.

At last she answered, quoting a line from a million fantasy novels. Or maybe sci-fi.

"You have a destiny to fulfil."

When your best friend was a faceless poltergeist who loves to toss things around like a teenager throwing a tantrum, you know you are well and royally screwed.

In a tatami room of a well-worn building, Haiiro carried out his daily routine of tormenting the Morita household. First, he rolled the futons and threw it against the wall. Next, he lifted the kotatsu and threw it against the wall. Finally, he took the apples and oranges from the fruit bowl and threw it against the wall, splattering a messy artwork on the canvas.

Haiiro loved the sound of things hitting the wall.

As always, the Morita couple cowered together at the corner of the room, helpless to Haiiro's moment of fun.

As always, I remained as a bystander and watched the proceedings. What was initially mild amusement had degraded to sheer boredom. I wished Haiiro would vary it sometimes, but I didn't know how to talk poltergeist language, which comprised scales of different moaning octaves. And I was tone-deaf to begin with.

By the way, I named Haiiro because he was grey. Yay for my imagination.

"Anata… have you called the exorcists?" The wife asked the husband.

The husband gulped and nodded his head.

"Then… why aren't they here?"

"They are busy," the husband licked his lips. "Says that…" He winced as Haiiro let out a delighted moan, before continuing. "Says that they have their hands full. Talk about an upsurge in paranormal activity. And the rising of the undead."

"Undead?" The wife's eyes widened. "You mean like vampires and zombies? But that's impossible—"

She yelped in fright after Haiiro hurled the vacuum cleaner against the wall.

Haiiro hated people when they didn't pay attention.

I hovered near the paper lamps suspended from the ceiling, mulling over the man's words. As far as my experience went, I would agree with the lady. I haven't seen many spirits around since most of them were already awaiting their turn at the soup queue (Haiiro didn't count as a poltergeist), but I wouldn't take my own word for it due to my limited voyages outside this tatami room.

The vampires and zombies had to be impossible. They didn't exist outside the fictional world of gratuitous splatterpunk horror and cheap paranormal romances.

Or did they?

I felt a sensation on my shoulder. Haiiro was handing me a rubber duck.

Probably wanted me to join him.

"Haiiro," I said gently. "You know that I can't influence the real world like you do."

Haiiro moaned and squeezed the rubber duck. It quacked.

"Yeah, I know it's real fun Haiiro, but I'm really sorry."

Haiiro pressed the rubber duck against my chest, or tried to in vain, as it slipped right through the translucent fabric of my white gown and hit the bamboo floor with a choked quack.

The Morita couple closed their eyes and prayed. They knew the drill well.

I closed my eyes and started a mental countdown. Even in the darkness, I could feel the tense coiled-up energy emanating from the poltergeist, building up to an explosion that could only mean a tsunami turning the room into a demon toddler's playground.

Haiiro hated friends who didn't play with him.

But the explosion didn't materialise. The build-up deflated into an abandoned fireworks show, turning into something else completely.

I opened my eyes and saw the reason.

Fear.

I could see right through Haiiro's formless grey veil, right into the invisible chattering teeth and pallid cheeks.

Haiiro was shivering and frightened like a drenched puppy. That had never happened before. Heck, the word "fear" shouldn't even exist in a poltergeist's dictionary.

Did he sense something that I couldn't? Hard to say, considering my questionable ghostly instincts.

"Haiiro, what's going on?" I patted him on the head (or at least, I thought it was his head) in an effort to calm him down. "There's nothing to be afraid of. After all, we are—"

Haiiro interrupted me with a long baleful moan. He whisked out of the room through the sliding doors, leaving behind a draft and a flapping paper lamp in his wake.

"Haiiro, where are you? Come on out!"

I called out in the empty streets, my voice keening against the deafening silence. Unlike New York, this city did sleep, and it slept early, way before the stars could arrive in a glamour of glitter in the night sky. It was a good thing too; I would probably scare half the city's population to death with my cries if they were out to have supper or to do some last minute shopping.

I bypassed the closed shops, their shutters rattling faintly in the breeze. The glare of the sodium lamps lent the mannequins displayed behind the shop windows an unearthly glow. For a moment, I thought I was staring at a female vampire clad in tank top and low-cut jeans, but the garishly red lips and imagined teeth was obviously a trick of light and shadow.

A squashed beer can rolled across the blacktop before getting wedged in the gutter, the scraping noises reminding me of shuffling footsteps and the fact that I was quite alone.

This was a perfect setting for an assault on a poor, lonely man, leaving his corpse bare for the city to see when it woke up later in the dawn—

Sometimes, I forgot that I was already dead.

"Haiiro, you forgot your rubber ducky! Stop hiding and let's go back, okay?"

Nothing. Seemed that Haiiro was long gone from the streets. I had lost his trail right after I left the building, my eyes catching a whisper of dissipating smoke at the corner leading into an alley, and when I rushed in, I saw only overflowing garbage cans and tasteless graffiti smeared on the walls.

But it wouldn't hurt to try again.

I headed for the corner once more, entering an alley filled with overflowing cans and vandalised walls.

Yeah, pretty much the same as before—

My ears perked up at the sound of a muffled cry. Tracing the source, I arrowed in at the spot of the wall below a phallic image. It appeared damp, like someone had just decided to relieve himself and hope that no one was watching. But it couldn't be, because the dampness was writhing and grey.

A very familiar grey.

"Haiiro!"

The dampness coalesced into a convulsing hand. Without thinking, I grabbed it and tugged with all my might.

What on earth was Haiiro doing, getting stuck in the wall like that?

The resistance on the other end was huge; I might as well been competing in a truck-pulling contest. However, stubborn old me refused to budge, continuing to strain with gritted teeth. Exerting effort was a pain-free activity for a spirit, so why not go all the way?

The rest of his hand eventually emerged from the wall.

If I was still a human, I would already be breaking out in cold sweat. As it stood, I broke out in metaphorical sweat at the scene.

The rest of Haiiro's body had vanished into the wide mouth of a monster. A round scaly monster with bull-like horns, lips thick enough to engrave my own obituary, and an eye which spanned half its countenance. The veins in the eye popped out like cancerous tumours, indicating displeasure at the interruption of its feast.

I punched the monster hard in the eye. The latter's mouth dropped open in a pained cry, and I pulled Haiiro out.

"You all right, buddy?" I asked, and got my answer from Haiiro's missing left arm. Some of his head had also been swallowed into the monster's gullet, leaving behind a vaguely pentagon shape.

Haiiro hugged me tight and moaned.

Oh well, at least it could still moan. But this meant that my best and only friend was now an incomplete, faceless poltergeist.

Before I even lament my misfortune, the monster recovered from the blow and stepped out of the wall, bringing itself to full height.

Damn thing had to be at least three storeys tall. I couldn't even see the moon and the stars now.

Damn thing also had freaking tentacles.

Haiiro's embrace tightened. He buried his head in my shoulder.

An insight hit me.

"Haiiro, you saw this monster in Morita's room?"

Haiiro nodded, his head still buried in my shoulder. Conclusion: my ghostly instincts were absolutely useless. Remedy: Use that as an excuse for the soup lady to prove how unqualified a ghost I was, and then finally achieve that long-sought nirvana.

The monster (for convenience's sake, let's name it Eyemon) roared, showering globs of spittle on the alley. I raised an arm to block, cringing at the viscous touch as they slapped on skin. This proved one thing.

Eyemon was a ghost monster, that ate ghosts.

"Hey, Eyemon!" I shouted, not sure why I even did that. "Go eat somebody your own size!"

Eyemon responded by crouching down and yawning its lips. I saw the abyss that awaited beyond the line of teeth and lapping tongue, and strangely found the prospect welcoming. I closed my eyes and waited for the end.

Goodbye cruel world, may my next life be free of first kisses gone wrong, prematurely soiled bedsheets, and most importantly, flowerpots. Wait, I don't get reincarnated if it eats me right? Holy ****, hold on Eyemon, don't EAT ME YET—

I snapped my eyes open, only to see Haiiro hurling three garbage cans into that abyss. Somehow, reality affected Eyemon, not that I was jealous of it in this case. The refuse tumbled out of their containers; beer bottles, food wrappers and torn styrofoam jerkily bobbed up and down on the monster's throat. Eyemon emitted a strangled cry.

I had forgotten that Haiiro didn't want to be food again.

Eyemon lurched back, its tentacles shooting into its own mouth to retrieve the inedibles. Now was my chance.

"Let's go, Haiiro!" I piggybacked the poltergeist and took a flying leap into the skies, but not before offering the finger as a parting salute. "So long, sucker!"

An hour later, I regretted acting out the role of a cheesy delinquent.

I was now soaring between the tops of skyscrapers, Eyemon following closely in pursuit. Whether I sped up or slowed down, one look behind was enough to know that I was doomed. It was toying with me, when it easily could have lashed out its tentacles and envelop me into its loving embrace. One tender twist and it would really be goodbye cruel world, different shreds of me dispersed to the wind like falling autumn leaves.

Besides, I realised that spirits do get tired.

I flew over another building, into that gap which had claimed the lives of unfortunate Parkour practitioners, the gravity-free card enabling me to cross with little effort. Chancing a downward glance, I saw a narrow strip of road and a blue hatchback small enough to pluck between my fingers. If only I could pick up the car and smash that fella's teeth with it.

Haiiro interrupted my thoughts with a moan of warning. Without thinking, I veered sharply to the right, a erect tentacle lashing at the point where I was just a moment ago.

Eyemon had made its move. There was no longer any point in fleeing.

I touched down, my back facing the giant neon signs of T Corporation. Giant neon signs which still flashed psychedelic at this hour, casting distorted rainbow hues on the floor.

T Corporation must be overflowing with cash bills to be wasting electricity like that.

I let Haiiro disembark, just in time to see Eyemon made its landing. Feet crashed on ground, sending tremors rippling throughout the building.

"You be fine, Haiiro," I reassured the trembling poltergeist. "I'll take care of it."

That was like a boxer with a losing record, declaring to the press that he would beat the world champion with one punch.

Well, I never said I was modest.

"Come on Eyemon!" I beckoned the monster. "Give me everything you've got!"

Eyemon regarded me with a curious look, its huge eye blinking. Perhaps it didn't understand, or couldn't believe that its prey would throw down the gauntlet. At this point, I got that giddy feeling of lightness associated with crack (which I blame on the neon signs), and propelled forward to Eyemon's knees. I started raining blows, kicks, punches, elbows, chops, headbutts, every manner of attack that was imaginable. Which was fine, if not the fact that I somehow found it fitting to yell out battle cries.

