Going to high school felt like the most dangerous mission I'd ever been on. Seriously. Facing down a fifteen-foot skeleton demon? No problem. Trying to figure out the unspoken social rules of teenagers? Utterly terrifying. My grandparents insisted I go. "You need to have some semblance of a normal life, Mizuki," Grandma Chiyo had said, conveniently ignoring the fact that our definition of 'normal' involved exorcising spirits before breakfast. So, I went. I kept my head down, my grades up, and my daggers strapped securely to my thighs under my school-mandated pleated skirt. It was a delicate balance.
The trouble started, as it often does, with whispers. It began with my hair. In a sea of black and brown, my silver ponytail stood out like a beacon. "Is that her real hair?" "I heard she dyed it to get attention." "It's so weird." The comments were like little paper cuts-small, but they added up. The main source of these whispers was a girl named Ayane and her two loyal-if-dimwitted-followers, Rika and Sana. Ayane was one of those girls who reigned over the classroom with a mixture of saccharine smiles and venomous gossip. And for some reason, she had decided I was her new pet project.
"Good morning, Mizuki-san," she'd say, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Did you sleep well? You look a little pale. Maybe all that silver is draining the life out of you." Her friends would titter behind her, and I'd just give a noncommittal grunt and walk away. Engaging was pointless. These weren't demons I could fight; they were just mean girls. But then, things started to get… weird. A few weeks into Ayane's campaign of annoyance, I started to feel it. A faint, slimy trace of demonic energy clinging to her and her friends. It was weak, barely there, like the scent of spoiled milk in a sealed-off room. It was a Chochinobake-a nuisance-class spirit, one that couldn't do much on its own but excelled at latching onto people with dark thoughts, amplifying their jealousy, spite, and cruelty. It fed on the negative emotions like a parasite.
The bullying escalated. My textbook would go missing and reappear in the trash. Someone 'accidentally' tripped me in the hallway, sending my books flying. Cruel drawings of a 'ghost girl' with silver hair started appearing on my desk. Each time, Ayane and her friends were nearby, watching, a little too much malice gleaming in their eyes. The demonic energy around them grew a little stronger, a little fouler. I told Kizawa about it one afternoon as we walked home. He'd also enrolled in the same school, a comforting blue-haired presence in the overwhelming sea of conformity.
"Just say the word, Mizuki," he said, his hand instinctively tightening on the strap of his kendo bag, where he kept his sheathed swords. "I'll go have a 'chat' with them."
"And say what? 'Hey, please stop being mean to my friend because you're being influenced by a low-level gossip demon'?" I sighed, kicking a pebble. "Grandpa's number one rule is to never expose our world to ordinary people unless it's a life-or-death situation. Right now, it's just… high school."
"It's not 'just' high school if it's hurting you," he said softly, his blue eyes serious. "You can't fight every demon in the world if you let the human ones wear you down." He was right, but my hands were tied. I couldn't risk revealing myself over petty bullying. I just had to endure it.
The breaking point came on a rainy Tuesday. I had stayed late in the library to finish a report. By the time I was packing up, the school was nearly empty, the hallways dark and echoing. As I headed for the shoe lockers, my path was blocked. Ayane, Rika, and Sana stood there, silhouetted against the stormy gloom outside the windows. Their smiles were gone, replaced by unnervingly blank expressions. The air around them was practically buzzing with the Chochinobake's foul energy. It had grown stronger, feeding on their escalating cruelty.
"Leaving so soon, Mizuki?" Ayane's voice was different. It had a slight rasp to it, an ugly undertone that wasn't hers. "We just wanted to talk."
"I have to get home," I said flatly, trying to walk around them. Rika and Sana moved to block me again. A flicker of genuine fear pricked at me. This wasn't just bullying anymore. Their eyes held a coldness that was distinctly inhuman.
"We think your hair is ugly," Sana said, her voice a monotone.
"We think you're ugly," Rika added.
"We want to fix it," Ayane finished, and from behind her back, she produced a pair of large, sharp scissors. My blood ran cold. The Chochinobake wasn't just influencing them anymore; it was puppeteering them, turning their petty jealousy into outright violence. This had just become a life-or-death situation.
"Get out of my way," I said, my voice low and dangerous.
Ayane laughed, a dry, hissing sound. "Make us." She lunged, the scissors snapping hungrily. I dodged, my years of training making the movement second nature. I couldn't use my daggers, I couldn't use my full strength-I couldn't risk permanently hurting them. They were still human girls under the demon's influence. I had to disarm and disable them, and exorcise the spirit, without revealing who I was.
Rika grabbed my arm from behind. I twisted, using her own momentum to flip her over my shoulder. She landed with a surprised oof on the floor, stunned but unhurt. Sana tried to tackle me. I sidestepped and swept her legs out from under her. She went down in a heap. It was like dancing, using their clumsy, rage-fueled attacks against them. But Ayane was the real threat. The Chochinobake's influence was strongest in her. She moved with an unnatural speed, the scissors flashing in the dim light.
She slashed at my face. I leaned back, the blades just missing my nose. I could feel the familiar heat building at my scalp, the golden streaks of my Phoenix fire begging to be let loose. I suppressed it, gritting my teeth. Stay in control.
Ayane lunged again, aiming to stab the scissors into my shoulder. I saw my opening. I didn't dodge. Instead, I moved in, catching her wrist in an iron grip. Her eyes widened in shock at my strength. With my other hand, I formed a simple purification seal with my fingers-a technique Grandpa had taught me for minor spirits.
"Behave," I whispered, and pressed my fingers to her forehead.
A brilliant, white light flared from my fingertips. Ayane screamed-a high, piercing shriek that was a mixture of her own voice and the demon's. The foul energy around her convulsed, and a small, shadowy creature shaped like a distorted paper lantern was ripped from her body. The Chochinobake shrieked as the holy light incinerated it, turning it to dust.
Ayane collapsed, the scissors clattering to the floor. Rika and Sana, freed from the influence, were already scrambling backward, their faces pale with a mixture of terror and confusion. They looked at me, then at the fainted Ayane, and then they just ran. They didn't know what they'd just seen, but they knew it was something terrifying. Ayane began to stir, groaning. She would wake up with a massive headache and a hazy memory of the last few minutes, thinking she'd just fainted from stress. The demon was gone. The immediate threat was over.
I stood there, my heart pounding, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The golden glow in my hair, which had been fighting to emerge, slowly receded. I looked down at my hands, then at the empty hallway. Kizawa was right. I couldn't keep the two worlds separate. They were already bleeding into each other.