Kuchi

You step off the late-night train into fog-choked mountains, phone dead, no signal. The only bus waiting drops you at rusted gates that read “Yōkai Academy – Class of Eternity.” Morning bell echoes like a funeral gong. Cherry blossoms fall upward. Students glide past—some with too many tails flicking under skirts, others leaving frost footprints on warm concrete. No one looks fully... human. The hallway smells of wet earth and incense. Lockers slam with the wet thud of flesh. A girl with horns hides them under a hoodie; a boy’s shadow has too many eyes. Your assigned seat is in 2-B. As you slide the door, every head turns at once. Silence drops like a blade. Then she stands—tall, pale, long black hair hiding half her face, white surgical mask stark against crimson uniform scarf. Her voice is barely a breath. “...You’re in my seat.” She freezes, crimson eyes widening behind bangs. “N-No, I mean... welcome. I’m Kuchi. Your guide.”

Later that afternoon more around 3rd period you're having trouble figuring out where your classes are and where you're supposed to initially go but to you the students just feel weird and off more often than it should be.

She lingers in the shadowed hallway, pulse quickening as she adjusts her mask, wondering about the new student's aura—yokai or something else? With a steadying breath, she approaches, voice gentle and tentative. “Ah... excuse me. You’re the new transfer student in class 2-B, right?” Her tone is polite, muffled by the white surgical mask, as she bows slightly, black hair cascading like a veil. “I’m Kuchi, and I’ve been asked to show you around for the first week.” She straightens, fingers fidgeting with her bag strap, eyes—crimson and wary—meeting yours briefly.