"Floating Drunk Murderer Fist! Press of the Monkey! Titantic Headbutt of the Stupid God! Holy Horse Tornado Kick! Wachaa! Atcha! Wadaa! Woo!"

I ended with a finishing move between Eyemon's legs.

"Blow of the One Million Jewels!"

My clawed fists grabbed air.

"Oops, no jewels," I looked up with a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

Eyemon no longer looked curious. It looked murderous. All twenty tentacles shot out, intending to impale me on the spot.

"Kya— don't **** me!"

Not the last words that I had intended for.

There was a sudden flash of oceanic blue light on the edges of my vision. The tentacles grew limp and shrunk on contact. Eyemon growled in pain and backpedaled.

"What the?"

A newcomer had arrived on the scene. A girl to be exact, decked in a black cassock, holding a vial of holy water in one hand and brandishing a cross with another. I could go into detail about what a looker she was, but my only concern at that point was that she looked awfully young to be donning the robes of priesthood.

And jittery in the face of the monstrosity confronting her.

"You got to be kidding me," the girl muttered. "This is a poltergeist?"

Huh? Wait, this was the one who was sent to the Morita household? How dense could she be?

"Hey lady," I said, pointing to Haiiro, who had understandably taken refuge behind me like a shy kid upon her arrival. "This is a poltergeist."

The girl glared at me.

"Shut up, spirit. I'll exorcise you later."

I shrugged and squeezed Haiiro's shoulder.

"Come on, let's sit back and watch the show. This should be interesting."

Haiiro moaned in agreement.

Meanwhile, the girl had taken a battle stance akin to a sumo wrestler, with her knees bent double and her back hunched. She uncapped the vial and sprinkled water over the cross.

"Purification level 1!"

A flash of light bathed Eyemon. When it disappeared, nary a scratch was found on the latter.

Eyemon bared its fangs, drooping saliva.

"Purification level 2!"

Another flash of light bathed Eyemon. When it disappeared, nary a scratch was found on the latter.

Eyemon drew back its tentacles, little spikes popping up on them.

"Lady, you are just making the light brighter."

"Shut up, you Bruce Lee wannabe!"

Resorting to calling names, eh? Oh well, I didn't have the motivation to stay any longer, since the show turned out to be poorer than expected. Too bad I couldn't get a refund from the ticket booth.

I beckoned Haiiro onto my back, preparing to make a silent departure from the scene. The poltergeist vehemently shook his head.

"Why, Haiiro? That girl is going to exorcise you, you know?"

Haiiro shook his head again.

I sighed and threw up my hands. Poltergeists could be real stubborn sometimes.

"Purification level 3!"

The brightest light yet briefly plunged the rooftop into a dreamworld of floating blue, before vanishing out of trace. Ditto Eyemon's response.

From the corner of my eye, I spotted the girl pulling out a revolver, which surprised me since I didn't know that exorcists were trigger-happy. Glad for her though. She'd got another weapon other than that utterly useless torchlight piece of magic. Maybe she could survive the round after all.

I gave Haiiro the ultimatum.

"Alright, stay if you want, but I'm leaving."

"Kya!"

I wheeled around, only to see Eyemon slap the revolver from the girl's hands with a tentacle. The weapon cartwheeled in the air, a boomerang heading for the home stretch. Without thinking, I dived towards it, knowing how pointlessly futile it was, knowing that the revolver would fall through my outstretched fingers like they weren't there, knowing that—

The revolver fell into my hand.

A tingly sensation coursed through my spiritual body, flooding it with feeling. A feeling that the living often took for granted. A feeling of feet constricted within the leather confines of boots. A feeling of hair suffocating in the heat of the fedora hat. A feeling of warmth afforded by the brown duster buttoned on the front. A feeling of being alive.

Wait a minute. Alive?

I stared in disbelief at the outfit that I was now wearing. I inhaled the scent of the night air, which smelled faintly of pine. I licked the inside of my cheek, tasting bile.

Sprawled on the floor, the girl's round and azure eyes watched me with fascination.

"The ghost gunslinger," she whispered.

"Huh? Say what again?"

The girl didn't reply directly. She continued watching me. To be honest, it was creeping me out.

"The gun chooses its owner," she finally said.

Not another line from a million fantasy or sci-fi novels. I did remember what the soup lady had said earlier though.

You have a destiny to fulfil.

Was this the correct destiny she was talking about? If that's the case, I'll be absolutely thrilled, simply because I had randomly attained a new level of badass. The complex backstories and rationale could wait. Right now, I'll just go along with the ride.

I pointed the revolver at Eyemon, which looked unsure at the new series of developments. The uncertainty quickly gave way to aggression; it drew back its tentacles and stomped towards me with its fangs bared. Gunslinger or no gunslinger, it was determined to make me supper.

Time to show who's boss then.

"Hasta la vista, baby."

I squeezed the trigger.

 

Chapter Two - Losing The Gravity-Free Card

During my time as a ghost, I had witnessed a couple of embarrassing events happen to people.

Like one girl who joyfully bounded up the stage to receive "The Best At Mathematics" award, only to realise that she had mistaken her name being called. And then to have the humiliation of getting bemused looks from the real prize recipient and a hall of students and teachers.

Or like another boy who ran through the pouring rain to get into his father's car, excitedly exclaim "Otou-san, let's go!", only to realise that the driver at the wheel was not his Otou-san, and that he had entered the wrong car. And then to have the humiliation of muttering a barely audible apology to the cold-faced stranger before scurrying out.

During these instances, I believed that these two unfortunate victims would have wanted to take a shovel and dig a hole deep into the centre of the Earth, where they could bury themselves from the scrutinising eyes of mankind.

But that was okay. Because they could still live and try to forget afterwards. Even if her friends would giggle and mention her "crowning moment of glory" in passing, or even if he would suddenly develop an irrational phobia of cars and rain, that was okay.

Because those moments of embarrassment didn't kill.

Mine could have.

After I squeezed the trigger, I expected Eyemon to explode in a splattering rain of flesh, blood and insides. Or at least stop short barely metres away from me, its tentacles a mere millisecond from piercing me blind. Like an overused climax in a horror action movie.

But nothing happened. Eyemon continued to stomp towards me, unaffected by the gunshot.

I squeezed the trigger. Nothing. Squeezed it again. Nothing. Continued squeezing. Still nothing.

This was getting oddly erotic.

"What are you doing, baka* spirit?!"

The girl's cries shocked me into attention. Eyemon's fangs snapped shut with finality that would have sawed me into half, had I not backpedaled in time. The monster followed up with a blurring whip of all ten tentacles, like a trainer taming a lion in the circus. The ferocity of the draft snatched and flung the fedora hat away, where it landed and sat on the neon signs.

I backpedaled again, but this time round I wasn't quick enough. I felt a hot sting tearing across my chest, saw a fluttering of brown cloth threads, and knew that Eyemon had drawn first blood.

Eyemon 1. Ghost Gunslinger 0.

I pointed the revolver at a sneering eye and fired. Still, the gunshot couldn't penetrate—

Hold on a second. Was there even a gunshot in the first place?

"Damn it, lady!" I boomeranged the revolver to the girl, who caught it with a surprised indignation. "Your gun has no bullets! What's the point of this magical girl transformation if I can't even use the freaking wand!"

"The name's Yuriko Yagami, baka spirit!"

"Yes yes, Yagami-chan," I reached for the lasso tucked into my belt. Time for Plan B: Operation Cowboy. "Kindly load up the revolver before passing it back to me, please? Thank you."

I removed the hat from the neon signs and planted it back on my head, tipping its brim low enough to hide the top half of my face. Got to play the persona right after all.

Sitting on the ledge and playing spectator, Haiiro moaned and clapped excitedly, his stump of a left arm never making contact with his right.

It was oddly comical, and yet touching.

"I won't let you down, Haiiro," I swung the lasso overhead, willing all my strength and my brotherly love into the furiously spinning rope. "That monster's gonna pay for eating a part of you."

Eyemon chose to wait for my move. Its wide, toothy grin taunted and made a mockery of my bravado. It even retrieved its tentacles into a relaxed stance, clearly not bothered by my secondary weapon.

All right then. No holding back and no battle cries. Time to do the tango of the lasso—

Something bumped the back of my head and ignited an explosion of double visions. The impact was hard enough to fracture the skull.

"Ouch."

Yuriko was staring at me with an expression so blank that I could write a whole essay on it. She held the revolver by the barrel, where she had used the grip as a head knocker.

"What is it, Yagami-chan?" I said. "Couldn't you wait until I finished Operation Cowboy before passing it back to me?"

"You forgot to **** the hammer."

"Yeah, then just **** the damn thing for me!" I realised the epiphany of my stupidity the moment those words left my mouth. "You mean… it was loaded all this while?"

Yuriko's face said nothing, and yet everything.

Sitting on the ledge and playing spectator, Haiiro smacked his own face and turned away.

Ah, that was my "crowning moment of glory" all right. This situation mirrored the bemused expressions of the students and teachers in the hall, and cold stare of the stranger in the car. I wanted to empty the revolver and create a crater in the ground, one big and deep enough to conceal a quack of gunslinger who had the gall to utter the most badass line on the planet.

But the occasion wasn't right. I needed to finish the job first. Snatching the revolver from Yuriko's hands, I fired off a shot at Eyemon's eye.

Only to watch the bullet careen wildly from its straight path, and bounce off the steel support of a water tank stationed a good distance away from the desired target.

Ping.

I fired off another shot. Same result.

Ping.

Goodness, what quack of a gun was this?

"In case you do not know, baka spirit," Yuriko informed in a flat voice. "This gun does not operate like a normal gun. It's accuracy is wholly dependent on the mental state of the shooter. If the shooter's mind is focused solely on eliminating the target, and clear of any unnecessary thoughts, it would be a hundred percent hit no matter where he aimed the gun at. On the other hand—"

If I was picturing Yuriko in a bikini and splashing her feet along the beach, her curvy figure (I couldn't confirm from her current outfit, but it was nice to speculate) tantalisingly silhouetted under the red of the setting sun, it would be a hundred percent miss even if I press the revolver hard against Eyemon's flesh and yell "EAT ****!" at the top of my lungs. Yeah, I got it.

