Just as Riku stepped inside, the door creaked behind him.
Not shut. Just… creaked. Enough to remind him that he is being watching.
He took a shaky breath. "Okay. No problem. It's just a piano. A dusty, totally regular, non-possessed piano."
"Talking to yourself is a sign of fear," Hana whispered from behind, trying to spook him.
"It's also a sign of intelligence," Riku shot back. "Unlike walking into haunted rooms voluntarily."
The piano stood like some ancient beast in the back of the room, all shadows and silence. Riku inched forward like he was defusing a bomb.
Each step made the floor creak louder than necessary. His eyes were locked on the piano like it might grow legs and chase him.
"Almost there," he muttered, sweat forming on his temple. "Just a few more steps and—"
DING.
A single piano key played itself.
Riku screamed. A high-pitched, totally undignified yelp as he backpedaled into a desk.
"NOPE. Nope nope nope—You saw that! It played itself! That's ghost code for 'GET OUT!'"
Tetsuya checked the piano with his flashlight. "Hmm. No strings moved. Might be air pressure from the open windows."
Just then, a faint giggle echoed in the room.
All three froze.
"...Okay," Riku said slowly. "Tell me one of you just laughed like a haunted doll."
Tetsuya and Hana exchanged a look.
Another giggle echoed—this time closer.
But it wasn't playful anymore.
It was distorted. Warped. Like a broken recording being played backward.
The temperature in the room plummeted.
Riku could see his breath.
Then—
Everything went still.
The dust in the air stopped drifting.The shadows grew sharper.And then, from the space behind the piano, something rose.
Not floated. Rose. Like it had been buried under the floorboards and just broke through.
Its limbs moved with unnatural, jerking spasms, like a puppet with tangled strings. Long, matted hair clung to its head in damp clumps, dripping as if freshly pulled from a swamp.
Its face was… wrong.
Featureless at first. Then it shifted, warped, like clay being molded mid-air. A mouth stretched too wide. Eyes blinked into existence—lifeless, hollow, and leaking inky black liquid that trailed down its cheeks like rotting tears.
And then those eyes locked onto them.
The air turned acidic. Heavy. Like standing inside a pressure cooker.
Riku's heart stuttered. His vision blurred.
Because whatever this thing was—it wasn't confused.It wasn't sad.It wasn't a ghost trapped in this world.
It was aware.It was hungry.And it had just chosen them.
Tetsuya, ever the logical one, pulled a salt packet out of his pocket—the kind from school lunch."This is all I have!"
Riku: "You brought condiment salt to a ghost hunt?!"
"Better than nothing!" he yelled, chucking it at the ghost like a Poké Ball.
It bounced off its shoulder.
Silence . . . .
It stopped. Tilted its head. Then let out a slow, rattling hiss.
Riku's voice cracked. "Ohhh that made it angry. That definitely made it angry."
"Plan B!" Hana shouted, grabbing a broom from the corner and swinging it at the ghost like a baseball bat.
It passed clean through her.
Tetsuya's flashlight flickered—then died.
The only light now was from the moon through the windows, and even that felt afraid to shine too brightly.
The ghost tilted her head, and with a horrid, twitching lurch, she charged.
Hana screamed.
Tetsuya screamed.
Riku was already halfway out the door. "RUN!" Riku yelled.
They didn't need to be told twice-