April 13th, 2012, Whisper in the Breeze, Evening
The antique shop was once again filled with the scent of old wood and silence, now underscored by the soft, rhythmic breathing of the injured shisa, Tosen, who laid resting on a futon in a back room.
Ryoji had helped Kegawa—now back in his elderly human disguise—settle him in. It felt right to leave the yokai in the care of someone he knew, a familiar face to wake up to.
Momo and a now-recovered Tomoe had departed soon after, promising to report everything to Sona and see if a more secure safehouse could be arranged.
Now, alone in the main shop with the sleeping Tosen, the air grew heavy with unspoken questions. Kegawa looked at the peaceful face of his former student, then his gaze shifted to Ryoji, who was preparing to leave.
"Mochizuki," the old man began, his voice low and serious, devoid of its usual raspy humor. "Are you a shinigami?"
The question hung in the air, stark and shocking. Ryoji paused, his hand on the doorframe. "What makes you say that?" he asked carefully, buying himself a moment, unsure exactly what the old yokai meant by the term.
The fact that he didn't immediately deny it seemed to confirm something for Kegawa. He sighed, a sound of profound weariness.
"I knew it. I've known something was... different about you. I felt it. I just ignored it, told myself it was an old man's paranoia." He looked down at his wrinkled hands.
"I think... I think a part of me wanted to believe it. I want this to be over. Are you here to take my soul?" he asked, and there was no fear in his voice, only a deep, resonant reverence. He had heard tales of gods from Lord Nurarihyon.
Was this boy an agent of one?
"Please, sir, don't say that," Ryoji said, turning fully to face him, his expression earnest. He waved his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not the Shinigami you think I am. Not in the way you mean."
He could see the confusion and the lingering hope in the old tanuki's eyes. The situation was too complex, too fraught with otherworldly complications to explain here and now.
"It's... a bit complicated," Ryoji said, offering a gentle, apologetic smile. "I promise I will tell you everything. But now isn't the time. Tosen needs you." He bowed his head in a gesture of deep respect. "Good evening, sir."
He left then, slipping out the door and into the twilight, leaving a deeply puzzled and contemplative Chomei Kegawa alone with his thoughts and his sleeping apprentice.
April 13th, 2012, Velvet Room, Evening
The eternal blue haze of the Velvet Room was a welcome contrast to the turmoil of the outside world. Makoto and Elizabeth were seated at the central table, a pot of tea steaming between them. They were discussing the events of their day, the haunting melody of the room a soft accompaniment.
"The Magician asked you to train her? That is good progress," Elizabeth said, a knowing smile playing on her lips. It was a smile that clearly hid a deeper thought, a plotted course of action she hadn't yet shared.
Makoto knew her too well. "Liz," he said, his grey eyes narrowing slightly. "What are you plotting?"
"Nothing, dear Guest," she replied, her tone a little too innocent, her smile not fading.
Before Makoto could press further, the familiar blue door swung open and Ryoji burst in, his usual casual energy replaced by focused urgency.
"Makoto! Attendant! We have to talk." He didn't bother with greetings, pulling out a chair and dropping into it at their table. "I found the traces of a lesser shadow. In the forest."
"A lesser shadow?" Makoto asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Like the ones that used to spawn from the Collective Unconscious in Tartarus?"
Ryoji nodded grimly. "Exactly. But it wasn't born from humanity's general negativity. It was focused, specific. I fear Nyarlathotep has managed to create the Shadow Self of one of the gods native to this world."
The statement landed in the room with the weight of a tombstone.
'A god, reduced to a Shadow?' Odin's voice boomed in Makoto's mind, filled with outrage and disbelief. 'Preposterous! Then it cannot be considered a true god in the first place! It is an abomination!'
'I completely agree with the one-eyed wonder, for once,' Apollo's voice chimed in, laced with distaste. 'Shadows are crude, inelegant things. The exact opposite of our divine nature. Especially mine.'
"Which god?" Makoto asked aloud, his voice quiet.
Ryoji shook his head. "I don't know. The residue was faint, and the yokai I found was too far gone to tell me anything before he lost consciousness."
"Izanami." Elizabeth's voice cut through the speculation, clear and certain.
Both boys turned to look at her. "What makes you say that?" Makoto asked.
"It is quite simple," Elizabeth explained, steepling her fingers. "While you were at Grigori, I asked Serafall Leviathan to provide me with a comprehensive overview of this world's major pantheons. When she explained the lore of the Japanese kami, one figure stood out as a perfect, vulnerable target for an entity like Nyarlathotep: Izanami-no-Mikoto. A goddess of creation and death, trapped in a dark underworld, steeped in jealousy and rage towards the world of the living. Her psyche is a fertile ground for the seeds of shadow."
The pieces clicked into place for Makoto. "In the Grigori HQ, I overheard talk of coordinated attacks by rogue groups here in Japan. Azazel mentioned oni specifically. Could it be connected?"
Elizabeth nodded, her golden eyes sharp. "It is highly probable. The followers of a shadowed goddess would be natural agents of chaos."
"We could speak with the person I found," Ryoji proposed. "He is a yokai, Tosen. He was attacked by the shadow. He might have seen something, know something."
Makoto considered it for a moment, then gave a firm nod. The path forward, while dark, was now clear.
"Yeah," he decided. "Let's do it." The investigation had just taken a critical, and deeply ominous, turn.