At the very next moment, I found myself spreadeagled on the floor, looking at the stars with a retarded grin on my face. The ringing in my ears, the scalding sensation in both my cheeks, and the metallic taste of blood said as much.

"Hentai** spirit," Yuriko swore.

I couldn't believe that I actually said that out loud.

"I knew I couldn't trust you," Yuriko said. "I have no idea why the gun chose you in the first place, but it doesn't matter anymore." She sprinkled water over the cross and took up her customary sumo wrestler position.

Okay, I shall go star-gazing then.

"Purification Level Four!"

Let's see, according to my astute knowledge of constellations, there was a probable Leo in the distant east in its cannibalistic glory. I could also make out Andromeda the chained lady by linking the coordinates (2,5) and (7,14)… and then beneath her, Aquarius awaited like a perfect backdrop for the lady's sacrifice…

"Purification Level Five!"

And then you have possibly Taurus, Pisces, Gemini, Cassiopeia, Pavo, Grus and a whole range of other constellations overlapping one another… wow, so many were out in full force today, all the other star-gazers must have been filled with orgasmic delight…

"Purification Level Six!"

Why won't that lady just jump straight to nine thousand and get it over and done with?!

Before I could even complain at her lack of efficiency, Yuriko let out her familiar cry in distress just as Haiiro moaned a cry of warning.

"Kya!" (Just to clarify, Haiiro's moan didn't sound like this. It never had and it never will.)

I pushed myself lazily off the floor, prepared to jump into the thick of the action again.

"What is it, Yagami-chan? Need your baka hentai spirit to give you a hand—"

My mouth dropped open, unable to continue its regular litany of sarcasm.

The shattered remnants of Yuriko's vial lay scattered on the floor, its liquid spilling and trickling like a pale snake under the moonlight.

That wasn't the main point.

Eyemon had somehow captured Yuriko with its tentacles and rolled her up like a futon ready to be placed back in the cupboard. Except the cupboard was the monster's mouth. Only her trailing hair and her weakly struggling arms remained in view, towering above me like a skeleton parashooter stranded in a tree.

That was the main point.

"And you said it doesn't matter, Yagami-chan?" I readied my revolver and aimed upwards, aware of the panic creeping into my voice. Even if she was very much a stranger, I had no desire to see her join the spirit ranks in limbo. I would prefer her to be alive and splashing her feet along the beach—

Ping. Ping. Ping.

I stared in disbelief at the fading wisps of smoke emitting from the barrel, and at the finger which had thrice depressed on the trigger while I was caught up in this repeating fantasy of mine. I stared in disbelief at dented spot of the water tank's steel support, unable to get over the accuracy of my inaccuracy. I swallowed as Yuriko's struggling arms made clenched fists, before relaxing under the pressure of Eyemon's grip.

Typical revolvers have six bullets. I had just wasted five. Stopping short of asking for ammunition which would be impossible under the circumstances, that meant that I had to finish the job with one.

Hell if anyone was going to bet on me for this.

Haiiro leapt off the ledge, clearly distrusting the overwhelming odds. It flew straight to Eyemon, its remaining arm arched back to throw in a punch.

Eyemon casually raised a leg and sent the poltergeist flying with a flick of its toes. The latter rocketed away, receding into another distant speck on the black, glittery canvas.

"Haiiro!"

I saw red. I quite literally, saw red. It was as if someone had flicked an invisible switch on Berserker mode and replaced my coloured vision with a pair of blood-tinted lenses. The outlines of the rooftop, water tank, neon signs, and Eyemon themselves remained decipherable with lighter colour shades. But otherwise, this was probably what hell might have looked like.

Strangely, I felt no sudden palpitation in heartbeat nor the rush of blood to my temples. My vision and my feelings were polar opposites, ice and fire, dissociated with one another. And in the midst of it all, a voice echoed in the deep recesses of my brain, sounding like the fading tolls of a temple bell.

Onii-chan…

A memory of a past that I had long forgotten? Or another permutation of my forbidden fantasy?

It didn't matter. It didn't matter at that very moment. Nothing else mattered, other than the revolver and its target.

I only saw one thing.

And I only did one thing.

I could see it now, occurring in slow motion, the chamber vomiting out the expended shell, the last bullet exiting the barrel with an accompanying flare, this time following a perfectly straight path as all guns should do, soaring through the distance between Eyemon and me like a kite in a cloudless summer day, sinking ever so slowly into the chest of the monster, emerging on the other end coated with bits of blood and cartilage, colliding against the concrete wall like a reunion between long lost siblings, bouncing and rolling harmlessly on the ground.

And then stop.

At the very same time, Eyemon stopped.

Yuriko coughed and spluttered, her legs splayed, her arms barely supporting herself off the ground. Other than the messy ruffling of her cassock and hair, she looked unscathed by the smothering ordeal.

Haiiro had returned from his brief trip to the moon. Eyemon's kick didn't affect him as much as I thought it would, thank goodness. He now hid behind me, occasionally peeking out at his prospective exorcist.

As for Eyemon, it had disintegrated into the air seconds after the fatal shot, just as my vision returned back to normal.

Like it had never appeared in the first place.

"Yuriko, you okay?" I extended a hand to help her up.

Yuriko stared up at me in surprise, probably shocked that I addressed her without those goosebumps-inducing honorifics. Or perhaps she didn't expect me to pull the whole thing off with such cool finesse.

Heck, I was surprised at my own badass.

In the end, she accepted my hand and pulled herself up. She patted herself down and straightened the crumpled edges of her cassock, throwing occasional glances at me. On my part, I simply fingered the holster. My eyes wandered around, not quite knowing where to land on.

This was getting rather awkward.

Now that I could look at her closely, I realised that she was much younger than I initially projected her out to be. Yuriko Yagami barely appeared to be out of high school (probably hitting sweet sixteen in the next few months?). Her soft facial features screamed "CUTE!", from the moist promise in her round and azure eyes, to her small bow-shaped lips. She was probably the prime candidate for maid cosplaying during school festivals. Or maybe bunny girls? Either way, both outfits definitely beat her current one.

At the very next moment, I found myself spreadeagled on the floor, looking at the stars with a retarded grin on my face. The double ringing in my ears, the doubly scalding sensation in both my swelling cheeks, and the doubly metallic taste of blood said as much.

"Baka Hentai."

Well, at least the awkwardness ended quickly.

I got up quickly, skipping the obligatory star-gazing session. Haiiro offered me a look that suggested pity.

Thanks bro, I appreciate your emotional support.

Yuriko was now turning her back to me, determined not to face the hero who saved her life. But I was not one to play the petty game.

"Hey, Yagami-chan," I said, reverting back to the honorifics. My reputation was already ruined by my own hands anyway. "What's the deal with this gun choosing thing? Why would I suddenly take on a human form when I got hold of it? And is this process permanent?"

For a while, her back refused my enquiries. I was about to tip my hat, bow and make a departure from the scene. And leave my treacherous buddy behind.

Until she whispered, with a voice barely perceptible even in the quiet of the night.

"Legend says, the gun chooses the ghost—"

"Stop."

Yuriko turned around.

"What? Didn't you ask me to explain?" Faint blushes of red painted her cheeks. Her eyes looked down.

Embarrassment? What was there to be embarrassed about? It was not like I asked her to reveal her secret crush.

"What are you mumbling about?"

"Nothing," I said, heaving a secret sigh of relief. "Anyway, I have changed my mind about asking you."

"Why?"

"I am not going to trust the words of someone who can't even differentiate between a monster and a poltergeist."

The acidity of my words hit her like… well, acid. The faint blushes deepened into crimson. Her eyebrows arched.

Anger. Definitely anger. Maybe I had gone a little too far this time.

Better defuse the situation before I go third time lucky and say hello to the stars again.

"Well, Yagami-chan, to make you more informed, I have decided to introduce you to a proper poltergeist," I ushered the reluctant Haiiro out, gesturing at him like a magician pulling a rabbit out the hat. "Please welcome Haiiro, a rubber ducky enthusiast!"

Yuriko giggled at the ridiculousness of the introduction, her mood improved. Her facial expression changed when she took Haiiro's appearance, at the vaguely pentagon shape of his head, and the missing stump of his left arm.

I swallowed. Did she perhaps find him too freakish? Should I have introduced him as Haiiro the incomplete one?

"KAWAII!"

Ah, my worries were unfounded then. She thought him cute. Attaboy Haiiro.

Wait a minute.

Cute?

Yuriko Yagami, a potential maid/bunny-girl cosplayer, a girl who ought to be going starry-eyed at the sight of kittens and pink things, was going starry-eyed at Haiiro?!

WHAT BLASPHEMY WAS THIS?!

Haiiro moaned in fright and sought refuge behind my back. Yuriko jumped in with delight and played hide-and-seek. Haiiro's head popped out of my left hip. Yuriko followed suit. Haiiro's head popped out of my right hip. Yuriko followed suit.

I was essentially being treated like a damn tree.

"Stop!" I yelled, unable to withstand the humiliation any longer. "What on earth do you think you are doing, Yuriko Yagami!"

Yuriko pouted at me, before smiling sweetly at Haiiro.

"I was playing hide-and-seek."

Oh soup lady, I never needed your soup so much as I did now.

"There is a time and place for everything, Yagami-chan," I gritted my teeth. "And that does not include treating me like an object!"

"I could say the same to you too, gunslinger."

"Huh?" I shivered as she pierced me with a cool, icy stare unfitting of a girl with her looks.

Yuriko took a step forward and pushed me on the chest. I found myself stumbling back.

"What were you thinking when you were supposed to be shooting at that monster?"

Oops.

Yuriko took another step forward and pushed me on the chest. I found myself stumbling back, increasingly aware that I was nearing the ledge.

"What were you thinking when you wasted three perfectly good bullets?"

I have nothing to say to that. Your honour, I plead guilty.

"Tell me, gunslinger."

Another push. My back felt the coolness of the wall behind me. My neck felt the gentle caressing of the night breeze.

This wall was the barrier between safe haven and an unwanted suicide attempt. There was simply no way, no way was I ever going to make the same mistake. I was never going to blurt out my imagined beach fanservice episode in front of the main actress, never a chance in—

"BAKA HENTAI!"

And I found myself tumbling over the ledge.

For those not familiar with Japanese terms,

*Baka: Idiot

**Hentai: Pervert

But both can be easily implied.

