Souji smiled, all teeth bare, and egged Chizuru on, "Go ahead, ask something."

She trembled, fingers shaking so violently they barely touched the planchette.

"Do you have a message from my brother, Kaoru?"

Souji chuckled, his fingers grazing hers as he settled them on the device, sending the hairs on the back of her neck straight up.

Chizuru's eyes shot open as she read the letters out loud, "I-W-I-L-L-K-I-L-L-Y-O-U."

God, he was moron. He should've known that little prank he pulled would send Chizuru to her grave, but it was obvious that he was moving that stupid little toy, and it was her fault for believing such foolish things.

It had been over a week since they played with the Ouija board and Chizuru was still acting like a ghost had haunted her.

"Hey," Souji called out to her. Chizuru continued to walk past him, head down, like he didn't exist.

He followed her like a shadow, waiting if she would change back to her normal self.

"Good morning, Chizuru!" Heisuke greeted brightly, a bit cheery for such an early morning. The two captains locked eyes and bowed their heads to each other, acknowledging each one's presence.

"Mm," Chizuru hummed, barely looking up, her hair pulled back into a ponytail with a few strands pulled out to hide her pale face. She moved sluggishly as she headed to kitchen to help with the breakfast duties.

Souji waited at the door—to give her space but also he'd be damned if he stepped foot in the kitchen while Saito was around. He was not going to volunteer with kitchen duties, unless ordered to do so.

"Oh, Chizuru, good morning," Saito whispered, his eyes flew open like he was surprised to see her.

"Please start setting..." his voice trailed as he watched her silently grab plates and cups.

She walked past Souji again, tray in hand, but this time huffed a little bit as Souji lifted his arm to let her through.

Saito cleared his throat, his hands aimlessly molding rice balls. "I sense some tension between you and Chizuru."

"It's nothing. She's just being dramatic," Souji scoffed, his eyes darting to the Chizuru, who clearly wasn't watching where she was going.

"Whoa, Chizuru," Shinpachi exclaimed, catching a tea cup as it toppled over when they ran into each other.

"Sorry," she mumbled, grabbing the cup and placing it back on the tray. She continued to keep her head down, sliding the door behind her.

Breakfast was brutal. The tension in the room was so thick, it would take Souji more than a few slices with his sword to cut through it.

Every captain had their eyes glued to a very quiet Chizuru as she sipped her tea slowly. Discreet was not her forte. She was obviously not in a good mood.

Hijikata broke the silence. "Chizuru, if you are not feeling well, go ahead and head back to your room," he said harshly, not at all his intentions of course, but Hijikata was not one to mince his words.

Chizuru stood up, bowed, and left the dining room without saying a word. Oh, she was so fucking obvious, Souji thought.

"What the fuck is going on?" Harada asked, his glance aimed at Souji. "We all know she's mad at you."

Souji rolled his eyes. They weren't there. It was just a stupid game and he thought it would be funny to play along and tease her a bit.

"I will kill you," Chizuru repeated to herself. "My brother's message is 'I will kill you'?" Souji laughed, his belly aching from the uncontrollable spasms of stifling the chuckles and giggles that he no longer could hold.

"Your brother is a hoot, I tell ya," he said, gasping for air in between his words. Kaoru was dead, he knew that, but he was also a terrible brother to Chizuru. And Souji had no good words to say about him.

But after having his laughing fit, Souji instantly knew he took the whole thing too far. Chizuru stared blankly at the Ouija board, repeating the phrase over and over to herself. Souji was ready to comfort her, his hand reaching out to her, but she had slapped it away and ran out the room before he could apologize.

The next day wasn't any better. Chizuru continued to mope around the headquarters like someone had died. Souji tried to lighten the air with trivial chatter like commenting on the weather and the time of the day. She wouldn't completely ignore him (Oh, gods, that would have been more tolerable) but it had annoyed him when her answers were curt and a bit snappy than usual.

Chizuru continued her act. She continued to act like a stranger and the other captains took notice immediately. But the reason was not quite as obvious as he imagined.

"It's probably that time of the month," Kondo assumed, waving Heisuke off. Heisuke was first to comment on Chizuru's newfound attitude. "Women tend to get moody when, you know," he coughed, refusing to finish his sentence.

It was a good guess and the rest of the men did not question Kondo's explanation and left Chizuru alone.

But after a week's worth of waiting for "her time to be over," something else must have been bothering her.

And Souji knew why. But as Chizuru continued to act wounded and hurt from the prank, Souji also grew weary with walking on egg shells.

It was harmless fun, he thought. She should know better.

Hijikata cleared his throat again. "Fix this, Souji."

It was late in the night and Souji could hear Chizuru muttering from behind her door. She was still awake. He lightly knocked and waited for her reply. He didn't even wait for a minute before opening her door.

"Chizuru, sit up," he commanded, closing the door behind him. "We're going to play the game again."

He lit a small candle and set the board in front of her futon. Her back was turned to him, and Souji lightly shook her shoulders, begging her to get up.

"No more games," she said, voice muffled under her blanket.

He snatched the blanket off her, the swift breeze it created made her shudder. "No," she said, lifting her knees up to her chest.

"Chizuru, please." His tone was soft, dripping with guilt.

Chizuru slowly released her legs, and sat up, her back still facing Souji. He could hear her labored breathing, hesitant and forced out of her lungs.

"One last game, please." His second "please" was less forced and more hopeful than usual. He needed her to play the game one more time.

She turned around slowly, her neck craning to look behind her. Souji sat straight, his legs perfectly crossed in front of him.

"Go ahead and ask again."

Chizuru shook her head violently. "No, no, no, no, no."

"You need to ask again," Souji instructed, pushing the planchette forward for her to reach.

Chizuru sighed deeply, submitting to Souji's pleas. She placed her fingers on the device, feather-light and barely floating on the edge of it.

"Do you have a message from my brother?" Her eyes were now welling up with tears, and she shut them immediately, afraid of the answer.

"Chizuru, it's moving."

She opened one eye, taking a peek as the planchette moved in circles. She opened the other eye and watched it move from letter to letter.

"I-A-M-S-O-R-R-Y."