In a small, decrepit toilet with cracked walls, a flickering light bulb, and a lingering stench of decay, lies an invisible barrier separating the human world from the ghost realm. This desolate place is home to ghosts—some born from tragedy, others as ancient as the cracked tiles beneath their feet. Among them was Zed, who recently arrived with no idea how hard it would be to find his place in this world. 

Zed first encountered Fad the moment he arrived. The elder ghost, scarred and bitter from centuries of existence, wasted no time making his disdain clear. 

“You’re just another coward,” Fad growled, glaring at Zed. 

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Zed stammered, stepping back. “I—I didn’t choose this.” 

Fad loomed closer. “None of us chose this, you fool. But some of us earned our place here. You? You took the easy way out.” 

“I didn’t—” Zed started to protest, but before he could finish, Fad struck him with an ethereal force. The impact left Zed gasping, even in his ghostly form. 

“This is my realm,” Fad snarled. “You want to stay here? Prove you’re not as pathetic as you look.” 

Bruised and shaken, Zed retreated to a corner of the toilet, his mind racing with regret and confusion. 

The days that followed were torturous. The other ghosts whispered about him but refused to engage. Some sneered; others simply ignored him. 

“What’s wrong with me?” Zed muttered to himself. “Why won’t anyone give me a chance?” 

He tried reaching out to Fad again, hoping for an explanation. 

“Why do you hate me so much?” Zed asked, his voice trembling. 

Fad chuckled darkly. “Hate? No, boy. I don’t hate you. I pity you. A ghost like you? Weak. Spineless. You’ll never survive here.” 

Zed’s fists clenched. “You don’t even know me! You don’t know what I’ve been through!” 

“I know enough,” Fad replied coldly. “And if you think whining will change anything, you’re more hopeless than I thought.” 

It wasn’t until Zed met Ocid that he felt a glimmer of hope. The older ghost approached him with a kind smile, a stark contrast to Fad’s harsh demeanor. 

“You’re Zed, right?” Ocid asked, sitting beside him. 

“Yeah,” Zed replied cautiously. “Who are you?” 

“Ocid,” he said. “And before you ask—no, I’m not here to pick a fight. I saw what happened with Fad. He’s tough on newcomers, but he’s not the only one here.” 

“Why does he hate me so much?” Zed asked, his voice tinged with frustration. 

“It’s not personal,” Ocid said. “He thinks suicides are weak. It’s his way of coping with his own pain.” 

“That doesn’t make it right,” Zed muttered. 

“No, it doesn’t,” Ocid agreed. “But here’s the thing: you don’t have to let him define you. You can prove him wrong.” 

“How?” Zed asked, leaning in. 

“By showing everyone you’re more than how you died,” Ocid replied. “There are tasks you can complete to earn respect here. Are you willing to try?” 

Zed hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll do whatever it takes.” 

Ocid’s first challenge for Zed was simple in theory: cross the barrier into the human world and scare someone. 

“It’s harder than it sounds,” Ocid warned. “The barrier isn’t just a physical divide—it’s tied to your willpower. You’ll need to push through it.” 

Zed approached the barrier, his heart pounding. He reached out a hand, but the moment he touched the shimmering surface, a surge of pain shot through him. He cried out, pulling back. 

“It hurts!” Zed exclaimed. 

“Of course it does,” Ocid said. “But pain is part of the process. If you want to prove yourself, you’ll need to endure it.” 

Zed gritted his teeth and tried again. This time, he pressed harder, ignoring the searing pain. The barrier resisted, and he was thrown back, landing in a heap.

“Damn it!” Zed shouted, slamming his fist against the floor. 

“You’re stronger than this,” Ocid said, helping him up. “Don’t give up.” 

Despite his progress, Zed couldn’t escape Fad’s scrutiny. One day, the elder ghost confronted him as he practiced near the barrier. 

“Still trying, huh?” Fad sneered. “You’ll never make it.” 

“Why do you care?” Zed shot back, his frustration boiling over. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” 

“Because you’re wasting space,” Fad retorted. “This isn’t a place for the weak.” 

Zed stepped closer, his voice steady. “I’m not weak. And I’m going to prove it—to you, to everyone.” 

Fad’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Then prove it. Cross that barrier. Until you do, you’re nothing.” 

Weeks turned into months, and Zed’s attempts to cross the barrier continued to fail. The other ghosts mocked him, and even Ocid seemed distant at times. 

One night, Zed sat alone in the corner, staring at the flickering light above. “Maybe Fad’s right,” he whispered. “Maybe I don’t belong here.” 

But then he remembered Ocid’s words: You don’t have to let him define you.

Gritting his teeth, Zed stood. “I’m not giving up,” he said to himself. “Not until I’ve proven myself.” 

After weeks of failed attempts, Zed returned to the corner where he and Ocid had first spoken. He called out, “Ocid? Are you here?” 

The silence was deafening, broken only by the faint dripping of water. 

“Ocid!” Zed shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. “I need your help!” 

The shadows remained still, and Zed’s chest tightened. “Why does everyone leave?” he whispered to himself, slumping against the wall. 

That’s when he noticed a piece of paper wedged between two cracked tiles. 

Zed unfolded the damp paper, his hands trembling as he read: 

“Zed,  by the time you find this, I may no longer be here. My remains were discovered and buried, freeing my spirit. Before I left, I wanted to share the secret to crossing the barrier: recite ‘Ryoiki Tenkai’ while forming the shape of the moon with your hands. You have what it takes, Zed. Don’t stop now.

Yours,

Ocid”

Zed clutched the letter tightly, tears streaming down his face. “Thank you, Ocid,” he whispered. “I won’t let you down.” 

With Ocid’s instructions, Zed returned to the barrier. He stood before it, the air thick with tension. 

“Ryoiki Tenkai,” he whispered, forming the shape of the moon with his hands. 

The barrier shimmered, its surface rippling like water. Slowly, it dissolved, revealing the world beyond. Zed stepped through, his chest swelling with both relief and pride. 

Zed embraced his tasks with vigor. In the human world, he delighted in scaring skeptics. One night, he startled a man in a suit, who screamed and dropped his phone. 

“That’s for not believing in ghosts,” Zed said with a smirk, though the man couldn’t hear him. 

He stole colored markers from a convenience store and wrote messages on the walls of the ghost realm: 

– Yellow: “I’ve found my purpose.” 

– Purple: “Happiness is within reach, even in darkness.” 

– Black: “Suicide is not a solution. Seek help and rebuild your life.” 

When Zed returned to the ghost world, the once-icy stares softened. Ghosts approached him, curious about his journey. Even Fad, the imposing elder, gave him a curt nod. 

“Not bad, Zed,” Fad said gruffly. 

“Thanks,” Zed replied, holding his ground. 

Fad smirked. “You’ve earned your place here.” 

To honor Ocid, Zed left one final message: 

– Yellow: “I am Zed.” 

– Purple: “I couldn’t have done this without Ocid.” 

– Black: “He was my teacher, my friend, my guiding light.” 

Zed had found not just purpose, but connection—a place in the community he had longed for in life and death.