No one had seen where Hyakkiyako's Ghost had been. Some rumored that he emerged in Momoyodou Cafe, only to disappear when someone noticed.

Some say that he appeared when the shopping district had reopened, bearing witness to its booming tourism, before dissipating into nothingness when a student gave chase.

Some say they saw him in the Ghost Teahouse's balcony, overlooking Hyakkiyako like the spectre many thought he was.

The undeniable fact of the matter was, Hyakkiyako had always seen him in some shape or form.

Izuna was the first to find him in his corporeal form.

She had practiced her form time and time again, culminating in a successful hand sign. And in the corner of her eye, she saw him.

One hand on a Shittim Chest, observing. The other, a fingerless glove concealing his ink scars, on a half-eaten sandwich.

Even ghosts need sustenance, after all.

His lips spoke faintly to the screen, and it sounded like he was being hounded by Rin, the Acting President of the General Student Council.

"You know I received RABBIT Platoon's report! You almost died!"

"And I didn't."

That was the extent of the conversation Izuna heard, before she silently approached Kize.

"I will need you to come back."

"Can't. The festival is drawing close."

"... Why are you just..." a frustrated sigh left the Shittim Chest. "This was meant to be your vacation."

"It was?"

There was a beat of silence. And then Rin had a resigned sigh.

"Just... Don't involve yourself in danger this time around, please, Sensei."

"Hm."

The call resolved itself soon enough, which was immediately followed by him glancing to the side, Izuna's wagging tail a point of attraction and her twitching fox ears a point of excitation.

"Hello, my lord!"

Kize only squinted as his response. This did not deter her in the slightest. She did notice a slight twitch at his gloved hand, however.

"They've talked a lot about you, my lord! How you always seem to disappear whenever someone sees you. How do you do it, my lord?!"

Her energy was off the charts, her eyes sparkling in fervor or admiration. From the slightest twitches he presented to her, Izuna thought her lord was not used to this.

So she decided that it was better to have him get used to it.

"I told you before. I don't have any ghost scrolls."

"Is it from your technological prowess, my lord?!"

She watched as his squint glowered. She hit the mark, she thought.

"It is not."

"Then what is it, my lord?!"

There was naught a frustration in her. Just pure, unadulterated interest in Kize's way of just disappearing behind corners. Behind doors people expect to see.

Izuna, despite her ninja ways, never seen a man so skillfully avoid being seen in such efficiency.

It was something to be taught! To be shared! She firmly believed this!

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Her eyes found itself glued to his glove. She didn't remember what else Kize said, as he brought the sandwich to his mouth.

"My lord, why the gloves?"

Just as he put the Shittim Chest down, she noticed his grip against the tablet suddenly stiffen. His expression hardened, while Izuna tilted her head innocently.

"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to."

"But my lord, I have seen your hand without it. There is nothing wrong with it, nin!"

She saw him sharply inhale, hiding away the gloved hand containing his thermos, much to her confusion. She watched as he shoved the Shittim Chest to his pocket, picked up his sandwich with the other hand and began making his way somewhere.

She insistently followed.

"My lord, your scars aren't cursed, are they?"

He didn't answer.

"You're not angry, are you?"

Not another answer.

"My lord! There is nothing wrong for you to be in pain!"

Kize stopped. Right before a swarm of tourists passed in front of him. They never noticed him, too occupied by their perceived surroundings to care about the ghost that seemed to stare at another ghost somewhere in the crowd.

Izuna didn't care about the crowd. Gently, she tugged him back, taking hold of the sleeve of his right hand. That very same hand with the glove on.

"My lord, you don't need to hide who you are. It's only in the truth does your true ninja belong with you."

Kize was silent, while Izuna looked up to him, curious. Then she noticed his grip on the half eaten sandwich tighten ever so slightly, before he took one step into the swarm.

Izuna decided not to follow him.

And yet, the next time she saw him that very same day, in the Ghost Teahouse, she never saw him with the glove. His ink scars were not always in display, as he always seem to veer around the people at every given moment. There was always the single detail of the glove strap peeking from his pocket.

But when she saw him pointing out a mistake made by one of the part timers, his scarred hand peeked through, without the glove on.

Progress.

