Chasing The Unseen

Despite the minor inconvenience of his group’s omelet almost turning into a charcoal briquette, Home Ec wrapped up without further casualties. As the final bell rang, signaling the sweet release of the school day, Eiji stood up to make his typical prompt exit.

“Hey, you.”

Eiji stopped, turning on his heel with a look of pure, unadulterated boredom. “What?”

“Here.” Hatsue stepped up and unceremoniously dropped a packed bento box into his hands. “It’s the omelet we made. Before you ask, it was Marika’s idea. We know you live alone, and God only knows what you actually eat considering your... 'culinary talent.'”

Eiji stared at the bento resting in his palms. He hesitated, the weight of the gesture feeling heavier than the food itself. “Thanks, but I—”

“No buts!” Hatsue cut him off, a cocky smirk plastered on her face. “When people give you something, you say thank you, you nod, and you take it. Simple as that.”

Eiji looked at the meal, then finally gave a curt nod before heading for the door. “Sure. Thanks.”

“Sheesh, that was actually easier than I expected,” Hatsue murmured to herself.

Marika popped up behind her, waving enthusiastically at Eiji’s retreating back.

“See you tomorrow, Kanzaki-kun!”

Eiji gave a slight wave over his shoulder without looking back. Unbeknownst to him, it seemed his circle of "nuisances" had grown by one.

Still, the omelet posed a problem.

After Hifumi passed, Eiji couldn’t bring himself to eat anything that even looked like her specialty. The bento was a gesture of rare goodwill he couldn't stomach. As his phone pinged for the tenth time that hour, he reached a decision.

Maybe Naomi could eat it.

It would serve as a convenient excuse to check in on the idiot underclassman who had managed to burn herself out. But before heading to her place, there was a stop he needed to make.

⌁◉⌁

“That’ll be 1,100 yen!” The cashier smiled as she bagged his items.

Eiji paid and stepped out of the convenience store. It wasn't his usual spot—it was a trek compared to the ones near his place—but it was the only one that stocked the specific energy drink he was currently craving.

*Clack.*

He flicked the tab, the fruity, fizzy scent of the drink hitting the air. As he began the walk toward Naomi’s apartment, he summoned his shadow.

“Meh.”

“Yes, Eiji-dono?”

“You’re sure you didn't catch anything earlier on the field?”

“No, Eiji-dono. Meh saw absolutely nothing!”

“Haah...” Eiji sighed.

Both he and his shikigami had missed the exact moment the Specter had struck. A tripped ankle during P.E. was a minor injury, but the pattern was becoming undeniable. These "accidents" were increasing in frequency and severity. If he was right about the type of spirit he was dealing with—one that thrived on creating and absorbing small bursts of negative emotion—he couldn't let it fester.

But how do you catch something that refuses to manifest? Even a talisman wouldn't work if the target wouldn't show its teeth.

“Eiji-dono!!!” Meh’s cry snapped him back to reality.

“Wha—”

Three men in black bolted past him at breakneck speed. One of them collided with Eiji’s shoulder, sending him staggering. The canned drink he’d been savoring hit the pavement with a metallic *clank*, spilling its contents across the concrete.

Eiji let out a slow, enraged exhale, his eyes tracking the figures disappearing down the road.

“Wait!! My bag!!!”

A distressed cry from nearby pulled his attention away from his ruined drink. He turned, and his eyes widened slightly.

“Hm?”

The girl standing there was none other than the emerald-eyed senior, Takenaka. She was in sports attire—tight black leggings that showed off a leg already wrapped in gauze from her earlier "accident." She looked like she’d been heading to dance practice before being targeted yet again.

Eiji didn’t hesitate. He stepped toward her, his expression as flat as ever.

“Hold these.”

“Eh?”

Without another word of warning, Eiji dumped his shopping bags into his underclassman’s startled arms. He turned back toward the thugs who had made off with her duffel bag, his eyes tracking their movement with predatory focus.

As if stealing from a crippled girl wasn't enough, they’d caused him to lose his favorite energy drink in the process.

Eiji really couldn't let them get away with that.

