Chapter 104: Pigeon Post
After school, during club activity time, Kamihara Shinji entered the Ghost Club room and saw Chihaya Mashiro writing in her diary, as usual. Her journaling differed from others’. Mashiro recorded every detail meticulously. If a coin toss went poorly, causing her to lose memories, she relied on the diary not to recall but to understand past events. Her memory loss wasn’t pathological amnesia—it was permanent, irretrievable.
Noticing her, Kamihara Shinji frowned slightly. Though Mashiro logged everything, was it necessary to record even mundane moments alone in the club? He recalled that previously, while her diary rested on the desk, she only wrote after their conversations, not constantly.
“President, good afternoon,” Mashiro said, standing promptly with a smile as she heard the door.
As always. Kamihara Shinji nodded, saying little. But as he sat, a pigeon fluttered through the window, landing on his computer desk. Its flapping wings startled Mashiro nearby. Kamihara Shinji, expressionless, untied a note from the pigeon’s leg.
[Ghost, dinner tonight? I’m meeting Hell Girl soon. I’m scared… what if I never see you guys again? sobs —Red Sound]
Indeed, this was Red Sound’s pigeon post. Kamihara Shinji’s lips twitched. Due to the Ghost Calls situation, Aoji had called, advising against phone contact and suggesting pigeon post instead. Red Sound mocked Aoji, only to be countered:
“This Ghost Calls could complete its rules any moment, spreading to Tokyo. If you’re caught, no number of lives will save you. The anomaly targets anyone fitting its killing rule. Even if you revive, you’re still in its grasp. Keep using your phone if you’re not afraid of a death loop.”
The warning spooked Red Sound. Many Special Division monitors had abandoned phones, relying on pigeon post for communication. Yes, pigeon post was now the division’s primary method. Though Shikoku’s branch reported Ghost Calls targeted only robbers and kidnappers, if the rules evolved, who knew if it would kill anyone with a phone? They had to prepare.
[No time. —Ghost]
Scrawling two words, Kamihara Shinji released the pigeon and dismissed the matter. Little Ai had thoroughly studied The Actor’s Self-Cultivation, ready to handle Red Sound’s questions. Red Sound wouldn’t die—he wasn’t being ferried to hell by boat. He’d only ask questions via the Forced Response Earpiece under the giant tree during the contract, losing at most one life, not truly dying.
Kamihara Shinji opened his computer and turned to Mashiro. “Chihaya, I need your help with something,” he said, his tone firm, leaving no room for refusal. He wasn’t begging her to join the club; she’d already offered her Fate Coin’s power when needed.
“Tell me, President,” Mashiro replied, setting down her pen, pausing her writing.
“Use your Fate Coin to check…” He handed her a sheet listing locations where strange events had occurred, gathered from online sources.
Searching for anomalies online seemed absurd, but Kamihara Shinji knew ordinary people often encountered them first, experiencing inexplicable, terrifying events. The Special Division typically identified anomalies by noticing odd online reports and investigating. In the big data era, people shared everything online. Ghost Calls was detected within hours due to victims’ gruesome deaths. Small Eye, killing fewer and requiring abusers to see eyeball photos, went unnoticed longer, once mistaken for hypnotic murders.
Mashiro froze, then showed just the right amount of embarrassment. “Sorry, President… I think I left the coin at home.”
Kamihara Shinji studied her. At her first-stage spiritual level, he couldn’t tell if she was lying. “Bring it tomorrow. I need it for something important.”
“Okay,” Mashiro said, standing to bow flusteredly. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he waved off. “Just remember tomorrow.”
They didn’t speak further. Kamihara Shinji began typing. His novel, written sporadically, had reached 100,000 words, ready for submission. He’d planned to have Mashiro flip the coin to decide, then contact a publisher, but her forgetfulness disrupted that.
At 5 p.m., club activities ended. Mashiro packed her diary and bid him farewell. After she left, Kamihara Shinji stood, grabbed his bag, and trailed her from a distance. He wasn’t worried about being spotted—they both lived in Meguro Ward, sharing the same route.
Soon, he followed her to Mizuho Apartments, a standalone building. As Mashiro entered, he quickened his pace, slipping through the gate before it closed. Watching her enter the elevator, he noted her destination: the eighth floor. He took another elevator, pondering briefly. In his bag, he grabbed a hair tie, combing his bangs back to gather his hair into a small braid at the crown, transforming from a gloomy loner to a striking figure.
On the eighth floor, though Mashiro was gone, finding her apartment was easy. He reached door 8003, labeled “Chihaya Family.” Kamihara Shinji rang the bell.
Ding-dong.
A well-preserved woman opened the door, momentarily dazzled by him. Rinako, seeing such a handsome boy, paused before smiling. “Hello, who are you looking for?”
“I’m here for Mashiro.”
