That evening, Kagura cleared up his "disappearance" with Hayasaka, only to be chided: "At your age, playing such worrisome hide-and-seek? You'd be better off sneaking under a maid's skirt." Kagura nearly choked, restraining himself from pinning her down for a round, considering her swollen state from their recent fervor.
Lying in bed, he tucked the blanket between his thighs, rolling onto his side for comfort. Grabbing his phone, he opened LINE, spotting a red notification badge.
"As expected, it's her…"
Kagura smirked. Yorita Miko, newly added after their outing with Katou, had sent several messages, timed roughly hourly since they parted.
The messages read:
[Hey, Sawamura-san… Can I talk to you about something?]
[Thanks so much for today.]
[About that moment… Never mind.]
[No, I can't let it go. Sawamura-san, you're…]
[You can see, right?]
[You're one of those who can see.]
[I can see too. If you can, you must've noticed I…]
[Thanks again. Can I treat you sometime? I'd like to ask about protective charms.]
Since Kagura hadn't checked earlier, Miko's messages grew bolder, culminating in full candor. He'd indeed noticed her sensitivity today. Tapping a reply, he wrote: [How about next Saturday?]
Miko's "OK" came almost instantly, likely glued to her phone, anxiously awaiting his response.
"Phew, finally replied! Thank goodness…"
Miko tossed her phone onto the pillow, hugging it tightly, rubbing it between her thighs in excitement. Just then, her mother opened the door, catching her fervor and awkwardly saying, "Uh… Miko?"
"Eek—?"
Miko froze mid-rub, flipping to face her mother—a striking woman in her thirties, bearing a seven-point resemblance to Miko. Slender and stylish, she looked fatigued, her only flaw a hairstyle screaming "ma'am, you're in danger."
"You… got a boyfriend?"
Her mother, seeing Miko's glee and blanket-rubbing, assumed as much.
"No… I haven't."
Miko's excitement cooled, and she sighed, shaking her head impassively.
"Alright. Sleep early, don't keep the light on too late—electricity's costly. I'm off to work."
"Got it~ Turn it off for me, Mom. Stay safe."
Miko nestled back into bed. Her mother flicked off the switch and left.
"She works so hard," Miko mused, clutching her blanket, facing away from the door.
Unlike Miko's carefree school life, her mother toiled as a night-shift hotel receptionist and morning supermarket clerk, snatching afternoon naps. A single parent, she supported Miko, her younger brother, and a mortgage, necessitating multiple jobs to make ends meet. Hence, lights and gas were rationed to save every yen.
Tuesday Afternoon
After school, Kagura packed to head to the Service Club to meet Yukino. Mid-pack, he noticed Yumiko Miura, a seat away, propping her chin, glaring fiercely. His heart skipped, and his hands slowed.
"Yo, Yumiko, you're up~"
Tobe slung his bag from left to right shoulder, grinning and waving at Miura.
"Go kick your ball already~"
Miura barely glanced, waving him off while lowering her gaze.
"We're off, Yumiko."
Hayama shouldered his bag, smiling beside her.
"Oh… yeah, Hayato, stay safe at club."
Miura watched his back, hesitating as if to call him back, but said nothing, turning her stare back to Kagura.
The classroom nearly emptied, yet Miura's gaze lingered.
"Uh… Miura-san, something up?"
Kagura recalled Sunday's outing with Katou, when Miura "saved" him. Though his Geass had nearly resolved it, her aid was timely, earning her his goodwill.
"You… never done class duty, have you?" Miura propped her chin with her left hand, slamming the desk with her right, pointing to the blackboard's corner. "You're on duty today. I'm watching to see where you scamper off to."
"Duty?" Kagura blinked, then realized. "Who'm I paired with?"
"Me, obviously. It's written there." Miura stood, patting her chest and stretching. "Thought you saw it and were dodging to dump it on me. Guess you didn't even notice."
"Sorry, sorry. Haven't done duty since elementary."
"What? You just bailed when it was your turn?"
