Come. 

Aoi found herself standing outside the storage room, one hand already on the metal grate. The eyes were back, watching her from the floor ahead. The cobwebs hanging from the window frayed and dangled free, giving the eyes curling lashes that blinked as the strands shifted in the dim light. 

As if in a trance, Aoi pulled at the grate only to realise it was still locked. She yanked harder, the padlock clanging against the metal. The clanging faded into the melody of Wuji, the solemn bridge laced with sorrow. Aoi's breath caught in her throat, physically unable to draw in air as the tune flooded her senses.

The key. Go down to the office. You know which one it is.

The flute notes spiralled through the air and filled Aoi's ears, guiding her as she stepped back from the grate and descended the stairs. Once she reached the ground floor, she turned sharply into the office, empty and unoccupied. 

She spotted the keyholder wall almost immediately, devoid of keys save for one hook. She reached out and grabbed the key. It was dusty, of course, but when she rubbed her fingertips together, clumps of spiderweb strands formed between her thumb and forefinger. 

Wuji played louder. Aoi exited the office without a thought and dashed down the stairs, the song tugging at her chest. It pulled back at the muscles in her lungs, refusing to let her suck in a breath until she reached the storage room again.

Stabbing the key into the padlock, Aoi flung open the grate.

The music stopped.

Aoi clutched at her chest, gasping as the tune released its hold on her.

Five knuckles cracked, and a strong wind grabbed her, hurling her onto the hexagons.

Free.

Aoi's gaze slashed through the room, but everything was shadowed, save for the sound of scuttling. She surged to her feet, rushing for the grate, but it slammed shut, locking her in. Her fists curled around the bars, pushing in futility.

A soft breeze brushed near her ear, caressing her lobe and whisking strands of her hair aside.

Now you know what to do, where to find the key, do you?

Aoi didn't reply, only barrelled harder at the grate. The wind grew wilder, sifting through her hair, gathering enough to jerk her head upwards. And when it spoke to her again, the gentle whisper had become a venomous hiss.

I asked you a quessstion, little violin girl. You will free me, yesss?

Aoi craned her neck, fighting back at her assailant. "No," she eked out, "I don't even know you."

The wind laughed and turned cruel, twisting her hair back. Aoi was thrown to the ground, her hair whipping around her.

Have we not had enough fun, little violin girl? Sssoon, my will shall be yoursss, and we can help one another, yesss?

"Evil spirit," Aoi muttered, her eyes not knowing where to look as they darted around the room in a condescending manner. "Why would I want what you wish? As if you can play the violin."

The wind filled with glee, whirling around the room at Aoi's words.

Ssso you do have a wit, little violin girl. I wasss afraid all your violin-playing made you mute.

"I just don't speak to bound spirits who are better off dead."

But I am dead, giggled the wind. Isssn't this exciting, little violin girl? I can talk to you, and you can talk to me, and neither of usss isss lonely.

"I have friends." Aoi shot to her feet, insulted.

That ssstupid girl? Ssshe is no friend of yoursss, and no friend of mine either.

The hexagons began to spin, catching Aoi's eye. The spiders above showed no movement, and the strands did not change, yet the patterns revolved around one another like a sepia kaleidoscope.

Free me, and you will know me.

The eyes whirled faster, the pattern creeping across the floor. It stretched beyond the light, pouncing on Aoi's feet. As it touched her, the shadows of the cobwebs became white, climbing up her body as Aoi ran to the grate, pushing to no avail.

I'll be waiting, little violin girl.

The cobwebs crawled up her torso and up her neck, inching towards her face. Aoi pulled at the strands, but her fingers went through them, as if she were the phantom. She thrashed around, shrieking as the cobwebs climbed into her ears and seeped into her vision. The strands entered her drying mouth, curling up on her tongue and descending her throat. Her fingers clung to the bars, wresting desperately as she cried for help, anyone, just anyone who could help her--

Aoi woke up screaming.

Heads swiveled towards her, and Miss Sugiyama rushed to her in concern. "Tsukada-san, are you okay?"

Stunned, Aoi's fingers grasped at her throat, her chest, only to find her uniform clean and devoid of spiderwebs. Her fingers scrabbled around her mouth and face.

Clean. Not a trace.

Aoi inhaled, slowing her pounding heart. "I'm fine, Sugiyama-sensei. Bad dream."

"You want to go for some fresh air? It usually helps clear one's head."

Aoi started to nod, but then suddenly remembered the room beyond the Music Room. Once she stepped outside, she would face the storage room directly.

"No, it's alright," she replied, leaning over the table for her violin. "I'll... practice."

Miss Sugiyama's eyebrows creased. "Are you sure? You barely took your rest five minutes ago."

Aoi nodded. "It's fine. Practice makes perfect, my mother always says."

Miss Sugiyama shrugged, and left to watch the harp soloist take his turn playing his massive instrument.

