The New God

Tokyo was screaming.

Not an audible sound—something deeper, more visceral. A vibration that resonated in bones, in souls, in every fiber of reality itself.

Rei and Aoi ran through the streets of Bunkyō, dodging bodies collapsed on the sidewalks. Hundreds of people—salarymen in suits, schoolgirls in uniforms, disoriented tourists—lay where they had fallen, smartphones clutched in their hands, glassy eyes fixed on screens flickering with a sickly red light.

Others were still moving, but it wasn’t really walking. It was a procession of zombies, staggering toward nowhere, faces emptied of expression, thumbs scrolling mechanically over screens that no longer showed anything recognizable.

The ōyurei was draining the emotions of the entire population at once.

“This way!” Rei shouted, turning into an alley.

Aoi felt his urgency, his fear—not for himself, but for her, for Tokyo, for everything they stood to lose.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out without slowing.

The screen lit up with Nekomata_Hikari’s face, her feline ears upright, violet eyes shining with a new determination.

“I’m in position!” Her voice was tense but steady. “The Shinjuku screens are under my control.”

“And the others?”

“In place too! Yuki’s in Shibuya, Akane in Roppongi, Ren in Ikebukuro, Tsubasa in Ueno.” Hikari’s tails twitched nervously. “We can launch the counter-frequency at any moment.”

A pause. Then Hikari’s voice softened.

“Rei-kun. And… good luck. To both of you.”

The screen went dark.

They burst out of the alley and the Tokyo Dome loomed before them.

The massive structure stood against a blood-red sky, silent, menacing. No light shone from its windows. No sound came from its walls. Only an oppressive presence that seemed to swallow light itself.

And above the Dome, something was taking shape.

A colossal, impossible mass made of screens of every size—televisions, smartphones, tablets, monitors—all assembled into a vaguely humanoid silhouette that defied the laws of physics. Screaming faces appeared and vanished across every surface, millions of faces bearing millions of emotions. Hatred. Despair. Obsession. Jealousy. Rage.

The ōyurei.

“Impossible…” Aoi whispered.

Rei didn’t answer. His jaw was clenched, golden eyes locked on the creature with an intensity that burned through their bond.

They pushed open the Dome’s doors.

The interior was unrecognizable.

The fifty-five thousand seats were empty, but the space was not deserted. Luminous threads—red, pulsing, alive—stretched from the ceiling to the central stage, forming a nightmarish web. Each thread was connected to something invisible, pumping emotions from outside and channeling them to a single point.

At the center of the stage, Kageyama was waiting.

He stood with arms spread, head tilted toward the sky, an ecstatic smile on his face. His three-piece suit was immaculate—not a crease, not a stain—as if the chaos he had unleashed did not concern him.

“Welcome.”

His voice echoed through the empty Dome. He lowered his arms and turned to them with the casual air of a host greeting late guests.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you so soon.” His red eyes gleamed.

Rei stepped forward, his three tails manifesting, silver flames crackling around his fists.

“It’s over, Kageyama. We’re stopping you.”

Kageyama burst out laughing.

“Stopping me?” He spread his arms, gesturing toward the ōyurei above him. “Look at what I’ve created. Months of preparation. Thousands of victims. Millions of emotions channeled toward a single goal.”

He took a few steps toward them, hands in his pockets.

“You stole Hikari from me.” A shadow crossed his face. “She was supposed to be the heart of my god. The perfect core. But…” He shrugged. “I still have one option left.”

“Which one?” Aoi asked, even though she feared the answer.

Kageyama’s smile widened.

“Me.”

The silence that followed was icy.

“You want to… merge with that thing?” Rei’s voice was incredulous.

“Merge? No.” Kageyama shook his head. “Transcend.” His eyes shone with fanatic light. “Yokai are relics. Fossils of a world that no longer exists. They’re disappearing. They survive by feeding on the crumbs humans are willing to leave them.”

He looked up at the ōyurei, his expression becoming dreamy.

“But if I merge with the ōyurei, I become the incarnation of modern obsession. I become a god. A real god. Not some forgotten divinity begging for prayers in dusty shrines.”

“You’ll destroy millions of lives,” Aoi said.