Miura's drawn-out retort carried a chilling edge, reminding Kagura of her big-sister persona. Yet today, she was a chic JK, bubble socks swapped for high-waisted ones, her skirt's hem twenty centimeters above the knee, showcasing stunning legs.
"No… girls in class covered for me…"
"That trick won't work here. Your turn, you do it. No one skates!" Miura strode over, arms crossed, leaning to tap his desk twice, pointing to the blackboard. "Go wipe it. I've been cleaning morning and afternoon, thinking you were ghosting me."
"You think I'm the type for petty snubs? I genuinely forgot about duty."
Kagura brushed past, grabbing the eraser from the lectern, wiping from the top row.
"Guess not…"
Miura leaned against his desk, glancing at his open notebook. A closer look made her tilt her head—it was sheet music. He wasn't listening in class, just scribbling scores? No wonder he missed the duty roster. I misjudged him.
Her music grades were solid; she recognized the notation easily.
"Miura, you into music?"
Kagura wiped, chatting casually—dustless chalk made it easy. He'd caught her eyeing his notebook but saw no harm in it.
"Why ask? Like it matters to you. I'm not your fan."
Miura glanced at the "Class Leader," usually the last to leave besides duty students, then snuck another peek at Kagura's notebook.
Damn it, why's he still here? Forcing me to keep up this act…
The Class Leader, a bespectacled everyman, was known solely by his title, his real name forgotten even by Miura.
"Shame. Music's beautiful."
Kagura finished wiping, setting down the eraser and cleaning his hands with a cloth.
"That's it, Sawamura-san! I'm actually a huge fan!"
The Class Leader, seizing a rare moment "alone" with Kagura, rushed up, thrusting a pen and notebook. "Please, an autograph?"
Despite Miura's presence, their worlds didn't intersect—she ignored him, he avoided her gaze, like a barrier separated them.
"Sure."
Kagura signed on the lectern, penning Sawamura Spencer Kagura in mixed kanji and English.
"Thank you!"
The Class Leader bowed deeply, catching Miura's impatient glare. He stuffed his things into his bag and bolted.
"Slam!" The front door shut as he fled.
The back door was already closed, leaving Kagura and Miura alone, the classroom's air turning subtly charged. Kagura returned to his seat, where Miura waited, hands behind her back, hiding something.
As he approached, her expression grew odd—flushed, shy, hands still concealed. A love letter? Nah, she's into Hayama, from what I've seen. Or maybe a signature request, despite her "not a fan" claim?
"Wait… this—!" Miura thrust out a check, holding it to his chest, head bowed. "How the hell do I use this?!"
She bit her lip, glaring up at him.
"A check…" Kagura chuckled, examining it before handing it back. "You didn't google it?"
"Google? I've never looked up this stuff. Don't know how. You give me something and expect me to search it? Couldn't you just tell me then? Or did you want to see me fumble?"
"It's my thank-you gift. Why am I getting chewed out?" Kagura sidestepped her, packing his notebook into his satchel. "It's written there—Mitsui Sumitomo Bank. Take it to their counter, and they'll hand you the cash."
"That's it?"
Miura flipped it over, incredulous.
"Yup, that simple."
"No one fakes these?"
"Forging checks is no joke. Anyone skilled enough is hired by banks for anti-fraud."
"Oh… makes sense." Miura nodded, tucking it into her wallet and pocket. She coughed lightly, fist to lips, eyeing him suspiciously. "But… three million yen as thanks? You're not pranking me, right?"
"Huh?"
"Like, tailing me to the bank, snickering when I hand it over and get nothing."
She fidgeted with her fingers, stealing glances, her harsh words softened by a shy charm—like a skittish canary.
"Paranoid much?" Kagura slung his satchel over his right shoulder, waving as he headed to the back door under her "What're you doing?" stare. "It's a legit three million, my thanks. Spend it with your crew. We're classmates—if it flops, you can hunt me down."
"Oh… thanks, then. Wait, where're you going? Stop!"
Seeing him leave, Miura lunged, grabbing his left shoulder.
