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After school at Kamome Academy always had a certain kind of quiet, like the building was exhaling after holding its breath all day.
Nene noticed it first in the way Hanako wasn’t talking.
Which, normally, wouldn’t be unusual in the “he is a ghost haunting a bathroom” sense of normal. But this was different. He was there, perched lazily on the windowsill of an empty classroom, hat tilted low over his eyes. No teasing remarks. No floating tricks. No sudden appearances in reflective surfaces just to scare her for fun.
Just… still.
Nene paused at the door longer than she meant to. The sunset had started bleeding orange through the glass, stretching his shadow across the desk like ink spilled from a too-full bottle.
“You’re being quiet,” she said carefully, stepping inside.
Hanako didn’t look up right away. “Am I?”
“That wasn’t a question you needed to think about.”
A small pause. Then, softer than usual, “Maybe I’m conserving energy.”
That made her blink.
She walked closer, bags shifting at her side. “Ghosts need energy conservation?”
“I’m pioneering research,” he replied, finally glancing at her. His smile was there, but it didn’t quite stick properly, like it had been drawn on too lightly.
Nene frowned. “That sounds fake.”
“It is very scientific,” he insisted, but it came out flatter than his usual dramatic flair.
That was worse. Hanako without proper theatrics felt like a stage missing its curtain.
She stopped in front of him, tilting her head. “Are you okay?”
That did it. A flicker. Just a tiny crack in his composure.
“I’m fine,” he said immediately, too fast. Then, after a beat, “It’s just… quiet.”
Nene softened.
Oh.
She understood that kind of quiet.
The kind that wasn’t peaceful. The kind that pressed in from the edges and made everything feel a little too far away.
She set her bag down gently and reached into it, rummaging with purpose like she was searching for something extremely important and not at all improvised. Then she straightened up with a small, decisive nod.
“I have something for you.”
Hanako raised a brow. “Is it an exorcism?”
“No.”
“A cursed seal?”
“No!”
A pause. “A snack?”
“…Also no.”
She stepped closer, suddenly a little more serious in a way that made him tilt his head in curiosity. “It’s a good-luck charm.”
That earned her his full attention. “You’re giving me luck?”
“Yes.”
“I already died. I feel like I’m past the stage where luck applies.”
“That’s not how luck works,” she said firmly.
Then, before he could argue further, she leaned in.
It was quick. Light. Barely there, like a decision made before doubt could interrupt it.
A small kiss on his cheek.
The classroom seemed to pause with her.
Nene immediately straightened up, hands clasped together like she hadn’t just done something wildly bold in a dusty empty room. “There. Good-luck charm.”
Hanako froze completely.
For a moment, there was no sarcastic reply. No ghostly commentary. No dramatic gasp.
Just silence.
Then slowly, very slowly, he lifted his hand to his face.
And covered it with his hat.
Not even fully composed enough to keep it on his head properly.
“W-wha…” came his voice, muffled from behind the fabric. “That’s not a charm. That’s not… that’s not scientifically—”
“You said you were doing research,” Nene reminded him, far too calmly.
“I was not researching that!”
But his ears, faintly visible from beneath the brim, looked like they had completely given up on professionalism.
Nene smiled a little.
There he was.
She leaned back against the desk, swinging her feet slightly. “Feel better?”
A pause.
The hat lowered just enough for one eye to peek out at her.
“…Maybe a little.”
“Good,” she said simply. “Then it worked.”
From behind the hat came a quiet, defeated sound that might have been his dignity leaving the room.
And then, softer again, almost reluctant:
“…Do it again next time it gets quiet?”
Nene blinked.
Then she laughed, light and warm, like the sunset had finally decided to stay a little longer.
“Okay,” she said. “But only if you stop acting like you’re about to dissolve into dramatic silence every time.”
“I make no promises,” he replied, but his voice had found its color again.
Outside, the sky kept burning gold.
And inside, the quiet didn’t feel so heavy anymore.