Chapter 13: Nopperabō at the Gate, Kasha in the Fire

Back at the apartment, the three of us gathered in the living room like we were prepping for a low-budget horror movie. The kind where nobody makes it to the credits.

Reina laid out supplies across the coffee table with surgical precision: paper charms, hand-drawn sigils, three flashlights, a pouch of salt, and a half-eaten box of Pocky.

“I was going to bring a mirror charm,” she muttered, “but someone borrowed it and used it for a vanity spell.”

“It was an emergency!” Lunaria said, pointing at her fang. “I had a situation.”

“You’re literally a wolf-girl,” I said. “Nobody expects dental symmetry.”

Lunaria gasped. “Are you saying my smile isn’t symmetrical?”

“No, I’m saying you have crumbs in your fang.”

She immediately covered her mouth. Reina looked smug.

“I have detection charms, a light ward, and snacks,” Reina said, closing her kit. “We're ready.”

“You forgot backup batteries,” I said.

“I brought some!” Lunaria pulled a ziplock bag of suspicious batteries from her hoodie. “They work. Probably.”

“…Those are for a karaoke mic.”

“They still count!”

I sighed. “What time’s moonrise?”

“After seven,” Reina said. “But we should get there before sunset. Early readings are more stable.”

“Perfect,” Lunaria stretched. “I’ll warm up my legs!”

“You’re not treating this like track practice.”

“But what if it’s haunted and scenic?”

I refrained from answering. It would've only encouraged them.

xXx

As we reached the lobby, the setting sun cast a warm glow over the glass and gold trim. Fuyuki was already home—unusual. She stood near the reception counter with her sleek thermos in hand, posture perfect, blazer still crisp like she hadn’t sat down all day.

Right beside her, like he’d been waiting for us the entire time, was Chester.

“Out for the evening, Little Mistress?” he asked, bowing his head slightly.

“Shrine errand,” Reina said brightly.

Chester’s eyes flicked toward the front doors. “Be mindful of the wind tonight. It carries more than leaves on nights like this.”

I frowned. “…That supposed to be poetic or threatening?”

“Yes,” he said, unblinking.

Then he walked off without further explanation.

Reina looked mildly impressed. “That was almost prophetic.”

“That’s his normal,” I muttered.

Fuyuki hadn't moved. “He’s not wrong. Full moons stir more than superstition. Some supernatural creatures become… sensitive. Less restrained.”

Lunaria tilted her head. “You’re not talking about me, are you?”

“I’m talking about the ones who don’t live here.”

A long pause.

“Stay close,” Fuyuki added. “Come back before midnight.”

“Got it,” I said.

Reina gave a respectful nod. Lunaria flashed a grin.
Fuyuki didn’t say more. She turned and headed upstairs.

The doors slipped apart, and dusk welcomed us with open arms… the shrine waiting just beyond it.

xXx

After the girls had stepped outside and the lobby doors shut, Chester remained in place. Still. Silent.

Fuyuki had already disappeared up the stairs.

He stood alone in the marble quiet, the faint scent of citrus and dusk lingering in the air.

Then, softly—

“So it begins.”

A pause.

He turned toward the staff hallway behind the reception desk without looking back.

“Let’s hope history doesn’t repeat itself… this time.”

And just like that, he was gone.

xXx

The walk to the shrine was long enough to be annoying, but not long enough to justify complaining. Not that it stopped Lunaria.

“My legs are sleepy,” she grumbled.

“Your mouth isn’t,” I muttered.

Reina walked ahead, holding a small compass that glowed faintly every time we passed a vending machine. “Almost there. The spirit density’s up.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I want near my face,” Lunaria said.

“It’s fine. Mostly.” Reina didn’t elaborate.

We slipped through a narrow path between two rusted fences behind the old cram school. The ground sloped upward, uneven and cracked, as weeds pushed through stone. It led into a forgotten strip of greenery—too narrow to be called a forest, too overgrown to be a park.

At the top of the hill stood the shrine.

It wasn’t much. A small wooden structure, the roof slanted with age. Paint peeled off the torii gate in faded flakes. The ema board looked like it had seen better days. A pair of stone fox statues flanked the entrance, weathered and chipped, dulled by time.

The wind shifted.

The air grew still.

No birds. No bugs. Just the whisper of dry leaves.

“…Charming,” I said.

Reina stepped forward, pulling a charm from her pouch. “It’s got presence. Faint, but real. Like it was once sacred.”

“It feels haunted,” Lunaria whispered.

She crouched beside one of the fox statues and poked it. “Please don’t come to life.”

It didn’t. Yet.

We moved toward the ema board. Strips of wood hung unevenly—some old and cracked, others newer. Names, hearts, messy kanji. Wishes half-faded by rain.

One caught my eye. It was clean. Precise. Written in elegant brushstrokes.

Not a love wish.

Just a question:

“Where did you go?”

I stared at it for a moment, then looked away.

Reina wandered toward the shrine steps. “No obvious traps. But we shouldn’t stay long.”

Lunaria had wandered into the weeds behind the building. “I think I found a frog—or a ghost. Not sure yet.”

