Chapter 169: Menma’s Tears

Hearing footsteps slowly draw near, the girl curled up in the corner with her knees hugged to her chest stirred faintly. Her eyelashes trembled as she blinked open her sleepy eyes. The dim hallway light outlined a familiar figure, and when her vision cleared enough to recognize Kouya, she instantly stood up, wobbling a little before steadying herself. Her small face tilted upward, lips parting into a pure, childlike smile that seemed to light up her entire expression.

“Welcome back!”

Kouya: “…”

Something about this whole situation felt completely wrong.

Why did it sound exactly like a lonely little sister waiting late into the night for her big brother to return home from work?

“Why haven’t you left yet?” Kouya asked calmly, but there was a faint edge of confusion in his voice.

Menma’s smile faded a little. She lowered her gaze, her bare toes curling slightly against the floor as she murmured softly:

“B-because… Menma doesn’t know where to go…”

So she really had nowhere to return to?

No—more likely, her memories from when she was alive still hadn’t come back.

Ghosts weren’t like youkai. They were simply remnants of human souls after death. Over time, most lost almost everything—their names, their memories, their sense of time—until only a fragment of emotion remained, floating between worlds.

Kouya took out his key, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. A faint creak echoed through the quiet night. He pressed the switch on the wall, and the room immediately filled with warm yellow light, washing away the shadows.

Menma hesitated at the doorway. Her translucent figure trembled slightly as she peered inside, her blue eyes reflecting the brightness she could no longer truly feel. There was longing there—an innocent, almost childlike yearning for warmth.

“Come in,” Kouya said casually.

The ghost girl’s expression brightened instantly. The way she looked at him—hopeful, fragile, and grateful—reminded him of an abandoned pet finally being let indoors. If anyone saw this scene, they’d probably accuse him of being cruel to spirits.

“Eh? Really? I can come in?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yeah.”

“Really really?”

Kouya sighed. “Then forget it.”

“No! Menma’s coming in now!” She jumped in barefoot, her pale little feet making no sound as they touched the floor. The faintest ripple shimmered beneath her steps, as though her body were half air, half light. She clasped her hands in front of her chest, bowing deeply. “You’re such a kind person, sir!”

Kouya’s mouth twitched.

Was this what people meant by getting handed the ‘Good Guy Card’? Because he was definitely not enjoying it.

“Tell me what you can do,” Kouya said as he pulled a soda from the fridge, cracked it open, and took a long sip before looking at her again.

Menma blinked her wide eyes, the blue like glass marbles under the light. “Eh? Do?”

“You want cookies, right?” Kouya said flatly. “But nothing in this world is free. You want something, you earn it. Otherwise, why should I give it to you?”

She fidgeted nervously, fingers twisting the hem of her dress. “Um… Mister, that’s not the saying… It’s supposed to be ‘there’s no such thing as a free lunch,’ not cookies.”

Kouya almost spat out his drink. “Pfft—”

He coughed into his hand, giving her a half-stunned look. This ghost girl was seriously correcting idioms?

Menma tapped her finger against her lips, thinking. “Then… Menma can help you with homework? Or maybe cook and do laundry?”

Kouya stared blankly. Was she a ghost or a maid?

Why were her first ideas all house chores!?

What’s next—was he supposed to start a trend and get himself a ghost maid like his cousin Kobayashi’s dragon maid?

“Can you even hold a pen?” he asked skeptically.

Menma blinked, nodded earnestly, and reached toward a pen on the desk. The moment her fingers brushed it, the pen trembled slightly—then fell still again.

She looked at him, head tilted, and knocked her fist lightly against her own head. Her smile was soft, almost embarrassed. “Guess not. Hehe.”

Kouya rubbed his temple. How could she smile like that after failing something so simple?

But that was just who she was. This Menma was the lowest type of spirit—harmless, invisible to ordinary humans, and without any power to interact with the world. She only remembered fragments of herself—her name, and a single wish she was desperate to fulfill. The rest was emptiness.