"Hm?"
Kagura leaned back forty-five degrees, glancing at her.
"Trash."
"You calling me that?"
"Are you dense?! The garbage!"
Miura hopped, pointing to the corner's trash bags.
"…Oh, my bad, forgot that part."
"Your head's all music, nothing else?"
Miura crossed her right arm over her waist, left hand to her forehead in exasperation.
With over thirty students, the day's trash—mostly paper—filled two and a half bags. Big-sister Miura grabbed two full ones, leaving Kagura the half-bag.
"Uh…?"
Kagura hesitated, tilting his head.
He knew Miura was tough, but wasn't it typical for guys to take the heavier load?
"What?"
She caught his stare, glaring back.
"Er… nothing. Thanks."
Kagura couldn't fathom why she took the brunt, but gratitude seemed safe.
"You know where to dump it?"
Miura reached the back door, kicking it open with a "rustic" stomp.
"Where's that?"
Kagura trailed her, asking earnestly. He genuinely didn't know.
"Follow me." Miura huffed, striding forward, then glancing back. "I could handle all three, but you don't even know where, do you? Next time, I might not be your partner. Don't mess up and embarrass the class."
"Got it, thanks."
Kagura mused she was rough but kind-hearted, despite her delinquent vibe.
Miura, however, thought: Sawamura Kagura's all lanky limbs, soft piano hands. I'll handle the trash—he'd probably hurt himself.
She'd pegged him as a frail, music-obsessed rich kid.
Nearing the school building's exit, Miura blurted, "I do like music, actually."
"Hm? What'd you say?"
"Didn't you ask me?!" Her face flushed, words stumbling. "Or… did I mishear?"
"No, you're right. I spaced out."
Ten minutes ago is 'just now'? Fine, close enough.
"See? Listen when I talk! Don't zone out!"
We're at the stairs—don't fall!
"Sorry, I was distracted."
"What's with you, always lost in thought?"
Miura shot him an annoyed glance.
"I was thinking… your legs are gorgeous, Miura-san."
Kagura, trailing her, admired her legs, accentuated by her deliberately short skirt—a common JK fashion, not for him specifically, just a trend of folding the waistband.
"Huh?!" Miura whipped around, glaring darkly while tugging her trash bags, then sighed, blushing as she turned away. "Well… you're a guy. Noticing my legs is… whatever. Just don't stare till you zone out!"
"Cough, sorry."
Kagura marveled at her swift mood shifts.
"No need to apologize… not your fault." Miura muttered, head low, then added softly, "Honestly, I'm kinda flattered you said it outright."
"Others don't?"
Kagura followed her around the building to the old schoolhouse.
"Others? Hmph, cowards who sneak peeks but say nothing."
Miura snorted.
Looking up, Kagura realized they were under the Service Club's window, which opened just then.
Mai Sakurajima brushed hair behind her ear with her left hand, resting her right on the sill, smiling down—her gaze meeting Kagura's.
The sunset bathed her face in syrupy amber, her hair swaying, her radiant smile briefly entrancing him.
"Sakurajima Mai…?"
Kagura paused, smiling up at her.
"Oh, it's just Sawamura Kagura."
Mai's smile turned mocking, saying his name with a hint of disdain, waving lightly.
Kagura, holding his half-bag, waved back. "Good evening."
"You're on duty?"
Mai's smile softened, natural now, as she propped her chin, tilting her head.
"Inde—"
Before he could say "indeed," Miura, seeing him talk to an "empty" window, paled, dropped her bags, and tackled him to the ground.
Thud!
Miura's charge was formidable, her weight knocking Kagura's head against the ground, blacking him out.
"Uh… my fault?"
Mai's smile froze upstairs.
When Kagura awoke, he was in the system space.
"What's this? I didn't summon you."
He scanned the boundless void, bewildered.
"Greetings, Lord Kagura. You sustained a head injury. The system is repairing it."
"Head injury…?" Kagura rolled his eyes, recalling the moments before blacking out.