“Try not to anger it,” I called out.

“I anger things by existing,” she replied proudly.

The wind shifted again—cold this time.

The leaves rustled in a directionless hush.

And I felt it.

That sharp, crawling sense that we weren’t alone anymore.

Not watched.
Observed.

I turned toward the trees, eyes narrowing.

Reina’s voice broke the silence. “Mio?”

“…Something’s here.”

Reina tensed beside me. Her hand went straight to the charm pouch at her waist.

“Where?” she asked.

“Left. Near the steps.”

Lunaria reappeared from behind the shrine, a leaf stuck in her hair. “Did someone say steps? I didn’t hear anything.”

“That’s because it didn’t make a sound,” I said.

And then we saw it.

Just past the torii gate, half-hidden behind a weather-worn lantern, stood a figure.

It looked like a girl.
Uniform skirt. Pale knees. Hair to the shoulders. Standing unnaturally still.

“…Another student?” Lunaria asked, creeping closer.

Reina’s breath caught. “No.”

The girl stepped forward into the dim light.

And my stomach twisted.

There were no eyes.

No mouth.

No anything.

Just a sheet of skin stretched smooth across her face—like a wax figure someone gave up sculpting halfway through. It wasn’t bleeding. It wasn’t damaged. It was just… wrong.

Unfinished.
Unhuman.
Unreal.

The kind of thing that doesn’t scream.
Because it doesn’t need to

The faceless thing tilted its head.

And then—it copied us.

Lunaria twitched, and it twitched the same way.

Reina stepped back. So did it.

“…Oh, I hate that,” Lunaria whispered.

“They’re harmless unless challenged,” Reina said, reaching slowly into her pouch. “They mimic intention. Mood. Expression.”

“She doesn’t have a FACE!” Lunaria hissed. “What EXPRESSION?!”

“It reacts to emotional signals,” Reina muttered. “Mood-based mimicry. Not rare, but still creepy.”

Another step.

It wasn’t running. It wasn’t charging.

But it was matching. And getting closer.

“Weird theory,” I said. “What happens if we all sit down?”

Reina blinked. “...That might work.”

“I vote hide in a bush,” Lunaria offered.

I sat.

Reina followed immediately, folding her legs under her like it was a meditation class. Lunaria hesitated, then dropped into a crouch.

The faceless thing froze.

It stood there for a beat—then, like a child unsure of the rules, slowly knelt.

And stayed there.

The air settled.

The tension broke like a cracked branch.

“Did we seriously just win by sitting down?” Lunaria whispered.

“It responded to social cues,” I said. “Like a mirror with feelings.”

“Creepy,” Reina said. “But effective.”

The thing slowly stood, turned, and walked—no footsteps, no sound—back behind the lantern where it had first appeared.

Gone.

No rustle. No sound.

Just… gone.

We stayed silent for a while.

Then Lunaria muttered, “So uh… still think this place isn’t haunted?”

I didn’t answer.

Because the shrine suddenly felt a lot more occupied than sacred.

xXx

We didn’t move for a while.

The air felt thinner, like the shrine had inhaled and wasn’t ready to exhale yet.

Reina was the first to stand. She dusted off her skirt, then picked up a charm that had fallen during the scare.

“No residual energy,” she murmured. “The Nopperabou’s gone. Probably just drawn here by leftover emotions.”

“Leftover what?” Lunaria asked.

“Ema,” Reina said, motioning to the weathered wooden boards strung up on the rack. “People write wishes on them. Love, heartbreak, sometimes regrets. Strong feelings soak into the place. It’s like emotional fertilizer for low-level spirits.”

Lunaria leaned closer to one. “This one says, ‘Please let her notice me.’ And this one’s just… hearts and sparkles drawn in pink ink.”

“That’s not ink,” Reina said.

Lunaria immediately stepped back. “Right! Moving on!”

I wandered toward the middle row. The boards ranged from fresh to ancient—some cracked, others moldy, a few barely hanging on by their strings. A few had names I recognized. Others were scribbled in clumsy strokes or smudged beyond reading.

But one stood out.

Clean. Neat. Black ink on untouched wood.

“Where did you go?”

I stared at it.

Something cold settled in my chest.

It stared back in silence.

“…So uh,” Lunaria said behind me, “what are we thinking? Haunted love confession? Abandoned shrine maiden? Kitsune who got ghosted?”

“Not funny,” Reina muttered. She brushed a finger along the base of the fox statue, like she was apologizing for the misunderstanding. “This was a protective shrine. The kind meant to guard the land. Not granting romance.”

“Then why all the love wishes?” I asked.

“People assume,” Reina said. “If something’s beautiful and quiet, they think it must be magical. If it’s magical, they want it to fix their problems.”

“And if it doesn’t,” I said, “they call it cursed.”

“Exactly.”

Lunaria tapped her chin. “So the spooky ghost isn’t punishing couples…?”
A pause.
“She’s just sad?”

“Maybe,” Reina said softly. “And if it is… tonight’s the only night we’ll find out.”

Lunaria sighed. “I was hoping it’d be a romantic curse. I even brought a backup ema.”

