The Big Book Of Amaguji

A Bittersweet Haunting

Kiyo hasn't written anything in a few days.

The ghost that haunted his house was silent in the already silent property that Rantaro just had to buy. He wasn't complaining now, but it alarmed him quite a bit when he first contacted him.

By writing 'Welcome' with the collected dust on the mirror.

He was really polite, a given via the greeting and Rantaro welcomed his presence. He avoided the obvious, but offensive questions like how Kiyo died, when he died, etc.

Then, eventually, they set up a simple communication system of Kiyo writing on post-it notes and sticking them onto the refrigerator in the kitchen. He could already hear him from just talking, so it was rather simple for them to hold a conversation.

But now, after a course of two weeks, the fridge was completely clean of past post-it notes, magnets, and even notes he left for himself he'd put to the side. It was more of a plea at this point for him to respond to his reminders that he could talk to him anytime he wishes.

But that wasn't working.

There was little he could do at the moment than to just sleep and wait. Maybe, he could bring someone over later, but honestly, who would be willing to when there was a dormant ghost was in your house?

At least Kiyo didn't want to actively kill him.

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He was sorry for the poor, poor human that he so freely socialized with.

Every month, his world goes dark and his form would restore again, slowly. He was surprised he was even still able to cross this invisible plane after his execution.

Does the game even air anymore? He was let go of the restraints of time when he died, so it was likely it could've been decades since the age of the killing game.

But he could've re-created a fifth of the killing games with the things he'd done.

His spectre status was a burning remainder of his legacy, which was most likely forgotten in infamy, and would stay that way for eternity.

He would've most likely broken down if he wasn't forcefully teleported here every month, constantly keeping the melted skin stuck to his bones, his hair to his scalp, and screams of betrayal in his throat.

There was nothing he could about this though, absolutely nothing.

His shoulders slumped at the emotionally draining thought, his eyes drooping slightly at the reality. He should have already accepted this, had already gotten used to his reformation process.

So, why did the thought make him so empty on the inside?

From his peripheral, he could see his hand fading into the face of the space, gradually creeping up his arm also. He was really absorbed in another space than the one he was in, hm?

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"It's a lot less creepy than I thought." Rantaro's long time friend, Shuichi Saihara, commented as he walked through the creaky door frame.

As a prestigious detective from the cursed Hope's Peak Specialty Program, he had his life well off from the beginning. He was chosen for the official admission into the legendary Hope's Peak Academy, but after a bit of digging, disgusted him so much; but not enough to not be able to write a 'no, thank you' legible enough to be accepted.

Rantaro couldn't thank him enough for the unprecedented text message at the last ten minutes to tell him everything he found.

"I know. It's really nice, either way."

Rantaro sat him on the couch as he slowly dropped his backpack next to himself with a plate of cookies Kiyo made one night. He didn't expect Shuichi to come so fast, and he was sure the diluted yellow-eyed adult didn't mind cookies that were sitting in the fridge for a week or two.

"I would admit, yes," He took the butterscotch cookies in between his index finger and thumb and taking a bite, "but I wouldn't expect you to buy a house like this in general."

He dug his fingers nails in his scalp a bit too hard when he went to scratch his head, smiling sheepishly afterward.

"Something was... pulling me towards it, I guess." Rantaro meant it quite literally too.

"Well, I would say I wouldn't blame you, but, this house is... suspicious." Shuichi then lead his eyes towards the porcelain platter, "Like, something would remain in this house forever."

Rantaro glanced at him before Shuichi apologized unnecessarily, "I mean no disrespect, of course."

He waved his hand in response, fully acknowledging that Shuichi got the secret of this household spot-on.

"I know you don't." Rantaro took the platter of cookies and placed them in a bag to go for later.

As he proceeded to the fridge to save the leftovers, he spotted a single, yellow post-it note.

'A visitor, hm? He seems like an interesting character.'

Rantaro placed the platter in the fridge before writing a note in response. He definitely didn't want to be heard talking to himself in an empty kitchen.

'Yeah. Where have you been, though?'

He could see the black marker slowly move on a blank note and being plastered onto the fridge.

'That is a tale for another time, ' it read.

Rantaro nodded briefly before taking the bag of cookies to his short time guest.

"Ah, thanks." Shuichi untied the bag to find the cookies he was eating just a few minutes before.

"Just a parting gift, nothing special." Rantaro scratched the back of his head as he shrugged, "You're a busy man. I wouldn't want to use your time."

"We should do this again sometime then," Shuichi replied as he shoved the bag in his already full backpack. He swiftly placed his arms under both straps before heading towards the door. 

"See you, Rantaro."

"Cya."

Rantaro closed the door before walking to the kitchen again.

"Well, does this count as 'another time'?"

The ghost started to write again, feeling the disappointment from the thin letters.

"No, Rantaro."