He'd done duty, gone with Miura to dump trash, spotted Mai at the window, greeted her, and—lights out.
"Miura Yumiko collided with you, causing your head to strike the ground, resulting in a mild concussion."
"She trying to kill me? Over what?"
Kagura racked his brain, baffled. Did Mai throw a knife? Is she nuts?!
"Please inquire with her later. Your injury is repaired. Resume consciousness?"
"Yes."
Instantly, Kagura regained control, his head feeling normal—no blood, swelling, or pain.
He kept his eyes closed, sensing he was lying down, likely in the hospital or school infirmary, unsure who'd moved him. Not the system, surely.
"Sniff… sob…"
A girl wept nearby, her stifled cries laced with regret, as if her tears choked her throat. The voice, with Miura's distinct timbre, confirmed it was her.
Crying because she turned me into a vegetable?
"Miura-san, it's not that serious. No need to cry so hard."
The school nurse, Dr. Taketatsu, hesitated to console Miura, her hand hovering before resting on her shoulder.
Kagura recognized the main building's first-floor infirmary.
"No… it's not that. I know Sawamura's not badly hurt, but… Dr. Taketatsu, haven't you heard?"
Miura's voice, thick with sobs, trembled.
"Heard what?"
Dr. Taketatsu's tone grew grave.
"Hm…" Kagura mumbled, slowly sitting up, gripping the bed's edge. He touched his head, feigning discomfort, his fingers brushing a bandage wrapped around his forehead. He hissed dramatically.
"You okay? Don't push it—lie back!"
Miura leapt from her chair, pressing his shoulders to force him down.
Her strength overwhelmed his awkward angle, pinning him back. Her makeup was streaked with tears, but the school-day subtlety lent her a poignant beauty. Sensing a deeper reason, Kagura's anger at being tackled faded.
"What… just happened?"
He glanced at the nurse, arms crossed, then at Miura, who covered her face, peering through her fingers, likely embarrassed by her smeared makeup.
"You were knocked out by Miura-san. She and some boys carried you here. I checked—minor issue. Avoid strenuous activity and rest," Dr. Taketatsu said, checking her watch. "Rest a bit. Lock the door when you leave. I'm off."
"The patient's still in bed, and you're clocking out?"
Kagura muttered. He was fine now, though.
"If you didn't wake, I'd stay. But you're up, with a classmate to care for you. What's an old hag like me needed for? Bye~"
Dr. Taketatsu twirled her car keys, tossed her coat over the chair, and sauntered out.
The door clicked shut, leaving Kagura and Miura alone.
"Miura-san, stop wiping tears and tell me why you bowled me over. You're crying like I'm dying—mmph!"
As he said "dying," Miura lunged, covering his mouth with her tear-damp left hand, trembling. "Don't… don't say that word!"
"…?"
Kagura was baffled. A familiar figure flashed by the window—Mai Sakurajima, guiltily peeking in, likely blaming herself for the incident.
"Mmph!"
Struggling to breathe, Kagura shook his head until Miura relented. She stood, fidgeting with her skirt, staring at her toes. "I… Sawamura, I'm so sorry. Truly sorry!"
If not for me, you wouldn't be cursed. I swore to protect you, yet I botched it so badly.
"So, what happened?"
Kagura grabbed a tissue from the bedside, wiping her tears from his mouth. Glancing out, he noted Mai was gone.
"You… haven't heard?"
Miura, wiping her eyes, looked shocked, as if it were obvious.
"That's why I'm asking…"
Kagura rolled his eyes.
"You don't know the 'Window's Call' legend?"
Miura sat, guilt-ridden, dabbing her clogged nose with a crumpled tissue.
"Nope. Spill it, no more stalling."
Kagura itched to know, staying flat to avoid her pushing him down again. Window's Call… sounds familiar. Hayasaka mentioned it?
"What about 'Mai-senpai' ghost stories?"
"I know a few."
Kagura pondered. He knew "The Nonexistent Classroom" and "The Old Schoolhouse Mirror." Hachiman mentioned "Hide-and-Seek," and now "Window's Call," tied to greeting Mai. Quite the coincidence.