With a powerful thrust of his foot against the pavement, Eiji launched himself down the road. He took a sharp right through a narrow alley, retracing their likely path, and it wasn't long before he spotted their fleeting figures on a parallel street.

He pumped more strength into his legs, closing the gap in seconds. He didn't run often, but when he did, he was a blur of raw, delinquent-grade speed.

The thugs didn't even hear him coming until he was within arm's reach.

“Woah! How the hell did he catch up?!”

“Run faster, damn—Woaaah!”

Before the closest man could finish his thought, Eiji’s hand clamped onto the back of his collar. He thrashed the man to the ground like a weightless ragdoll, the impact echoing off the nearby walls.

“Oi! He got Yamada!” the leader yelled, glancing back just in time to see Eiji vaulting over his fallen comrade.

Eiji didn't slow down. He closed the remaining distance and leveled the second man with a brutal, rugby-style tackle that sent them both sliding across the gravel.

“The fuck?!” The man—the one actually holding Honoka's bag—tried to scramble back, staring up at the teenager pinning him down.

“Shut up.” Eiji didn't waste words. He delivered a single, precise punch that knocked the man out cold.

“Hi-Hideyoshi! Oye! What are you—”

The third thug, who had managed to regain his footing, lunged at Eiji. The exorcist rose from the dirt and met him halfway with a swift, punishing knee to the solar plexus. The man folded like a lawn chair and stayed down.

“O-oi…”

The first man Eiji had tossed aside was back on his feet, though his legs were shaking. He raised his arms in a weak, desperate fighting stance, edging forward.

Eiji stepped toward him, the retrieved duffel bag in his hand. “You,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Better watch who you run into next time.”

“Wha—”

Bang.

A vicious uppercut to the stomach followed by a sharp right hook to the jaw ended the conversation. All three thugs were kissing the pavement in no time flat.

Eiji turned back the way he came, ignoring the onlookers who were undoubtedly already dialing the police. He had no intention of sticking around for a statement—his "extracurricular" activities didn't exactly mesh well with the law.

He didn't have to walk far. Honoka had covered half the distance herself, visibly limping on her bandaged leg. When she saw him, she stopped, her eyes wide as she took him in.

“Y-you’re the one from school, when—”

Eiji didn't do long reunions. “Here,” he said, walking up as casually as a mailman delivering a parcel. He presented her athletic bag.

“O-oh…” Honoka took it with both arms, clutching it to her chest. She looked him over, her emerald eyes filled with a mix of shock and curiosity.

“What?”

“Sorry… I was just wondering. How did you catch up to them?” she asked. “And… what happened to them, if I may ask?”

“Why do you need to know? They stole from you, didn't they?” Eiji crossed his arms.

“I suppose. I just don't see why they’d steal a gym bag of all things,” she muttered, her shoulders slumping. “Then again, it’s not like anything that happens to me anymore makes sense.”

She’d whispered that last part under her breath, but it didn't escape Eiji’s ears. He decided not to press her on it—not yet. He just reached out his hand.

“Uhm?”

“My bags.”

“Oh!” Her face lit up with realization as she gingerly handed back his shopping. “Here… and thank you. I didn't expect someone to help. So, really… thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” Eiji sighed, surveying her injury. “You shouldn't be going anywhere with a leg like that.”

“Oh. You… noticed?”

“’Course. You were limping like a zombie.”

“Like a—” Honoka’s face flushed a deep red for a moment before she cleared her throat. “Did I really? Well, thanks for pointing it out…”

“Again. No need for thanks.” Eiji gave a simple nod and turned to leave.

“Uhm, wait!”

It appeared she wasn't quite done.

“Can I have your name?” She stepped forward, her hands clasped over her chest. “We seem to be bumping into each other quite often, so…”

Eiji paused, looking back over his shoulder. “Kanzaki Eiji.”

“Kanzaki…” she repeated the name, nodding to herself. “I’m Takenaka Honoka.” She offered a brief, polite bow.

The unfortunate upperclassman finally had a name. Takenaka Honoka. But as Eiji walked away, he knew he was nowhere near unraveling the mystery of the invisible weight hanging over her.