—

The Inner Discipline Club never had seen the mythical Arius's Ghost. Apart from Mimori that one time. They were dedicated in ensuring that everything was moving swell, and was mostly to ensure that the Ghostly Revival Festival was prepared properly as volunteers.

Kasuga Tsubaki just happened to meet him one night, when she dispelled a Street Mouryo's typical brand of traditional chaos. She saw a glint of his thermos as she took cover with her riot shield, followed by the panicked fading steps of the Street Mouryo.

It was clear they feared them.

She peeked out, and their eyes met.

"Oh, Ghost-Sensei, is it?" She managed out.

She watched as he took a sip from his thermos before taking his leave. As if he was never there.

And then he was dragged back by an assertive Isami Kaede. Tsubaki could hear her say something about his aura being unbalanced.

she decided that it was best not to say much on that matter.

"Ghost-Sensei, you must learn to channel your inner discipline! It is an imperative challenge!"

Tsubaki could see how the ghost wanted to be anywhere else at the moment, but could not escape Kaede's grasp. She eyed Kize more properly this time. The damaged coat, the dented thermos, his bullet hole shirt and pants.

She concluded he will need better accommodating clothes than those.

She watched as Kaede forced Kize into a yoga stance, pertaining to standing only on one leg and trying to relax out of it. And the very moment Kaede's eyes were closed, Kize booked it.

Tsubaki followed, of course, with the panicked sounds of Kaede right behind her fading with each taken step.

'If memory serves right, Mimori should be taking her patrol here...' Tsubaki thought, and soon enough.

"Oh, hello Sensei. Running away from your responsibilities again?"

Kize stopped in his tracks, knowing that specific cadence. Tsubaki stopped with him.

"Hi, Mimori. Anything going on with your patrol?" Tsubaki cooed.

"Nothing much going on. Why were you following Sensei?"

"I just think he needs new clothes. Don't you agree?"

Two pairs of eyes scanned Kize immediately, who stood there... And was clearly one step away from taking flight and run far away from them.

So they took his arms and dragged him elsewhere. Somewhere preferably accommodating for his size and type of clothing for Hyakkiyako.

They'll make sure his clothes are also properly fixed, but he had to try their culture, first off.

Kaede's faint yell in the distance was still quite prevalent.

"I can sense your aura, Ghost-Sensei!!"

She can't.

Dragging him to the shopping district, eyes undoubtedly his way now with how he was pulled by two girls into a tailor shop, he was quickly put to work by the tailor, who was an anthropomorphic owl.

"Hm. Bullet holes, gashes, grime. You clearly haven't cleaned this coat properly. How do you live like this, Sensei?" The tailor questioned.

"I simply do."

A collective stare came from the three.

"Sounds like something someone who's edgy would say," the owl spoke, before chuckling. "Well, we do have those kinds of moments in our lives, even as we grow up."

They all fail to notice him gripping the thermos, a simple fact of life thrown to the wayside.

It didn't take long for the owl to take his measurements, as Tsubaki and Mimori observed his exhausted resignation, following every instruction to the letter. Every measuring tape wrapped around his arm, his legs, nape...

"Ah, scars." The owl pointed out, noticing the ink scars of not just his right hand, but the scars of his forearms. From the Kaiser drone attack against Arius. Jagged, messy, almost protruding. "Worthy battles, aren't they?"

They could see he was growing uncomfortable, so the owl stopped that conversation. He did note about the dented thermos, perhaps of the same battle.

Whatever he had been through, it was undeniably a strong opponent, thought the owl.

They all never thought his strongest opponent was his own self-loathing.

"I've gotten your measurements. Surprisingly, we have clothing that fits your exact size, Sensei."

Kize slowly craned his head to let the corner of his eye look directly into the eyes of the wide eyed owl. Almost like a glare of some sort, before he held his scarred hand like it was a shameful thing.

"Come on, let's get you in a new fit!" The owl proceeded to take hold of his sleeve and pulled him into a changing room, before taking hold of a dark gray kimono and shoving it to his hand. This was quickly followed by a white and black hakama, something both Tsubaki and Mimori noted to... Strangely fit his aesthetic, much to Kize's visible chagrin.

Clothes flung from within, the reluctant scuffling sounds of clothes discarding and tussling culminating in the utmost exasperated sigh.

