Dinner took a while to prepare.
Sakurai Saki portioned out the food and set the dishes neatly on the table. He didn't forget the ghost girl who had cheerfully followed him home.
"Dinner!! Yay!" Yakumo Bai spun gleefully in midair, clapping her hands with delight.
Sakurai watched her, brows slightly furrowed.
Wait. What do ghosts even eat?
Do they eat to satisfy cravings? Or is it just habit? If their families don't make offerings, do they starve until they dissipate? Was that what a "hungry ghost" actually meant?
At the table, Sakurai Saki observed Yakumo Bai more closely. She was, surprisingly, a picky eater. She pushed away the green peppers and carrots with a slight grimace, but lit up at the pickled side dishes.
Tonight's tempura was a bit on the greasy side, so the crisp pickled radish helped cut through the oiliness.
Nakano Nino eyed the pickled radish with distaste, nudged it farther from her plate, and instead reached for a fried shrimp tempura. She took a bite—and instantly her expression melted into bliss.
Delicious…
Sakurai Saki picked up a vegetable tempura, waiting until Yakumo Bai finished hers before taking a bite of his own. It felt oddly polite. Like he had two guests. Ghostly or otherwise.
"You have a prescription for nearsightedness, right?" he asked suddenly. "I'll pick up some contact lenses for you tomorrow."
He couldn't just let her wander around half-blind.
He still remembered the state she was in when he found her—bruises all over, cuts that looked either self-inflicted or from a fall. And the glasses she'd been wearing were cracked.
Nakano Nino blinked, startled. "No need… You don't have to go out of your way for someone like me."
Her voice was quiet, defensive. She was afraid—afraid that if she accepted more from him, he'd push her away for real next time.
Pathetic, she thought to herself. I never imagined I'd end up acting like this… just to stay close to a stranger.
But then she remembered what he told her yesterday—those unexpected words that seemed to pierce right through her.
A sharp tongue… but a kind heart.
A blush crept up her cheeks before she could stop it.
Sakurai Saki noticed. He stared at her with narrowed eyes, chewing slowly.
Something about her just felt… off.
Or rather, she'd been "off" from the moment he met her yesterday.
People who have lived in darkness for too long will cling desperately to any glimpse of light. No matter how many times he told her to go home, no matter how harsh his tone, she never talked back.
She even started degrading herself.
This wasn't a crush.
This was dependency.
This is getting way too close to a psychological breakdown, he thought.
The term floated into his mind: Stockholm Syndrome.
Victims who developed attachment to their captors—sometimes even defending them. A mental defense mechanism. Although in this case, he hadn't harmed her. Not physically, anyway.
Still, the emotional imbalance felt… unhealthy.
He had one rule when using his superpowers—an absolute line he never crossed: Never harm innocent civilians.
Even if someone cursed him out, if they apologized or meant no real harm, he'd usually let it slide after a minor comeback. But the moment someone tried to physically hurt him—
—then he wouldn't hesitate.
He would crush them.
Like last week, with those punks who picked a fight behind the train station. He didn't even use his powers. Just gave them a basic beatdown and moved on.
He knew he was a little petty, but nothing serious. He still followed his principles.
So when Nino flinched at his offer of help, he pushed aside the unease in his chest.
"Don't worry about it. The optician's on my way home anyway," he said casually.
Nino looked up in surprise. That single sentence—that tiny gesture—sent a rush of warmth through her chest.
She quietly gave him her prescription.
Sakurai noted it down, but something bugged him.
That level of nearsightedness shouldn't be making her this blind, he thought. She avoids eye contact like I'm made of nuclear radiation…
Is my face that overwhelming?
Across the table, Yakumo Bai tilted her head, eyes suddenly glowing with a faint, ghostly blue.
"She's got a lot of dark aura~," she whispered.
Sakurai glanced toward her, then suddenly felt a pulse in his pocket. The confession letter Yakumo Bai had given him earlier—glowing faintly.
The reason she could now touch him, share his senses?
Because he had accepted her confession.
The why behind that remained her secret… for now.
His thoughts returned to Nino. Curious, he focused his vision slightly—activating the part of his ability that let him see emotional signatures.
Black smoke rose gently from the top of Nakano Nino's head.
A steady, creeping darkness. Not malicious—but despairing.
"Only people hovering near death look like that," Yakumo Bai commented, floating beside him. "Her connection to the real world is barely holding on."
She tilted her head, thought for a second, then added with quiet finality,"Sakura-kun, if you kick her out, she'll probably die. Very quickly."
Sakurai Saki didn't respond.
He wasn't particularly moved by the statement. Life and death were facts, not obligations. People like her—fragile, purposeless—tended to disappear when left alone.
Still, something tugged at the back of his mind.
That thing on top of Shirogane Miyuki's head today…
A strange image returned: a swirl of black and white, spiraling like some kind of unstable yin-yang. Neither alive nor dead. Constantly on the edge.
"Oh, right!" Yakumo Bai lit up, voice full of admiration. "That Student Council President you talked to at lunch? He's amazing! He's always teetering between life and death. Super stubborn. Won't die no matter what!"
Sakurai Saki raised an eyebrow.
That was… kind of funny. In a sad way.
As he stood and began clearing the table, Nakano Nino quickly got up, following behind him.
"Let me do it~" she offered in a bright, slightly too-eager tone.
He let her.
He understood her type: people who'd lost their place in the world often tried to justify their existence with tiny acts of service. If they couldn't find meaning, they fell apart. He didn't particularly care if she lived or died—but if she did die, he didn't want to be the reason.
He glanced at her as she worked quietly at the sink.
She was still wearing the oversized shirt and shorts he'd given her the night before. The sleeves hung past her hands; the hem barely reached mid-thigh. It clung awkwardly when she moved.
Her figure was undeniably attractive, but what struck him more was the way she was smiling—just from washing dishes. As if even touching the sponge and soap gave her a sense of purpose.
Like she'd never done chores before.
Sakurai Saki recalled her school uniform from yesterday.
Shuchiin Academy.
That meant she was probably from a well-off family. Which didn't make sense—why hadn't anyone come looking for her?
Could she really have no one?
Deceased parents? Divorced, absent relatives? Living on part-time wages, climbing into Shuchiin Academy on pure merit and scholarship?
The thought sounded suspiciously familiar.
After a pause, Sakurai Saki gave a small mental bow of apology to Shirogane Miyuki.
But still—unlikely. He knew almost everyone in the school who fit that underdog profile. If she were one of the "hidden hard-workers," he would've noticed her before.
From the kitchen, the sound of clinking dishes broke his thoughts.
Nino had finished washing up. She turned, saw him watching, and froze mid-step.
Was her posture wrong? Did she use too much water? Did she miss a spot?
Was he about to kick her out?
Her heart raced.
"I—I'm sorry!" she blurted out, bowing slightly.
Sakurai blinked.
"…It's nothing."
She exhaled, shoulders sagging with relief.
He's not mad. That's good.