Aiko stood frozen in the silent library long after Kaito had left, her skin still buzzing where his fingers had traced her jaw. Class is dismissed. The words echoed in her mind, a stark dismissal wrapped in a dangerously intimate gesture. He was playing with her, she realized. Testing her reactions, gauging her fear, perhaps even enjoying her confusion. The thought sent a fresh wave of defiant anger through her, warring with the confusing flutter of heat his proximity had ignited.
She forced herself to focus, turning back to the scroll Kaito had left unrolled on the table. Yokai. Spirits. A world hidden beneath her own. It was terrifying, yes, but the academic part of her, the part that had always found comfort in order and knowledge, was undeniably intrigued. She wasn't just a prisoner anymore; she was a student in the most exclusive, dangerous classroom in the world.
She spent the next hour alone in the library, poring over the scroll, trying to memorize the names, the faces, the brief, chilling descriptions of the creatures Kaito had shown her. As she focused, something strange happened. The air in the room, which had felt still and heavy with history, began to... shift.
She started to feel subtle presences, like the faint static electricity before a storm. A flicker of movement in the corner of her eye – not a trick of the light, she knew now, but perhaps a small, dust-loving bakezōri (an animated sandal spirit). A faint, almost inaudible sigh seemed to come from a cracked ceramic vase in a display case – a Tsukumogami, perhaps, stirring in its sleep. The library wasn't just a room full of objects; it was a room full of listeners.
The realization was both unsettling and exhilarating. Her senses were sharpening, tuning into the hidden world around her. She wasn't just reading about Yokai; she was among them.
Suddenly, Mochi, who had followed her into the library and curled up on a stack of floor cushions, let out a low, unhappy hiss. His ears flattened, and his gaze fixed on a high, dark corner near the ceiling beams. He puffed up his fur, looking genuinely distressed.
Aiko followed his gaze. She saw nothing but shadows. But she felt it. The same cold, hungry emptiness she had felt from the Kageyama sigil, but weaker, like a faint, unpleasant odor. It was different from the quiet spirits of the library. This felt... intrusive. Wrong.
Remembering Kaito's lesson – Instinct is the first weapon – she didn't dismiss it. She focused on the feeling, pinpointing its location. It seemed to be centered on a small, carved wooden panel high up on the wall, almost hidden in the shadows.
Could it be another sigil? Had Kenji's sweep missed something in here?
Her heart began to pound. She looked towards the door Kaito had exited through. Should she call him? Part of her, the part that still felt like a prisoner, wanted his protection. But another part, the defiant student, wanted to prove she could handle this. She had faced down Kageyama thugs (briefly) and felt ancient curses. This was just a... cold spot.
She made a decision. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to the tall bookshelf nearest the panel. Using the shelves like a ladder, she carefully began to climb, ignoring Mochi's continued unhappy hisses from below. She had to see what it was. She had to know.