"This is too convenient."

"It's preparation, Sensei! In matters of taste, the customer is always right, after all!"

Something told Kize that the owl never worked in retail.

Another sharp sigh, and the changing room door opened slowly, right as Kaede barreled into the tailor shop.

"I sensed Ghost-Sensei's unbalanced..."

She was slowly brought to silence when the Inner Discipline Club laid their eyes on Kize Seikato, the Ghost Sensei. His gray kimono and striped hakama provided one of the most profound and, truthfully, brooding look they had seen as of late. In his scarred arms were his clothes, tattered, crumpled, passed to the owl beside him like useless relics.

Kize's expression of desiring to not be in the shop any longer than he should probably added Mimori's appeal without intending to.

"... Wow." That was her sole comment.

"Looking good, Sensei," Tsubaki complimented, while Kaede sputtered.

"H-his aura! It-it changed! He's....... He's--"

"Attractive?" The owl completed her thought process, draping a dark blue haori over his shoulder, earning a very venomous scowl from Kize.

"Don't start there."

"Hey, I'm just saying. Maybe the woman that has her eyes on you could finally see--"

Kize nabbed his thermos and bolted out of the tailor shop before the owl could finish his sentence. The owl tailor and the Inner Discipline Club blinked.

"So he's taken?"

"More like he has commitment issues." The owl answered Tsubaki's curiosity. "Or rather, he doesn't quite like the thought of being in one."

A sigh. "Who could blame him? Maybe he has his own battles he never tells us."

Perhaps he does, thought the Inner Discipline Club. Considering how discipline Ghost Sensei was, what with his planning, his management of the Ghost Teahouse, and his unquestionable authority, it makes sense he should be.

So what kind of battle can't he win?

——————

The next night was the night of the Ghostly Revival Festival. The evening sky began to blot out the orange into the dark blue hues, while the glinting light of hanging lanterns was a reminder of the festival that should have been.

Everything was planned meticulously by the Festival Operations Department. The live re-enactment, the symbolisms... Even the embellishments had been accounted for.

Shizuko watched as Kize slid himself into the crowd, blending in so casually. They had rehearsed this, much to his consternation. Considering how he was wearing different clothes and forced into a hunched posture than his rigid, straight one, it made him almost indiscernible.

Pina was always close behind him, fortunately, so they wouldn't get lost.

And so that he wouldn't run off. Especially that.

Umika was busy making sure that the central plaza was somewhat spacious, even with the tourists and students all over Kivotos watching. Among the crowd, she noticed a dark haired woman in a qipao. One she identified quite quickly and easily as Instructor Shun.

All was set. All was ready

The Yin-Yang Club, the Hyakkaryouran, the Festival Operations Department, the Ninjutsu Research Club, and the Inner Discipline Club, among others, were ready for the enactment.

The rolling drumming of taiko drums.

Gradually, the lights from the lanterns disappeared, blown away by a manufactured gust.

Hyakkiyako was engulfed in darkness, if only temporarily.

Amongst the confusion, a single voice rang through.

"So the story begins in darkness."

The lanterns around the central plaza lit up, revealing a tall woman with a loose, grey colored kimono standing with the attention.

Kadenokouji Kokuriko.

Her scheme was grand. A plan to bring the world into flames and destruction. A nihilist's dream.

But here, she now tells a story, the taiko drums continue drumming, as if to amp a tension that was brewing up.

"The story calls upon the begotten request, forged by the Great Prophet, Kuzunoha, to a man rarely known, nor recognized by the masses." Her wrist snapped into a point, and the light burned away from her position. The drums were replaced by a sole flute, carefully playing a serene tune.

On a roof, lanterns lit up there, revealing a cosplay of Kuzunoha. A tall girl with a long, blonde wig, shrinking under the spotlight, with two fox tails that were clearly meant to be props.

Poor Tsukuyo to volunteer for the cause.

"O-Oh my dear legacy. Forgotten. Fractured... Uh... F-fragile?" In less than two seconds, she glanced at her palm and then managed to continue.

"Yes, fragile! I cannot directly interfere with the lives of Kivotos... But Hyakkaryouran cannot fall. But, oh, my plight. Who will be able to carry my legacy?"

