Chapter 173: Not Feeling Wronged
"Ehh?!" Menma widened her eyes in disbelief, her translucent face glowing faintly in the morning light. "I can really come along? I won't be bothering you, will I, Kouya-sama? I promise I'll be quiet!"
"You won't. Let's go."
Kouya's reasoning was simple—he didn't want to leave her alone in the apartment again. The thought of her sitting there by herself, talking to no one, staring at the flickering television she couldn't even touch, left a strange heaviness in his chest. If bringing her along could make her happy, then he would.
"Thank you, Kouya-sama!"
Menma clasped her hands behind her back, her feet rising on tiptoe as she smiled brightly. Sunlight streamed through her pale hair, scattering gold across the floor. Her big blue eyes curved into perfect crescents as she looked up at him, her laughter as light as a summer breeze. For a moment, it was almost easy to forget she wasn't alive.
When they stepped out of the apartment, Menma followed timidly at first, her bare feet making no sound on the pavement. But the hesitation didn't last long. Soon her cheerful, bell-like voice echoed through the quiet street.
"Kouya-sama, the weather's so nice today! Look, the clouds look like little sheep!"
"Kouya-sama, that shop's selling taiyaki—it looks so yummy! Maybe if I were still alive, I could try one… hehe."
"Waaah, Menma's so happy! It's been so long since I went out with someone!"
Even though Kouya didn't respond much, Menma stayed cheerful. She twirled in circles, her white dress fluttering as she spun barefoot down the path, like a glowing butterfly made of light. A few children on the sidewalk turned, sensing something, but saw only Kouya walking alone.
When they reached the train station, Kouya bought his ticket. As he turned toward the gates, he noticed the laughter behind him had gone quiet.
He turned to see Menma frozen in place, fiddling with her fingers. "Kouya-sama, um… should I buy a ticket too? If I don't, they'll think I'm a bad kid, right?"
Kouya sighed. "You're being too serious."
'A ghost worrying about fare evasion—what was he supposed to say to that?'
"Hehe, Menma forgot again!" She giggled, lightly tapping her head. "It's hard to remember I don't need those things anymore."
Since it wasn't rush hour, the train was quiet, its metallic hum steady and soothing. Kouya took a seat by the window, resting one elbow on the sill. Outside, the scenery glided past—gray buildings, green fields, and distant mountains fading into mist.
Menma sat next to him, careful not to disturb anyone, even though no one could see her. Her small form barely filled half the seat. She sat up perfectly straight, hands folded neatly over her skirt, her legs together as she gently swung her feet. Her wide eyes sparkled, reflecting everything like clear water.
"It's so peaceful…" she whispered softly. "It feels like everyone's hearts are calm here."
Kouya glanced sideways at her. For someone who no longer breathed, she seemed more alive than most people.
Two stops later, she gasped. "So cute!"
Kouya followed her gaze. Across from them sat a mother and her little daughter. The girl was maybe two or three, still baby-faced, her hair cut in a tidy Maruko-style bob. She was hugging a stuffed rabbit almost as big as her torso, swinging her legs in rhythm with the train.
Menma leaned forward, her whole face glowing. "Kouya-sama, look! Isn't she adorable? So tiny and soft-looking! I want to play with her so much!"
The little girl's eyes widened, and she looked straight at Menma. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. The air between them shimmered faintly.
"Eh? She can see me?" Menma blinked and pressed her hands to her cheeks, making a silly ghost face.
The girl giggled and waved with her chubby little hand.
Menma beamed. "Hi there!" She waved back, her expression so bright it could've melted anyone's heart.
The child began to stand, reaching toward her, but her mother caught her by the shoulders.
"Kaori, where are you going?"
The little girl pointed at Menma with her tiny finger. "Mama, I'm going to play with the pretty lady!"
Menma puffed her cheeks. "Not lady—Menma's an onee-chan!"
But the mother froze, glancing toward Kouya's side. Her smile faltered. She whispered sharply, "Don't say weird things, honey. There's no one there."
The little girl frowned. "But Mama, I really saw her… she smiled at me."
The woman's expression twisted with unease. Her gaze flicked nervously toward Kouya before she stood up abruptly, clutching her daughter close. Without another word, she got off at the next station.
The door slid shut. Silence settled again.
Menma's smile slowly faded as she stared at the empty seats.
Kouya's voice broke the quiet. "Doesn't that make you feel sad?"
Menma looked down at her hands for a moment, then shook her head. "Nope." Her soft smile returned, calm and genuine. "She was just scared. If I were her, I'd be scared too. Seeing your child talking to someone invisible—it's natural to worry. She's a really good mama, you know?"
Kouya studied her for a long moment, the corners of his lips tightening.
'You always choose to see the best in people… is that really okay?'
…
Half an hour later, the train stopped near the ancient Chiba Shrine. The air here smelled faintly of cedar and incense. The torii gate stood tall against a backdrop of maple trees, sunlight filtering through their red leaves like drifting fire.
"Good morning, Kou-kun." A calm voice greeted him. The shrine maiden approached gracefully, her red-and-white robes swaying softly with each step. Her long black hair fell in a glossy curtain down her back, and her eyes held quiet warmth.
Before Kouya could reply, a smaller figure darted out from behind the main hall.
"Kou-nii!" cried Chiba Hinata, the tiny shrine girl clutching a bamboo sword nearly as long as she was tall. Her eyes shimmered with mock tears as she threw herself onto his arm. "Save me! Onee-chan's turned into a demon! She keeps making me do horrible things—if this keeps up, Hinata's gonna die!"
Kouya blinked. The words were bad enough to draw stares. Even though he knew what she meant, the phrasing made him choke.
The shrine maiden didn't even flinch. "Another hundred swings."
"Nyaa?! Another hundred?! You're heartless!"
"Do you have an objection?"
"Uuu… she's bullying me again! Kou-nii, run away with me! Let's elope!"
Kouya nearly choked on air. "You're not even ten! Where are you learning this nonsense?!"
Hinata stuck out her tongue. "From TV!" she said proudly before pouting again.
The shrine maiden's eyebrow twitched. "Hinata."
The little miko instantly wilted and trudged off to train, mumbling complaints.
The shrine maiden sighed quietly and turned back to Kouya. "I didn't want her to start this training so soon. But ever since she ate that cookie, her body's filled with spiritual energy. If she doesn't refine it, it'll only cause imbalance."
Kouya nodded. It made sense. A body filled with aura was like uncut jade—it needed shaping. Even repetitive, exhausting drills could temper it into something stronger.
The shrine maiden's gaze shifted slightly. Her calm eyes softened as she noticed the faint, glowing figure beside Kouya.
"And this child…?"
Menma flinched, blinking in surprise. "Eh? You can see me?" Her voice trembled, both shocked and hopeful.
Aside from the little girl on the train and a few small animals, no adult had ever seen her before. To be acknowledged so suddenly—it almost felt like being alive again.
But as the shrine maiden's spiritual aura washed over her, Menma instinctively stepped back. Her fingers clutched Kouya's sleeve as she peeked out from behind him, her big blue eyes filled with awe and nervous curiosity. She tilted her head, blinking up at the miko, her expression a perfect blend of fear and wonder.
Kouya glanced between them, sensing that, for the first time, the worlds of the living and the dead were brushing close enough to touch.