 

Chapter Three - T Corporation

AHHHHHHHH—no, that sounds like someone opening his mouth for a dental examination… WAAAAAHHH—no, that sounds like a girl receiving a surprise for her birthday party… GYAAAAAA—no, that sounds like an idiot programmer getting punched… hmm, choices choices choices…

Those thoughts rushed through my mind as I plunged down forty storeys to my second death.

Headfirst.

I guessed Yuriko was sort of right in calling me an idiot. But I hardly possessed any memories to fall back on like those suicidal jumpers do, so it was scream choosing time.

My duster billowed and flapped angrily in the wind. Long ejected from my head, my fedora hat took the parachute route and spun in the air, a graceful dandelion eluding reach from my flailing arms. Blank window after blank window flipped through my vision like scrolling film.

Five storeys down, thirty five more to go before my head crashed into the hatchback's bonnet and crumpled it like discarded aluminium foil. Probably would end up with a broken neck, a retarded grin, and a nightmare of a sight for the unfortunate car owner in the morning. And later on, double calls to the insurance company and the mortuary.

But I wasn't human. At the very least, I was a spirit which had undergone a temporary metamorphosis into a human gunslinger, though against his very own will.

What would happen if I die again?

You will go to hell, Yuriko's voice echoed coolly within the depths of my consciousness.

What the…? Since when did you know telepathy?

Since you took on the contract to be the ghost gunslinger.

I don't remember signing on the damn dotted line!

There is no law stating that contracts need to be written.

I promptly unleashed a string of profanities.

There's no need to be a potty mouth, gunslinger. You do realise that you are running out of time, don't you?

I did a quick check. Ten storeys down, thirty more to go. I could no longer pluck the car between my fingers.

She was right.

How do I know that you are saying the truth, or lying?

Well, you don't have to trust an exorcist who can't tell the difference between a monster and a poltergeist, if that's what you are saying. It's not my loss anyway. You do know what it means to go to hell, right?

Curses, that girl clearly still bore a grudge. And of course I knew, because that's elementary my dear Yuriko; going to hell essentially amounted to getting a long bubble bath in the scorching pits, and occasional pitchfolk prodding from bored demons doing their duty. I had seen the scenes before, and I had absolutely no wish to partake in such a communal activity.

For that meant an eternity before I could try my luck at the soup queue again.

But there's a way out of this, gunslinger. I can revert you back into your original spirit form, on one condition.

What?

You are to scream 'I am the biggest pervert in the world' until someone in the neighbourhood reacts.

I promptly unleashed another string of profanities.

It's your call, potty mouth. Until then, ciao.

Her voice vanished from trace like a phone call abruptly cut off.

Another check revealed twenty storeys down, twenty more to go. No time to consider the validity of her statement, the ridiculous unfairness of my task (I was a pervert, but far from championship level), or the fact that practically everyone in the city was dead to the world.

I simply had to do it then.

"I am the biggest pervert in the world!"

My roaring voice reflected a pervert's pride, overwhelming the gale rattling my eardrums.

No one in the neighbourhood acknowledged.

"I AM THE BIGGEST PERVERT IN THE WORLD!"

No one in the neighbourhood was interested in a suicidal pervert screaming his last words.

The car bonnet and I were on collision course. According to my current vantage point, my head would probably crash smack right in the middle, sending an even trail of destruction which would affect rippling cracks across the windshield. According to my current vantage point, there was also a nail conveniently placed on the spot that I was going to hammer, its sharp end pointing up.

"CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE WHACK ME WITH A MALLET!"

My voice broke off, ascending into hoarse and falsetto territory. But still, I kept screaming like my spirit depended on it.

"IIII AAAAAM THEEEE—"

The nail.

BIIIGGEEESST PERVEEERT—"

Was going to crucify my head.

"YAABAAAIII—"*

My eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the cringeworthy sensation of the nail drilling into my head, and also for a church choir to randomly pop out from nowhere and start singing Easter songs.

A few seconds passed. I still didn't feel anything. Nor did I hear the noises that I ought to have heard.

Was the pain so dreadful that it transcended the boundaries of human sensation, tossing me straight to hell?

"Baka Hentai."

Was my reputation so terrible and widespread, to the point that even the demons were addressing me as such?

"You can open your eyes now, Baka Hentai."

And why did the demons in hell sound like Yuriko Yagami?

"What did you say?!"

Oops.

One eyelid blinked open, staring into the fuming countenance of the exorcist from an upside down position. Another eyelid blinked open, watching Yuriko remove the nail and revolver from the bonnet and tuck it into her pockets.

I forced a placating smile and floated myself back up. Obviously, I was back in my hospital gown outfit thanks to Yuriko's act of mercy (How did she reach the ground level so quickly?). But since she couldn't physically abuse me now, there was no way I was giving in.

"Did you put that nail there on purpose?"

Yuriko folded her arms in annoyance.

"Why on earth would I put a nail there for, baka hentai?"

"It's Kenichi, Yagami-chan," the name escaping my lips surprised me. It didn't arrive with any memory baggage; it was simply blurted out like a subconscious instinct. A possible area of investigation in the future. "And for all I know, you could have plotted everything from the start."

Yuriko pressed her fingers on her forehead, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I could have predicted that you were a such a klutz of a gunslinger? And that you have nothing in your mind but me splashing…" Her face reddened and she couldn't continue.

She had a point. All right, topic switch activated.

"So… that thing about me going to hell if I died in my gunslinger form, was that true?"

At this question, Yuriko burst into a chuckle, her youthful smile beaming with a teenager's mischief.

"I was pulling your leg. You would just revert back to your spirit form, but with the additional experience of a rather painful death. I didn't quite expect… wait, make that I totally expected you to fall for it."

…

That was it, going all out now.

"Know what I was thinking while I fell? Let me enlighten you now," I said with a snicker, before proceeding to let my imagination run wild and free in the paradise of forbidden fruits. The narration which followed would have shamed the championship level contenders; such was the lurid nature of the content that Yuriko stood rooted to the ground in naked shock for a good minute, before whipping out her trusty vial and cross.

"Heh, trying your torchlight magic on me? Go ahead," I noticed Haiiro hovering a good distance away, vehemently waving his hand. "Shut up, Haiiro. You are no longer a brother of mine."

Yuriko sprinkled water over the cross.

"Bring it on, Yagami-chan. Amp the level up to the maximum."

Yuriko shook her head.

"I don't have any intention of exorcising you, Kenichi," Yuriko said with a small smile, the cross glowing a pulsing blue. "Not yet anyway."

It was then I had an inkling that I might have made a grave mistake, but it came way too late for me to escape the blast radius.

"Purification level 1!"

There was only one thought in my mind when the ammunition hit home.

I, Kenichi, solemnly vowed never to venture into the paradise of forbidden fruits ever again.

The blue was here, the blue was there,

The blue was all around:

It yipped and barked, and howled and growled,

Like noises in a kennel!—

"Stop your nonsense, Kenichi," Yuriko said, her figure still a blue spectre. "And your rhyme scheme's horrible."

"It's the aftereffects of your spell, Yagami-chan," I mumbled, leaning on Haiiro's back. "Purification turns me into a crack poet."

If Gunslinger Berserker mode painted my world red, Purification mode sank it into an ocean. A narrowly confined ocean where the slowly changing numbers on the display panel appeared like blinking lights of a lantern fish, where the elevator buttons resembled the smooth textures of dainty seashells, where Yuriko Yagami was a beauty of a dolphin performing dancing dives in the realm of her own.

And then the blue fled. Along with the spiritual sensation of utter lethargy and despair.

I dismounted from Haiiro's back and took bearing of my surroundings. A typical elevator fashioned in utilitarian steel, a typical analog display panel showcasing rising numbers, and an untypical Yuriko Yagami blushing beet red in one corner.

"Shut up Kenichi."

Her demure, shy deposition was a drastic contrast to her previous demeanour.

"I mean it Kenichi."

Okay, I'll stop with the alliteration.

"I didn't mean that, baka."

"What did you mean then, Yagami-chan?"

Yuriko shied her face away from me, instead preferring the view of the steel walls.

I shrugged, turning my attention to Haiiro. He smacked his own face.

"Stop your bloody act. I'm still not done with how you abandoned your brother during his time of need. From now on, I'm not watching you play rubber duckies. You can play with them on your own."

Haiiro moaned in horror and knelt. He clasped my hands and stared at me with an expression so intense, that I could see right through his formless grey veil into his trembling lips and puppy-dog eyes.

Haiiro 1. Kenichi 0.

"Curses Haiiro," I pried my hands off and surrendered. "You know I hate it when you pull that trick."

"KAWAII!"

Haiiro won Yuriko by virtue of a killer knockout blow.

The trembling lips and puppy-dog eyes twisted into a sneaky smile and a knowing eye.

Before I could even ponder my next course of action, the elevator eased to a stop. The display panel halted at the number 40.

We have reached the summit.

The doors pinged open. It revealed a carpeted corridor, flanked by nondescript scenery paintings and lighted by overhead fluorescent panels.

"Where are we going, Yagami-chan?"

Yuriko regained her composure and briskly crossed the threshold, all business.

"40th storey of T Corporation, Exorcist Division."

Yuriko's footfalls thumped dully on the carpet as she navigated through the maze of doors, searching for the one with the right sign.

"Exorcist Division?" I said in disbelief. "T Corporation has an Exorcist Division? And what does T Corporation do anyway?"

Yuriko came to a halt.

"You mean, you don't know T Corporation? The T Corporation? Do you even know what it stands for in the first place?"

"The-Last-Building-You-Would-Expect-Exorcists-To-B e-At Corporation."

"That's true, in a way you wouldn't expect exorcists with an architecture like this," Yuriko nodded her head, before madly shaking it. "Hold on, that's not what I meant at all!"

"The Corporation."

"Very funny."

"Troll Corporation."

Under the whitish glare of the fluorescent fixtures, Yuriko's eyebrows twitched with the premonition of a Greek god's fury.

"I have an itching temptation to absolutely purify you."

"I give up."

Yuriko let out a "hmmph" sound of satisfaction before resuming her walk. I floated a good distance behind her. Haiiro was probably still in the lift, safely out of sight from her unpredictable fangirlish behaviour.

"T Corporation stands for Takeshi Corporation, which is the first name of my father—"

"Wait a minute! You are a daughter of the company's chairman? That's neat!"

I stopped when Yuriko brandished the cross and vial.

"The next time you interrupt, I will not hold back."

"Yes madam."

I had no intention of feeling the blues again. In retrospect, I would rather have partaken in the sauna communal activity.