A mourning, acting Kuzunoha fell to her knees, before another light fell onto Kaho, with her wearing radically different clothes compared to the usual kimono. A white shirt, a dry blue tie and a dark coat wrapped around her body. Bandages were wrapped around her arms, albeit loosely. Her hair was tied, making her resemble closer to that of a man.

Or as close as she could to pass off as a male, at the very least.

It was hard to do. It was very difficult to pass off Kize's mannerisms.

How does he do it so efficiently?

"You called?"

The flute stopped playing, replaced with a twinging string, playing a near hopeful tone.

She could already feel the eyes pressing down against her body. She tried her hardest to ignore the stares, the questioning gaze of trying to identify what role she was playing.

She swore she could sense Kize in particular looking at her disapprovingly.

How does he blend in so well???

"Oh, you who hear me!" Tsukuyo peeked down, before slowly pulling herself away from the edge. That's too tall a height, before she slowly peeked again.

"You... Uhm... Heard me?"

"I did. Why?"

"Oh... I..." Tsukuyo cleared her throat. "So you hear my call, now follow my call of duty! My legacy is fr... Fract... Fractured? It is in a fragile state! Only you can solve it!"

"You only said that because I heard you, didn't you?"

"......"

Tsukuyo shrunk. As if it was admittance of her scheme being discovered.

Or did Tsukuyo forget her next line?

"Uh... Uhm..." She glanced at where Shizuko stood. Right there at the Ghost's Teahouse's first floor balcony, showing a small sign. A quick read, and she nodded.

"So what if it is?! You have listened to the blessed Great Prophet! Restore my legacy, and you will be well rewarded!"

"Of more paperwork, isn't it?"

"... Less paperwork."

"Deal."

With the sheer excitation in Kaho's tone, followed immediately by a return of normal composure, one could tell that she wasn't acting, and genuinely thought the prospect of less paperwork was so appealing to her.

Otherwise, a near antithesis of the actual ghost, whose stare of disapproval just dug deeper.

The lights dissipated soon enough. Darkness overtook Hyakkiyako once more, the string instrument's noise dying soon after, and Kokuriko's voice cooed through.

"And so, the anti-traditionalist man, standing against the legacy, reluctantly followed the order of a spirit that shouldn't exist any longer. His first encounter was... Less than pleasant." The light shone elsewhere. This time, to the torii gate that signifies the entrance to Hyakkiyako.

Yukari sat against the gate, clutching her rifle, while Kaho stood before her. Yukari's sleeves held itself against her face, as if trying to act like she had been crying. A mix of both the drums and the flute played together, playing a strangely somber tone.

"My friends. Oh, my dear friends..." Yukari spoke in a princess tone, too well versed in this improv-d stageplay.

Meanwhile, Kaho's hands shook in her pockets, her lips quivering as the pressure was slowly getting to her.

She was glad the collar on the coat was tall enough to conceal much of her appearance so they couldn't see. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she pried her lips open to finally speak.

"So this is what became of the Hyakkaryouran, hm."

A statement of fact, not a question. Yukari slowly peeked up, looking not at the ghost of Hyakkiyako, but the sight of a girl trying to be a man that was too radically different from the standards of Kivotos's chaos.

Her grip softened.

"Are you... The man prophesied by the Great Prophet?"

"............" Kaho peeked at her palm. "Yes. I am."

That wasn't exactly what was on her palm.

"The one to restore the Hyakkaryouran?!" Yukari jumped to her feet, eyeing Kaho in wondrous excitation. She blinked, before sighing.

"Possibly. Don't count on it."

"Perfect! Come, you must convince my friends! They refuse to return, and I do not understand why..."

Kaho stared at the dejected Yukari. Acting or not, that was a kind of pain she related to, somewhat.

Niya was always a pain...

The lights flickered as Yukari pulled Kaho away from the gate, and through the parting crowd. Passing by Shun, who witnessed and knew that 'Kize' was no Kize. The music began to pick up, almost whimsy sounding.

Then again, Kize wasn't a girl nor a student. For a moment, she thought she saw him at the other side of the crowd, his sandy orange hair being a standout. But the fact he was hunched, with clothing that definitely does not resemble him, she probably thought it was someone else.

