A statuesque maiden with raven tresses stood motionless before an immense looking glass, as though utterly oblivious to the sound of his knock and the creak of the opening door.
That mirror evoked in him memories of the Mirror of Erised from *Harry Potter*, a mystical artifact capable of unveiling the deepest yearnings of the soul. Vast and ponderous, framed in what appeared to be antique bronze, it stood amidst a clutter of miscellany like a portal to another realm.
The young lady lingered in silence before it, her delicate fingers grazing her chin as she gazed pensively at her reflection.
Upon her feet gleamed polished leather shoes, so lustrous they might reflect an indelicate glimpse beneath a schoolgirl's skirt. Encasing her slender legs were sheer black stockings that hinted at the hue of her skin beneath, while her luxuriant ebony hair cascaded tranquilly over her shoulders, reaching her waist in a cascade so exquisite she resembled a resplendent oil painting.
Clad in a uniform identical to those worn by Eriri and Qiong, it clung to her form with striking allure, accentuating every curve. Even from behind, Kagura could envision her lithe, captivating silhouette.
Yet—hold a moment—this was not Yukino!
*Gulp…* Kagura swallowed hard, his mind racing to a chilling legend tied to the old schoolhouse.
Whispers spoke of a girl, forty years past, who had been hanged in a classroom on the fourth floor of that forsaken building. That room, thereafter cursed by her vengeful spirit, had vanished from the school entirely, becoming an eternal enigma of Sobu High.
The tale warned of a colossal mirror within the old schoolhouse… and cautioned never to turn back, no matter what transpired before it, lest the wrathful spirit of the murdered maiden ensnare you within its depths, lost forever in bewildered torment.
That slain girl's name was…
*Rustle…*
The figure before him whirled around abruptly.
*Gulp!*
In an instant, Kagura's nerves tautened to their limit as he clutched the doorknob, locking eyes with her.
Could this be… the vengeful spirit of the murdered girl? Surely not—this specter was far too enchanting!
Her porcelain visage, soft as if it might yield to a breath, glowed faintly in the sunset's tender light. The profile reflected in the mirror was obscured by shadow, rendering it indistinct. Her full bosom strained against her blouse, her slender waist made the tailored uniform seem almost lax, and her impeccable legs, sheathed in black silk, melded with the gloom in an aura of mystery and beauty.
That face stirred in Kagura a profound sense of familiarity—worthy of at least ninety-five points in his estimation. He felt certain he had seen her often, yet her identity eluded him.
This uncanny sensation, paired with her extraordinary presence, left Kagura momentarily entranced.
"…"
Yet the maiden paid no heed to his stare. She turned back, peering intently into the mirror as though it concealed some secret mechanism.
"Um…"
Kagura's throat shifted as he took a step forward, venturing to greet her.
"…?!" She pivoted, her eyes wide with astonishment. Glancing into the mirror once more, she tilted her head and regarded him curiously. "This is quite unexpected. I didn't think you'd be able to see me…"
"Uh…?"
Kagura's nerves snapped taut once more.
Could it be—she truly was the fabled spirit of the old schoolhouse? The high school girl hanged forty years ago? Had he, freshly awakened to some grand destiny, stumbled into her trap, doomed to be dragged into the mirror's abyss?!
But then, a second thought: perhaps she was merely an eccentric soul, clinging to delusions of invisibility, posing as a phantom in this haunt of eerie tales to startle her peers for amusement.
*Click, clack…* With sprightly steps, she approached him. Arms crossed, she appraised him with keen interest, a faint chuckle escaping her lips at his evident tension. With a hand on her hip, she declared, "Don't misunderstand—I'm no resentful spirit of the old schoolhouse. I'm merely here to investigate one."
"Ha…"
Kagura exhaled in quiet relief, murmuring inwardly: Thank heavens, that was unnerving.
Yet she wasn't Yukino either. By all accounts, this was Yukino's domain. Having shared a year as classmates, Kagura knew her well—he'd recognize her even as ashes.
"So, you're Sawamura Spencer Kagura from second year. What brings you here?"
She recited his name with calm assurance, then slid back to perch upon a weathered yet tidy desk, carefully smoothing her skirt as she crossed her legs.
"You know me…" Kagura's tension eased further. Straightening, he peered inside and explained, "I heard Yukino often comes here to read. I needed to speak with her, but it seems she's not around."
"Well, it's the first day of term—she's likely absent for now. Try again tomorrow."
Her response came with a glance about the room, spoken with an air of intimate knowledge of Yukino.
"Hm… tomorrow works. And you are…?"
The more he looked, the more familiar she seemed—not the shallow familiarity born of beauty, but a genuine recognition he couldn't place.
His question caught her off guard. She frowned slightly, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face—"Surely you know me?"—yet she withheld it, sighing instead. "I am Mai Sakurajima… Sakurajima of Mai Sakurajima, Mai of Mai Sakurajima. A third-year from Class C. When addressing me, at least append 'senpai.'"
"Mai Sakurajima?!"
Kagura jolted, eyes widening, his nose paling.
Indeed—he recalled it now. The girl hanged in the old schoolhouse forty years ago bore that very name: Mai Sakurajima!
"Ah…" Noticing his alarm, Mai paused, then ventured with faint suspicion, "You don't truly think I'm that spirit, do you? I've said I'm not… and do address me properly as 'senpai.'"
"But you… er, Senpai, your name…"
Kagura stole a glance at the mirror. Mercifully, it reflected only the empty classroom.
"It's merely a coincidence with the spirit from forty years ago," Mai sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead. "You've been at Sobu High a year—surely you've heard as much."
"Sorry, I don't have many friends here, nor do I follow such gossip."
"…" Mai fell silent, bemused, then rose gracefully from the desk. Brushing past him with poise, she said, "Then that's all. Farewell. Speak of this to no one."
"…???"
Utterly perplexing.
Kagura stared after Mai Sakurajima, pondering her cryptic words—"I didn't think you'd be able to see me."
Could it be that others couldn't? A grand case of theatrical delusion, indeed!