The Ghost and The Death Lady
A loud silence filled the entire house for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, until a loud, booming, and thoroughly impatient voice shattered the heavy atmosphere of the kitchen like a blade, echoing down the corridor.
It was a male voice, and I was sure that it didn’t belong to Kenji.
“Hey! Ramen’s Delivery guy is here! Is anybody at home?” The voice said.
For a single second after hearing him, an absolute silence descended on the space.
Then, Akane burst out laughing; a loud, genuine, completely unrestrained laugh that vibrated beautifully against my chest.
Her shoulders shook as she buried her face in the crook of my neck, entirely defeated by the sheer absurdity of the timing.
I held her close, a wide smile splitting my face as I began to laugh along with her. "Did you actually order food?" I asked.
"Yeah. I totally forgot to tell you because I was too... distracted," she said, pulling back to look at me, her golden eyes crinkling with pure amusement. "Damn..."
I blinked rapidly, clearly confused by everything. "Ah," I muttered, my smile widening. "Okay. Understood."
The doorbell rang again, a loud, demanding DING DONG that vibrated through the floorboards.
"I'm coming! Just give me a single second!" I shouted down the hallway toward the porch, trying to make my voice carry past the entryway.
Akane slid smoothly off the edge of the black induction stovetop, her bare feet hitting the cold tiles with a soft, rhythmic patter.
She reached down, aggressively tugging the hem of my oversized black t-shirt back into place and smoothing out her jagged hair with her fingers, though it remained a thoroughly wild, beautiful jungle around her face.
Her lips were still flushed a dark, heavy red from the intensity of our interrupted kiss.
"You look like you've just survived a major structural battle," I teased, looking her up and down as I stepped back from the counter.
"I was just about to be entirely consumed on top of a kitchen appliance by a very persistent ghost, not that I disliked it," she shot back, her golden eyes flashing with a wicked, dangerous promise as she walked past me. "That definitely qualifies as a tactical engagement."
I laughed, turning on my heel to follow her down the dark corridor toward the front door.
The house felt warmer now.
Then, I unlocked the heavy brass deadbolt and pulled the thick wooden door inward.
The delivery rider was standing on the porch, illuminated by the harsh yellow bulb overhead.
He was a guy in an entirely indefinable middle age, wearing a scuffed silver motorcycle helmet and holding two massive, heavy, steaming plastic bags radiating an incredible, rich scent of spicy broth, pork, and garlic.
He looked absolutely exhausted, his face wearing the universal expression of a man who desperately wanted to finish his final shift of the night and go home to his own bed.
"Delivery for... Takanashi Akane?" he asked, squinting down at the digital receipt on his smartphone screen.
"Yep. That's me," Akane announced, stepping into the warm light of the entryway right behind my shoulder.
The rider lifted his eyes from the screen to verify the name.
He looked at me, then his gaze drifted over my shoulder, landing squarely on her.
He froze completely as his eyes slowly, systematically scanned the absolute chaos of her tangled black hair, the slightly askew neckline of the massive men's t-shirt she wore, her bare legs, and her swollen, dark-red lips. It was a picture that required absolutely zero imagination to decode.
The man took an immediate, highly instinctive step backward onto the porch stairs, his boots scuffing the wood.
"H-Here... here is your order. It's already paid. Enjoy your meal," he stammered, practically shoving the heavy, steaming plastic bags into my hands before turning around and sprinting down the concrete driveway toward his idling scooter as if the house were actively on fire.
Akane pushed the heavy door shut, locking it with a sharp, practiced twist of her wrist.
"The poor guy," I murmured, carrying the heavy bags down the hallway toward the kitchen, the warmth of the broth seeping through the plastic against my fingers. "He ran away as if he had just witnessed an actual phantom."
"He did witness a phantom," Akane reminded me, stepping up beside me and reaching out to slide her long, calloused fingers back into mine, locking our hands together as we walked. "He saw a ghost boy."
I smiled, looking down at our joined hands in the dim light of the corridor. "And he saw an incredibly, devastatingly beautiful death lady," I added softly.
Akane stopped walking in the middle of the hallway.
Her face flushed a deep, beautiful pink against the ambient light, her eyes dropping down away from mine as she pulled her hair forward to hide her face.
"Dumbhead, flatteries won't get you anywhere," she murmured into the quiet corridor, but she didn't let go of my hand, not for a single second.
I smiled as we moved into the kitchen and sat down at the small wooden table, directly opposite each other.
I unpacked the heavy containers, setting the massive bowls of ramen between us.
The spicy miso broth was steaming heavily, the thick vapor rising into the warm air of the kitchen like small, curling ghosts before dissipating against the ceiling.
"Mmm~ What a good smell..." Akane purred, inhaling the scent.
Then, she grabbed a pair of wooden chopsticks and broke them apart with a sharp, clean snap.
Her golden eyes were exceptionally bright under the hanging lamp suspended above the table, the old defensive armor completely gone from her expression.
