The Melancholy of Tsukasa Kurayami

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A club.

Sachiko Minase. Student council president, top of the class, literal goddess of the school  wants to form a club with me 

…Well, not exactly.

After her surprise appearance in the alleyway that night, of course, Yashiro had to know every single detail. So, I told him. I didn’t really have a choice.

He thought it was so hilarious, he went and told Sayuri too. And Sayuri, being her usual motor-mouth self, decided the only logical next step was for us to start a club... and she fervently pursued it. 

“Tsu-kun, this’ll be so much fun! A club with Minase-san! Can you imagine? You could plan cool investigations and solve mysteries together... Perhaps you'll find something interesting!” She had said. 

“Don’t you think you’re taking this a little too seriously?”

“Of course not! You and Minase-san bonded. It’s perfect! You should be club president!”

Well, bonded wasn't exactly the word I’d use. 

But of course, Yashiro thought it was the funniest thing ever. 

"You're like part of her inner circle now!" He said while we waited for class to start. 

"You're exhausting." 

He gave his habitual idiotic grin. "Yup, I know!" 

Then as if right on cue, Sachiko Minase was standing in front of me. Her schoolbag neatly held in both hands, hair done exceptionally, posture perfect. 

I couldn’t believe this was the same person from last night.

“Heyyy, Minase-san.”

She glanced at the seat in front of me, then back down. “Do you have time after school?” 

“Time?”

She nodded. “I wanted to talk to you. It’s about… that English assignment. The one from last week.”

There was a pause that was too long and far too awkward.

“…You said you were struggling with it, right?”

I quickly picked up and played along with her story. “Right, I almost forgot—”

“Library. 4 PM.”

And with that, she turned and walked back to her seat.

Yashiro watched it all from the desk behind me.

“Well, well,” he whispered in my ear. “Looks like you’ve got your first date.”

“Not a date.” 

“Right…”

He made an air quote gesture, then winked.

“English.”

⊹ ▬ ▬ ⊹ ⊹ ▬ ▬ ▬ ⊹

I spent the whole day stressing about this so-called “English tutoring” session. The rational part of my brain told me this was an absolutely terrible idea and that I could still back out of this nonsense. The curious part, however, had already made up its mind.

At exactly 3:50 PM that afternoon, I hurried out of final period towards the ‘old wing’ building, afraid of what might happen if I were late.

There’s a certain heft to an after-school sky. The sun casts this spellbinding orange... Makes you feel like you’re walking through a dream and you forgot how to wake up.

The library was more packed today. Perhaps the fear of midterms and failure had finally awoken the procrastinators from their slumber.

I looked around for Minase, half hoping this was some kind of joke so I’d have an excuse to go home.

But there she was.

Leaning against a bookshelf with the purple notebook in her hand. She looked like some kind of tragic protagonist I wasn’t smart enough to follow.

“You’re late,” she said, even though I wasn’t.

“I’m exactly on time.” 

She didn’t argue. Instead, she turned on her heel and strode toward the tabled section in the back.

We settled at a long table next to a window. The window was cracked just an inch, enough for the late afternoon breeze to seep through.

She sat down gracefully, placed the notebook on the desk, and flipped it open, revealing the very same pages and pages of madness I’d seen on the rooftop the other day. No small talk. No preamble. Minase just continued to flip through.

She landed on the last page, turning the notebook 180 degrees so both of us could see.

And there they were. Those weird runes, same as the ones I’d seen in the alleyway.

