The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds of the Nurses Office, casting alternating stripes of light and Shadow on the polished floor. The air was filled with the faint scent of disinfectant, peaceful and serene—a world apart from the eerie gloom of the Old School Building's Basement last night.
Kanjuro pushed the door open, his movements casual as if he were just passing by. Only Reika Kitami was in the Nurses Office, her back to the door as she organized the medicine cabinet. Her golden hair flowed with a honey-like sheen in the sunlight, and her white Nurse's Coat outlined her mature, alluring curves.
"What a rare guest." Reika Kitami didn't turn around, her voice calm and even, as if she had long anticipated his arrival, or perhaps his presence no longer stirred much in her.
Kanjuro stopped not far behind her, his gaze resting on her slender, straight back. The corners of his lips curled into his usual, somewhat playful smile. "I heard you scared my little desk mate last night?"
Reika Kitami's hand, organizing the medicine bottles, paused slightly before resuming as usual. She turned around, her face—a strange blend of allure and chill—meeting Kanjuro's gaze. Deep in her eyes was an unfathomable complexity and a hint of weariness. "I just gave her a warning. Kanjuro, don't target her. She's just an ordinary high school girl, your desk mate."
"Oh?" Kanjuro raised an eyebrow, taking a step forward until they were so close they could almost feel each other's breath. "Even after eight years, Kitami, you're still so... kind." He deliberately drew out the word "kind," his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Don't you really hate me? Don't you want revenge?"
This sentence was like a needle, precisely piercing the calm Reika Kitami had struggled to maintain. Pain, humiliation, and embers not completely extinguished by the passage of time instantly surged in her eyes. She took a deep breath, her voice carrying a barely detectable tremor:
"Hate? I loved you so much back then, deeply trusted you... and you?" Her gaze sharpened, like a blade tempered in ice, stabbing straight at Kanjuro. "You used me, tricked me into joining that damned Occult Research Society, and in the end... to gain power, you and Takashiro Hiroko... you killed everyone present! You let me live only out of that ridiculous bit of guilt in your heart, didn't you?" Her words erupted like a long-suppressed volcano, searing with pain.
Kanjuro listened quietly, the playful smile on his face gradually fading, replaced by a deep, almost scrutinizing gaze. He looked at her slightly flushed cheeks from agitation, at the faint light in her eyes that had endured betrayal and pain but not been completely extinguished, and suddenly said softly:
"Saying that means you still have feelings for me... don't you?" His voice was low, carrying a mesmerizing magnetism, as if trying to penetrate the softest corners of her soul.
Reika Kitami flinched as if burned, sharply turning her face away to look out the window at the bright but distant sky. Her voice carried a touch of sorrow: "You have too many women, Kanjuro. Tohsaka Aoi, the Morimoto Sisters, even that homunculus from the Einzbern family in Fuyuki City... why should I get involved in that disgusting lineup?" She paused, her tone becoming firm again. "I just hope you won't hurt anyone else. If Hiratsuka Shizuka continues investigating, she'll eventually stumble upon secrets you don't want known. Don't I know your methods? When that happens, she'll only end up one way."
Hearing this, Kanjuro laughed as if he had heard something extremely amusing. The laughter echoed clearly and coldly in the quiet Nurses Office. The last trace of warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sharp, undeniable chill.
"Yes, Kitami, you do know my methods well." He said slowly, his gaze like a cold snake's tongue licking her cheek. "Then you should know even better—the more others try to stop me from doing something, the more I'm determined to do it."
Reika Kitami's heart sank. Her worst fear had come true. Kanjuro's rebelliousness and malice were rooted in his nature; any form of dissuade sounded more like a challenge and encouragement to him.
She shook her head inwardly, a look of almost resigned sorrow appearing on her face, but her eyes were unusually firm. "I know I can't stop you, Kanjuro. Your power... has long surpassed reason." She raised her eyes, meeting his gaze again, and said word by word, "But I will try to stop you. I'll do everything I can to protect that innocent girl, to prevent her from becoming the next... me."
This sentence hung between them like a silent declaration of war.
Kanjuro looked at her deeply, his gaze complex and inscrutable—mocking, scrutinizing, perhaps with an extremely hidden ripple even he himself hadn't noticed. He said nothing more, just turned, pulled open the Nurses Office door. Sunlight flooded in, stretching his Shadow, then cut off completely as the door closed behind him.