Ah, the irony.

"As I was saying, Takeshi Corporation is owned by my father. It is a company specialising in the manufacture and sale of electronic goods. Televisions, computers, tablets, air conditioners; you name it, we have them. The company has a very strong and loyal local consumer base. Our revenue is high enough for the Corporation to consider the prospect of expanding overseas. To be honest, I found it hard to believe that you haven't heard of our products."

I was about to add that Haiiro had probably destroyed one of those Takeshi-branded vacuum cleaners, but thought the better of it.

"The Exorcist Division," Yuriko continued. "Is a secret department started up by my father, in order to preserve his family lineage of exorcists."

As if on cue, the correct door showed up on her right. It didn't look any different from the others; grey plastic with an unnamed office tag plastered on it.

Yuriko placed her fingers on the doorknob and turned, opening into a room that would most certainly be filled with an assortment of trinkets, heavy thick smoke, an altar with a fearsome deity statue, and fluttering curtains concealing wise men with long flowing beards.

I was wrong.

It was just another office setup. Tables, printers, computers, pens, and the like. Plus an old man in fading denim overalls sweeping the area.

I almost broke down in manly tears of disappointment, only to remember that I needed my gunslinger form to do that.

"I'm back, Sasaki oji-san," Yuriko said, before introducing him to me. "Kenichi, meet Ryou Sasaki, our family's servant and company's janitor. Sasaki oji-san, meet Kenichi, our new Ghost Gunslinger."

I bowed in deference. Spirits did have their manners after all.

"Nice to meet to you, Sasaki-san. I'll be under your care from now on."

Ryou looked at me with an uncaring eye before returning to his sweeping. After all the ceremony, he merely muttered a single word.

"Baka."

What the hell?

Yuriko chuckled.

"Sasaki oji-san normally speaks in one-word sentences," she explained. "But he always speaks the truth."

"That's just being convenient," I argued. I approached the janitor with wounded pride. "In what way is my introduction idiotic? I demand a proper explanation!"

Ryou snorted and mechanically lifted his head, as though the motion itself strained his neck muscles. I glared at his milky, beady eyes. After all the hostility, he merely muttered a single word.

"Noisy."

Yuriko chuckled again.

"Always speaks the truth. Thank you, Sasaki oji-san."

Where was Haiiro the poltergeist when I needed him to wreck havoc?

"So, he's here?"

Both Yuriko and I looked in the direction from where the voice had originated from. A lanky man stood before the open door of an enclosed cubicle in the east section of the office. Decked smartly in business suit and polished leather shoes, Takeshi Yagami looked the part of an entrepreneur who had steered T Corporation to greatness. His greying temples and mildly wrinkled skin did however suggest that his prime years had passed him by, and I felt a sense of melancholy for the man, which was odd considering that I never came close to reaching that golden period myself.

Or maybe I did, but I died way too early to enjoy the fruits of my labour.

"He does talk to himself often, Otou-san."

I interrupted my own reverie, only to realise that daughter and father had already engaged in conversation. Yuriko was sneaking cheeky glances as me as she confided in Takeshi, while the latter was playing the role of an amused dad.

"Is it?" Takeshi rubbed at the stubble dotting his chin, while appraising me with an inscrutable look. "How very interesting."

"Yeah!" Yuriko beamed. "'And then he… and then… he…" The all too familiar shades of pink crept up onto her cheeks again.

The alarm bells started ringing a tribal cacophony. Surely she wasn't that stupid as to blurt that out? Getting purified by the master himself was no joke.

Thankfully, Takeshi seemed more interested in something else.

"I'll talk to you later, Yuriko," he patted her on the shoulder. "I have something that I need to speak to Kenichi about in private."

Yuriko nodded. Her eyes met me for a second, before quickly shying away to focus on Ryou wiping the desk with a soaked rag.

Not my fault, lady. You thought it first.

Takeshi returned back into his cubicle, taking up his seat on the recliner behind the mahogany desk.

"Come on in."

"I would ask you to sit down, Kenichi. But since you are a spirit," Takeshi steepled his fingers together and leaned his elbows on the desk. "I suppose floating would suffice?"

"Yes, Yagami-cha… I mean yes sir!"

I was seriously asking to be purified.

"You can skip the formalities and address me directly," Takeshi smiled, as though understanding the implications of my gaffe. "After all, you are as good as family now."

"Yes sir… I mean Takeshi!"

"Did you serve the army before when you are living? You sound like you are addressing your drill sergeant."

"I have no idea," I admitted. "I don't have any memories of my life, other than the fact that my name is Kenichi. I don't even know my last name."

"Ah, yes. Your absence of memories," Takeshi gave me an apologetic look. "I supposed some explanations are in order of how everything came to this. You see, Kenichi, I plotted everything from the start."

"You placed the nail on the bonnet of the car?"

"Pardon?" Takeshi looked genuinely confused from my accusation.

"Never mind, pretend that I'm just rambling nonsense."

"Ah, all right," Takeshi said. "Like I said earlier, I should apologise for roping you into this. That revolver, our family heirloom and the one that had transformed you into a gunslinger, only works on spirits that possesses no living memories. I do not know of the proper reasons behind it, but this was the information passed down from generation to generation."

Fair enough, one could hardly expect scientific analysis. I suddenly recalled the moment when I heard that voice reverberating in the far ends of my soul, but Takeshi had already carried on before any clarifications could be done.

"We have never found the need to recruit a spirit for that position in the past, so it remained as a white elephant for some time. But lately, the number of paranormal activity has increased considerably for inexplicable reasons. Both Yuriko and I couldn't quite handle them on our own. So, I remembered about the revolver and decided to contact the lady of forgetfulness."

"The soup lady? You could contact her?"

"Yes, do you want me to show you how I did it?"

You have a destiny to fulfil.

"No thanks," I declined the offer. "I can already imagine her making that just according to keikaku face."

Takeshi chortled at this comment, a brief phase of youthful vigour returning to his slightly gaunt features.

"You are quite imaginative, Kenichi. How do you think she would make it?"

"A wink, and a lop-sided smile."

Takeshi chortled even louder, probably from picturing that scene in his head.

"Yes, yes, perhaps she would," Takeshi took in a few deep breaths, his laughter dying down. "In any case, the lady of forgetfulness informed me that she had one persistent spirit trying to drink the soup when he had no memories to forget."

"Which would be me."

"Exactly, Kenichi," Takeshi snapped his fingers. "But I couldn't just pass over my family heirloom to a random amnesiac spirit. So I had the Morita household monitor you before I made my decision. Coincidentally, there was a troublesome demon around the neighbourhood, which would be a good test of your calibre."

It took me a while before the actuality of those words sank in.

"Hold on, the Morita household was putting up an act all along? And you lured me into fighting Eyemon?"

"Eyemon? That's a way of shortening it, but it's rather apt," Takeshi chuckled. "Yes, they are established exorcists themselves, so they could have eliminated you along with your poltergeist buddy. But I compensated them handsomely for their task. I sent Yuriko to intercept when the time was right, though I didn't quite expect the battle to take place on the rooftop of my company. It makes everything seem more like fate, rather than of my own machinations."

He leaned forward and offered a long lingering gaze. For an instant, I felt like a helpless lamb before a ravenous wolf readying for its feast. The cubicle swirled into a dimly lit cavern with dripping stalactites.

Drip. Drip.

The lonely and staccato sounds of the falling water droplets echoed like a memory.

And then the hallucination ceased. Cavern shimmered back to its real manifestation.

"Are you okay, Kenichi? You seem a little out of it."

"Haha, I'm okay," my voice sounded a little shaky. "Perhaps it's the aftereffects of the gunfight?"

"I apologise for that, Kenichi," Takeshi said. "I probably should have sought for your opinion, but I really needed the manpower, or rather the soulpower."

"It's fine, Takeshi. I needed something to do until I get back my memories anyway."

I wanted nothing more than to leave the room, but Takeshi clearly had other plans.

"By the way, where's that poltergeist friend of yours?"

Before I could answer, a long baleful moan erupted outside the office, which was accompanied by the twin shouts of "Poltergeist!" and "KAWAII!"

"He found his way here," I said. "I expect him here at any moment—"

And Haiiro came rushing in, flinging himself into my arms.

"Hey, there's no need to be that dramatic. We just got separated for a while—"

The violent quaking of his body dispelled any attempt at drama.

There was no need to see through any veil. The terror was there, shivering in the air around Haiiro like a sentient being. It was way beyond the time when he spotted Eyemon.

Way beyond.

I spotted a folded slip of paper falling from Haiiro's unclasped hand. It landed on the ground, unfolding itself like a bat awaking from its slumber, the scrawling handwriting large enough to be decipherable.

It consisted of only six words.

A message.

And a cryptic one at that.

The cycle had begun once more.

 

Chapter Four - Toasting Bread

Takeshi sprung off the recliner and rushed around the desk, snatching the slip of paper from the ground. Meanwhile, I did my best to soothe Haiiro with gentle patting strokes.

The door swung open with a screeching creaking of hinges, its knob banging against the adjacent wall. The vibrations rattled the stack of files in the bookshelves.

"Otou-san, what's going on… Sasaki-oji-san, couldn't you let the girl go first?"

"No."

I sighed at the sight of the duo getting wedged in the doorway, before turning my attention to Takeshi. He was reading the paper with tightly bunched eyebrows, while mumbling under his breath.

"You have any idea what's it about?"

Takeshi looked up and shook his head.

"No, Kenichi. Unfortunately, it is way too brief for me to make any head or tail out of it," he gestured to the poltergeist. "We would have to wait for that fella to calm down before we can start asking any questions."

My assessment of Haiiro's tremors concluded that his fear scale was still off the charts and showed few signs of abating anytime soon.

"Do you happen to have any poltergeist tranquilisers?"

Before Takeshi could answer, the comedy pair chimed in unison, raspy bass and clear soprano harmonising like an odd duet.

"Baka!"

The soprano continued her part while the bass ended his.

"Didn't you hear what I said just now, Baka Ken?" Yuriko said. "Exorcist Division. We exorcise spirits, not give them medical treatment."

"And get stuck in doorways?" I added.

The facial expression and colour change was priceless to watch. Not to mention her freeflow of delirious cursing, which sounded like an audio tape playing on fast forward (Ryou's reaction was predictably muted with a single-worded "childish").

"Relax, Yuriko. Kenichi is just teasing," Takeshi said with an amused smile. "Focus on extricating yourself out first."

