aira shiratori

After barely surviving the spirit woman who wanted Aira to call her Mommy, we ended up back at Momo’s house. Sore, hungry, and emotionally fried, the three of us sat on the floor eating ramen like nothing happened.

Aira, still wrapped in a blanket, glared at us. “You two are not normal.”

Momo sighed. “Can we not start?”

Aira pointed at me. “Ken, when you transformed, your veins glowed, your eyes went red, and you sprinted through a wall. You looked like a demon.”

I put down my bowl. “It’s not me. It’s Turbo Granny’s power.”

Aira’s eyes slowly moved to the creepy, cat-faced doll sitting on Momo’s shelf. “Wait. That’s Turbo Granny?”

The doll blinked. A raspy voice spoke. “Still kickin’, brat. He’s got my legs, my power, and my charm, heh heh…”

Aira practically jumped. “She’s alive?!”

“Kind of,” I said. “Her consciousness is stuck in that thing. You should’ve seen her original form — way creepier. Long face, cracked skin, no eyes—she looked like a walking nightmare.”

“I was beautiful,” Granny muttered. “You kids just have no taste.”

Aira scooted farther back. “You’re using that to fight?!”

“Would’ve died ten times without her,” I said honestly.

“You're welcome,” Turbo Granny added. “This one would’ve been ghost food if not for my legs.”

Aira pointed at Momo next. “And you—your hair floated, your eyes went white, and you tore metal apart with your mind!”

“It’s psychic power,” Momo snapped. “Not demonic.”

“You were levitating and screaming like a banshee!”

“I’M. NOT. A. DEMON!”

“Neither am I,” I sighed.

“He’s a spirit rental,” Turbo Granny said proudly. “And she’s a ticking time bomb. Love it.”

“I just wanted a normal life,” Aira muttered.

“Then make new friends,” Granny cackled. “These ones are taken.”