● ↑ △ → / ○ − △ + … / ⊕ ⊖ ⊕
● ↑ △ → / ○ − △ + … / ⊕ ⊖ ⊕
● ↑ △ → / ○ − △ + … / ⊕ ⊖ ⊕
•••••➖➖➖ɸ➖➖➖••➖➖➖➖➖➖•➖➖➖••••➖••➖➖•••••••➖➖•➖➖
••••➖➖••••➖➖➖➖•••➖••••➖➖➖➖••➖➖➖••➖➖➖••••••➖••••➖➖•➖➖➖•••➖•••➖•••➖•••➖➖➖
•••➖➖➖ɸ➖•➖➖➖••➖➖••••➖➖••➖➖••••➖➖ɸ•••➖➖➖••••➖➖••••➖➖➖➖•➖➖••••➖➖➖•➖•••➖•➖•••➖•➖➖
➖➖➖••➖••••••➖➖••➖••➖➖•••➖•••••➖••••••➖➖➖••••➖➖➖••➖➖➖

I stared at the pages, wondering what exactly Minase wanted from me. Was she expecting me to already have a translation ready?

“I didn’t write this,” I said automatically.

The more I repeated it, the more it felt like a lie.

“I know.”

Her voice was a whisper, though I suspect it wasn’t because we were in the library—rather she didn’t want people seeing her here with me and that notebook.

“I looked through it again. Tried holding it up to the light, checking for pressure marks. Thought maybe there was a cipher, or something hiding in the margins. It’s not normal.”

“…..”

“You’re not very helpful, are you?”
“Not particularly, especially when I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Minase scoffed, swinging her hair back.

“You said you wanted answers, right?”

Except I hadn’t. If anything, it seemed more like she was the one who wanted answers.

“I don’t know…”

“Well, you’re the one who took my notebook. This has everything to do with you. Or did you think this was a social call?”

Her voice had a certain edge to it like she was trying to make me feel guilty for questioning her.

“N—no, I just… I don’t know what’s going on. You show me a notebook with random scribbles, and now we’re supposed to ‘figure it out?’ Just tell me what you want.”

As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn’t. Minase looked like she was about to kill me again.

“Listen here, you’re the one who stole my notebook. You already involved yourself.”

“I—”

“You owe me. I can still ruin you anytime.”

She stared at me for a second, like she was deciding whether or not I was worth talking to.

Then, out of nowhere—

“I’m not crazy, by the way…”

I feared this conversation. If she wasn’t crazy, she wasn’t doing a good job convincing me. What was I supposed to say? Yeah, you ARE crazy, Sachiko Minase, and I’m kind of scared of you. Let’s just go back to not knowing each other?

I decided I shouldn’t push my luck. Minase was the president of the student council and it would be stupid to doubt she couldn’t go through with her threats.

I wasn’t particularly keen on becoming a social outcast or getting kicked out of school one semester away from graduation.

“I didn’t say you were,” I replied.

She stood up.

“Don’t touch anything. I think there’s a book here that might help.”

She then promptly left, then about a minute later returned with something new in her arms. 

Thump.

Minase returned, dropping a thick hardcover book onto the table with both hands. It landed with a deep, papery groan. The cover read:

Yūgen no Monshō: Forgotten Scripts and Hidden Patterns - Volume II.

Volume two?!

I blinked. “So… what is it?”

She flipped it open like she already knew the page number. “Don’t talk. Just look.”

The book was written half in classical Japanese and half in unreadable academic commentary. On the page she turned to there was a grid of odd, blocky line formations. Some of them reminded me of the ones in her notebook, but arranged in pairs, like little towers of broken matchsticks.

“The I Ching. It’s an ancient Chinese divination system, like, thousands of years old. Each hexagram is a symbol made of six lines...” She said, pointing to the blocky symbols in the book. “…Broken lines represent yin, solid ones represent yang. Opposites. And together, they describe changing states of the world.”

Her voice sounded different now, there wasn’t quite an edge to it. She sounded like some kid talking about their favorite TV show or fiction novel.

“So, like fortune telling?”

“Idiot... It’s a lot older than horoscopes or zodiacs. They're like a metaphysical map or a philosophical system. You ask it a question and toss a coin, then it gives you a hexagram, and that tells you something about your situation. Not just what’s happening now, but how it might change in the future.”

I looked at the hexagrams. Six-line patterns. Symmetrical, yet abstract in meaning. Each one had its own implication. Purpose.

