Days Of Future Past

6 YEARS LATER….

Tokyo was, and likely always would be, a lousy city. But the Shina District was something worse. It wore a perpetual veil of gloom, a monochromatic shroud that swallowed the sun and left the daytime feeling like a bleached-out memory. For a teenager who preferred the quiet company of his own thoughts, it was a fitting place for solitude.

It was a moody Monday in mid-spring, though to any Shina resident, it felt simply like a continuation of winter.

"Hm, what do we have here?"

"If it isn’t Kanzaki!"

Eiji’s walk to school was interrupted by a sight as grey and dull as the sky: three delinquents blocking the sidewalk. They were the typical Shina blend of degenerate rock stars—piercings, dyed hair, and glares that tried really hard to look deadly.

Eiji ran a hand through his own bleached-blonde hair. He knew his mean face and "outsider" look drew them in like moths to a flame, but today, his patience was a dry well.

"I don't have time for this," Eiji stated. His voice was flat, devoid of the fear they were hunting for.

"Huh?! You think you’re just walking away from this?" The center one clicked his tongue, bolstered by his two shadows. "The Boss told us to give you a piece of our mind!"

Eiji eyed them. They weren't from his school, but the so called “Boss" had a reach that spanned multiple ones. It didn't matter. His reserves of restraint had hit zero the moment he’d stepped out of bed.

"Tch..."

"He thinks we're afraid of—"

SLAM.

Eiji’s fist moved before the sentence finished, a thunderous bare-knuckled strike that connected squarely with the speaker's jaw.

"Hi-Hideyoshi!" one of the others shrieked. The "high-and-mighty" act crumbled instantly as their friend hit the pavement like a discarded doll.

"What’s the matter?" Eiji flicked his wrist, looking at the remaining two with cold, predatory eyes. "All talk?"

"You—!"

BANG.

Eiji didn't wait for the retaliation. He delivered a lightning-fast kick to the second one’s solar plexus, emptying the boy's lungs and dropping him to his knees in a gasping heap.

The outcome had been decided six years ago. Eiji wasn't just a high school student with a bad attitude; he was a refined instrument of violence… an Exorcist. Mere street thugs were nothing compared to the things that lurked in the Shina shadows.

"Shut up... and fight!" Eiji growled, stepping toward the last one. A crisp hook to the chin sent the final delinquent to join his friends on the asphalt.

"Haah..." Eiji exhaled, brushing his long top-hair back from his eyes. Without any hesitation, he continued his trek back to school.

"You could have gone at least a little easier on them, Eiji-dono!"

A peculiar creature popped into existence beside his head. It was a floating eyeball with a crimson iris, flanked by a pair of leathery, jet-black bat wings.

This was Meh.

As a Shikigami, Meh was Eiji’s link to the divine—a familiar bestowed upon him when his soul had finally "awakened." His job was simple: track malevolent energy, find the Specters leaking out of Yomi, and act as a general nuisance to his master.

"Just shut it…" Eiji sighed.

"You’ll be late for school again!" Meh squeaked in his high-pitched, grating voice. "Oh, look at that! You're already late!”

“Meh…” Eiji sighed, clearly running out of patience.

Is this the eleventh time this month? You’re setting a record, Eiji-dono!"

BANG.

Eiji’s fist whistled through the air, blasting Meh away with a sloppy flicker punch. The Shikigami bounced away like a rubber ball—Exorcists couldn't actually hurt their familiars, but it felt damn good to try.

"Ouch! Why would Eiji-dono hit Meh like that?!"

"You were getting on my nerves."

To any passerby, Eiji looked like a delinquent muttering to himself and punching the air. Only those with "The Sight" could see the winged eyeball trailing him on his way to school.

Eiji looked up at the heavy grey clouds. Something abnormal was lingering in the chilly spring air. Meh had detected a spike in malevolence recently, and the atmosphere in Shina was growing thick with the scent of something rot-heavy and ancient.

The classroom of 2-C was a vacuum of silence, broken only by the teacher’s monotone voice as he took attendance.

"Sasaki Himari."

"Present."

"Shiratori Hatsue."

"Present!"

"Kanzaki Eiji."

The room went quiet. Whispers rippled through the back rows.

The teacher sighed, hovering his pen over the 'absent' column.

"So, Kanzaki is—"

SLIDE.

The door hit the stopper. Eiji stood in the frame, looking every bit the "held-back" student the school feared.

"...Present," he said.

"Kanzaki-kun. It would be nice if you were on time for once."

"It would be indeed, sensei."

A few chuckles surfaced. Eiji ignored them, walking to the very back of the room. He didn't take the "protagonist seat" by the window; he sat as far from the light as possible, right by the rear exit.

He felt the weight of their gazes—scorn, fear, and nervous curiosity. He was the guy who had been held back a year. The guy who got into fights every day. Even the faculty looked at him like he was a ticking time bomb.

As the lecture began, Eiji let out a long, bone-deep yawn. High school felt insignificant. When you spend your nights wrestling with rotting spirits from the underworld, math equations sort of lose their luster.

His eyes began to lid. Between the nightly exorcisms and the rising malevolence in the district, he was running on fumes. With no friends to talk to and a desk in the back row, Eiji did what he did best.

⌁◉⌁

"Oi."

"...."

"Oi!"

The sharp voice finally pierced the fog of Eiji’s sleep. He peeled his face off his arms, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights of the classroom. Class had ended, and the room was a hum of students packing bags and scraping chairs.

Standing over his desk, arms crossed over her checkered blazer, was the source of the noise.

"What do you want?" Eiji retorted, his voice raspy.