"Ahem, Window's Call is one… You haven't heard, so I'll tell you. Wanna listen?"
Miura settled, clutching her tissue, legs pressed tightly, calves slightly splayed—striking from Kagura's angle.
"Yes, talk!"
"Okay… Window's Call goes: after school, passing a certain window, you hear a voice only you can hear. If you look up, you lock eyes with the ghost of Mai-senpai…"
Miura bowed her head, staring at her hands, regret threatening tears again.
"Pfft…"
Kagura stifled a laugh. Too perfect—my senpai's named Mai Sakurajima, tied to 'Hide-and-Seek' and now 'Window's Call,' right as we locked eyes.
Wait—!
It clicked why Miura tackled him.
Mai's ability to go unseen didn't work on Kagura, likely due to the system, but Miura lacked that. To her, Kagura stopped mid-trash-run, grinning and chatting with an empty window—a chilling scene for someone who knew the legend. To "save" him, she tackled him.
"Who were you greeting?"
Miura stood, leaning in to demand.
Kagura's mouth twitched, unsure how to explain. Saying 'Mai Sakurajima' might make her cry harder.
"As I thought… I'm so sorry. I caused this…"
Miura collapsed back, muttering in despair, covering her face as sobs resumed.
"Why cry? Even if I saw the ghost-senpai, so what?"
Kagura sensed she hadn't told the full tale, like Hachiman's partial "Hide-and-Seek" story, completed by Yui.
"Thirty years ago, a boy leapt to his death from this building, cursed by the Window's Call…" Miura sobbed, wiping tears. "Anyone cursed jumps from the old schoolhouse within three days, driven to suicide by Mai-senpai's spirit… It's my fault. I shouldn't have dragged you to trash duty."
"Phew…"
Kagura exhaled, rolling his eyes. A false alarm.
The "Mai-senpai curse" was debunked last time—mere psychological fear. Yui was terrified until Kagura and the real Mai staged a performance to dispel her dread. With his Nine-Word Mantra and nine-tailed fox spirit, no school ghost could touch him.
Still, seeing a girl cry over him was… intriguing.
"If… sob… I hadn't forced you to do trash duty, you wouldn't have been cursed… or knocked out and sent here… I'm useless, clumsy, hurting you… I hate this!"
Miura kicked the floor, tugging her hair into disarray.
Kagura pondered how to explain, but Miura, mistaking his silence for despair, knelt by his bed, clutching his left hand. "Please, let me do something! Don't stay silent…"
"Whoa, no kneeling! I'm fine!"
"No, I have to make amends, or I'll never forgive myself. Anything—name it!"
Miura's cheeks flushed, her resolute look that of a martyr facing execution.
"Uh… don't do this. I'm okay!"
Kagura struggled to console her, propping himself up.
"You're about to die, and you're 'okay'?! I've ruined a future world-class pianist…"
"How do I prove I'm fine?" Kagura laughed, scratching his head. "This rumor debunk itself in three days. Don't sweat it."
"Really?"
Miura dared hope, peeking at him, tears glistening.
"Really."
Kagura sighed, relieved she was calming.
"I don't buy it—you're comforting me. I knocked you out, sent you here. I owe you, big time! Even if it kills me, name something, or I won't sleep for a month!"
"What, then? Cover my future duties?"
"Too easy, and you might not have a future! Something now, costly!"
"…Huh?"
Kagura blinked. Is she a masochist?
But Miura wasn't—she just saw him as fragile, needing her protection.
"Look, don't you… want to do anything to me?"
She gripped his hand, eyes teary, pleading.
"What am I supposed to say?" Kagura eyed her sleek legs. "Want me to say, 'Let me cop a feel'?"
"Legs?!" Miura blinked rapidly, glancing at them, then twirled her hair, muttering, "Well… you're a guy. Wanting to touch my legs is normal… But is that your only… cough, wish?"
Get mad, cry, pull my hair, slap me! You're dying, and your request is so meek…