“The ancient Chinese used I Ching to make decisions,” she went on. “Even Confucius studied it. They believed there were hidden patterns in everything, you just had to pay attention.”

She tapped one of the hexagrams with her finger.

“This one’s Fu. It means to return or to recuperate. The idea that after every extreme, the pendulum must swing back.”

I looked at the runes in the notebook again. Obviously, they didn’t look anything alike. The runes in her notebook were more sci-fi circuit-y and less ancient philosophy. But I understood what she meant.

“Return?” I asked.

Minase nodded. “Sometimes, when you lose yourself, or when reality bends a little too far, something calls you back. Not always gently.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by that.

“You really enjoy this stuff, huh?”

“I don’t!” she snapped. “This is horrifying. Terrible! I should burn this notebook and go back to pretending I don’t know you.”

But something told me she wasn't.

“…Minase, where did you even find this book?”

“I read.”

I do too. Manga, mostly.

“Well, normally, people read stuff like Harry Potter or, I don’t know… a book that isn’t covered in a thousand years’ worth of mold and grime.”

She huffed.

“It’s normal. Some of us have interests beyond just cheerleading and speeches.”

I had the feeling she was talking about something else now. 

I leaned back again, watching her. 

The student council president. Smart, elegant, popular. Currently hunched over a book about obscure divination systems from ancient dynasties, obsessing over a dream journal no one else had ever seen. 

“And you think the symbols in your notebook are… those?” I asked. 

She hesitated. 

“Maybe not exactly... but I do believe they’re similar.” 

Minase then abruptly slammed the book shut. "Come." 

"What?"

"I want to try something." 

"Where?"

She scoffed. "Just come with me."

"But what if I don't want t—"

"NOW."

I came. 

Minase had this way of making you feel like you had no choice but to go along with her. I wasn’t even sure if she actually wanted my help or if I was just the only person who knew of her secret interest.

If it was the former, then I’d have no choice.
If it was the latter, then I’d have no choice and I’m a hostage too.

Either way, I had no choice.

⊹ ▬ ▬ ⊹ ⊹ ▬ ▬ ▬ ⊹

That’s how we ended up here: Minase and I, standing outside of her house.

If the library was the "date", Sayuri might called this our first “club” session.

The house wasn’t anything spectacular. Just a standard two-story, same as my own. If she hadn’t pointed it out, I might’ve walked right past it. I had expected something much grander for a girl like Minase.

“My parents aren’t home.”

Minase was already making her way up the steps to the front door.

“Come on, don’t just stand there.”

She unlocked the door without a word. I followed her inside.

The inside was also typical, almost sterile. Clean, polished floors. A shoe rack with neatly lined pairs. Several framed photos of Minase’s family lined the hallway wall. They looked like the kind of generic family photos that came pre-loaded in the picture frame. A vase with ajisai flowers stood on a little table. A clock was ticking somewhere.

But she was already headed upstairs.

“Second floor, first door on the right.”

I followed her to her bedroom.

It was… like crossing a threshold into another world. You wouldn’t have believed this was the same house.

Every inch of the walls was covered. Posters of constellations, alchemical diagrams, historical figures with phrases in Latin scrawled beneath them.

Tarot cards spread halfway across her desk, a wood carved zodiac wheel hung on the back wall, and stacks of dust-covered magazines. The title, Super Mystery Magazine MU, faintly discernible on the topmost issue. On the windowsill, candle stubs on a tray, and a homemade wind chime made of spoons.

The room smelled faintly of senkō smoke. Or maybe it was just some type of body spray.

In the corner stood a tall, full-length mirror. One of those cheap ones you’d find at a department store. A few old stickers of a crescent moon, a UFO, a smug-looking frog clung to the frame.

“So, why are we here again?”

“Because I want to try something.”

Minase walked past everything in a practiced manner and pulled out the notebook from her bag. She flipped to the last page.

“I thought we already tried this.”

