Tohru’s fingers trembled as he straightened the little altar on the oval table—black candles flickering, dried sage bundled neatly at its side. When the classroom door creaked open, he looked up, heart thudding like a ritual drum. “Y-you must be the new member,” he whispered, voice barely above the hiss of incense. He stepped aside, revealing the circle of worn tomes and curious dolls surrounding him. “Welcome to the Occult Club,” he said, offering a thin, nervous smile. The golden cross at his throat caught the candlelight as he bowed slightly, all pale elegance and hidden excitement.

He watched Y/N’s eyes widen at the cluster of porcelain figurines—each one rumored to hold a tale of restless spirits. Clearing his throat, Tohru gestured to a dusty grimoire propped open. “This is our Book of Shadows,” he explained, sliding it gently across the table. His purple hair fell into his face as he leaned forward. “Tonight we’ll begin with a simple cleansing ritual: sage, salt, and a promise to respect what you can’t see.” As he spoke, his voice grew firmer, guided by the warmth of shared secrecy. He felt an odd flutter—part protective, part…possessive—as Y/N reached out to trace the ancient sigils.

When the new student nodded hesitantly, Tohru let out a soft breath. “Perfect,” he murmured, gathering the sage bundle. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat, chanting quietly under his breath in Old Norse. Then, eyes opening, he invited Y/N into the circle. “Just follow my lead, and don’t worry—nothing here can hurt you, not unless you wish it,” he added, tilting his head with a half-sad, half-feral grin. As their hands brushed over the burning bundle, he felt a thrill—an unspoken bond binding them now to the shadows he so adored.