Inside the Nurses Office, silence returned. Reika Kitami leaned weakly against the medicine cabinet, closing her eyes, her long eyelashes trembling slightly. The nightmare of eight years ago intertwined with the potential tragedy unfolding before her, filling her with a deep, bone-chilling weariness and cold. She knew this silent war with Kanjuro had only just begun. And Hiratsuka Shizuka, this ordinary girl, had already become the fragile calm at the eye of the storm.
Reika Kitami's warning and Kanjuro's evasive attitude didn't make Hiratsuka Shizuka retreat; instead, they poured oil on the Fire of her burning curiosity. She realized she probably couldn't pry more information from the people involved and had to rely on herself.
Over the next few days, Hiratsuka Shizuka used all her spare time, immersing herself in the Library and her home computer, conducting more in-depth and systematic searches about "Sacred Scripture Academy" and news from eight years ago. She no longer limited herself to old school publications but expanded her search to local online forums, long-abandoned alumni blogs, and even obscure urban legend databases.
Her efforts paid off. In an almost forgotten archive of an ancient forum dedicated to discussing supernatural events in the Chiba region, she found a post titled [Sacred Scripture Academy Occult Research Society Fire Tragedy—The Sealed Truth].
The post's content was vague, filled with speculation and embellishment, but several key points caught Hiratsuka Shizuka's eye: eight years ago, Occult Research Society, Basement, sudden Fire, multiple female members dead, cause unknown. This matched the information she had seen in the School Magazine but added the horrifying detail of "multiple deaths."
What made her heart stop was a post below with an extremely blurry, seemingly long-distance black-and-white photo. The background showed a burning building (faintly recognizable as the outline of the Old School Building), with towering flames and thick smoke dominating most of the frame. But in front of the flames, near the edge of the photo, were two tightly huddled, almost merged black figures!
The photographer seemed to have pressed the shutter in extreme panic or haste—the image was shaky and blurry, leaving the two figures as mere silhouettes. Yet, Hiratsuka Shizuka's breath caught in that moment.
She stared intently at the screen, trembling fingers zooming in on parts of the image, using software to painstakingly adjust contrast and clarity. The figures' outlines grew fuzzier with pixel loss, but their shapes, their postures... The taller one, a man's profile holding another figure tightly in his arms—broad shoulders, an upright posture, and even in the blur, a head line that conveyed a sense of control... The held figure, a woman's profile appearing more slender and delicate—long hair (even in black-and-white, darker than the surroundings), a huddled posture... Hiratsuka Shizuka abruptly stood up from her computer, the chair legs scraping loudly on the floor. She rushed to her desk, frantically rummaging for her phone, which held secretly taken photos: one of Mr. Kanjuro leaning by a window reading, and another from yesterday when she feigned illness to visit the infirmary, secretly capturing Teacher Reika Kitami organizing items.
She placed the phone photos side by side with the processed fire silhouette image on her computer screen.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, blood rushing to her head, making her dizzy.
Similar! Too similar!
Despite the blurry photo, despite being mere silhouettes, the contours, the proportions, that indescribable 'feeling'... Especially Kanjuro's profile, that unique aura of being detached yet in control, leaving an imprint even as a silhouette!
Eight years ago... the fire... Kanjuro and Reika Kitami... leaving the inferno together... All the clues connected at this moment, pointing to a chilling conclusion: Kanjuro, her desk mate she spent every day with, might not only be the legendary 'Eternal High School Student' but also, eight years ago, personally experienced that mysterious fire that killed many in the Occult Research Society with Teacher Reika Kitami! Were they survivors who escaped the flames? Or... was the fire itself related to them?
Teacher Kitami's warning echoed in her ears, Kanjuro's cold, distant gaze resurfacing. Hiratsuka Shizuka felt a chill shoot from her feet to her head, instantly spreading through her limbs. She had thought she was just digging into an interesting campus legend, but now it seemed she was uncovering a terrifying truth hidden for eight years, possibly involving lives and huge secrets.
She slumped into her chair, looking at the two side-by-side photos on the screen, sweat soaking her back. Kanjuro... who exactly was he? What really happened on the night of that fire eight years ago? What painful past did Teacher Kitami and he share?
