The house was dim when I finally dragged myself through the genkan.
Sunset had bled into twilight outside, turning the sky a bruised purple. Inside, only the kitchen light was on—warm yellow spilling into the hallway like it was trying too hard to be welcoming.
I kicked off my shoes, left them crooked, didn't bother fixing them. My blazer was still streaked with dirt and tomato pulp. Socks damp from the garden puddle I'd stepped in on the way back. Every part of me felt sticky, used-up, and faintly ridiculous.
Seiko was in the living room again.
Same spot on the floor. Same yukata. New cigarette, though. The ashtray was fuller.
She didn't look up when I entered. Just kept staring at the low table where a half-empty bottle of cheap sake sat next to an open pack of senbei crackers.
"Smells like failure and tomatoes," she said by way of greeting.
I winced. "Yeah. Productive day."
She snorted smoke through her nose. "Sit before you fall over. You look like death warmed over."
I hesitated, then lowered myself across from her. Knees creaked. Back protested. The stamina penalty was mostly gone, but the exhaustion lingered like a bad hangover.
She poured a small cup of sake without asking if I wanted any. Pushed it toward me.
"You're underage," she said flatly. "But you're also dead once already. Drink."
I stared at the cup. Clear liquid. Faint rice smell.
"I don't—"
"Drink. Or I start asking questions you won't like."
I picked it up. Took a tiny sip. Burned all the way down. Not pleasant. Not terrible. Just… honest.
She watched me cough once, then nodded like I'd passed some test.
"Spill," she said. "What's been sniffing around you since morning?"
I set the cup down carefully.
"Started with a rat-thing in class. Then a maintenance spirit on the roof. Then my own shadow tried to eat me on the walk home."
She exhaled slowly. "Amateur hour. Low-grade pests. They're testing you."
"Testing for what?"
She tapped ash. "Outsider smell. Different soul signature. You're like catnip to the small fry. They want to see if you break easy."
I rubbed my face. "I almost did. The shadow one… it talked. Called me 'borrowed boy.'"
Seiko's eyes narrowed. First real reaction all evening.
"Shadow Mimic. Nasty little parasite. Usually sticks to kids with guilt. You must've pinged as interesting."
"I copied something from it. Resistance trait. Barely."
She studied me like she was reading fine print.
"You've got a system."
It wasn't a question.
I nodded once.
"Echo something. Copies what I survive seeing. Starts weak. Stays weak unless I keep almost dying."
She laughed—short, rasping. "Figures. The universe has a sense of humor. Gives you a power that only upgrades when you're getting your ass handed to you."
"Pretty much."
Another sip of sake for her. She swirled it.
"You're not the first reincarnated soul to land in Kamigoe. But most don't last a week. Either they run screaming, or something bigger eats them before they figure out the rules."
I leaned forward slightly. "You've seen others?"
"Seen. Felt. Exorcised a couple." She met my eyes. "They all had that same look you do right now. Like they just realized the cheat code came with fine print."
Silence stretched.
The ceiling fan creaked overhead.
I broke it first.
"Why am I here? In your house?"
Seiko shrugged. "Momo complained about the spare room collecting dust. I needed rent money. Then you showed up on the doorstep last week looking half-dead and speaking perfect Japanese with an accent that didn't match. Figured the kami were bored."
"Last week?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember the first few days?"
I frowned. "Woke up this morning. Full memories. Room. Uniform. Phone."
"Amnesia buffer. Common for fresh drops. Body needs time to sync. Soul needs time not to reject the meat suit." She tapped her temple. "You'll get flashes later. Probably nightmares."
Great.
She leaned back on one hand. "Question is… what are you planning to do about the pests?"
I stared at my cup. "Survive. Upgrade. Maybe… meet the people who actually know how to handle this crap."
"Momo and the ball-boy, you mean."
I didn't deny it.
She smirked. "They're idiots. Brave idiots. But idiots."
"They're surviving."
"For now." Seiko stubbed out her cigarette. "Look. Kid. You've got three choices. One: run. Leave Kamigoe. Go somewhere quiet. The small fry will lose interest eventually. Two: hide. Stay low. Don't poke. Don't copy. Live boring. Three…" She trailed off.
"Three?"
"You poke back. You let them come. You survive them. You grow. And when the real threats notice—Turbo Granny, aliens with a hard-on for human junk, whatever—you either die fast or become something they regret targeting."
I swallowed.
Option three sounded like suicide with extra steps.
But option one and two felt like giving up before the story even started.
The static hummed faintly in my skin. Not gone. Just dormant.
Seiko watched me think.
Then she stood—slow, joints popping.
"Sleep on it. Tomorrow's another day for things to try eating your last pride."
She headed toward the kitchen.
Paused at the doorway.
"One more thing."
I looked up.
"If Granny does show up asking about you… don't lie to her. She hates liars. And she *loves* virgins with attitude."
She disappeared around the corner.
I sat there alone with the sake bottle and the empty cup.
The house settled into night sounds: distant train, wind against the shutters, the faint tick of a wall clock.
I finished the sake in one go.
It burned less the second time.
I climbed the stairs to my room.
Futon still unrolled from morning.
I didn't bother changing out of my uniform.
Just lay down, stared at the ceiling.
The static pulsed once—soft, almost gentle.
Like a reminder.
Tomorrow was coming.
And whatever was watching me hadn't had its fill yet.
**Echo Evolution – daily passive observation complete.**
**Minor stamina cap increased: 105/105.**
**Last pride status: Still attached. But pride isn't armor. It's bait.**
I closed my eyes.
Sleep came slow.
When it did, it tasted like tomatoes and cigarette smoke.
**End of Chapter 6**