Yet, even in that emptiness, she radiated a strange purity. No resentment. No pain. Just quiet light.

She was like a nameless flower blooming on a forgotten balcony, surviving only through sunlight and the faint memory of rain.

Kouya sighed and leaned against the wall, thinking. They had no connection. She wasn’t his responsibility. Giving her a cookie out of pity would be weird, wouldn’t it?

He waved a hand dismissively. “Figure out what you can trade for the cookie. Tell me when you know. Until then, we’ll leave it there.”

“Okay, sir.” She bowed again, her silver hair swaying. “Menma’s my name. Please take care of me.”

“Don’t call me sir,” Kouya muttered. “Just Kouya.”

“Got it, Kouya-sama.”

He froze. “Why that?”

“Because it sounds more affectionate!” she said with a beaming smile.

He groaned and gave up trying to argue.

After a shower, Kouya sat at his computer, booted up his game, and instantly received a flood of messages from the lazy angel next door.

“Hey! Where are you!?”

“You still not home!?”

“Damn it, ignoring me again? Want me to come over and smack you!?”

“Aaaah! You won’t believe it! I thought the ‘Array Cat’ guild was all guys, but turns out it’s all girls—same school too! How can that even happen!?”

Kouya skimmed through the ranting and replied with a single, short line: “I’m back.”

Seconds later, Gabriel responded instantly.

“You’re online!? Come on, rank me up!”

“Mm.”

“Also, that ‘Fallen Saint Black Cat’ from the dungeon’s really good at PvP. I invited her to play with us.”

Kouya rolled his eyes. “Then what use are you? →_→”

“Hehehe! I’m here to get carried! (*▽*)”

The chat continued for a while before Kouya felt it—someone staring.

He turned his head slowly. Menma was behind him again, standing so close he could feel a faint chill. Her wide eyes reflected the colors flashing across the monitor.

“What’s that?” she asked curiously.

“A computer game.”

Her eyes widened even more. “So amazing! I remember when I was little, we only had tiny handheld Pokémon games…”

Her voice trailed off. Kouya looked up and noticed the shimmer at the corners of her eyes.

“You’re crying.”

“Eh? Really…?” She touched her cheek. Her fingers passed through the tears, scattering them into small silver droplets that faded into the air. “I don’t even know why… They just fell out on their own…”

“Maybe dust in your eyes,” Kouya said dryly.

Menma laughed softly, even as she wiped at her face. “Sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

She looked up, smiling brightly through her tears. “Because… it must bother Kouya-sama, right?”

He had no answer.

By nine-thirty, after Gabriel’s endless chatter, Kouya finally logged off. Though sleepless nights didn’t bother him physically, he preferred peace, quiet, and simple rest. There was comfort in normalcy.

They say staying up late is hard—but loneliness is harder. The kind that creeps in when the world is quiet, when the ticking of a clock becomes deafening, when even the moonlight feels too still.

Before lying down, Kouya glanced at Menma. She was sitting beside the bed, knees drawn up, posture straight like a duck, watching him with soft eyes.

“If you want to sleep, use the sofa,” he said simply.

“Thank you, Kouya-sama.” She bowed again.

Kouya switched off the lights, closed his eyes, and drifted toward sleep.

The curtains were only half drawn. Pale moonlight spilled in, washing the room in silver.

Menma sat quietly on the sofa, hugging her knees once more. Her gaze followed the moon outside—round, distant, and unreachable. The light passed through her body, falling faintly on the cushions beneath her.

Her hair glowed like strands of silver thread, swaying gently as though stirred by a nonexistent breeze.

She could remember so little. Her parents—forgotten. Her past—gone. Only one thing remained in her fragile, fading consciousness: the promise she had made.

A wish she swore she would fulfill, no matter how long it took.

“Because… Menma must make her wish come true.”

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