Night fell like ink spilled across the sky.
No stars.
No moon.
Just an endless void above Hoshiyama, and the slow beat of ritual drums no one else could hear.
Hiragi walked alone.
Every breath felt heavy.
The air stank of rotting offerings and ancient incense.
Banners lined the alley: red, soaked with old prayers.
In front of him—
A food stall.
Lit by candles.
But the food on display wasn't human cuisine.
It was… faces.
Memories.
Sliced thoughts.
Laughter carved into skewers.
And behind the stall…
A god.
The creature had a porcelain mask with sharp teeth and eyes that moved behind the holes.
Its body was wrapped in ceremonial robes stitched from children's drawings.
"Slayer of dreams," it hissed. "You've come for a blessing?"
Hiragi didn't answer.
The god's voice deepened.
"Choose.
Feast with me…
or be served."
It raised a hand, and from the shadows, people emerged—or what remained of them. Festival-goers, now hollow, their mouths sewn shut.
They surrounded Hiragi.
Their masks were smiling.
But their eyes… begged for help.
A blade flashed.
The Dream-Eater cut through air.
But the god didn't flinch.
"You cannot cut what you cannot name," the god crooned.
"You must feed me a memory first."
And then, it happened—
Hiragi's vision twisted.
He was 12 again.
His parents were alive.
His sister was laughing beside him.
A perfect summer festival.
"Give this up," the god whispered. "And I'll let you pass."
Hiragi froze.
He looked down.
The memory… was bleeding in his hands.
Airi's voice echoed faintly:
"Don't let it trick you…"
Hiragi clenched his jaw—
And shoved the memory into the fire.
FWOOSH
It screamed as it burned.
The god laughed.
And bowed.
"Well played, Slayer. You've earned your first passage."
A mask dropped at Hiragi's feet.
The Mask of Hunger.
The god vanished into wind and crows.
When Hiragi awoke, he was back in the room.
Lain sat beside him.
She stared.
Then whispered:
"One down. Nine to go."
And on the wall behind her—
A mask had appeared.
Waiting to be worn.