Sixfold Adventures: A Collection of One-Shots

Blind!Karamatsu and Ghost!Reader

People say that when you're murdered, it's usually at the hands of someone you know.

I couldn't help but stare at the twisted face of my murderer, his sweaty palms and fingers tightening around my neck as his strained breath hissed between his teeth.

Well...my physical neck which broke a few minutes ago, but I guess the fury in my murderer's mind created so much noise that he didn't even hear it or feel the hearty 'snap' when my vertebrae were wrenched away from each other.

I shifted to sit just above my head, watching the man pinning my body to the ground finally realize that I wasn't moving anymore. His hands pulled away from my kinked neck, the anger and fury slowly falling away into despair as the hands he used to kill me slowly reached underneath my torso, lifting my chest up and into his.

"No...(y/n), wake up..." His shuddering breath pressed into my limp shoulder, rubbing his head into the crook between my shoulder and neck, "Please...!"

"So, what did you want to do?" A similar voice called out behind me, the sound of shifting cloth announcing someone else's arrival. I barely glanced behind me to see someone in a dark black cloak, the deep-set hood pulled forward to cast a dark shadow over their face. A pair of glowing green eyes briefly met my gaze before looking just past me, slightly narrowing as they took in my body being cradled by my murderer.

I lightly hummed to myself as I stood up, looking back at the scene. The blue sweatshirt I once wore was dirtied from the soil underneath, barely visible from the light of the nearby streetlamp. Glancing down at my actual self, I flexed my hands just to do the action. I couldn't feel anything grow tense or ache with overexertion, and I was definitely translucent now.

"I want to stay by his side," I turned towards the cloaked figure, meeting their green eyes, "What happened to him was my fault and he was justified in this."

I motioned towards the man now lifting my corpse up as I stressed the pronoun.

"Are you sure?" The cloaked figure reached out with a hand covered by something that looked like a wrist warmer, the color matching the sweatshirt on the man behind me.

"I know most of the rules," I nodded, "Just let me stay until he's able to move on."

"That could take years."

"That doesn't change my decision."

The cloaked figure sighed as if my words inconvenienced them. I waited patiently as they reached up with the same extended hand, slipping it underneath their hood and reaching towards the back of their head, "Fine. I'll fetch you when you're ready."

The figure vanished in a pillar of black smoke, leaving me alone in the street as the murderer carried my body somewhere. After watching him leave, I shifted my focus to the two-story house that was nearby, the lights completely out. Kicking myself off of the sidewalk, I awkwardly maneuvered myself to perch outside the sliding window on the second floor and passed through it. The room was dark and cold, several things kicked around and left on the ground haphazardly.

My eyes landed on a beaten up guitar case, seeing the nearly busted lock left open. Lifting the lid took no effort but I couldn't move the guitar nestled inside, only running my hand over the glossy wood surface and feeling the strings pass through my fingers. The strings partially responded to my touch, vibrating softly as I began to pluck at the strings and run my fingers over the frets like I was strumming a harp instead of a guitar.

I couldn't help but play one of his favorite songs, humming the lyrics softly as the guitar played along with my hands. I kept playing until the sun rose, leaving the guitar behind and closing the case before wandering downstairs to see an older woman hunched over the dining room table, her hands pressed against her face.