So close, yet so far.

Yukari skidded to a stop, as Renge dusted her hands after seemingly 'beating up' the Street Mouryo.

The only reason the students of the club played along was because the Yin-Yang Club guaranteed them a spot and gave them a level of creative liberty to their actions.

Which is why laughter abounds when the light shone down upon them, each pose of the Street Mouryo's 'crippled' body more exaggerated than the last.

For some reason, they posed in such a way that it spelled out 'FART'.

"Oh, Yukari. Still chasing your dream, aren't you?" Renge questioned. At the same time, Kaho disappeared into the darkness, behind the shadows.

No one noticed, too engrossed into the drama between the members of the Hyakkaryouran, with the Street Mouryo already rolling away from the scene as the two began to 'argue'.

Even the music died to ensure the argument could be absorbed.

"You left Hyakkaryouran, for you believe... You wasted yourself?"

"I don't feel like a maiden, Yukari. I don't want to tie my worth to the Hyakkaryouran! You at least have your family to return to, I don't!"

"You're wrong! The Hyakkaryouran is my family too! Why would you..."

Yukari trailed off, her rifle grip tightening. And her expression, once filled with sadness, was filled with resolve.

"I challenge you to a duel, Fuwa Renge!"

"..." Renge eyed her very carefully, gripping her own rifle.

"Don't make a challenge you can't win, Yukari."

"Don't underestimate me!"

"..... Very well. Don't say I didn't warn you."

The lights flickered, and then darkness overcame them. The slightest sounds of scuffling, and then, the lights came back on. Yukari laid on the ground, her Hyakkaryouran haori concealing her expressions. Intentionally so.

"Do you understand now? Stop while you're ahead, Yukari. There's no reason to continue a dying tradition."

Then, the light disappeared, and emerged at the central plaza once more, where Kokuriko stood.

"And so the night had passed to dawn. The man had left the poor student to tend to his own needs. And here, he sat."

A bench. Fixed after the last destructive effort, with Kaho sitting on it exhaustively. Her hands laid in her pockets, but the lights had a bit of focus on Kokuriko, who began her approach to the bench and silently sitting beside her.

"Arius's Ghost... Or just another stain to be scrubbed away?" She whispered. Kaho's head was raised, a blink, and then she turned to face Kokuriko.

Even in an act, Kokuriko's words were certainly leaving its mark.

He should know. He heard those words from her the first time they met.

"Who starts a conversation like that? I just sat down," Kaho exasperatedly pointed out.

"And yet, you don't ask why I'm here," Kokuriko cooed, a glance to 'Kize'. For a brief moment, she eyed the crowd, as if scanning for where he could be, before returning back to the scene.

She can't see him. Either he blended in too well, or he doesn't want to watch. Regardless, the show must go on.

"You'll... You'll tell me regardless," Kaho hesitantly responded, pulling on the loose bandages around her arms. She should've tighten them earlier, but there wasn't much time.

"How strange. For a man ordained by the Great Prophet... You put quite the disrespect upon her name." A low chuckle left Kokuriko. "A man who lives in the present, and denies his past."

Kaho could feel a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead.

'This was getting too real...'

"Get to the point."

"The point?" A scoff left Kokuriko. "The world no longer needs a mediator. Nor does it need a middle manager. Only a hundred ghost stories to replace the old. A purge."

"......."

So that was her motive back then. The fact she recited it with such venom, with a kind of gravitas that sent shivers down almost anyone's spine was chilling.

Kaho quickly stood up.

"Your theatrics aren't what I'm here for."

"Oh, but you are here nonetheless. Tell me, o ordained man."

A low voice crawled up her throat.

"Do you hold within you a hate of tradition, or hate of yourself?"

The lights dissipated, but everyone felt those chills. The way goosebumps were felt on their arms from her words.

A man that hated themselves more than they do their tradition. An untold past that no one knows of.

A plot that never will find a resolution.

"And so, the man had formed a plan."

In the darkness, Kokuriko voiced once more. Not as an actor, but a mere narrator, still sitting in that very bench.

"He would meet a fox. A plan had been formed. He would meet the de facto leaders. A plan had been formed. And then... He met her."

The lanterns lit up elsewhere, on a bridge connecting from the shopping district to the central plaza, where Nagusa leaned against the guardrail.