“We didn’t try anything,” she replied, brushing some clothes off her chair. “We talked about I Ching, and you were being useless.”

She gave me a deadpan look, then continued speaking.

“Well, the runes aren't any system I'm aware of but, there's this research blog that I use… occasionally… and the guy who runs it believes some symbols and patterns aren’t meant to be read like text. They’re meant to trigger something in the person looking at them. Sort of like a key, but for perception.”

There was a pause after that.

“You trust Internet forums?”

“Do you want answers or not?”

“….”

She continued. “Basically some symbols open you up, in a way. Not like, physically, but spiritually. They make you more sensitive to certain shifts that are usually undetectable in everyday life…”

She walked over to the full-length mirror and began rolling it to the middle of the room. 

“…and according to the blog, mirrors can amplify that effect.”

I didn’t respond, still trying to logically piece together how she came to that conclusion from random scribbles in her notebook and an anonymous blog.

“Across a lot of old beliefs, like Taoism and even some European folklore, mirrors don’t just show you reflections. They’re boundaries. And if you open your mind just right…”

She trailed off as she positioned the mirror in front of me.

“…you’re more likely to notice if something’s off.”

“So what, you want me to stare at myself in the mirror?”

“It’s just an experiment. You focus on something in your head and look into the mirror. See if you feel anything.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then we can rule out one theory and move on.”

I stared into the mirror. My reflection stared back at me. And behind that, the messy room.

So I’m down to doing mirror rituals for junior high school girls now, I thought. Great.

“Sit.”

“Minase… can we maybe try something els—”

“SIT.”

I sat like a good boy, legs crossed.

Minase adjusted the mirror once more and then knelt down next to me. She flipped open the notebook before placing it in her lap.

“Okay. You’re gonna stare at your reflection.”

“You want me to dissociate?”

“Kind of,” she admitted without hesitation.

I sighed. I definitely had a midterm to study for right now. Still, Minase seemed serious about this, and I decided it was only right to give it a try. No matter how ridiculous it was. Worst case scenario, I look stupid. Best case… well, that part wasn’t exactly clear.

I took a deep breath and stared, Minase watching.

“Don’t just look, actually focus on it. Let your mind drift.”

“Alright.”

I tried to focus intently on my reflection, trying my best not to feel dumb.

A minute passed.

Nothing.

The room was quiet outside of my own breath. 

“Anything?” Minase whispered.

“Nope.”

I just kept staring, still unsure what I was supposed to see.

I stared harder, letting my thoughts wander as I did.

The longer I looked, the stranger it felt. But nothing remotely close to what Minase had described. 

“I think I’m done,” I muttered, trying to stand.

But before I looked away, there was a tremble, and that’s when it happened.

My reflection stayed the same, but the space behind? Minase’s cluttered bedroom started to blur at the corners. And then, in the blink of an eye, it wasn’t her room at all. Not the one I was in. The one in the reflection.

The color of the walls was different. Faintly pink, or maybe peach. Posters on the walls were taped up chaotically. Some looked hand-drawn or handwritten. Others looked like promotional flyers. Something stood upright beneath the window, half-concealed by a hoodie that had definitely seen better days.

I didn’t move.
Didn’t breathe.

And then…

Blink.

The vision snapped shut with my eyelids.

And I was back where I began. The zodiac wheel on the wall behind me, tarot cards slipping off her desk. My reflection still mine, though slightly paler than before.

Minase was still kneeling beside me, notebook forgotten in her lap. She was staring at me.

“Tsukasa?… Did you see anything?”

She hadn’t seen it.

“I think I saw… something...” 

“What kind of something?”

I didn’t answer right away. I wasn’t sure if I actually did, or if I had simply imagined it.

“I’m not sure…” I replied.

Minase’s eyes sharpened, but she didn’t say anything.

I tried to brush it off as a some side effect of my adverse sleep schedule. Still, it looked so real.

I just sat there, eyes still on the mirror, trying to see if the room would come back.

It never did.

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