A few days after the incident at school, Ayane and her friends started avoiding me like I had the plague, which was a definite improvement. The quiet, however, didn't last long. Hachiro, our resident demon encyclopedia and ball of hyperactive energy, burst into Grandpa Kenji's dojo where we'd all gathered for our weekly meeting. He was waving a stack of papers and practically vibrating with excitement.
"Guys! Guys! You are not going to believe this!" he panted, tripping over his own feet and sending papers flying everywhere. "The demonic energy readings I've been tracking-they're off the charts! But not just high, they're… organized!"
We all helped him gather his scattered notes. Yogawa, ever the grump, snatched a chart from the floor. "Organized? What are you babbling about, you oaf? Demonic energy is chaotic by nature."
"Normally, yes!" Hachiro said, pointing a triumphant finger at him. "But look!" He spread a large map of Tokyo on the floor. Dozens of small red circles were drawn on it, but a massive, angry cluster of them was concentrated on one area. "These are all the minor demonic incidents reported in the last month. Little stuff-poltergeists, minor possessions, Gremlins causing tech to fail. But see how they're all flowing? Like rivers, all leading to one massive, swirling cesspool of foulness." He dramatically slammed his finger down on the map. "Shibuya."
My eyes widened. Shibuya? The epicenter of youth culture, fashion, and technology? It was one of the most crowded, vibrant places on Earth.
"An army," Erima said, her voice low as she studied the map. "This isn't random. Someone is gathering forces."
"Exactly!" Hachiro beamed. "The signatures are varied-Imps, Gaki, Sogenbi-but they're all being drawn in, like moths to a very large, very evil flame. This implies a leader. A general. Someone with the power to command and control other demons."
The mood in the room grew heavy. A coordinated demon army operating in the middle of Tokyo was a terrifying prospect. The sheer amount of ambient human energy in a place like Shibuya would act as a massive power source and a perfect smokescreen for their activities.
"The crowds…" I thought aloud. "All those people. The noise, the lights, the emotions-joy, stress, greed, loneliness. It's a buffet for them. They could be possessing people left and right, and no one would ever notice in the chaos."
"We have to investigate," Kizawa stated, his hand already resting on the hilt of his swords. It wasn't a question; it was a fact.
"Subtlety is key," Erima cautioned. "We can't just storm in with weapons drawn. We'll be arrested before we even find anything. We need to go undercover. Blend in."
And so, the next day, Operation: Shibuya Infiltration was a go. Blending in, however, proved to be a unique challenge for our particular group. Erima, ever chic, looked like a model who had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Kizawa, with his blue hair and casual coolness, fit right in. I, with my silver hair, just looked like another teenager trying a bold new style. But then there was Yogawa, who showed up in his dark, formal-looking tunic and scowled at everyone and everything, looking completely out of place. And Hachiro… Hachiro was in heaven. He had a fanny pack full of ghost-hunting gadgets, a T-shirt with a cute cartoon demon on it, and a massive, goofy grin. He looked like a tourist who had gotten hopelessly lost.
"Okay, team," I said, trying to wrangle everyone near the Hachiko statue. "Here's the plan. We split up, but we stay in contact. Erima, you take the high ground. Find a rooftop cafe or something, be our eyes in the sky. Hachiro, you and Yogawa stick together."
"What?!" Yogawa protested immediately. "Why am I stuck with this buffoon?"
"Because," I said, pointing at the handheld device in Hachiro's hand, "he has the demonic energy tracker. And you," I said, poking Yogawa in the chest, "can actually sense magic. You two are our bloodhounds. Sniff out the biggest sources of energy. Kizawa and I will stick to the streets, ground level. We'll look for anyone acting… off. Overly aggressive, strangely vacant. We're looking for the puppets. Let's find out what this army is up to."
Erima gave a crisp nod and disappeared into a department store, heading for the rooftop access. Yogawa grumbled but fell into step beside a babbling Hachiro, who was already explaining the finer points of his new Ecto-Spectrometer.
"Ready?" Kizawa asked me, his expression serious.
"Let's go shopping for demons," I replied.
Navigating the Shibuya Scramble was an experience. We were swept up in a tide of humanity, a dizzying river of people under a canyon of neon signs and giant video screens. At first, everything seemed normal. But as we attuned our senses, we began to see it. A man in a suit suddenly shoving another commuter for no reason, his eyes glowing with a faint, greedy light. A group of girls gossiping viciously in a corner, their shadows seeming to writhe and twist. A street performer whose charming smile didn't quite reach his unnervingly empty eyes. The demons were here, alright. They were wearing human skin. They were subtly nudging people's worst impulses, feeding off the resulting chaos and negativity. It was insidious.
An hour into our patrol, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Erima. 'Rooftop, 109 building. West side. You need to see this.'
Kizawa and I exchanged a look and immediately started pushing our way through the crowd toward the famous cylindrical building. We found a service staircase and made our way to the roof. The wind was strong up here, and the roar of the city was a constant hum below. Erima stood at the edge, binoculars in hand, looking down at a much smaller building across the street-a sleek, modern office building that seemed strangely quiet compared to its surroundings.
"What is it?" I asked, joining her at the ledge.
"Look," she said, handing me the binoculars. "Fourth floor. All the windows are blacked out, but I caught a glimpse inside when someone opened a door."
I focused the binoculars. For a moment, all I saw was darkness. Then, a door opened, and a sliver of light illuminated the interior. My stomach clenched. The room was filled with them. Dozens of demons-Imps, Gaki, and other foul creatures-were gathered, but they weren't acting chaotic. They were standing in organized rows, like soldiers. In the center of the room stood a larger figure, its form indistinct, but it radiated a powerful, commanding aura. It was giving them orders. This wasn't just a gathering; it was a barracks. A staging ground for a demonic army right in the heart of Shibuya.
"That's their command center," Kizawa breathed, looking over my shoulder.
My phone buzzed again. It was Hachiro. 'BIG ENERGY SPIKE!!! BUILDING ACROSS FROM 109!!! YOGAWA IS VERY GRUMPY ABOUT IT!!!'
"We found them," I said, lowering the binoculars. "Or, at least, we found a major piece of the puzzle." We now had a target. The shadow over Shibuya had a source, and we were about to bring the storm.