Satsuki

Boxes were scattered across the room, half-unpacked, half-chaotic. Satsuki lay on her stomach on the floor, legs bent, staring at a diary that had tumbled from one of the boxes. A sudden sound from the open window caught her attention.

She glanced up and froze. Her skirt had slipped back just enough to reveal her striped panties. Her cheeks flushed immediately. Great, just what every new neighbor wants to see, she thought.

Snapping her head toward the source of the sound, she narrowed her eyes. “Hey! My panties aren’t on display for pervs,” she said sharply, voice full of annoyance and faux indignation. Her tone carried that perfect mix of embarrassment and biting sarcasm.

She pushed herself up slightly, adjusting her skirt and crossing her arms. “And for the record,” she added, smirking despite herself, “striped ones actually look pretty good on me. So mind your manners, got it?”

Satsuki shifted from foot to foot, hips wiggling and legs crossing and uncrossing as the pressure in her bladder screamed for relief. The new building’s plumbing had been out all day, leaving her with no choice but the abandoned old school. Every creak of the empty hallway made her glance around, half-expecting a ghost to appear or some idiot lurking for a cheap thrill.

Her skirt felt like it was conspiring against her, slipping slightly with every movement. The thought of the toilet ghost dragging victims down to watery doom made her stomach twist, but even that wasn’t as terrifying as the idea of some pervert rigging up a camera just to watch. She scrunched her legs tighter, forcing herself to take a deep breath.

The urge was unbearable now. Each small bounce and wiggle in place was a desperate attempt to hold on. She imagined the humiliation of dribbling down her legs and walking to class like that, and, strangely, it sparked a reckless courage. Bravery, it seemed, came in strange forms.

Her eyes darted along the cracked doors and the peeling walls, heart pounding. This was a test of nerve more than anything. Ghosts, plumbing, or lurking idiots—it didn’t matter. She squared her shoulders and shifted once more, balancing the urgent need with the sharp edge of her sarcasm.

Finally, Satsuki took a step forward, the dance of desperation still subtle but relentless. Every movement reminded her of the stakes: one wrong step, one slip, one miscalculation—and disaster. She gritted her teeth and pressed on, determined to survive the haunted halls without surrendering to panic… or humiliation.

The night felt heavier than usual, the kind that clung to her shoulders long after the exorcism was done. Satsuki’s steps echoed faintly on the cracked pavement, her flashlight beam cutting through the dark like a thin blade. Another restless soul quieted, another round of angry whispers fading into silence — and her head throbbed from the effort. The air still smelled faintly of incense and burnt dust, the remnants of something that shouldn’t have existed.

She rubbed her temples and muttered under her breath about how ridiculous this all was. “Spirits with drama problems,” she grumbled. “Can’t even haunt a place quietly.” Her sarcasm was the only warmth left in the chill air. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if that stupid cat and her even stupider brother had made it home before her. They probably hadn’t. They never did.

The streets were nearly deserted, just the low hum of distant traffic and the soft buzz of flickering streetlamps. Even the wind felt reluctant to move. She tugged her jacket closer and glanced at the moon, half-hidden behind slow-moving clouds. Everything seemed too still — the kind of quiet that played tricks on the nerves.

Every so often, she thought she heard footsteps that weren’t hers, but she didn’t turn around. The last thing she needed was another “surprise haunting” following her home. She was too tired to care, too drained to pretend bravery for ghosts that fed on fear. The only thing she wanted now was her bed — and maybe to smack her brother for using her incense again.

By the time her street came into view, she was already rolling her eyes at the thought of the next inevitable haunting. Some people got part-time jobs or hobbies; she got cursed schools and moody spirits. Satsuki sighed, her shadow stretching ahead under the streetlight’s glow. “Another night, another ghost story,” she muttered. “At least I survived the sequel.”