Reina raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I didn’t write anything on it yet,” Lunaria defended. “It’s for… emergency feelings.”

Reina smirked. “Let me guess—you brought two. One for ‘Mio’ and one just in case you mess up the kanji again?”

“That happened one time!”

“You spelled ‘love’ backwards.”

“I was going for dramatic irony!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “If either of you starts a love confession war in a sacred shrine, I will make you eat the ema.”

Reina smiled sweetly. “Technically, that would bind us to Mio forever.”

“That’s it. I’m walking into the woods.”

xXx

We left the shrine just as the sky tipped from indigo to navy.

None of us spoke much on the way down.

It wasn’t fear.
Not exactly.

Just that kind of hush that follows you when a place feels heavier than it looks.
Like your soul picked up something it can’t name.

The trail back to the street was dim now, branches overhead tangled like whispers. Reina lit one of the flashlights. Lunaria stuck close to her—not scared, but alert.

“Did the temperature drop?” she asked.

“Feels like it,” Reina said. “But I’m not sensing any—”

A rustle.

We all froze.

A low, wet growl echoed from the base of the steps.

Lunaria sniffed the air once.
“…That’s not a fox.”

From the shadows beneath the torii, something moved.
No, slithered.

A flicker of flame licked out like a tongue. Then—eyes. Slitted, yellow. Low to the ground, coiled like a predator about to spring.

Reina’s voice went sharp. “Don’t run.”

“What is it?” I whispered.

“Is that a cat?” Lunaria asked.

“Nope,” Reina said, already reaching for her charms. “That’s a Kasha.”

“A what?”

“Corpse-stealing cat demon,” she said casually. “Likes fire. Carries the dead. Hates shrines.”

“I thought you said this was a low-tier spirit!” I snapped.

“I said the first one was low-tier. This one’s an upgrade.”

The Kasha hissed, leapt down the steps, and landed like smoke on gravel. Its tail coiled behind it like a flaming whip.

Lunaria cracked her knuckles. “I got this.”

“Wait—buff first!” Reina shouted, already tracing a glowing circle in the air.

Lunaria bounced on her toes, eager. “Ohhh! Sparkles!”

The sigil snapped. Wind surged around Lunaria’s legs, and her outline shimmered like heat haze.

“Speed and strength for 90 seconds,” Reina said. “Go get ‘em, puppy.”

“I’M A WOLF!”

Lunaria launched forward like a missile.

The Kasha lashed its tail, claws sparking against stone. Lunaria ducked under the swipe, twisted, and punched it straight in the ribs—sending it tumbling.

It recovered fast. Too fast. Fire flared up its spine as it screeched and sprang again, this time aiming for Reina.

“Left!” I shouted.

Reina spun, charm in hand, and slapped it into the demon’s shoulder mid-air. It burst in a flare of light—but only stunned it.

“Not enough!” she gritted.

The Kasha reared up, mouth glowing like a furnace. I scanned the clearing, brain racing.

“Mio!” Lunaria called. “Ideas?”

I didn’t know how to fight demons. I barely passed gym. But…

I saw the shrine behind it. The offerings. The dirt path under its paws, still damp from earlier rain.

“Hit it toward the altar!” I shouted. “The sacred space might disrupt it!”

“Copy that!” Lunaria twisted mid-dodge, braced, then kicked the Kasha hard enough to send it skidding across the gravel—its flames sputtering, tail thrashing.

As it hit the outer edge of the shrine’s inner sanctum, the air pulsed. The flames around it dimmed. It hissed, clawing at the earth, retreating—slowly.

Reina slammed down a barrier charm. The seal flared bright and locked the Kasha in place. Its movements dulled. The fire faded out like a snuffed candle.

Then silence.

No one moved.

The woods listened.

Then Lunaria dropped to the ground, panting. “Ninety seconds goes by real fast.”

Reina was sweating, but grinning. “You were amazing.”

“You too, sparkly backup.”

I exhaled and lowered the flashlight. “Okay. That wasn’t a cursed couple spirit.”

“Nope,” Reina said. “That was a hungry one.”

“Think it’s related?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But something’s stirring around this shrine. More than rumors. More than emotion.”

Lunaria sat up, tail flickering faintly as the spell wore off. “Then we’ll stir back.”

The Kasha’s flame had sputtered out like a dying match.

None of us spoke after that. Not for a while.

The shrine stood behind us—silent, tall, soaked in moonlight. Like it had been watching the whole time. Judging. Waiting.

Reina finally stood and dusted off her skirt, hands trembling just a little. Lunaria flopped onto her back, grinning up at the stars like she’d just finished a rollercoaster.

I kept staring at the spot where the Kasha vanished. My heartbeat hadn’t slowed yet.

“This wasn’t random,” Reina said quietly. “Something’s pulling them in.”

“Pulling what?” Lunaria asked, peeling open an energy bar.

Reina didn’t answer.

We packed up in silence. No one rushed. No one joked. Even Lunaria chewed quieter than usual.

When we left the shrine, the wind followed us—gentle at first, then colder. More aware.

The ema boards creaked on their strings behind us.

And high above, unseen in the tree-line shadow,
a fox watched.