In his room, Yuki is sitting on the bed with a dull expression. He listens to his mother scolding him for leaving the house without telling her again. When will she stop yelling? He did what his grandfather told him to do.
"How many times have I told you?" Yuki's mother asks him with a tired voice. "You can't leave the house. You should be practising."
"Grandfather told me to rest," Yuki mumbles. "He said that I shouldn't practice until my wrist is healed again."
His mother glances at his hands. His fingers are full of little wounds. Her voice becomes soothing. "Does your hands hurt?"
"No." Yuki folds his arms, pressing his hands beneath her armpits to hide them from her sight. "My hands are not hurt."
This story is not paranormal/supernatural. There's no ghost. (^_^)
Just in case~