"I... I don't know if I have what it takes..."

Nagusa's grip on the guardrail tightened.

"What makes you think that?" Kaho's question pierced through the air, before she slipped out of the crowd. Gasps filled the audience, wondering how she could do that so easily now.

Perhaps, Kaho finally understood how Kize operated.

"..." Nagusa stared at Kaho like she was staring at a ghost. And then she blinked, clearing her throat.

"I am unlike the leader. She is smart. Intelligent. Brave. Strong. I am useless without her."

The specific wordings. The crowd knew this shouldn't be true. They have seen her in action before and she had never disappointed them.

"Then be without her then. Be you."

She snapped her head to Kaho. That wasn't her voice. Kaho's stilled expression said as much.

The crowd's reaction was something to be believed, as if a ghost had whispered those words for all of them to hear.

"... Why would you say that?" Nagusa hesitantly questioned.

"Because someone should have."

Slightly louder. The whispers grew louder, as if the ghost's influence was there. An interactive haunting that didn't even have the ghost be there.

This was getting off script really fast...

"Come on. I have something. It might just be enough for the Hyakkaryouran," Kaho finally spoke.

"You... Know where I was from?"

"Your haori."

Darkness consumed them once more, as Kokuriko began her narration once more.

"And so the final plan had been put in place. Above, on the roofs."

Everyone collectively craned their head upwards, and was met with the sight of a leaping ninja, followed by another figure with hissing hair.

Azami and Izuna proceeded to go through their choreography, with Izuna jumping from roof to roof, while Azami leapt through with a complete lack of grace. Tiles flung about, luckily never truly hitting the crowd.

"Why you--"

"You will never get my lord alive nor dead!" Izuna proclaimed, ninja stars thrown soon after.

They were props, never meant to truly injure someone, but Azami's snake hair caught them between their mouth. And then, both leapt once more, and just before they landed right at the Ghost's Teahouse, the light dimmed.

Not faded. Not gone. Dimmed. Like burning embers.

They could still see vague shaped figures running across the rooftops, but there were more than two of them.

"Oh... Oh no..."

Tsukuyo's voice called out from the same roof she was at in her earlier scene.

"They're... Fighting."

Another separate scene played out. A highlight of Kikyou's fight against Yukari, their rifles slamming against each other in a melee, before it resorted to hand to hand combat, their rifles discarded by each other's own moves.

Kikyou won without a doubt, targeting her pressure points, before pointing a single finger on Yukari's neck.

"Don't bring the Hyakkaryouran back. They don't need us anymore. Your family however, needs you."

"But..." Yukari gulped. "You're my family."

A collective gasp from the crowd. And then the 'awwww'.

Even Kikyou, who should have expected that response, had her cheeks flushed pink.

"You... Don't say that when you don't mean it!"

"But I do!"

Yukari took hold of Kikyou's hand.

"I truly meant it when I said it. I am not the strongest. I am not the bravest. But if there is one thing I know, I know that we were unstoppable. So why stop now?"

A rhetorical question, one that was best left ambiguous, as the light brightened upon the roof of the Yin-Yang Club building. A fortresss/castle of sorts.

Kokuriko stood there, watching as the lanterns slowly lit up. Not in its typical color. But one that was burning. The kind that showed off a burning effect to all of Hyakkiyako.

"It is all according to plan," Kokuriko, the villain of the play, muttered.

"Not anymore it is."

Kaho called out, appearing from behind the building, before facing Kokuriko. The height was concerning, but truthfully, it was expected.

"Is that so? O ordained man, tell me. What is it that you have accounted for?" Kokuriko inquired, as the rooftop figures emerged from the crowd; the Street Mouryo's acts continued, tilting over props they were meant to destroy for this play. Carts, nenches. The likes.

The crowd gasp, the sheer audacity of ruining a culture like this.

"Variants." A finger snap from Kaho, and the Hyakkaryouran members emerged from the crowd once more, their rifles held steadfast. Except for Nagusa, whose hold was frayed.

"..... Do I have what it takes..." She questioned. No one answered.

A child's voice called out from the crowd.

"You can do it!"

Another voice. A student.

"Yeah! Come on, Nagusa! You can do it! Let's go!"