To her luck, Noriko came to fetch Aoi during breaktime, bouncing into the room in black ballet slippers. Clenching her teeth and praying frantically in her heart, Aoi hid behind Noriko and steered her right into the dining hall.

As they stood in line to take the lunches provided, Noriko elbowed Aoi. "There's your theater troupe."

Aoi turned and saw Ginji and the rest heading towards the line, in full costume. She locked eyes with Hiro, majestic in his fancy dragon prince yukata. She tilted her head slightly and smiled. Hiro grinned back and waved.

Noriko raised both eyebrows with a knowing smirk. "You know the lead?"

Aoi shrugged. "It's a small school."

Noriko dipped her chin in Hiro's direction, which he responded to with a 15-degree bow. "He's pretty cute. What's his name?"

"Saitou Hirotaka, but we all call him Hiro." Aoi received her tray of food and carried it to the nearest table. Today's lunch consisted of rice, natto, some fish, sprout salad, miso soup and a pink carton of milk. As she set the tray on table, she felt something yank on her hair, and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Like a film reel clicking into place, the hexagons flashed before her eyes, floating in circles.

The key.

The hexagons began to spin, each facet reflecting the key Aoi had seen in her dream.

I am waiting.

The patterns spun faster, the images coalescing into a blurred face of soulless eyes, pallid skin and a twisted mouth. A hand stretched out towards Aoi. 

Free me.

"Aoi? Aoi!"

Aoi felt her body being shaken, and at the sound of Noriko's voice the spirit shrieked.

Mussstn't touch! Mussstn't touch!

Its mouth curled into a scream of anguish, the face itself dissipating into a cloud of ash. The clouds cleared before Aoi's vision, revealing Hiro's worried eyes.

"Aoi-chan, are you okay?"

In the short span of spinning hexagons and spirit faces, Aoi had apparently fallen straight to the ground, she realised as she glanced at her legs in front of her. Hiro propped her up by one side, while Noriko had one hand around her wrist on the other.

"Aoi. Aoi-chan, can you hear me?" Hiro waved a hand in front of her face, looking more concerned by the second.

Closing her eyes as she tried to adjust to her bearings, Aoi nodded. As Hiro and Noriko helped her to her feet, Aoi's ears picked up the chatter from the small crowd that had gathered around them.

"What happened?"

"She just... fell."

"What do you mean 'just fell'? Her pupils turned white!"

"Maybe a seizure?"

"I wouldn't bet on it. Seishin High is an old school, after all."

"Oh, not this again. Surely you don't-"

"Move along, people! Nothing to see here!" Noriko's sharp tone cut through the titters, silencing them as she shooed the crowd away.

Hiro made sure Aoi was settled in her seat, then brought his own lunch over to the table, plopping down in front of her.

Aoi raised a confused eyebrow, her chopsticks hovering above her fish. "Hiro-kun, I'm fi-"

Hiro peeled open the plastic cover of his small cup of fermented soybeans. "I just want to eat here. Two days of Gin's continuous nagging and wild conspiracies about the other theatre troupes is already giving me a headache."

Noriko came back to their table, settling next to Aoi. She helped Aoi open her carton of milk before doing the same for herself. Picking up her chopsticks and starting with the sprout salad, she made immediate eye contact with Hiro.

"Nice to meet you. My name's Noriko."

Hiro smiled at her, spooning soup onto his rice. "Hiro."

"Cool costume," Noriko remarked, nodding towards Hiro's yukata. "What's your play about?"

"Ooh, I can't say much about it, Gin would kill me," Hiro replied with a quick peek at Ginji, who was sitting two tables away. "But it's about a lost prince who finds his way in the world."

"Very vague." Noriko shook her head. "Which number float are you guys going to be on?"

"Float number one. Apparently the Saino management prefers to start off with the plays."

As her friends conversed, Aoi simply ate in silence, removing the cover of her natto container as she listened to Noriko pepper Hiro with questions.

The plastic cover caught the light, and for a split second Aoi saw the pattern again.

Little v-

Aoi dropped her chopsticks, grabbing Noriko's wrist. She blinked. The pattern was gone, and so was the whisper in her head.

"Aoi?"

Both Hiro and Noriko turned towards her, similar questions reflected in their gazes.

Slowly, Aoi pried her fingers from Noriko's hand, ready to snap back into place should the whisper call out again. She smiled at both of them, a little sheepish. "Just got a little dizzy."

"Maybe you can ask your supervising teacher for the day off," Hiro suggested, sipping his milk. "Go home, get some rest, clear your head. This place is old and crusty, it won't do anyone any good."

"I can accompany you," Noriko chirped, beaming at Aoi. "I practiced most of the morning already, I think the other ballet dancer already memorized my routine by now."

Aoi dipped her chin, taking up her discarded chopsticks. "Okay."

At this point, she was unsure which was more terrifying: the spirit in the school's storage room, or the inevitable screaming she would face when she reached home.