"Did you get the extra spicy?" I asked, tilting my head as she pried the lid off her bowl.
"Yes. And I also got the marinated soft-boiled eggs that you like," She replied, pulling my own container closer.
A look of surprise appeared on my face. "You remembered that, too?"
"I remembered everything, Ghost boy," she said, dropping her chopsticks into the thick noodles.
"Ah... I didn't expect that, I must admit. You always manage to surprise me, Akane. Thank you." I said, smiling.
Akane remained perfectly motionless for a long, suspended instant, her chopsticks hovering a few inches above the steaming liquid.
She stared at me, her golden eyes searching mine with a vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show.
"You're deeply unsettling," she murmured, though there was zero heat in the words.
"I'm just sincere," I corrected gently.
"It's exactly the same thing," Akane replied.
Then she broke the tension by dipping her chopsticks into the bowl and piercing a boiled egg.
She brought it to her mouth, chewed slowly, and closed her eyes as she swallowed. "God, I completely missed real food," she sighed, her shoulders dropping as the residual stress of the afternoon finally began to leave her frame.
"It's not like you were eating terribly here," I replied, a playful smirk tugging at my lips as I recalled our previous attempt at dinner.
"You almost burned the toast, Ishikawa," Akane said, with a teasing tone of voice.
"You were the one who got burned and let me cook, Takanashi," I replied.
"So... we burned it together," she countered without batting an eye.
"Fair enough," I admitted, laughing quietly.
We continued to eat in a comfortable, deep silence; a rich, warm silence built entirely out of small, shared habits: her long fingers occasionally reaching across the small table to steal a piece of meat from my bowl, my bare foot lightly brushing against her ankle under the table, her golden eyes meeting mine for a brief second before darting away, uncharacteristically timid and sincere.
I felt such a strong sense of familiarity with Akane, even though we didn't spend seven years together. And that was kind of unexplainable.
At a certain point, the clatter of silverware stopped. Akane set her chopsticks down across the rim of the ceramic bowl, her expression turning serious.
"Shin," she said, her voice dropping into that low, velvet register.
"Mh?" I looked up from my food.
"Thank you. For the Lilibat keychain, and for... for allowing me to stay close to you." She said, a warm smile formed on her face.
I stared at her across the table, the simple sincerity in her voice making my chest tighten.
I didn't know how to express the sheer amount of gratitude I felt just looking at her.
So, I reached my arm across the wooden surface, my palm face up.
She didn't hesitate; she slid her hand into mine, her calloused fingers interlocking with mine.
"You don't ever have to thank me for that, Akane," I said, my voice steady. "Giving you things, taking care of you... It's the easiest and best thing I've ever done in my life, even though the time we spent together has been short."
She lowered her gaze, staring intensely at our joined hands on the table, and the pink flush returned to her cheeks, vibrant against her pale skin. "You're an absolute idiot," she murmured into her collar.
"I know, I know." I sighed.
After we finished eating, Akane immediately stood up and insisted on washing the bowls, saying she couldn't handle leaving a mess in the kitchen.
I tried to push her away from the sink, but she simply used her hip to shove me out of the way.
Refusing to let her work alone, I grabbed a clean dish towel and stood right beside her, catching the wet ceramic as she rinsed it.
We moved in a quiet, synchronized routine, our elbows bumping frequently in the small space, our fingers occasionally brushing under the running warm water. It felt natural. It felt like a rhythm we had practiced for years, like a married couple.
When the counter was completely clear, we moved out of the kitchen and into the living room.
The space felt large and peaceful, the golden lamplight casting long, soft shadows across the rug.
Akane walked over to the sofa and let out a long breath as she let herself fall onto the cushions, immediately curling her bare legs up beneath her body.
She then reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the television remote, switching the screen on.
"I have an absolute, burning desire to watch a movie tonight," she announced, her eyes scanning the digital menu that flared to life.
"Oh? A movie? And what genre are you looking for?" I asked, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, leaving a comfortable space between us.
"Horror, of course," she said instantly.
I raised an eyebrow, looking at her profile. "Why horror? I didn't think you liked cheap jump scares."
"Because when you're terrified, you'll end up shifting closer and stringing yourself to me without even realizing you're doing it," she said, her eyes remaining fixed on the screen, her tone entirely matter-of-fact. "And I really need to be close to you tonight, g-h-o-s-t-y b-o-y."
My heart executed a sudden, violent leap against my ribs, the sheer honesty of her admission stripping away the last of my defensive thoughts.
So, I shifted my position, sliding across the fabric of the sofa until my side was pressed firmly against hers, erasing the distance.
"Ok," I said softly, my shoulder digging into her bicep. "Horror it is."
"Good boy~" She said, gently caressing my arm.
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Author’s Note: if you’re enjoying the story, a review would really help me.
I’m gonna post Akane’s colored drawing very soon along with a beautiful fan-art I’ve received recently.
Thank you for reading until now.🙏❤️ hope you like Akane.