I Am The Strongest Ghost Hunter

Chapter 5

Peace’s face hardened—no cruelty, no rage, just pure, ice-cold authority that hit Raito like a slap. His spine straightened on instinct, like his body knew better than to slouch under that stare.

“Well, first off,” she said, voice flat and freezing, “it’s not your job to ask questions.”

Boots echoed as she stepped closer, each click bouncing off the massive pillars.

“I’ll tell you what you need to know. Nothing extra. Got it?”

The words hung heavy, pressing down on the hall like gravity just doubled.

Hank shifted, hand still lazy on his sword hilt. “You sure this is smart?”

“It’s fine,” Peace shot back, cool as ever. “If the kid gets out of line, we’ll handle him. Easy.”

She turned those sharp eyes back on Raito, all business now.

“your body is constantly emanating an aura” she said, clinical, no sugarcoating. “one that attracts ghosts to your within your current location If there's any ghost bound to it.”

Raito went stiff, throat tight.

“That part’s not rare,” she kept going. “Plenty of us can see ghosts. Some sense ‘em. A few can even touch or fight ‘em.”

Her eyes narrowed, pinning him in place.

“But you? You’re different.”

One more step closer—close enough he could see the flecks in her irises.

“You see them clear as day… but they don’t clock you right away. Hell, the closer they get, the harder it is for them to even register you’re there.”

Peace tilted her head, eyes drilling into him like she could peel back his skull and read the answers herself.

“Care to explain why?”

Raito went quiet. Dead quiet.

Fingers curled slow at his sides, knuckles going white. Eyes dropped to the stone floor like it held all the secrets he couldn’t say.

“I…” Lips parted. Closed. Nothing.

The hall stayed silent—thick, heavy silence that pressed in from every pillar.

Peace didn’t push. Not yet.

Finally, he muttered, shaking his head, “…I don’t know.”

Voice small. Tired.

“I’ve turned it over in my head a thousand times. But every time I get close… it just…” Jaw clenched hard. “Doesn’t matter.”

Peace’s eyes narrowed, sharp as her dagger.

“It does,” she said, flat and cold. “Whether you like it or not.”

Raito let out a breath—short, bitter, almost a laugh without any funny in it.

“I don’t like thinking about that night,” he muttered. “It doesn’t change a damn thing.”

She waited a beat, then spoke again—calm, precise, no room for bullshit.

“This isn’t about what you like, Raito. Whatever went down that night is the exact reason you’re standing here breathing. And yeah—you’re lucky I showed up to pull your ass out of the fire.”

His shoulders locked up tight.

“…Drop it,” he said, quiet but firm.

Peace didn’t drop a thing.

“If you don’t spit it out,” she kept going, voice like steel, “you’ll keep pulling ghosts like flies to shit and never know why. Next time? I might not be around to save you. So quit whining and start talking.”

Silence slammed down again.

Raito’s breathing turned ragged. Hands shook—couldn’t hide it anymore.

Then, barely a whisper:

“…Three years ago,” he said, “Megumi asked me to go out with her.”

Chest tightened like a vise.

“She wanted to show me something. Somewhere beautiful.”

His lips shook, but he forced the words out anyway.

“It was night. Woods were quiet. Too quiet.”

Pause. Long. Painful.

“Then it hit me first.”

Voice cracked wide open.

“I didn’t even know what was happening. Just pain—then she was in front of me.”

He clenched his teeth, nails digging bloody crescents into his palms. Tears spilled hot down his face.

“Megumi tried to protect me,” he said, shaking his head hard. “She didn’t run. Didn’t scream. She just… stood there.”

His shoulders shook hard as he dropped his head low.

“It was too strong.”

Long pause. The kind that sucked the air out of the room.

“If only I hadn’t gone with her,” he whispered, voice cracking like glass. “If only I’d said no… turned her down…”

The words shattered.

“She’d still be alive.”

His voice broke completely, raw and wrecked.

The hall went dead heavy—silence thick enough to choke on.

Peace broke it, gentle but firm, no bullshit.

“Did you see the ghost that hit you that night?”

Raito wiped at his eyes, but the tears kept coming, stubborn. After a beat that felt like forever, he nodded—slow, like admitting it hurt worse than the memory itself.

“Megumi saw it first,” he said, voice steadier now but empty inside. “I couldn’t see a damn thing.”

He stared off into nothing.

“She grabbed my hand. Yanked me. Kept screaming to run.” Fingers curled on instinct, like he could still feel her grip. “She was terrified out of her mind… but she didn’t let go.”

Throat worked hard.

“I didn’t get it,” he went on. “Thought she was just freaking out. Even tried to calm her down like an idiot.”

Bitter huff—no laugh in it.

“She was the only one who knew we were already dead meat.”

He swallowed, forcing the rest out.

“Only after it hit me did I see it,” he said. “Not the body. Not the face. Just… its presence.”

His eyes darkened, shadows creeping in like the memory itself was poison.

“The aura was wrong. Heavy. Cold.” He shook his head hard. “Different from every ghost I’ve felt since.”

Slow, he lifted his gaze—raw, haunted.

“It was white aura.”

Peace’s face shifted in a flash—eyes widening just a fraction before she locked it down.

‘…A white-aura ghost,’ she murmured under her breath, low enough only she heard. “That explains a lot.”

Hank stepped forward, tone calmer now, almost gentle.

“My guess is that ghost wasn’t gunning for you originally,” he said. “From everything you spilled, its real target was your friend. She spotted it first… or maybe she pulled it in somehow.”

Raito’s hands balled into fists, knuckles cracking.

“You were just collateral.”

The words hit like a gut punch—harder than Raito braced for.

“So…” he whispered, voice small, “if I hadn’t been there… she wouldn’t have had to protect me.”

Nobody said a word.

Nobody denied it.

Hank kept going, relentless but steady.

“So what flipped the switch? Why can you see them now? Surviving that mess should’ve awakened you—that part tracks. But it doesn’t explain why ghosts go blind to you at first.”

Raito froze up again.

He stared down at his hands, flexing fingers like they were foreign.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice barely there. “I’ve asked myself that every single day since.”