She knew she had stepped onto a path of no return. Fear and curiosity coiled around her heart like two venomous snakes, and the answers seemed hidden in that desk mate who always wore a gentle smile, behind those unfathomable eyes.
Just then, her phone screen lit up with a new message from an unknown number:
[Some ashes of the past should not be stirred up again.]
The warning message from the unknown number on her phone screen was like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, stirring up huge waves in Hiratsuka Shizuka's heart. Fear? No, what occupied her now was more an intense excitement from being provoked and having her suspicions confirmed.
Her fingers flew across the screen, replying almost without thinking:
[Who are you? How do you know what I'm investigating? Why should I stay away from Kanjuro?]
She stared intently at the screen, holding her breath, hoping for a response to dig up more clues.
A few seconds later, her phone vibrated again, still from the unknown number, but the content was maddeningly brief:
[Stay away from Kanjuro!!]
No explanation, no identity, just these repeated, strongly warning words with an emphasized exclamation mark.
Hiratsuka Shizuka frowned, unwilling to give up, continuing to press:
[Why? There must be a reason, right? What exactly is his connection to the fire eight years ago? Do you know something?]
The messages sank like stones, with no further reply. No matter how many inquiries she sent, the number fell silent. This evasive, mysterious attitude only strengthened Hiratsuka Shizuka's resolve. She knew she was just one step from the truth, and the key lay with Kanjuro himself.
The next evening, the sunset dyed the sky a magnificent orange-red, casting a warm glow on the school rooftop's concrete, but it couldn't dispel the place's inherent emptiness and desolation.
Hiratsuka Shizuka leaned against the rusty railing, watching Kanjuro slowly push open the rooftop door and walk toward her against the light, his shadow stretching long. His face still wore that calm, indifferent expression, as if he were just attending an ordinary meeting.
"What's the matter, Shizuka? So mysterious," Kanjuro stopped before her, his tone light.
Hiratsuka Shizuka took a deep breath, deciding to be direct. She stopped beating around the bush, her gaze burning as she stared at Kanjuro: "Kanjuro, stop pretending! I've found out—eight years ago, at Sacred Scripture Academy, the fire that killed many in the Occult Research Society!"
She closely observed Kanjuro's expression, trying to catch any hint of a flaw. Yet, Kanjuro merely raised an eyebrow slightly, his eyes calm and unruffled, not even losing his usual faint smile. He acted as if he hadn't heard her sharp accusation, instead asking in an almost casual tone:
"Oh? And what do you know?"
This dismissive attitude angered Hiratsuka Shizuka and made her more certain of her judgment. She poured out her findings: "I know that fire wasn't simple! I even found a photo! A photo from the fire scene! It's blurry, but there are two figures in it! It's you and Teacher Reika Kitami! You came out of the fire together!"
She stepped forward, her voice trembling with excitement: "I couldn't figure it out—why you always look eighteen, why there's the legend of the 'Eternal High School Student'... Now I understand! Is it related to that fire? To that Occult Research Society? Did you... did you gain some... strange ability or... skill in that fire?"
She laid out all her speculations, her heart pounding in her chest, both eager and fearful as she awaited Kanjuro's reaction.
Hearing "strange ability or skill," the mask of indifference on Kanjuro's face finally cracked slightly. He didn't deny or confirm, just quietly watched Hiratsuka Shizuka, his deep eyes seeming to flicker with dark flames in the sunset's glow.
An eerie silence fell on the rooftop, broken only by the faint whine of wind against the railing.
Suddenly, Kanjuro smiled. It wasn't his usual gentle, distant smile, but one filled with a sinister, almost naked interest, as if he had shed all pretense. He leaned in slightly, closing the distance with Hiratsuka Shizuka, his voice low and seductive, like the snake tempting Eve in Eden:
"Oh? Want to know?"
His gaze locked onto Hiratsuka Shizuka, filled with inquiry, amusement, and the satisfaction of a hunter seeing prey finally step into the trap.
"Want to know the truth from eight years ago? Want to know who I really am? Want to know... what it feels like to have so-called 'abilities'?"
This near-admission question struck Hiratsuka Shizuka like a thunderbolt. Fear and curiosity peaked at this moment, intertwining into a thrilling excitement. She looked at Kanjuro's close, sinisterly smiling face, knowing she stood on the edge of some forbidden boundary.
One more step could lead to an abyss of no return, but it might also be the only way to uncover all the mysteries.
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