Ghost Hunters, Lies, & Money (Ghost Hunt Fanfiction)

In Which: Mai Is Match Made (Again)

Day Six

1:00pm

The Festival Grounds

John took a bite from his teriyaki bowl, seeming to mull over the monk's question. He had Mai's full attention. She found an unexpected interest in his answer. Did he think the theater was haunted?

"I don't believe there's reason enough to say that it isn't. Not so definitely. Some unexplainable things have happened. I think closing the case is a bit premature."

"Exactly," Bou-san agreed, finishing his rice, catching Mai's eye. "We're going to be here for the next couple of days still, the least we should do is investigate."

Mai caught his look, the meaning. He was satisfied, reassured. John was on their side.

But it doesn't matter.

The thought struck Mai forcibly. She suddenly felt the full implications of closing the case. It was like a cold bucket of water to the face. It wasn't about what John thought. Naru no longer thought the theater worth investigating.

He's going to announce it's not haunted.

Mai pictured Mr. Miyuki's saddened face and her stomach lurched.

No ghost, no theater.

Mai set her lunch down. She was no longer hungry. The sunny afternoon around her seemed to dim with the impossibilities of the case.

The deal.

The very idea she used to support Mr. Miyuki now mocked her. What good would it do if Naru believed there was no haunting?

But he's wrong.

Mai frowned. This was the hardest part. The secret she was so diligently keeping was going to be the reason the theater closes if they weren't careful.

But wait— that's not right either...

Mai frowned harder, the dream she had had an hour ago rushing back on her.

It isn't Mr. Miyuki haunting the theater.

The discovery was still sinking in, but it didn't change the facts. The theater was haunted. Things had happened, things that had convinced Mr. Sachi and all his actors. There was a second spirit. Mr. Miyuki's final word echoed in her head: Kioko.

Mai set her jaw. They shouldn't be closing the case. They couldn't.

"Uh, Mai? You okay?"

Mai jumped at the touch on her shoulder. Bou-san stared at her concernedly.

"Why are you frowning like that? You're not feeling sick again, are you?"

She looked over at the monk, shaking her head, though she couldn't seem to throw off her heavy thoughts.

He doesn't know.

She only had time to bring up the picture. She hadn't told him about the rest of her dream.

"Mai is probably tired, we should head back," John suggested, standing. He approached her, kindly gathering the remains of her chicken and rice with his own.

Mai thanked him, and nodded in agreement. She wanted nothing more than to get back to the inn and bring Bou-san up to speed.

The three of them walked back across the open field, the long grasses brushing Mai's bare ankles. She glanced back one last time at the derelict theater they were leaving behind them. Her mind hummed with wonder at it's condition, at what she had seen there under the cover of darkness...manhandling. Mai snapped her head around.