"Wow!!!"
After listening to Yuki's introduction, the confusion in Tomoe's eyes vanished, replaced by sparkling admiration.
"This home must feel very warm and very comfortable to live in!"
Tomoe's praise made Yuki feel a little embarrassed. She blushed, smiled shyly, scratched her head, and said:
"It's not that amazing. No matter how much I praise it, it's still just a few big cardboard boxes. No matter how well it's built, cardboard is still cardboard. It won't suddenly turn into a mansion just because it's put together nicely. If we're talking about comfort, a real big house must be much better to live in. Actually... even just once, I'd really like to know what it feels like to live in a big house."
By the end of her sentence, the longing in Yuki's voice was impossible to hide.
After saying that, she seemed a little embarrassed by her own words, so she quickly changed the subject:
"S-so... if you don't mind, Tomoe, would you like to live with me?"
"Can I? If you're willing, then of course I'd love to!"
"Haha... hearing you say that makes me feel a little shy. Thank you for not minding my home..."
Yuki gave an awkward laugh. Even though she had already become a ghost, the natural shyness of a child hadn't changed at all.
After all, no matter how outgoing or cheerful a child is, there are always moments when they feel embarrassed.
"How could I mind? If anything, I should be the one thanking you. A few hours ago, after my mother killed me, I thought my consciousness would fall into endless darkness. But after that brief darkness, I actually opened my eyes again.
"At the time, my body still hurt, so I thought I wasn't dead. The room was dark, and I couldn't see anything around me. I could only rely on memory, stumbling out of the room to ask the adults in the hallway for help. But strangely, no matter how much I cried and called out to them, they acted as if they couldn't hear me and just walked past me.
"Later, two adults who looked like hotel staff walked toward the room where my parents and I were staying, so I followed them back. On the way, I kept asking them for help, but they didn't hear me either.
"That feeling... like the whole world had forgotten me... it was really painful...
"Only after I followed those two uncles back to the room and saw my parents... and my own body... did I realize that I was already dead..."
Tomoe lowered her head and looked at her hands, carefully using her left hand to touch her right.
She could still feel it.
"It's really strange. Even though the whole world has forgotten me, no one can see me or hear me, it still feels like I'm no different from before.
"My hands can still touch each other. If I hadn't seen my own body with my own eyes, I probably would have needed more time to realize I'd become a ghost.
"Hey, Yuki, you've been a ghost longer than me. Can I ask you something?"
Faced with Tomoe's sudden question, Yuki nodded.
"Of course."
"Thank you." Tomoe smiled faintly, then asked, "Since I became a ghost after dying... will my dad become a ghost too?"
"He will. Everyone becomes a ghost after they die. Not just your dad—your mom will too."
"My mom... will become a ghost too..."
The moment she heard that, fear instantly filled Tomoe's eyes, as if she had seen something terrifying. She shrank back, hugging her arms, her body and voice trembling slightly.
"My mom becoming a ghost... that's not good at all. If she becomes one, she'll definitely be some kind of vicious spirit. No... if she finds me after becoming a ghost, then my dad and I will... Damn it... does that mean even after dying, I still can't escape her?"
Seeing this, Yuki hurriedly comforted her:
"I-it's okay. After people die, even if they become ghosts, they usually go to the Netherworld. Only a very small number of ghosts with strong obsessions can break free and remain in the human world. Your parents... they've probably already gone to the Netherworld."
"The Netherworld? Does something like that really exist?" Tomoe asked.
"Of course. The moment we became ghosts, it already proved that ghosts exist. If ghosts exist, then something like the Netherworld existing is completely reasonable. Things that seemed like mysteries in life turn out to be very simple after death," Yuki said with a cheerful smile.
"I see..."
Tomoe's expression first turned wistful, then gradually darkened.
"If heaven and hell really exist... then my dad will definitely go to heaven, and my mom... will definitely go to hell!"
By the end, there was a trace of bitterness and hatred on her young face that didn't belong at her age.
Yuki opened her mouth, but seeing Tomoe's rapidly changing emotions, she didn't know what to say.
After all, they had only known each other for a few hours. Even though they had become companions, there were still many things they hadn't told each other.
For example, the obsession that allowed them to remain in the human world.
Tomoe hadn't told Yuki what her lingering attachment was, and Yuki hadn't told Tomoe why she chose to stay either.
"Phew... it's probably getting late. Let's go inside and talk," Yuki said.
She let out a breath, but as a ghost, it didn't turn white like it would have when she was alive. That made her feel like winter had lost a bit of its charm.
But there was nothing she could do... she was already dead.
Yuki led Tomoe to the leftmost cardboard box. On its surface was a piece of tape shaped like a door handle.
In reality, it functioned exactly like one. With a gentle pull, the cut-out door in the cardboard opened easily.
"Tomoe, come in," Yuki said with a smile.
"Is it really okay? Yuki... I'm really dirty right now..."
As Tomoe spoke, she loosened her clothes, revealing her abdomen, which had been almost completely carved open by her mother.
Seeing the wound, Yuki's eyes instantly filled with trembling tears. She carefully stepped forward and asked:
"Does it still hurt?"
"It hurt a little when I first became a ghost, but now... it doesn't seem to hurt anymore."
"That's good. When I first became a ghost, I could still feel the pain from before I died too. But mine wasn't from a knife... it was from the cold... and suffocation..."
As Yuki spoke slowly, she seemed to gather her courage and reached out, wrapping her small arms around Tomoe's equally small body.
"Tomoe... let's live together for a while. And if you're still willing then... we can become family... okay?" Yuki whispered softly.
"Mm!"
With tears in her eyes, Tomoe nodded. Her young voice was hoarse as she said:
"Please take care of me, Yuki."