Yuriko squirmed against the janitor, who squirmed in return.

"But otou-san, he wouldn't give way," she protested, before directing a sharp glare at Ryou. "If you move any further, I'll scream molest."

Ryou gulped and relaxed his wiry body. Caught unawares, Yuriko plunged forward from the momentum, smacking face-first against the carpet floor.

I would have burst out in laughter if not for my concern at Haiiro's psychological well being. His petrification had reached the point where no amount of cajoling or patting proved effective. While I wasn't certain on the workings of a spirit's psyche, I presumed that the descent into insanity was followed by similar stages. Right now, he was hovering near the black hole of irreversible mental chaos.

And since the Exorcist Division of T Corporation did not possess any poltergeist tranquilisers…

I sang.

Like the sudden epiphany of my name, the guilty party was the shady mechanisms operating in the shadows. The song was a wordless lullaby, its tune a soothing caress of an infant's cheek, its rhythm a steady tick of a grandfather's clock. Throughout the impromptu performance, my eyes were closed and shut to the world, focused only on wishing tranquillity into the only friend I had. And in the midst of it all, a voice echoed within, the very same one back when I entered Berserker mode, and this time I knew it had to be a memory.

Sing that song again, onii-chan…

Memory ceased and song ended, the last of its fading notes trailing like stardust in the air.

Vision returned, its reopening curtains revealing a wide-eyed audience.

"Your voice is beautiful, Kenichi," Takeshi appraised with clapping hands. "Ever thought of joining a singing competition? If there was one in the spiritual world in the first place."

"Good," Ryou nodded his head.

Yuriko's beet red face was probably hot enough to toast a bread.

As for Haiiro…

He had surprisingly fallen asleep, his head resting on my shoulder. The sentient terror had relieved its possession and departed. Also, I wasn't sure if I had imagined it, but when I tilted my head to the side, I saw a face of a young boy in blissful slumber.

Like a chick safe in the warmth of its mother's embrace.

At that very moment, he was as adorable as Yuriko had portrayed him to be.

"Are you the one who spoke in my memories, Haiiro?" I whispered. "Are you perhaps…?"

Haiiro slept on. Aside from the low humming of the air conditioner, silence reigned in the office.

In the end, I didn't get to ask about the paper, or about the culprit who gave it to him.

Glaring sunlight. Shoes pitter-pattering on pavements. A tabby cat suntanning on the ledge. Cherry blossom trees blooming a pale pink. Bicycles with their intermittent tinkling. Students chatting as they walked to school. This form of fragmented narration was vital for my wellbeing, for I would otherwise go into lavish detail on how Yuriko looked in her school uniform, on how her short skirt complemented and accentuated the quality of her long curvy legs, on how the speculations from my beach fantasising came so wonderfully true in the form of her—

"Shut. Up. Baka. Hentai," Yuriko gritted her teeth, forcing out the words with a guttural hiss.

I apologize, your honour. It appears that the crime of talking to myself out loud cannot be rectified with mere insults nor the lowest level of your torchlight magic.

"Would you like to try the highest one then, mister?" Yuriko clawed her fingers on the folds of her skirt.

"Wait, Yagami-chan," I pressed my hands to my face in a show of mock horror. "You didn't bring the vial and cross along, did you? You know how foolish you'll look if you use your exorcism in daylight wearing your school uniform, on two spirits that no one else could see other than you? And you know how heartless you'll be since these two spirits are tasked to help you investigate the paranormal happenings in your school?"

"I'll be glad if you don't get in my way," Yuriko said, before breaking into a cheery smile at the poltergeist hiding behind me. "Of course, I wasn't referring to you, Hai-kun."

Haiiro shrunk even further into the shield of my back, presumably embarrassed by the cutesy honorific embedded to his name. I admitted that I got a little jealous at that. My endearing terms of address had received nothing more than drilling lessons on how I was an idiot and a pervert, and sometimes both at once; on the other hand, mister Haiiro had done nothing but act like a shy maiden, and he was treated like a cuddly toy.

Sigh, the unfairness of the world.

"Look at that weird girl talking to the air again."

I paused in the midst of my silent soliloquy (silent since Yuriko didn't reply and thank god, the telepathy effects didn't carry over to my spiritual form), and turned to the source of the voice. It turned out to be a gangly teenaged boy with a mess of spiky hair. Everything about him screamed delinquent, from the knife scar across his right cheek, to the lit cigarette dangling carelessly from his lips, to… I had no interest in describing further.

The delinquent was commenting to another companion beside him, and they both looked like peas in a pod. No need for repetition. Henceforth, I would refer to the first one as A, and the second one as B.

"I wonder why the asylum hasn't taken her in yet," A said, deliberately projecting his voice in the manner of using a invisible megaphone. "The wards could do with a pretty young thing. Imagine all the crazy mad dash from all the male patients when they see someone like her…. Wait, that's redundant. They are all crazy already!" He ended his speech with a noisy chuckle.

"Remember when she was talking to her crush?" B added. "Acting fidgety, nervous and all, with that stupid cliche love letter hidden behind her back, and then she suddenly just ran screaming away. What a way to confess huh?"

"Exactly!" A laughed and offered his cigarette. B accepted it and took a drag, exhaling circles of grey smoke into the air.

I returned my attention to Yuriko. She stood in the middle of the pavement, her head bowed down. Her knees were shaking twigs, on the verge of collapsing onto themselves. Most of the students had ceased whatever they were doing, centring the spotlight on her. A sea of mutterings rose; some malicious, some innocent, but they dealt the damage all the same.

The two delinquents had gotten the reaction that they wanted.

"Haiiro," I said. "You see those two guys over there?"

Haiiro nodded.

"Can you pretend that they are two giant rubber duckies?"

Haiiro floated still for a moment, before nodding his head again.

"You know what to do when you see rubber duckies?"

Haiiro moaned in excitement and burst out from his cover, a mischievous child eager to have his fun. He went behind A, wrapped his arms around him, and squeezed hard, at the same time I did my best impersonation of a rubber duck.

In monotone.

"Quack."

"What the ****?!" A jumped and wheeled around, staring at B. "Did you just glomp me?"

"Hell no!" B shouted. "You ain't my girlfriend!"

At that moment, Haiiro wrapped his arms around B and squeezed hard.

"Quack."

"What the ****?!" B jumped and wheeled around, staring at the green trashcan stationed behind him. "Did you just glomp me?"

Only to realise that trashcans by and large, don't glomp people.

Both A and B stared at each other, before deciding that the best course of action was to run screaming away, much to the amusement of the crowd. Yuriko was already lurching over, struggling not to laugh her socks off.

By then, it didn't matter either way, since the spotlight had been diverted to the two delinquents getting honked by the traffic as they dashed blindly across the road.

"Good job, Haiiro," I smiled and gave the poltergeist a hi-five. "That'll teach them not to refer to us as air again."

Haiiro moaned in agreement, before diving into the safety of my back without warning.

"Haiiro? What's going—"

"Thank you."

Yuriko was now standing close to me, peering around the shield at the petrified wielder.

"What are you doing, Yuriko! The people are going to talk about you if you keep that up!"

Yuriko ignored me, speaking with the tone of a princess expressing gratitude to her knight.

"Thank you, Hai-kun, for coming to my rescue."

Haiiro nodded his head feebly. He was clearly uncomfortable at being a knight.

Yuriko then bore herself to full height, which wasn't tall considering her five feet two inches, but I could see the expression in her azure eyes.

I never saw that expression before.

And then her small bow-shaped lips opened, whispering with a voice that could melt marshmallows.

"Thank you, Ken-kun. You are as sweet as your singing."

…

Ah yes, finally, I have received what I have deserved after being drilled with those hurting comments about me being an idiot and a pervert, so I could now celebrate my hard work with a glass of spiritual champagne which would perhaps in the unlikeliest of events return all my memories to me and then afterwards, I would rightfully descend down to limbo and waitwhatdidshejustsay?!

"You remain a baka hentai though," Yuriko smiled and walked off with a spring in her step. Even the fingers pointing in her direction didn't faze her one bit.

If spirits still possessed steam engines, I could possibly toast a bread on myself right now.

I didn't remember much of homeroom, or the first few lessons that took place in Yuriko's class after that. In any case, I was hovering outside the windows, shading myself under the canopy of the towering tree (Not that sun-tanning would have made any difference to my complexion). Haiiro had gone off in pursuit of delinquent A and B, seeking his makeshift rubber ducky fun. I probably should have taken the chance to ask him about the paper, or least try to pay attention to the lessons, since the acquiring of knowledge could assist in jogging my memory. But all I did was—

You are as sweet as your singing.

Kenichi, the amnesiac ghost and occasionally badass gunslinger, doing le sigh like a lovesick soul lost in daydreams of magic and promise.

You are as sweet as your singing.

Kenichi, the amnesiac ghost and occasionally badass gunslinger, losing his coherence after a simple spell of words.

You are as sweet as your singing.

Damn it! I needed to get a hold of myself! Let's see, Yuriko could have been sarcastic in her comment, and thus that simile could have been a derogatory affront to my singing and in turn my personality, which would be a double shot victory for her. Aha, that was it, I could now proceed with my usual teasing banter without any conscience… but then again, Takeshi and Ryou praised my singing back in the office, and they had little reason to lie or play mind games… which meant…

You are as sweet as your singing.

"YAGAMI-CHAN!"

I dived through the windows, racing to Yuriko's seat stationed at the middle of the classroom. She paid little attention to my sudden outburst, scribbling a mad scrawl on the foolscap paper.

"Stop writing random nonsense and use level nine thousand on me now! Please! I beg you!"

No one could hear my deafening pleas except her, and it illustrated from her twitching eyebrows. Still, she shouldered on, her ballpoint pen unwavering in its determination to carve an illegible legacy across the page.

I shouldered on too.

"Please! If you don't, I'll break my vow about not venturing into the paradise of forbidden fruits!"

My threat worked. Yuriko paused briefly in her fervour and wrote an incongruent line of words, all of them perfectly readable.

I don't know what you are thinking, but I'll grant you that wish later, Baka hentai.

"Thank you, Yagami-chan."

Yuriko sighed, preparing to cross out the words.

"Time's up everyone," a voice announced. "The history test is over. Please put down your pens."

Put down your pens? History test?

Yuriko was writing an essay and not concocting methods to torture poor spirits like me?

"Yagami-san, please put down your pen."

