Ghost in the Closet

A New Enemy

Saihara groaned as stretched his palms into the air and fell onto the couch still covered in dust. His friends joined him, all but Harukawa exhausted after unpacking. "Why do you have so much stuff, Saihara?!" Momota complained as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

"I took everything I could," the bluenette shrugged. "Shopping would be too much of a hassle."

"You need to buy food though," Akamatsu reminded him.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Saihara rested his head against the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I'll get delivery for a while."

A loud crash interrupted their boring conversation, making Saihara jump to his feet in the blink of an eye. "Holy shit Saihara!" Momota cried as he backed away from the man. "Stop doing that, will ya?!" Saihara didn't stop to apologise as he looked around, trying to locate the source of the noise. He didn't like the thought that someone could be trespassing on his property, not when he had massive secrets to hide. No one could have the upper hand over him. Never again.

Unfortunately for Momota (who was startled by everything), Saihara moved quickly either when someone made him irate or caught him off guard. Ignoring his friend's brief flit of terror, Saihara left and searched for where the noise originated, eventually standing in his new bedroom.

Slowly analysing every inch of the room, Saihara compared it to a memory of how he left it. He only noticed one difference: a fake potted plant with smashed clay strewn across the carpet. Picking up the pieces, Saihara shoved them onto his dresser and figured he could deal with it later. It'd take too much effort for a tired man.

Returning to his friends, they asked what happened and he explained. As soon as he finished and plopped himself onto the couch, Saihara noticed Momota's tanned skin was a ghostly pale. "What?"

"Wh-What if it's a g-ghost?!" Momota spluttered in terror. Ever since he was a child, the paranormal terrified him to no end. Saihara didn't understand, why would that didn't exist terrify anyone? Could imaginary things be so frightening to normal people? Was Saihara not normal?

"Ghosts don't exist," Harukawa and Saihara spat in unison.

Amami sighed, interrupting the incoming argument as they checked their watch. "Hey, why don't we all go out to eat dinner? You know, to celebrate Saihara moving!" Saihara rolled his eyes at the suggestion.

"It's not the first time I've moved house, Amami," the man sighed.

"Yeah, but it's still amazing that you have a house at our age!" Amami exclaimed. "Now you've got two damn houses and we're only in our twenties!" Saihara shrugged.

His family had always had money. They weren't rich, but they never had to worry about not being able to pay for something. Saihara, however, never received a dime from his parents. No one would know that he stole money from them to survive before landing a job as a detective. It was embarrassing remembering when he used to pick through the trash as a child just for something to eat, so that secret stayed deep inside his mind, locked away forever.

"Come on, let's go eat!" Akamatsu cheered. Momota joined her, the two punching the air.

Smiling at the cheerful display, Saihara nodded. "I guess it couldn't hurt."

"Fine." Harukawa rolled her eyes and everyone smiled at her, knowing that would be the most emotion they'd receive from the brunette.

Grabbing his car keys from his pocket, Saihara waved them in the air to attain everyone's attention. "I'll drive, it's the least I could do." No one objected as they gathered their few belongings, ready to leave.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Saihara hopped out of his car with a tired sigh. He dropped all of his friends at their homes after enjoying a meal since they lived nearby. It wasn't possible to move far away from his last home due to his job. No matter what happened, Saihara could never quit being a detective. Not just because of the pay, but due to personal reasons.

Entering his home, Saihara plopped himself before the television that Momota helped set up and switched to the news channel. His eyes lit up like a child eating candy as he watched the words 'Tokyo Terminator' fly across the screen repeatedly. Great! He's just in time!

"-viewers may find the following content disturbing." Saihara leaned forward, elbows on his knees and golden-grey eyes never leaving the screen. "A civilian has been murdered in their home earlier this morning. The victim was accused of larceny two years ago, however, they were exonerated due to a lack of evidence. Their hands were removed and the victim was hung upside down, letting their blood drain from the wounds."

Grinning, Saihara leaned back against the couch and fought the urge to bounce in glee. Another success! That would make... hmm... he couldn't remember. Ignoring the television, Saihara hurried to his bedroom with a cheerful bounce in his step. Lifting his mattress, Saihara pulled out a diary that remained hidden from his friends. It was the perfect hiding spot since it was so obvious.

Opening the diary, Saihara stared at each page littered with tallies. Each page was dedicated to a particular crime with tally marks representing how many victims died based on the supposed crimes they committed. He created a story in his head in case the diary was ever discovered. It would be a piece of cake to claim it was to keep track of each victim whilst being a detective.

The last page wasn't for a particular crime, but rather a total count of all victims. He counted thirty-four tallies total, making him chuckle. It was a perfect number, but he couldn't wait to see it rise to the triple digits! Then The Tokyo Terminator would go down in history as the god of the human world.

"Bit creepy, isn't it?~" Saihara slammed the diary shut and shoved it beneath the mattress whilst turning to notice a small person behind him, someone he didn't recognise. Jumping forward, Saihara tried to grab them by the neck but stumbled and fell through their freezing body. They only laughed and spun around with a grin. "What's all the tallies? Do you have a little obsession with this Tokyo Terminator bitch?" Gasping, they raised their fists before their face like an overjoyed toddler. "Oh, don't tell me! You're madly in love with them!"

Saihara glared, not at all as amused as this strange, disembodied... creature... seemed to be. "Who are you?" He flexed his hand, resisting the urge to attack again since it proved futile.

"I'm the owner of this place!" The person cheered with an audacious grin. "Who are you?!" They added an exaggerated point in Saihara's direction.

"Don't fuck with me." Saihara crossed his arms and hardened his glare. God, if this thing before him wasn't untouchable he would've snapped their neck.

They laughed and swung their arms behind their head, short, purple, wavy hair bouncing as they did. It stuck out as if it'd never been brushed in fifty years, maintaining the gravity-defying curls with ease. Saihara stared into their violet eyes, glinting with mischievousness. "I'd like to see you try and do something! You know, it's really rude to threaten me and not introduce yourself! If you do, I'll tell you everything that I want!"

Frowning, Saihara uncrossed his arms to place them on his hips. Maybe if he played along then maybe he could get some answers, including the species of this peculiar, irritating, humanoid shithead. "My name's Enomoto-"

"Ah ah ah!" The thing interrupted whilst wagging its finger. "I know you're name's Saihara!" Saihara's eyes narrowed. How did they know? "I've been here longer than you!" They answered as if reading the bluenette's mind. He only hummed in response, wondering how he could kill something he can't touch. "Oh, someone has trust issues! Alright fine, I'll introduce myself first! I'm Ouma Kokichi, he/him pronouns, and I'm the ghost of this home!"