Two little ghosts drifting through a bustling city met each other. As they gently soothed each other's wounds and offered their kindness without reservation, they also cautiously tested one another—walls still remained in their hearts.
...
Shinkansen.
After the train departed, Kotomi Izumi lay back in her reclined seat after finishing her late-night meal. She looked like she had already fallen asleep, but in reality, she was still awake.
Perhaps because she knew that Yuki and Tomoe were already dead little girls, Kotomi Izumi hadn't eaten much just now.
This murder case didn't have much to do with her, and the killer had already committed suicide. It should have been something reassuring, yet for some reason, Kotomi Izumi felt a heavy weight in her heart.
The reason for that heaviness was simple. After all, being suddenly told that the two little girls who had spoken to her not long ago were actually long-dead ghosts would leave anyone either weighed down or terrified.
Tomoe was still so young... just how twisted must her mother have been to cruelly kill her own daughter, stabbing her repeatedly and torturing a little girl who had only just started kindergarten... Kotomi Izumi thought to herself.
She knew that there was darkness in the human heart, but even after witnessing that darkness and cruelty several times, she still found it hard to accept.
I really admire those famous detectives who constantly deal with murderers... Kotomi Izumi couldn't help but think.
And she also began to understand why, in the latest installment of the Kindaichi series, "Kindaichi at 37," Kindaichi no longer wanted to solve mysteries.
Facing bloody and horrifying murder cases for a long time, carefully unraveling each thread to find the key to the truth, identifying the culprit behind a series of crimes—then, after breaking down the culprit's psychological defenses with reasoning, the culprit gives up resistance, yet shows no regret. Instead, they calmly or coldly explain why they killed those people.
The motives behind the murders were often filled with tragedy, making it seem as though the victims deserved it. And more often than not, the culprits were Kindaichi's own classmates or friends. While enduring his own grief, he still had to point the finger of truth at them and declare that they were the murderer.
Not only did he have to face the bloodiness of murder cases, but he also had to bear the countless tragedies told by the culprits. If that kind of double psychological torment were placed on her, Kotomi felt she would have gone insane long ago.
"When I was little, I just thought famous detectives were cool. But now that I've grown up, I realize it's not such an easy job after all."
Kotomi Izumi murmured softly. She remembered how, when she was younger, she would imitate lines from "Kindaichi" and imagine becoming a great detective one day. But now, thinking about the psychological burden that came with it, she knew it wasn't something an ordinary person could bear. She'd rather continue being a novelist and a manga artist.
Wait... novel... manga...
The drowsy Kotomi Izumi instantly snapped awake. She hurriedly pulled out her phone and checked the date.
After confirming several times that she hadn't misread it, her whole body went limp like a puddle of slime, collapsing back into her seat as she stared blankly at the ceiling.
"Ah... there are only three days left until my manga deadline, and I haven't even finished the draft, let alone the final manuscript..."
Many manga artists at Shueisha follow a weekly update schedule, releasing one chapter per week.
If this kind of weekly schedule were applied to web novel serialization, many authors would probably shout, "Something this good actually exists?!"
After all, that would be like writing just one chapter a week. And if each chapter only needed around two thousand words, it would be incredibly relaxing.
But for manga artists, weekly serialization was anything but easy or leisurely. Starting from Monday, working nonstop until Friday evening just to finish a single manuscript was already considered highly efficient.
Even though Kotomi Izumi had raised her drawing skill to level 7, her drawing speed hadn't improved much. It seemed that only at level 10 would there be a real leap in speed.
Although she had accumulated quite a lot of fame points in her system, she still felt a bit reluctant to spend them all on upgrading her drawing level. After all, there were still so many skills left to unlock.
"Sigh... rookie manga artists really don't have much say. Those already famous can slack off if they want. Some of them don't even bother with weekly serialization. They just leisurely enjoy life while slowly working on their drafts, and once they've finished enough for a volume, they send it to the editor and publish it directly as a collected volume."
Kotomi Izumi muttered quietly. At first, her passion for manga made her feel that weekly updates were no big deal. But now that her enthusiasm had cooled a bit, she finally realized—weekly serialization was a terrible rule!
She wanted to experience releasing just one volume every half a year... or even every few years!
Wait!
Kotomi Izumi suddenly perked up. She remembered that before coming to Kyoto, she had already drawn a portion of Chainsaw Man Chapter 8.
It was now 12:19. Yesterday had passed, and today had already begun. Although school would start again tomorrow, today was Thursday. If she rushed to draw more and made good use of the weekend, she might still make the update!
Kotomi Izumi suddenly felt full of confidence. In her mind, she could already see herself sitting in front of her computer, her stylus practically sparking against the tablet as she worked furiously.
Yukino Yukinoshita, who was pretending to browse books while actually paying attention to Kotomi the whole time, had long noticed that something was off about Kotomi's emotions.
First came the heaviness of thinking about something sad, then the shock of suddenly remembering something, followed by the feeling that it was too difficult—almost giving up—only to suddenly recall a turning point and become full of confidence and motivation again.
Yukino Yukinoshita glanced at Kotomi with a hint of surprise. She had no idea what was going on. In just a few minutes, Kotomi's inner emotions had undergone such drastic changes. Even a roller coaster had a gradual process, but Kotomi's emotional swings were straight up and down—more like a drop tower.
No, even a drop tower had a few seconds of buffering time. Kotomi had none. One second she might be at the bottom, and the next she was already at the top.
Inside the first-class carriage, it was extremely quiet.
Yui Yuigahama had already fallen sound asleep, and Yukino Yukinoshita felt that now was the perfect time to talk to Kotomi.