My life used to be simple: school, kendo, and the occasional all-nighter with manga. Now, I was knee-deep in magical pacts, dodging soup-slinging spirits, and apparently bound to a snarky food spirit named Aiko who refused to leave my couch. Oh, and Yuna—quiet, bookish Yuna—was maybe some kind of spirit magnet with a secret magical grandma. And now the pact's cryptic "not yet fulfilled" nonsense was hanging over my head like a bad exam grade. If this was a light novel, I'd be screaming at the protagonist to get his act together. Too bad I was the protagonist.
It was Monday morning, and I was dragging myself to school, still exhausted from Saturday's feast-turned-cook-off. Aiko floated beside me, invisible to everyone else, munching on a spectral onigiri.
"You look like a zombie, Haruto," she said, smirking.
"Worried about Yuna's spirit mojo?"
"I'm worried about everything,"
I muttered, dodging a cyclist.
"You said her family's tied to spirits. Are there others like her? Like, whole clans of people summoning ramen demons?"
"Not demons, spirits," Aiko corrected, flicking rice grains at me.
"And yeah, there are others. The world's full of families with old spirit pacts. Most don't know it, though—magic's been fading for centuries. Yuna's grandma was rare, keeping the old ways alive."
"Great, so there's a secret spirit club, and I'm the idiot who crashed it." I sighed, adjusting my backpack.
"What's next? A spirit war?"
Aiko's grin faltered.
"Don't jinx it, nerd. The pact's magic is picky. It's already pulling in Yuna. If other families catch wind of you, things could get… spicy."
"Spicy how?" I asked, but she vanished, leaving me with a bad feeling and a stray rice grain in my hair.
At school, things got weirder. Yuna was waiting by my locker, holding a tattered book with a cover that looked suspiciously like the Grimoire of Minor Conveniences.
"Morning," she said, pushing up her glasses.
"I found this in the library's restricted section. Sound familiar?"
I nearly choked. "How'd you get that? They don't let students touch those!"
She shrugged, a faint smirk playing on her lips.
"I'm good at sneaking. Anyway, it's not the same book you used, but it mentions pacts like yours. And families with 'spiritual affinity.' I think it's about people like my grandma."
I took the book, its pages crackling with age.
"You're way too calm about this. Most people would freak out after meeting a giant chef spirit."
I took the book, its pages crackling with age. "You're way too calm about this. Most people would freak out after meeting a giant chef spirit."
Before I could respond, a shadow fell over us. I looked up to see a guy I didn't recognize leaning against the lockers. He was tall, with messy black hair and a leather jacket that screamed "I'm too cool for this school." His eyes were a weirdly bright green, and he was smirking like he knew something we didn't.
"Talking about spirits in public?" he said, his voice low and teasing. "Bold move, newbies."
Yuna tensed, clutching the book. I stepped forward, trying to look tougher than I felt.
"Who're you? And why do you care?"
"Name's Kaito Mizuno," he said, crossing his arms.
"And I care because you're messing with magic you don't understand. Summoning spirits in a dinky apartment? Sloppy."
My jaw dropped. "How do you know about that?"
He tapped his nose.
"I can smell it. You reek of pact magic. And her—" he nodded at Yuna—"she's got old blood. Spirit-touched, but untrained. Am I right?"
Yuna's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
Kaito grinned, showing a hint of canine-sharp teeth.
"Let's just say my family's been in the spirit game a bit longer than yours. The Mizunos have been binding spirits since the Edo period. We're… cleaners, of sorts. When amateurs like you stir up trouble, we step in."
I bristled. "Amateur? I beat a spirit chef in a cook-off, buddy."
He laughed, sharp and mocking. "Grimgut? That glorified soup stirrer? Kid, you're playing with fire, and you don't even know it."
Before I could snap back, Aiko materialized, visible only to us (thankfully, the hallway was empty). "Oh, great," she groaned. "A Mizuno. What's your deal, dog boy? Sniffing around my summoner?"
Kaito's smirk didn't waver. "Aiko, Devourer of Delights. Should've known you'd pick a loser like him. My family's been tracking your pact's ripples. It's waking things up—things even we don't mess with."
Aiko's eyes narrowed. "Like what?"
Kaito glanced around, lowering his voice. "Ever heard of the Hollow Feast? Old spirit ritual, banned centuries ago. Your pact's got its scent. Keep playing chef, and you might summon something worse than Grimgut."
Yuna stepped forward, her voice steady. "If you know so much, why not help us? Or are you just here to gloat?"
Kaito studied her, his smirk softening. "Got spine, huh? Fine. Meet me at the old shrine by the river tonight. Bring your grimoire. I'll show you what you're really dealing with."
He sauntered off, leaving us staring. Aiko muttered, "I hate Mizunos. Always acting like they own the spirit world."
I turned to Yuna. "You trust that guy?"
"Not really," she said, tucking the book into her bag.
"But if he knows about other families, he might know about mine. I'm going."
"Great," I sighed. "Another midnight adventure. Just what I needed."
That night, Yuna and I stood in front of the abandoned shrine by the river, the air thick with the scent of moss and damp wood. The shrine was crumbling, its torii gate leaning like it might collapse. Aiko floated nearby, grumbling about "stupid Mizunos and their stupid cryptic warnings." Yuna clutched her book, her face set but her fingers trembling slightly.
"You okay?" I asked, my breath fogging in the chilly air.
She nodded, but her voice was quiet. "This place… it feels like the stone circle I saw as a kid. Like something's watching."
Before I could respond, Kaito emerged from the shadows, carrying a lantern that cast eerie blue light. "Right on time," he said, grinning. "Ready for Spirit 101?"