“Until now, humans created the gods they wanted to believe in. Prayers shaped divinities.” His voice grew heavier. “But now? It will be a God who imposes belief. I’ll offer them eternal bliss. No more doubt, no more suffering, no more choice. Just… devotion.” Kageyama smiled. “They’ll be forced to worship yokai. It’s a new era for our kind!”

Rei clenched his fists.

“You’re completely insane.”

“Insane?” Kageyama’s eyes gleamed. “No. Visionary.”

He snapped his fingers.

The ōyurei reacted.

Fragments of its mass broke away, plunging toward Rei and Aoi like meteors of darkness. Not physical attacks—something worse.

The first form landed before Rei.

It was him. Or rather, a version of him. A Rei with eyes entirely golden, no pupils, no humanity. His three tails were blades of pure shadow. His fangs gleamed. And his smile—that smile was that of a predator who had abandoned all restraint.

“This is what you should have been,” the clone whispered. “A hunter. A devourer. Not this pathetic imitation that begs for human affection.”

The second form landed before Aoi.

She froze.

It was her. The Aoi from before. The perfect idol, immaculate costume, radiant smile, empty eyes. She moved with the mechanical grace of a puppet, every gesture calculated to please, to seduce, to sell.

“Do you remember me?” the clone’s voice was hers, but hollow, soulless. “I was so loved. So admired.” The perfect smile widened. “Why…? Why did you refuse Kageyama’s offer?”

Kageyama watched the scene, arms crossed, satisfied.

“Face your demons. And admire my transformation.”

He turned toward the ōyurei and began to rise, drawn by the luminous threads descending toward him.

Rei tried to stop him, but his clone leapt at him.

The fight was brutal. Every blow Rei struck, his double returned with doubled violence. Every flame he cast was absorbed, hurled back at him.

“You’re always holding back,” the clone hissed. “You’re afraid of what you really are.”

Rei fell. The clone stood over him.

On the other side, Aoi was facing her own nightmare.

The perfect idol danced around her, dodging her attacks, striking back with words sharper than blades.

“Look at you. Dirty, exhausted, dying. Forgotten by everyone. You gave up on your dream!”

“I gave up nothing! My dream was stolen!” Aoi cried.

“Kageyama offered to give it back to you… and you refused.”

No. I chose to move forward. To look to the future, not the past.

A wave.

Rei felt it through the Resonance. So did Aoi.

Across all of Tokyo, five voices rose at the same time.

Yuki in Shibuya. Akane in Roppongi. Ren in Ikebukuro. Tsubasa in Ueno. And Hikari, on every screen in Shinjuku, her avatar glowing with new light.

Five different songs. Five pains. Five hopes.

One harmony.

The counter-frequency spread like an invisible wave. In the streets, people began to blink, coming out of their trance. Screens crackled, emotional threads wavering.

The ōyurei screamed.

Rei felt something change inside him. The music of the five idols resonated through the Resonance, giving him new strength. He looked at his clone—that monster he could have become—and understood.

“You’re right,” he said calmly. “I am a predator. A hunter.”

The clone hesitated.

“But I’m also someone who chose.” Rei smiled. “And that choice makes me stronger than you’ll ever be.”

His flames changed. Brighter. Hotter.

He passed through his clone as if it didn’t exist.

On the other side of the Dome, Aoi was fighting the same inner battle.

She closed her eyes. Embraced her double. And thanked her for having been part of her life.

And the clone disintegrated.

They met again at the center of the Dome, breathless but standing.

Above them, something horrible was happening.

Kageyama had reached the ōyurei. The luminous threads wrapped around him, merging him with the colossal mass. His body twisted, warped.

The ōyurei absorbed him completely.

An explosion of red light blinded Rei and Aoi.

When their vision returned, something new stood at the center of the Dome.

It was no longer Kageyama. It was no longer the ōyurei.

It was both. And neither.

A colossal hybrid form, wavering between man and monster. Screens formed its skin. Emotional threads made its veins. And its eyes—dozens of red eyes scattered across its body—fixed on Rei and Aoi.

When it spoke, its voice echoed across all of Tokyo.

In every phone. Every television. Every screen.

“A NEW GOD IS BORN.”