"Slowly, the cheers grew, the support exponential. Nagusa shook in place, a new burden places upon her shoulder the louder it got. Only by the hold of the Hyakkaryouran did she slowly calm down, her grip on her rifle a newfound resolution.

Even if it was a play, their unbound support was undeniable.

"Let's clean up! By the grace of Kuzunoha, we shall mediate chaos! Let's move!"

The light dimmed. A 'scuffle' began.

Kokuriko scoffed.

"This changes nothing."

"It changes everything--"

BANG

Kaho stilled. A rubber bullet slammed into her forehead, before she tumbled to the back of the building, as if 'dead'.

Fortunate that this was a play.

"And that is how your story ends. Pathetic. Predictable. Unremarkable." Kokuriko's tone immediately changed soon after, from resignation, to an author's.

"Or was that how the story ended."

The light disappeared from the building, replaced once more onto the roof Tsukuyo stood.

"No! That man... Just as I was... Just as I..." The tension was palpable. What was she about to say? What could it be?! What is it?!!

No one knew that Tsukuyo actually forgot the next set of lines she was meant to say. Either that, or the lines were too embarrassing to say out loud, considering how flushed her face was.

And then she gripped the edges of the roof.

"No! I must save him! Rise!"

And that was the only thing she remembered saying before falling backwards, the embarrassment too much for her to take, just as the light disappeared once again.

There were whispers.

There were questions.

What did she mean by that?

And then.

"An open book is more entertaining than this."

Kize's voice. Clear. Blunt. Neutral. And there he stood, amongst the crowd that quickly spaced around him. As if a ghost had emerged from the ground, only noticed by discerning eyes.

But even the most discerning eyes couldn't tell it was Kize.

"Ordained man... No. You are his ghost," Kokuriko concluded.

"And you, are a poor storyteller. Begin."

The lights dissipated. But Kize's command rang through Hyakkiyako.

"Bend." A scuffle. "Kneel." A thud. "Lay." Another thud. "Silence." Nothing.

When the light returned, Kokuriko laid upon the ground, limp.

Izuna had to make sure her carrying Kokuriko down to the ground had to be smooth.

"..........." Kize sighed.

"Take her in."

The Inner Discipline Club emerged from the crowds, nodding before lifting Kokuriko and placed her upon the central plaza. Kokuriko, awake all this time, narrated once more.

"And so, the Hyakkaryouran Conflict Resolution Council was formed once more."

The four members appeared from the crowd, bowing to them.

"We will survive. With or without Kuzunoha's legacy," Yukari replied, hopeful for what was to come.

"The villain was swiftly defeated." Kokuriko sighed. "And the ghost? Many claim to see him." She glanced at where Kize once stood, now gone.

"I wish to see who he truly was still. And so. Our story ends here."

A clap.

Another one.

And then a tidal wave of applause.

—

His job was done. There was nothing else much to do. But even ghosts were tethered to things he didn't intend to.

"Sensei!" Saori called out, seeing where he was.

Hyakkiyako's Museum of Traditions. At its steps anyway. Arius Squad noticed where he left the applauding crowd and merely followed.

Kize didn't give them a response. He didn't have much of it in the first place. After all, his role was obscure. Minor. Just like he was.

"That was good," Atsuko complimented. Kize stared at them like they had two heads.

"Well well, Sensei. I didn't think I'd see the day you'll be wearing different clothes."

He stiffened. Shun appeared behind Arius Squad, looking at Kize with a warm smile. A smile that was disarming that it loops back immediately to Kize holding onto his sleeves in protection.

"You weren't that terrible for such a small role," Misaki backhanded. "Although, did you really made Kuzunoha fall in love with--"

"W-wait, that's not... Possible, right?" Hiyori cut off Misaki, before noticing the twitching face Kize conjured. A question that undeniably kicked off a can of worms they shouldn't have.

"Of course he couldn't." Misaki scoffed. "He got the hots for..."

"We're just colleagues, Misaki. Stop," Kize commanded, glaring.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that. What about you, Instructor Shun?"

"...." Shun smiled, before she sat beside him. Their shoulders touched. He flinched, but didn't move away.

"Colleagues."

An emphatic answer from Shun. And that was enough.