I Fell In Love With A Girl Who Died Before I Was Even Born

Noppera-bō encircled Namazu and me.

Behind them, another faceless one stepped forward, silent as death, and struck a gong. The deep, resonant chime shivered through the gymnasium, signaling the start of the match.

As one, the Noppera-bō around Namazu and me held a torch as they finished encircling us. One torch was lit, then another, until the two of us stood in a ring of fire.

The Noppera-bō who rang the gong began to beat on an old, leather drum. It's slow rhythm echoed though the gym.

I squared my shouders, feeling the weight of a hundred eyes pressing down on me. Their eyes and the smoke from the torches felt intoxicating and somehow ritualistic.

The whole gym shifted in and out of focus outside the circle.

I could feel the world moving again, under my feet. The shadows, cast by the flickering torches, appeared as though the edges had been soaked in oil or mother of pearl. The colors rising and falling into one another.

I could feel it. An invisible barrier, locking the two of us in here together.

"Ryu, listen to me," Yuki whispered by my side.

She was still here.

I sighed, feeling relief.

"Yuki, this guy's like half my height. I've got this," I said.

Yuki stiffened. "Oh my god, Ryu! He's a kappa!" she hissed. "He'll clobber you!"

I faltered.

"Clobbered? What the hell do you mean?"

"Kappa are incredible fighters! They're known to be stronger and faster than humans. But… they have to keep their water in their heads. I know! Bow!"

Namazu circled around me, cautiously.

His footfalls were in time with the drum.

I could tell he wondered why I was talking to myself, but he didn't lower his guard for an instant.

"Trust me," Yuki insisted. "Show him respect. Bow before you do anything else!"

I took a deep breath, then lowered my head into a respectful bow.

Namazu stopped dead in his tracks.

The small kappa had been hunched over, fighting stance, light, and prepared, but the second I bowed, he froze.

I watched as his eyes widened and his lips trembled as tears welled in his eyes.

His arms went stiff at his side, and he bowed back.

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More than a simple nod. It was a deep, full bow—of reverence, gratitude, and pain.

And then I saw it.

The top of his head was concave, and it held water.

When he bowed, the water spilled onto the mats at our feet.

Namazu let out a gasp and he dropped do his knees, the look of anguish and confusion on his face hurt.

His arms shook and his body trembled as tears continued to fall down his face.

I rushed forward. "Are you okay?"

Namazu lifted his head. His words twisted with grief.

"Why?" he rasped. "Why would a dragon resort to such a.. a.. dishonorable… TRICK?!"

I blinked. "What?"

I heard Yuki sigh. "When the water spilled from his head, it made him weak."

"I thought… I thought you would fight me… as a warrior! That we would meet as two equals!" His voice cracked.

I felt my stomach twist.

"Oh, Ryu. I'm sorry. I was trying to help," said Yuki.

I hadn't even realized what I had done. I was just following Yuki's advice. But to Namazu, to someone who had approached this fight with respect, I had just humiliated him instead.

I looked at him where he knelt in front of me, the mat wet with spilled water and flowing tears.

"You're a dragon!" His voice was thick. "You don't have to resort to dirty tactics!"

I wasn't a dragon. I wasn't even sure if I was human anymore. But I sure as hell wasn't a fighter.

I clenched my jaw. "What about yesterday with the bag of rice and Shion? What kind of tactic was that?" I reminded him.

Namazu's face darkened. "I was against that! It wasn't right. But Ken insisted."

Then he looked at me again. "But I only wanted an honorable fight with you! I would have fought you with everything I had and… you're a dragon! It's not like I… I… even expected to win but just to…" He clenched his fists, ashamed.

His words hit like a punch in the gut.

Namazu had only wanted to see how well he could do against someone he thought was a worthy opponent.

I was the jerk.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the bitter taste of shame in my mouth.

"Namazu… I'm sorry."

He looked up at me, stunned.

"I shouldn't have done that. I didn't realize… I swear I didn't know. You're right. It was dishonorable, and you don't deserve that. You can replace your water," I said.

I felt a cold draft at my left. "Ryu, if he does that, you'll lose for sure.

I shrugged slightly. "Maybe I deserve that."

Namazu looked up at me, confused.

I took a step forward.

He flinched, like I was going to mock him.

But I knelt and held out my hand.

"I'm sorry," I said again. "I wasn't thinking… You'd done nothing but treat me with respect. Let's make this fair."

Silence.

Then—Namazu started shaking as he stood.

Not in anger, but in shock.

"You… you'd allow me to do that?" his voice barely a whisper.

I nodded.

Namazy swallowed hard.

Then, slowly, he reached out—and shook my hand.

Suddenly, the torches circling us died, leaving us in darkness.

Until the gym lights flashed on.

The crowd exploded into cheers.

I hadn't even realized how quiet they'd been, waiting, watching—but now? The gym was deafening.

No one had expected this.

Not a fight, but two warriors choosing honor over battle.

Namazu's grip was strong as he nodded. "I accept your apology, Ryu Kazeyama. You would allow me to refill my bowl. It proves that you are honorable. We have no reason to fight now."

He stood tall, shoulders squared.

"Thank you," I said, feeling as though I had gained something of a friend.

The crowd's energy was electric.

Shion gave a nod of approval. Azuki beamed, practically bouncing in her seat.

Even Fushineko-sensei looked mildly impressed. Her tail flicked back and forth as she watched.

I caught just the faintest glimpse of Hina as she left the gym.

I expected to see her walking, her movements both ghostlike and mechanical, but not this time. Instead, I caught the faintest glimpse of Hina, but it looked like her entourage of Noppera-bō were carrying her out of the gym!

I was about to say something, but then my eyes fell upon Ken.

His expression deadly.

He stood near the back of the gym, arms crossed, unreadable—until our gazes locked.

Then, slowly, he lifted a hand to his throat.

And dragged his thumb across it.

A silent promise.

A threat.