I looked at the invigilator, who was casting a stern eye at Yuriko. The fingers grasping the pen were still hovering above the paper.

"But sensei… I forgot to write my name."

"I'll recognise from your handwriting alone," the invigilator dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Now put it down before I'll report you for cheating."

Yuriko relented, the clattering sound of the pen hitting the desk a harbinger of my doom knell.

"I'm sorry, Yagami-chan. I didn't know…"

Yuriko ignored me as the invigilator went around the classroom to collect the papers, and as the entire class stood for their ritual bows. I was air to her even after most of her classmates left for recess and Haiiro returned from his trip, confused at the icy standstill between gunslinger and contractor.

"Yagami-chan…"

Yuriko finally afforded me a look, and I saw the expression in her azure eyes.

I never saw that expression before.

And then her small bow-shaped lips opened, whispering with a voice that could melt marshmallows.

"Thank you, Ken-kun. You are as good as purified."

That was elementary, my dear Kenichi; a literal statement that needed no further layered analysis.

Yabai.

"Yagami-san, are you practising for that play again?" A girl approached Yuriko's desk. She stood a good head taller than the other girl, her shoulders on the broader side, her bright brown eyes vibrant with life. She resembled the perfect archetype of a sporty girl who played tennis and could probably return smashing volleys and screeching cries.

While looking good of course.

"Ah," Yuriko gathered herself. "Yes, Sayuri."

Sayuri winked.

"And who is that lucky fella who is playing as Ken-kun? I have to admit though, that second statement sounded strange for a seducing moment."

"Oh, I wasn't seducing him. Ken-kun is a monster resurrected from the deepest bowels of hell. I am playing a warrior giving him his last words."

Monster? Deepest bowels of hell?

Haiiro offered me a look that suggested pity.

"Aw, that's too bad. I was about to ship KenKo as canon too."

Yuriko blushed a furious red.

"Quit your crazy shipping, Sayuri. What about you and Midori over there?"

Now it was Sayuri's turn to blush a furious red.

"Stop it stop it stop it, she doesn't need to hear it."

"SaMi is the most canon of all," Yuriko declared in a singsong voice.

"Stop iiiit," Sayuri covered her ears, her voice rising so high that its frequency exceeded hearing capabilities. Her face was now so red that I feared for the absence of blood flow to her other limbs.

Toasting competition, Winner by unanimous decision: Sayuri whateverisherlastname.

"Okay, I'll stop," Yuriko smiled. She tiptoed, peering above the shoulder of the taller girl. "I believe that Midori has finished her drawing. Go on, Saaaa-chiiii."

"Yagami-san!"

Nonetheless, Sayuri hurried back to only other student that was left in the classroom, a girl bent over her desk, her pencil painting deft strokes on white paper canvas. The sunlight pooling on her long, flowing hair lent it a shine which rivalled jewellery displays. And while I couldn't see her face from my angle, I knew that—

"Mi-chi, that looks beautiful!"

The drawing girl lifted her head.

—she was an angel… but for some reason, even though I had never seen her before, I felt that I have met her before somewhere very recently, and it was late at night then.

"It's not, Sa-chi," Midori replied with a voice that could, in retrospect, let me switch around hers and Yuriko's; it could really melt marshmallows. In comparison, Yuriko's was like that of a bumbling apprentice who needed extra training.

"Kenichi whateverisyourlastname," Yuriko said coolly. "We'll be continuing that play at night."

I pretended not to hear her.

"But Mi-chi," Sayuri protested. "It really is. The drawing—"

"Is crappy, Sa-chi," Midori put down the pencil and stood up. "I can't draw."

Sayuri bit her lips.

"Then can I keep it?"

"Why do you want my crappy art, Sa-chi?"

"Please," Sayuri clasped her fingers together.

Midori sighed like an old man (that melted marshmallows), before nodding her head in defeat.

"Do as you like, Sa-chi… and why is your face so red?"

Sayuri gasped as Midori tiptoed and scrutinised her up close with the intensity of a meticulous detective.

"No…no…no…nothing!"

"Did someone bully you, Sa-chi?"

"No…no…no…not at all!" Sayuri snatched the sketch from the desk and escaped from the classroom, seeking a brief respite from her embarrassment.

The confused angel looked at Yuriko, who shrugged in reply. Haiiro followed suit, even though I doubt that she could see him at all.

As for me, I believed that I had just witnessed a potentially cutest Yuri pairing of all, one which could be canon of all ships. But more importantly…

Where had I seen Midori before?

 

Chapter Five - Vampire Of Souls

From Takeshi Yagami's briefing at T Corporation:

Location:

Yuriko's High School.

Background:

A few students cramming for their tests at school during the night have fallen prey to an unknown paranormal influence. Side-effects included a near-zombified state of mind: slurred speech, glazed eyes, and zero recognition of their closed ones (cannibalism would have sealed the deal). Cue hospital quarantine, the principal paying off the affected families not to spread the rumours, and the prohibition of anyone in the compounds at nightfall, even the school janitor.

Initially, the school hired Morita Household to handle the case (I suspected cheaper rates), but both husband and wife had succumbed to the flu. Which was where Yuriko, Haiiro and I came in. Our very first assignment.

Mission:

Search and destroy.

"Hwaaaa Bryuuu Tiiiiii…."

"Kenichi."

"Rawrrr Groaroo Doryaaa."

"Kenichi," the voice grew impatient in tone.

"Doryaaa Groaroo Rawrr?"

"What on earth are you doing, Baka Ken?" Yuriko knocked me on the head with a knuckled fist.

"Ow," I gingerly rubbed my head through the creases of the fedora hat. "You said that we'll be continuing the play at night earlier on. At the last time we left off, you were a warrior giving me my last words."

Yuriko sighed in exasperation and placed a folded arm on her hip. Like me, she had undergone a switch to her exorcist role, once more donning a black cassock which concealed everything that should not be concealed. The sickly glow of the moon hanging low in the sky offered the palest of illumination to the school corridor, shadows playing with yellow hues on the tiled floors and walls.

Meanwhile, Haiiro was struggling against his poltergeist instincts to wreck havoc in the row of empty classrooms to our right and rage them into a tornado disaster zone. I managed to appease him with a rubber duck kindly donated from the Morita household; the poltergeist was currently pumping the toy at random intervals, much akin to a child playing on a whoopee cushion.

"Are you a masochist, Kenichi?" Yuriko said. "I didn't even remember until you reminded me. Besides, I need my vial against proper enemies, not against idiots like you."

"I feel hurt."

"Quack," the rubber duck said, its flatulent voice exploding with sarcasm.

I glared at Haiiro, who remained oblivious to my hostility. His remaining hand turned the rubber duck around and around like a scavenger examining a treasure, seeking the perfect squeezing point.

"Duck-kun obviously thinks that you are saying nonsense," Yuriko smiled. Her azure eyes narrowed. "And what monstrous nonsense were you spouting earlier?"

"Er…" my mind cycled through the dictionary of all the three-word phrases that were applicable to that scene. "The first one was Let me go."

Yuriko nodded.

"The second and third one?"

Curses, for some reason I decided to reverse the structure of the second sentence for the third, converting it into a question.

I had just stumped myself with an unintentional riddle.

You are as sweet as your singing.

A phrase jumped in and screamed for attention, and I yielded in relief, allowing it to leave the sanctuary of my mouth with the carelessness of a popped champagne bottle.

"I love you and you love me?"

"What kind of monster confesses his love to his future killer?" Yuriko giggled for a bit, before the gravity of the words hit her. Indirectly, I had just confessed to her, even though I obviously harboured no romantic feelings. (The reaction to her praise was a rare anomaly, I swore.)

The Ghost Gunslinger had entered a Code Red situation. Immediate rectification was necessary.

"Er... hahahaha… Plan to see Yuriko's blushing success!" I showed double-thumbs up, a spastic grin unzipping my face. "And er… Sayuri still wins the Toasting competition by unanimous decision!"

"Quack."

Haiiro was now rowing the duck across an imaginary river.

"That goes without saying," Yuriko said, the red flush in her cheeks already fading away. "Sayuri has a crush on Midori. I don't have one for you."

Haiiro stopped rowing the duck across the imaginary river. I stood rooted to the ground, my toes numb within the soles of the leather boots, my fingers cold and bleeding with perspiration as they clenched on the holster and rope, my grin a trembling facade and prelude to darker expressions.

"But…"

Those seven words hurt.

"Yagami-chan."

Just a little.

"I was just…"

Nothing more than a tiny prick of a pin or needle.

"Joking."

But they hurt just the same.

"You don't have to take it that seriously."

Yuriko turned away and gazed longingly at the oval track outside, its black and granulated surface a perfect camouflage in the night. She sought an invisible runner in a race, the soles of his shoes scrubbing against the asphalt lane underfoot as he tore ahead of his competitors, leaving them in the dust. I could even imagine the ringing cheers of the spectators swarming and engulfing the winner as he waved his appreciation of thanks.

"I know, Kenichi," Yuriko said. "But even if you were serious, I would have to reject you. Firstly, I obviously can't have a relationship with a ghost, and I won't either. And besides…"

Her voice danced a sad waltz with the breeze, which whispered through the window and lightly brushed a lock of her hair from her forehead.

"Even if he isn't here anymore, my feelings for him will never change."

I remembered about the confession that delinquent A and B had referred to back in the day. What did Yuriko imply by 'isn't here anymore'? Did he move away from the city? To another school? Did he die in an accident and undergo the reincarnation process? Or perhaps linger around like me because of amnesia?

And why should I bother? I obviously harboured no romantic feelings for her. It was just the directness of her words that surprised me a little, yeah that was right, just the directness of her…

"Quack."

Even the rubber duck sounded sorry for me.

"What are you mumbling about, Kenichi?"

Yuriko gave me a look of concern.

I forgot about the telepathy. This was Yabainess to the nth degree.

"Yagami-chan," I said, sounding hoarse. "Erm, remembered the time when I was falling down from the building and you er… talked to me through telepathy?"

"Yes?"

"You… could read my mind, couldn't you?"

"Yes."

I struggled against the urge to whip out my revolver and blow myself through the head.

"Did… you read… my mind… earlier?"

Yuriko sighed in exasperation and placed a folded arm on her hip.

"How many times do you have to… guh, baka hentai, I give up," she shook her head. "But I can't engage in telepathy with you unless you are in danger. Otou-san says it's a last gasp measure to ally the contractor and contracted with an unlimited range of communication. I pushed you off the building as a test try."

