What kind of ghost is white? And that shape... it looks like a person no matter how you look at it. It couldn't be a ghost wearing a white bedsheet, could it?
It's fine if it's a person.
It's fine if it's a person... Fine, my foot!!
Being followed by someone in the middle of the night is obviously even more wrong!
A stalker? A serial killer? Or some other kind of pervert?
There haven't been any reports of serious crimes in this area recently...
I couldn't possibly be the first victim, could I?
Thinking of this, the corners of Reina's mouth couldn't help but twitch.
She kept a straight face and tightened the strap of her shoulder bag, adjusting it to a position where she could swing it at any moment. Her legs were still trembling slightly, but she forced herself to steady her pace, maintaining her speed as she continued walking forward.
If it's a person, she couldn't show too much abnormality.
Anyway, she was almost home; just keep that person steady...
As soon as she got inside, everything would be okay.
One hundred meters.
She gripped the strap of her bag tightly, her fingers aching slightly from the pressure.
Fifty meters.
The footsteps were still behind her, following at a leisurely pace. The rhythm was like a silent declaration: I know you've noticed, but I don't care.
Ten meters.
The moment she approached the door, Reina abandoned her previous calm demeanor and whipped the keys out of her pocket.
She inserted the key into the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open; she had never unlocked a door that fast in her life.
Slam!
The door was slammed shut.
She leaned against the shoe cabinet in the entryway, bending over and gasping for air. Her heart felt like it was about to jump out of her throat, and her back was drenched in cold sweat.
"Mom—!"
————————
Tonight, the Tōjō family experienced a long-awaited full mobilization.
Even her grandmother, who had been bedridden for years, sat in her electric wheelchair and followed them out, wielding a kitchen knife after hearing that Reina might have been followed by a stalker.
Her posture was as if she were about to fight someone to the death the very next second.
However, the result was that they found nothing.
The family searched the area carefully, but they didn't find any suspicious figures.
The only suspicious living creature they found was a white poodle that had snuck out from someone's house. The little dog was squatting in the shadows of the alley; when it saw the flashlight beam, it didn't run away, just tilted its head and stuck out its tongue.
"Is it this one?" Mom asked.
Reina stared at the dog for a few seconds.
White, very small; it was indeed possible for it to flash by in the night.
But...
She still felt that the thing following her earlier shouldn't have been this.
But the night was already deep, and her grandmother's legs were indeed not very convenient. If they kept fussing like this, the old woman might not be able to handle it.
"...It probably is," she heard herself say, her voice tinged with a bit of guilt. "I probably just saw it wrong."
"I knew it!" Her dad, Tōjō Eito, breathed a sigh of relief and patted her shoulder. "Don't be afraid, Reina. You've been too stressed lately. Get a good rest tomorrow."
Mom also walked over and gave her a gentle hug.
When her grandmother was being pushed back to her room, she didn't forget to look back and warn: "Next time something like this happens, call Grandma directly! I want to see which blind fool dares to mess with my granddaughter!"
Reina nodded, struggling to force a smile.
Back in her room, she threw herself into her bed and stared at the ceiling in a daze for quite a while.
Was it... really that dog just now?
She didn't know.
But she knew that if that thing had really followed her to the front door... she didn't dare to think any further.
The door was knocked on twice, gently.
"Reina?" It was Mom's voice. "You're not asleep yet, are you?"
"Mhm."
Mom pushed the door open and walked in, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Her hand covered Reina's, and the warmth transmitted made Reina's tense nerves relax a little more.
"Your dad and I discussed it," Mom said. "For the next month, we will take turns picking you up and dropping you off at school. Your dad will take you in the morning, and I'll pick you up in the afternoon. That way, there won't be any more problems."
"But your work..."
"Work can be adjusted," Mom interrupted. "Reina's safety is more important."
Reina opened her mouth, but in the end, she just nodded.
"Okay."
Mom sat for a while longer, confirming that her emotions had truly stabilized, before getting up to leave.
The sound of the door closing was very soft, and the room grew quiet again.
Reina stared at the ceiling, suddenly remembering something.
Rin had said before that she also lived around here.
As soon as this thought popped up, Reina sat up abruptly from the bed, hurriedly fished her phone out of her bag, opened the chat app, and typed rapidly on the screen.
She had to warn her properly!
She opened the chat box with Rin.
Two unread messages.
Hmm?
She hurriedly clicked into it.
"It was too late, and because I was worried that you might encounter danger walking home alone, I secretly followed you for a while. I hope you don't mind."
That was the first message.
"Safe journey."
That was the second.
Below the text, there was an attached photo. Right in the center was Rin's expressionless face, making a "peace" sign at the camera, her short white hair shimmering slightly under the streetlight.
And in the background was Reina's back, panicked and almost crawling as she ran into the house.
Yes, that school uniform, that favorite shoulder bag of hers, and that pink hair, disheveled from running wildly—all of it was captured clearly.
"Plop."
The phone slipped from her hand and landed gently on the pillow.
Reina stared at the ceiling, expressionless, pulled the quilt over, and covered her entire face bit by bit.
Under the quilt, she began to roll around.
She mumbled something indistinctly, sounding like a curse or perhaps a moan, but it all ended up muffled under the thin quilt, turning into a string of vague "woo-woo" sounds.
Outside the window, that white little dog had wandered back downstairs at some point, looked up at the lit window, and barked once.
No one paid it any mind.
In normal times, perhaps someone would have paid attention.
But not right now. After all, the only girl who could have paid attention to it was currently rolling herself into a sushi roll, rolling steadily from one end of the bed to the other.