Mashiro? So familiar? Rinako eyed him suspiciously. “What’s your relationship with her?”
“I’m her boyfriend.”
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 105: The Doll
Boyfriend? The boy flashed a bright, toothy grin, exuding warmth. Rinako was impressed. At least in looks, he and her daughter were a perfect match. But Mashiro, with a boyfriend? She frowned, skeptical. “What proof do you have?”
Kamihara Shinji sighed. “Sis, just have Mashiro come out and confirm it’s me.”
Sis? Rinako blinked, then beamed inwardly, reassessing him approvingly. He was a match for her daughter. She realized she’d been foolish—having Mashiro verify would settle it. Noticing his Sakura-Aki High uniform, she grew more convinced.
“Mashiro!” she called.
Mashiro appeared at the entrance. Seeing Kamihara Shinji, her expression remained unchanged, greeting him as she did in the club room. “President, good afternoon.”
President? Not boyfriend? Rinako’s confusion flared, but Kamihara Shinji laughed. “Haven’t we already made it official? I’m your boyfriend now—why still call me President?” His gaze locked onto hers, unblinking.
Mashiro’s demeanor shifted, adopting an intimate air. “Shinji, come in,” she said sweetly.
“Great.” Kamihara Shinji smiled, but his eyes were cold. He didn’t call her out, following Rinako inside. Learning she was Mashiro’s mother, he scratched his head sheepishly. “Auntie, you’re so youthful and look so much like Mashiro—I thought you were her sister.”
The compliment, though oft-heard, delighted Rinako, especially at her age—over forty. “Stay for dinner,” she said, growing fonder of him. “When your uncle gets home, you can meet him. Mashiro’s always been shy, struggling to make friends due to her quiet nature. I never imagined she’d get a boyfriend after transferring.”
Suddenly, Rinako paused, smiling. “If you’re staying, should we call your parents?”
“No need,” Kamihara Shinji’s tone softened, his head dipping. “My parents are gone.”
Seeing his dejection, Rinako panicked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” she said, her gaze sympathetic. “It’ll get better.”
“It’s okay,” he smiled faintly. “Before Mashiro transferred, I was withdrawn at school because of this. She comforted me.”
Rinako imagined Mashiro transforming this boy. His confidence and poise sparked visions of a school romance drama. At school, Mashiro hid her beauty, yet he saw past that—his feelings must be genuine. He was surely her future son-in-law, no doubt.
Rinako headed to the kitchen, giving them space. “Let’s see your room,” Kamihara Shinji said, his tone commanding, eyes fixed on Mashiro.
“Sure,” Mashiro replied with a sweet smile, having removed her glasses to reveal striking beauty. Her milky skin and misty, expressive eyes held an indefinable allure. She linked arms with him, her touch soft and real, making his eyelid twitch, though he didn’t pull away.
Since he’d declared them a couple, Mashiro had seamlessly adopted the role, her demeanor, tone, and emotions convincingly authentic. Yet Kamihara Shinji knew this Mashiro was an anomaly. He hadn’t exposed her, waiting for her father’s return to test if the entire family had been killed by it. From their talk, Rinako seemed human—her ordinary nature and honest conversation, observed through his spiritual power, showed no deceit. An anomaly would’ve been undetectable.
Mashiro led him to her bedroom, pristine and airy with a faint fragrance. No clutter, just simple elegance. Inside, Mashiro fell silent, her eyes shy. Kamihara Shinji ignored her. Wild anomalies lacked emotion; this one was mimicking. Perhaps it killed Mashiro, assumed her form, and aimed to eliminate the family. That was his theory. The real Mashiro was likely dead.
He’d come to investigate and check for the Fate Coin. Before other monitors noticed, he needed it in his possession. Scanning the room, he found a coin under her pillow—the Fate Coin, as she’d claimed in the club. She hadn’t lied.
Holding it, he faced her. “Can you use the Fate Coin to check which of these places is dangerous?”
“Sorry, Shinji… I think I left it in the club room,” she said, head lowered, feigning coyness. “But I’ll make it up to you tonight.”
Kamihara Shinji smirked, amused by the anomaly’s clumsy act. Realizing the real Mashiro was gone, he erased his smile, replying flatly, “No worries.”
With the coin secured, he awaited her father’s return for a final test. As he moved to leave, he paused, spotting a figurine on the nightstand. Palm-sized, it wore a red kimono, its expressive eyes and rosy cheeks lifelike, almost animate. Its clear, vivid gaze seemed to follow him, stirring unease—a flicker of dread, the uncanny valley effect.
“What’s this?”
“A gift from Suzuka next door when we moved in.”
“Can I have it?”
He stared at Mashiro. “Sure,” she nodded, smiling without hesitation.
Frowning slightly, Kamihara Shinji pocketed the doll. No death followed. Perhaps he’d misjudged—it was just an ordinary figurine.
(End of Chapter)
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