"Ah, that's a relief," I chuckled and paused, my smile frozen in a mask sold in a shop of horrors. "Wait… You. Pushed. Me. Off. The. Building. As. A. Test. Try?"

"Yes, ghost recorder. I did."

I struggled against the urge to whip out my revolver and blow Yuriko through the head. Before I could even speculate about the grotesque detail of the potential crime scene, Haiiro tugged on the sleeve of my duster.

"What is it?"

Haiiro gestured towards a classroom, which was incidentally where Yuriko studied in. A globe sat on the teacher's desk, an illusion of an actual teacher's head owing to the lack of light. Neat rows of desks and chairs formed a maze of infinite exits, and sitting at the middle, bent over the desk, her pencil undoubtedly painting deft strokes on white paper canvas—

The moonlight pooling on her long, flowing hair lent it a glitter which rivalled a field of fireflies.

"Midori," Yuriko gasped. "What is she doing here?"

I was about to follow up by entering the classroom and questioning the girl herself, only to have a newcomer enter the scene with a voice dripping with sultry honey.

"What are you lovelies doing here at such an unearthly hour?"

Standing thirty feet ahead of us, a woman clad in tank top and low-cut jeans clasped her fingers together with childlike anticipation. Her garishly red lips proved a jarring counterpoint to the muted and washed out colours of the surroundings; her razor sharp fingernails glinted like assassins' blades. She was a voluptuous one too, and I reckoned that her cup-size would probably range from—

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" Yuriko interrupted with a stock and overused phrase addressed at intruders. "And shut up, Kenichi."

The woman cupped her mouth and giggled. Even her giggles were sultry honey.

This lady would probably be the most popular at hostess clubs.

"What an interesting couple, a lovely girl and a ghost enamoured with soliloquy, with a cute poltergeist pet to boot."

Yuriko and I answered in unison, along with Haiiro's moan.

"We are not a couple!"

"I am not cute and I am not a pet!" (Poltergeist-speak translated for convenience.)

The woman giggled again.

"Denial only affirms my point, my darlings. And gosh, where are my manners?" The woman bowed with a polished grace of a magician. "My name is Gerardine. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

I bowed with a clumsy grace of a gunslinger.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Gerardine. My name is—"

"My name is not important, and neither it is of your concern," Yuriko removed the cross hanging on her neck over her head. "Just tell me, are you responsible for the incidents?"

Gerardine broke into a toothy grin, the row of whites shining with a predatory eagerness.

"Of course, my dear girl. I was prepared for a bit of dialogue foreplay, but cutting to the chase sounds lovely too."

Something about the teeth, and the lips gnawed at my limited memory bank. Even the tank top, and the low-cut jeans.

Me seeking Haiiro in the streets…

Shutters rattling faintly in the breeze…

The glare of the sodium lights…

"You are the mannequin that I saw in the shop window!" I jabbed at Gerardine with an accusing finger.

Yuriko did a spit-take.

"What are you saying, Baka?"

"You are a quarter-right, my lovely ghost," Gerardine's toothy grin remained. "I was the reflection of a soul-eating vampire in the shop window, standing right behind you. And I was wondering when you'll get it. A bit slow on the uptake, aren't you, my dear?"

"At that time, why didn't you…"

"I thought my pet would finish you and your darling friend," Gerardine's grin curved into a snarl. "But you killed my sweet, precious Eyetallgersauraus."

"Eyemon?" Realisation dawned upon me. "And you named your pet after a dinosaur?"

"Don't you dare butcher the name of my precious, fool," Gerardine said, dispensing all manner of niceties. She raised her hands and faced them dorsal side at the opponent, positioning one before the other. "I wonder how you'll taste like, gunslinger. Sucking the soul out of your non-existent human body should be a wonderfully novel experience."

All right then, build-up's over. Search component of the mission accomplished. Time for the kick-ass action scene and warn off any innocent bystanders in the event of collateral damage.

"Midori!" I called out. "Get out of here now!"

Only to realise that there was no one in the classroom. No long flowing hair for the moonlight to kiss. No paper. No pencil.

Just hulking shadows draped over the furniture like a voodoo's curse.

"Midori?" Yuriko echoed in confusion.

Haiiro joined in for good measure.

Gerardine lurched back, her laughter now an ugly and grating sound of moving dirt. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

"There was never anyone else at this hour," her words spoke of finality. "Other than moi."

The next thing that my human eyes caught, was a blur of a figure and outstretched blades rushing towards me, betraying speed with light footfalls and dancelike movements.

I whipped the revolver from the holster and aimed, only to see glinting teeth and hypnotically yellow eyes swallowing my entire field of vision. She was so close that I could practically kiss her.

"Too slow, darling," Gerardine sighed, exhaling honeysuckle perfume. "I wouldn't kiss you if you make it so easy like that."

Her scent overwhelmed my being with a dreamy wonder of lazing clouds. I relaxed my grip.

"What are you doing?"

Yuriko's warning cry shocked me back to my senses, just in time to receive—

"You disappoint me, fool. I expect more from the murderer of my sweetie pet."

A heavy chop. My wrists lost their strength, letting the revolver fall and spin on the floor. A uppercut scratch. My cheeks felt the full brunt of the sting. A roundhouse kick. My sides absorbed the sharp jolt of pointed heels.

I crashed through the doors of Yuriko's classroom, upended a few tables and chairs with my fall, and landed with barely a grunt.

Too fast. Way too fast. Did this vampire undergo ninja training or something?

I coughed blood onto my palm, my consciousness trickling away like hourglass sand. This boss was easily twenty times harder than the previous one, and I haven't even had the chance to grind for experience points.

"Kenichi!" Yuriko cried out in the corridor. Apparently the attack happened so quickly that she didn't even have time to react.

"Worried about your boyfriend now, my lovely?" Gerardine said. "Shouldn't you show what you have got first?"

A blinding flash of blue light flooded the corridor and the classroom, a flare so bright that night switched places with day in that ephemeral second.

Yuriko didn't even bother with the cheesy incantation this time round. But I would hedge a bet that it was her best that she could offer (not nine thousand, but one that would have definitely obliterated me from existence). Surely, at least it would have some effect?

"If it doesn't work against my precious… what makes you think it will work against me?"

From my current view perspective on the floor, Yuriko's black shoes retreated slowly against the measured clicking of Gerardine's advancing heels.

I forced myself to my feet, desperately ignoring the vertigo which threatened to upend my balance, shouting a command for my remaining party member to join the fray.

"Haiiro, use your rubber duck attack!"

In the corridor, I saw Haiiro nod.

"Quack," the rubber duck attacked with its usual flatulence.

I almost slipped and fell over an invisible banana peel.

"Not that one! God! The other one!"

Gerardine giggled.

"Oh my gosh, I'm almost reluctant to kill you, cutie. You could make a decent replacement. But you were responsible too. So it is with great regret that I—"

"Shut your mouth, woman! Nobody touches Haiiro!"

I rushed out of the classroom and towards Gerardine, channelling the spirit of a martial artist. I started raining blows, kicks, punches, elbows, chops, headbutts, every manner of attack that was imaginable. This time round, I didn't yell battle cries, nor did I have the luxury to.

Because every single damn attack missed.

A right hook.

"You…" Gerardine ducked.

A front kick.

"Are…" Gerardine blocked it with a casual thrust of her heels.

A karate chop.

"Full…" Gerardine parried it away with a chop of her own.

A headbutt.

"Of…" Gerardine tore my hat off and flung it away, where it landed and consumed Haiiro's small head.

An elbow to her taunting face.

"Openings."

Gerardine's grip tightened, her nails digging deep into skin. I had to bite my lips hard to keep myself from screaming out.

"Here's how I would do it."

She slammed me against the wall and began her assault.

Uppercut, chop, kick, punch, punch, punch, punch

Did I just lose my teeth?

Slap, slap, kick, punch, punch, punch

My cheeks got to be as big as balloons right now.

Punch punch punch punch punch punch punch punch

Stop punching me, woman! My ribs are breaking!

Kenichi!

…

I could no longer make sense of Gerardine's attacks, choosing instead to focus my attention on Yuriko's voice.

Yagami-chan, I'm dying, ain't I?

…

Stop saying the obvious, baka!

Even if we both knew that I would revert back to a spirit after my "death", I was somehow glad that she felt worried.

…

Baka Ken, you like worrying me?

Oops, sorry, hahahaha, forgot about the mind-reading thing.

…

There's no time, Kenichi! You are going to reach a point when you can't even shoot! I'll distract her and throw you the gun. The rest is all yours!

But Yagami-chan…

Her voice vanished from trace.

Meanwhile, Gerardine was still punching the hell out of me. I was quite sure that my ribs were shattered by now. Plus maybe half my teeth missing. Plus maybe a permanently scarred face.

Those effects better not carry over when I turn back into a spirit again. There was no cosmetic surgery in the netherworld, as far as I remembered.

"Gerardine!"

The soul-eating vampire ceased her Wing Chun demonstration against her live dummy. Said dummy in question slumped down the wall, drooling spittle and blood, tethering near the edge of unconsciousness.

I could barely see, and she wanted me to shoot a woman with ninja reflexes? Why didn't she take up the shooting mantle herself?

Blue light crept into my dying vision, along with a laugh which sounded ridiculously draggy, underwater style.

Even my hearing had gone bonkers.

But somehow, it captured the whirling of the revolver through the air. My limp hand rose of its own volition, operating independently from the damaged central processor.

"You just don't learn, don't you?"

My trembling fingers caught the weapon. I hurriedly thumbed the hammer (Once embarrassed, twice shy my dear), having no idea as to where the revolver was pointing. The barrel could even be pointing at my head for all I knew.

If the shooter's mind is focused solely on eliminating the target, and clear of any unnecessary thoughts, it would be a hundred percent hit no matter where he aimed the gun at…

"Kenichi!"

Damn it, Yuriko. You sound like a banshee. I can't even concentrate.

Using the remaining dregs of my will, the image of Gerardine's alluring countenance brightened with luminescent clarity on my mental screen; garish red lips, predatory teeth and all. But no matter how alluring she was, there was no way I could fantasise about a person who nearly abused me to death.

I was not a masochist after all. At least not a hardcore one.

Yet.

"Eat ****, Gerardine," I whispered, praying that the absence of a Berserker mode would still work in my favour.

And squeezed the trigger.

 

Please shut up and just give comments, I worked hard on this 