I Am The Strongest Ghost Hunter

Chapter 14

“Hey!” Subarashii finally barked, striding forward. Raito stopped.

Subarashii closed the distance, voice low and venomous. “You know it’s smarter to keep your nose out of other people’s business, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Raito fired back, “everyone keeps saying that crap. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna turn a blind eye to—”

CRACK.

A fist slammed into Raito’s cheek like a freight train. His head snapped sideways. He staggered hard, slamming back-first into the cold wall, vision flashing white.

Subarashii flexed his hand, smirking down at him.

“Couldn’t waste real strength on a weakling like you,” he said coolly. “Next time? It’ll be worse.”

He turned and sauntered off with his crew, shoes clicking like nothing happened.

Akito rushed over, eyes wide. “Why the hell did you do that? You could’ve gotten seriously hurt!”

Raito wiped blood from his split lip, grinning through the sting.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, voice steady and bright. “I can take a punch for the people who matter most to me.”

Akito shook his head, eyes wide like Raito had just suggested jumping off a cliff.

“You can’t pull stunts like that here,” he hissed. “There are rules. Unwritten, unbreakable rules. Stick to them and you live peacefully. Break them? You get crushed.”

Raito pushed himself off the wall, cheek still throbbing, blood drying on his lip. He met Akito’s stare dead-on, voice low and fierce.

“Then I guess it’s time for a rule change.”

He straightened up, every word dripping with raw seriousness.

“Even if I’m the weakest one here, I’m not gonna sit back while someone weaker gets bullied. Some things? They need to be changed. Starting now.”

Akito stared, mouth half-open. Admiration flickered across his face—he couldn’t hide it.

“Hey,” he muttered, “I’m not weaker than you in any way, you know.”

Raito flashed a lopsided grin. “Oh, my bad. Alright then—let’s go find one more weakling to complete our squad of the absolute weakest.”

Akito barked a laugh despite himself. “I know exactly who to ask. Come on.”

They hit the cafeteria next—a massive underground cavern lit by harsh fluorescent lights, long metal tables packed with noisy juniors. The air smelled like cheap fried food, sweat, and tension. Kids clustered in tight groups of two or three, laughing too loud, flexing, whispering strategy. Everyone already had their teams locked in. Everyone except…

Over in the farthest corner, one girl sat completely alone.

Her table was an island. No one even looked her way. Dark brown hair fell over her face like a curtain. Three perfect reddish dots marked each cheek—too symmetrical for acne, almost like ritual markings or faint whiskers. She picked at her food in total silence, shoulders hunched, radiating “leave me alone” vibes so strong the nearest tables had left an empty buffer zone around her.

Raito and Akito grabbed trays and claimed a table with a clear view.

“Looks like every other team’s already full,” Akito said, scanning the room. “We’re literally the only ones still short.”

Raito nodded toward the lone girl. “What do you mean ‘only us’? Look over there. She’s obviously solo. We should invite her.”

Akito choked on his drink. “Are you insane? That’s Sakura. People avoid her for a reason.”

Raito leaned in, curious. “Avoid her? That’s exactly why we should bring her in. Imagine how lonely she feels right now.”

Akito groaned. “It’s not just that. Girl doesn’t talk. Period. Since the day she showed up, she keeps to herself. Won’t sit near anyone. Won’t speak. And if she accidentally brushes against someone? She bolts straight to the restroom to scrub her hands like she touched poison.”

Raito raised an eyebrow. “How do you even know all that?”

Akito’s face went bright red. He sputtered, “I—I— Come on, man, let’s just—”

Raito was already standing, tray abandoned.

“You know what?” Raito slammed his tray down and stood up, chair scraping loud enough to turn a few heads. “I’m going over there right now. We’re getting our team locked in so we can finally start training.”

Akito slumped back, smirking. “Well… good luck with that, man. You’re gonna need it.”

Raito rubbed the back of his neck, heart already pounding, and shuffled across the cafeteria like he was walking into a ghost den. Whispers followed him. Kids stared. Sakura’s table might as well have had a force field around it.

He stopped in front of her, one hand scratching his head like an idiot.

“Uh… hey. Hi.”

Her face stayed buried in her arms on the table. Not even a twitch.

“Go away,” she mumbled, voice thick and groggy, like she’d just woken up from a nap.

“I just wanna talk,” Raito pressed, softer.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to talk to you.”

Ouch. Straight to the gut.

“Come on,” he said, leaning in a little, almost pleading. “Me and Akito are putting a team together for the exam. We’re only two right now, and you’re literally the last person without one. We’d really like you to join us.”

For the first time, curiosity won. She lifted her head—just an inch—peeking through the curtain of dark brown hair.

And her heart straight-up skipped.

The guy who’d been bold enough to approach her? Cute. Gentle eyes. Messy hair that somehow looked perfect. A soft smile that didn’t feel fake.

The girl who never spoke suddenly turned into a stuttering mess.

“Y-yes… no… I mean… huh… I… join.”

Words jumbled, face flaming, she slammed her head back onto the table like the floor could swallow her whole.

‘Oh no, he’s so cute and handsome and gentle. Please don’t hate me, please don’t hate me—’

Raito blinked, then broke into the warmest grin. “Welcome to the team.”

He stretched out his hand for a shake—simple, friendly, no pressure.

Slowly… painfully slowly… she raised her head again. This time all the way.

Raito finally saw her fully.

Big eyes, soft features, and those three reddish dots on each cheek—like delicate whiskers that only made her prettier. Unique. Beautiful in a quiet, wild way.

For one dangerous second, his chest tightened.

‘Megumi… sorry. Feels like I’m cheating just thinking that.’

But then her small, trembling hand slipped into his—soft, warm, barely there.

Contact.

The handshake lasted half a second.

Boom.

Sakura yanked her hand back like she’d touched fire, shot up from her seat, and bolted across the cafeteria like a startled deer, disappearing through the nearest door.