"Did you seriously sleep through all that, dude?" Shiratori Hatsue frowned, her expression a cocktail of genuine disappointment and irritation.

Hatsue was the class representative and the undisputed engine of 2-C. She was the "life of the party" type… or the life of the lecture, depending on her mood. With her boyish, fiery red hair, and the way she rocked the burgundy bowtie and loose white socks, she radiated a kind of manic energy that Eiji found exhausting.

"What’s your problem?" Eiji finally sat up, his neck popping. Hatsue’s pestering had become a grim ritual since their first year.

"My problem is how you just keep sleeping!" She pointed an accusing finger at him. "You almost make me feel groggy just looking at you. Jeez, I’m the class rep—put yourself in my shoes for once."

“…That sounds like a pain."

Eiji brushed her off with the flat indifference he usually reserved for telemarketers.

"Eh?! You picking a fight with me, you imbecile?!" Hatsue gritted her teeth, dropping into a bizarre stance that was half-stretching, half-boxing.

Imbecile? Eiji stared at her, genuinely puzzled by her vocabulary.

"You’ll probably end up punching yourself. Put those down before you get hurt."

"Haah..." Hatsue slumped forward, the wind completely taken out of her sails by his deadpan response.

Peace, finally.

Eiji exhaled, enjoying the rare silence. He looked around, realizing the first period was dead and buried. He started to reach for his bag, but Hatsue wasn't done. She was the only student who actually talked to him—mostly to pester him about the weird late-night dramas she was obsessed with, or to just try and turn him into a mod student.

"Say, did you watch that drama yesterday? The one at midnight?"

"No."

"Really? I was so sure Kazuki would finally confess to Reiko during the—"

"I just told you, I—"

"Wait, but that’s not even half of what—!"

Eiji sighed, leaning back as she launched into an excruciatingly detailed breakdown of the plot. A few classmates stole glances at them, their eyes filling with silent bewilderment. They couldn't wrap their heads around it: how could the energetic, popular class rep talk so casually to the "Mean-Faced Kanzaki"?

Eiji was intimidating. He was tall, his black eyes were like two pits of ink, and he walked with a controlled stillness that screamed "danger." To the rest of the school, he was a ticking bomb. To Hatsue, he was just a bad listener.

"Don't you think so, too? I believe they’re made for each other!"

Eiji rose from his seat while she was mid-sentence. Hatsue’s eyes narrowed instantly.

"Oye, where are you going?"

"Bathroom." Eiji raised a brow, “What you wanna come with?”

“Gross…” Hatsue grimaced and waved him off, “Begone.”

Eiji exited the classroom, leaving the whispers and the weird glances behind him.

The hallway was a sea of uniforms. Eiji wove through them, his black hoodie bunched up under his school blazer—a deliberate middle finger to the formal dress code. He reached the men's lavatory and pushed inside. A quick scan confirmed it was empty.

Pop.

Meh materialized out of thin air, his bat wings flapping frantically. "Eiji-dono!"

Eiji didn't look up. He splashed cold water on his face, swiping his messy blonde hair back. In the mirror, his face was sharp, well-proportioned, with a small mole near his left eye that added a touch of charm he didn't want. But it was his eyes that stood out—obsidian pits that, if the light hit them just right, held a faint, underlying hue of blood-red.

"I told you not to come out at school," Eiji muttered.

"I know, Eiji-dono! But Meh spotted an unusual amount of malevolence this morning!"

"We’ve been through this. It’s been rising for weeks." Eiji adjusted his collar, unbothered. He didn't care about school rules, and he didn't care about a "normal" rise in spirits either.

"Eiji-dono! I’m telling you, it’s different!"

"What is?" Eiji walked back into the hallway, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Anyway, just get—"

THUD.

"Oh!"

"Ouch!"

Just as he was about to shoo the eyeball away, two girls collided a few feet in front of him. A smartphone clattered to the floor.

"Can’t you watch where you’re going?!" The girl who dropped the phone snapped. She was a gyaru through and through—heavy makeup, blonde hair, and a tongue laced with venom.

"I-I’m sorry! But you were the one looking at your phone while—"

"EH?! Are you saying it’s my fault?!"

The other girl tried to defend herself, but she was clearly outmatched. She looked younger, likely a first-year. She had a black bob cut with a fierce streak of red dyed into her fringe—a look that suggested a rebel spirit that her shy voice didn't quite back up.

"No, it’s just that—"

"Screw you, you freak! There better not be a scratch on this, or else!" The gyaru snatched up her phone, flipped her hair with practiced drama, and stormed off.

"Who was she?" the gyaru’s friend asked as they walked away, loud enough for the whole hall to hear.

"Don't know, just some stupid chick thinking she’s cool. Did you see how high her skirt was? Who does she think she is?"

The crowd’s attention drifted away as the bullies vanished. Eiji stood there, watching the black-haired girl. She looked bamboozled, left standing alone in the middle of the hall. Nobody rushed over to check on her.

Eiji felt a familiar pang of recognition.

Didn’t she have any friends?

Not that he was one to talk...

Eiji knew how things at school worked. You were either feared, respected, or made fun of.

"Eiji-dono!"

"I told you to—"

"The malevolence is coming from within the school!" Meh spun around, his red iris fixed on the girl with the red-streaked hair. "And the source is her!"

Eiji stopped. He stole a glance over his shoulder at the girl.

"You can't be serious…" he muttered.

"Oh, Meh is very serious! The malevolence is heavy, Eiji-dono. It feels like..." Meh gulped through his non-existent throat.

"A curse."