Chapter 6: The Training Montage from Heck Normal text

My life, once a predictable landscape of school, homework, and the quiet, calming scent of ink and parchment, had been hijacked. It was now a chaotic theme park designed by a madman, and that madman’s name was Joshua. The main attraction? His spectral pop stars.

"Absolutely not," I said flatly, for what felt like the seventeenth time that afternoon. I was sitting cross-legged on the polished floor of his ballroom, which he now called 'Studio P' for 'Phantom'. My backpack, usually filled with textbooks, was now overflowing with freshly-made talismans organized in little labeled baggies: 'Vocal Support', 'Rhythm Keeper', 'Stage Presence (Mild)', and 'Anti-Phasing (Extra Strength)'.

Joshua was pacing in front of me, a whiteboard behind him covered in terrifyingly enthusiastic diagrams and buzzwords like 'Synergy!', 'Fandom Acquisition!', and 'Global Domination!'. He was in full producer-mode, which was just his normal chaotic energy but now with a business plan.

"But Amy, think about it!" he pleaded, his white hair flopping dramatically. "You're their power source! You're the magical engineer behind this whole operation. We need a Special Skills coach, and you're the most special person I know!"

"My 'special skill' is calligraphy, Joshua, not teaching a 17th-century pirate how to wink at a camera without looking like he's got scurvy."

From across the room, Kaito, the pirate in question, attempted a wink. It looked less like a charming gesture and more like a facial muscle spasm preceding a stroke. "Harrr-t-warming, is it not, lass?" he growled.

"It's horrifying," I deadpanned.

"See? Constructive feedback! You're a natural!" Joshua beamed.

The problem was this: the Phantom Idols, for all their ghostly charm and newfound enthusiasm, were still, well, ghosts. They had centuries of ingrained habits that weren't exactly 'idol-friendly'. Ren, the Shakespearean actor, had a tendency to burst into tragic monologues mid-song. Emi, the serene one, would sometimes achieve such a state of zen during a dance break that she'd just stop moving entirely and levitate. And don't even get me started on the former headless horseman-now-named-Dullahan (he insisted on the stage name)-whose 'popping and locking' sometimes involved his limbs actually popping off and locking in a different socket. It was a logistical and spiritual nightmare.

"I can't," I insisted, shaking my head. "I have a history paper on the socio-economic impact of the turnip trade in medieval Europe. That is my priority. Not… this."

Joshua's face fell. He knew he'd lost the argument. But then, he deployed his secret weapon. He glanced over at the corner of the room where the shy little girl ghost, Lily, was practicing her pirouettes. On cue, she stumbled and looked over at me, her spectral eyes wide and shimmering with unshed, ghostly tears.

"Amy-oneesama," she whispered, her voice like the chime of a tiny, sad bell. "Don't you want to help us shine?"

My resolve, a mighty fortress of logic and annoyance, crumbled into dust. The turnip paper could wait. Curse him. Curse his stupidly effective emotional manipulation tactics.

"Fine," I gritted out, the word tasting like ash and future regret. "One week. I will help you for one week. But if anyone's ectoplasm gets on my new sneakers, I'm out."

Joshua did a fist pump that nearly sent him into the whiteboard. "Yes! You won't regret this!"

Oh, I was already regretting it.

My first day as 'Special Skills Coach' was a descent into madness. Joshua's idea of training was based on every sports and music anime he had ever watched.

"Okay, Phantoms!" he announced, wearing a whistle and a sweatband. "Today's lesson is about expressing your 'brand'! Your core identity! Kaito! You're the 'bad boy' with a heart of gold. Show me your signature fan greeting!"

Kaito puffed out his chest. "Ahoy, me hearties! Surrender yer adoration or I'll send ye to Davy Jones's locker!" He then brandished his broomstick-sword threateningly.

"Less threatening! More heart-throbby!" Joshua coached.

"Harrr… give me yer hearts, ye scallywags?" Kaito tried again, looking deeply uncomfortable.

We moved on to Ren. "You're the 'princely, dramatic' type. Dazzle us."

Ren struck a pose, a hand to his forehead. "Oh, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is… my legion of devoted fans!" He proclaimed, his voice booming. "To sing, or not to sing, that is the question!"

"Just sing, Ren! Stick to the lyrics!" Joshua sighed, rubbing his temples.

My job was even worse. I had to manage their spectral energy. "Emi, you're flickering again," I said, peeling a 'Consistent Corporeality' talisman from its backing. "You need to stay grounded. Think less 'ethereal being one with the cosmos' and more 'girl who pays taxes'."

She bowed her head gracefully. "The material plane is a fleeting distraction, Amy-san."

"The material plane is where the stage is, so try to stick to it," I muttered, carefully placing the paper on her forehead. The flickering stopped.

The biggest challenge was Dullahan. He was a phenomenal dancer, but his control was… unpredictable. During a particularly energetic move, his left arm flew off and skidded across the floor, landing at my feet.

The other ghosts gasped.

Dullahan just stood there, one-armed, looking at his detached limb with an expression of mild annoyance.

I stared at the arm. The arm stared back. Metaphorically. I took a deep, steadying breath, pinched the bridge of my nose, and walked over to it.

"Okay," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "New rule. Everyone keeps all their body parts attached to their torso for the remainder of practice. I'm going to have to design a 'Structural Integrity' talisman, which is a phrase I never thought I'd say."

Joshua patted me on the back. "See? You're a miracle worker!"

I wasn't a miracle worker. I was a zookeeper for the weirdest zoo in existence. As I watched Dullahan sheepishly reattach his arm with a soft pop, I felt a familiar wave of resignation wash over me. This was my life now. And for some insane reason, a tiny, traitorous part of me was actually starting to have fun.