We regrouped in a deserted back alley, the neon glow of Shibuya a distant, silent pulse. Hachiro took one look at the obsidian shard I held and his eyes went wide with academic fervor. He gently took it from me as if it were a priceless artifact, which, to him, it probably was. He pulled a strange-looking monocle from his fanny pack and examined the sigil carved into its surface.
"Incredible! Just as I suspected!" he whispered in awe. "This is the marker of a Jorogumo clan. Specifically, the Onyx Weavers. An elite-class of spider demons known for their cunning, illusions, and incredibly potent venom."
"So, a big, scary spider," Kizawa summarized. "Where do we find it?"
"Jorogumo build their nests, or 'lairs,' in places of darkness and decay, but with a strong connection to the human world they prey on," Hachiro explained, practically bouncing with excitement. "They weave webs not just of silk, but of influence and energy. Given this sigil, and the energy flows I've been tracking… it has to be somewhere in the old, abandoned sections of the Shibuya subway system."
Yogawa shuddered in disgust. "An entire nest of those… things. Crawling in the dark. Wonderful."
"This is it, then," I said, looking at each member of our strange little team. "This is the source. We take out this Onyx Spider, and we cripple their entire operation in this district."
The entrance to the abandoned subway line was hidden behind a rusted, chained-up service gate. Hachiro, with a surprising bit of lock-picking skill he claimed to have learned from a "historical reenactment society," got it open with a triumphant click. The air that billowed out was cold and smelled of stagnant water, ozone, and something else… a dry, musky scent that made the hair on my arms stand up. The scent of the predator.
"Stay sharp," Kizawa murmured, drawing one of his swords. The blade cast a faint blue light, illuminating the top of the dark, descending staircase. "We're on its home turf now."
We descended into the darkness, our footsteps echoing unnervingly in the vast silence. The station below was a ghost of its former self. Tattered advertisements peeled from the walls, and a thick layer of dust and grime covered everything. But overlaying the decay were the webs. Thick, black, glistening strands of silk were everywhere, draped from the ceilings, stretched across corridors, and woven into intricate, disturbing patterns on the walls. They weren't normal webs. They seemed to absorb the light, and I could feel them faintly humming with a parasitic energy, draining the warmth from the air.
"Don't touch the webs," Yogawa warned, his hands already glowing with a protective purple aura. "They carry a sapping curse. They'll drain your strength and your will."
This was an infiltration, not a brawl. We needed to be ghosts. Erima took the lead, her movements utterly silent, her eyes scanning every shadow. She was in her element here, a hunter in the dark. She would pause, holding up a hand, and we would all freeze, listening. We could hear it then-a faint, chittering sound, the scrape of chitin on concrete. Patrols.
Our first encounter was with a pair of Kamikiri-demons that looked like grotesque, human-sized praying mantises with razor-sharp scythes for arms. They were skittering along the ceiling, their heads swiveling back and forth. Erima simply drew her bow, and two black-fletched arrows flew with a nearly inaudible whisper of air. Both demons dropped to the ground with a wet crunch, dissolving before they could make a sound. She was terrifyingly efficient.
As we moved deeper, the architecture of the nest became more apparent. The tunnels were a maze, and the webs grew thicker, forming pulsing, vein-like conduits along the walls. This was the demon's network, carrying the negative energy it had harvested from the city above down into the heart of its lair. We came to a section of collapsed tunnel, completely blocking our path.
"A dead end?" I muttered.
"Not for me," Hachiro said with a grin. He cracked his knuckles, took a deep breath, and slammed his fist into the wall of rubble. The impact was shockingly powerful, sending dust and chunks of concrete flying. He punched again and again, his fists acting like living jackhammers, clearing a path for us in minutes. His joyful grunts of exertion were the loudest noise we'd made.
"Try to enjoy yourself a little less," Yogawa hissed, but even he looked a little impressed.
Beyond the rubble, we found the traps. The floor of the next tunnel was covered in a thick, sticky webbing hidden under a layer of dust. Yogawa stepped forward, murmuring an incantation. His purple aura spread to his feet, allowing him to walk over the trap without getting stuck. "Follow in my exact footsteps," he ordered, his usual annoyance replaced by focused professionalism.
We crossed the trapped corridor one by one, emerging into a large, cavernous space that had once been a major subway platform. And here, the patrols were heavier. We saw not just Kamikiri, but also larger, more brutish Oni and sly, shadow-melding Imps. Hiding behind a rusted train car, we planned our next move.
"There are too many," Kizawa whispered. "We'll have to fight."
"No," I said, my eyes scanning the cavern. "We just have to be a better distraction." I looked at him and grinned. "Feeling flashy?"
He understood immediately. "Always."
We left the others hidden in the shadows. Kizawa and I stepped out onto the platform. "Hey, ugly!" I shouted, my voice echoing through the cavern. Every demon in the room snapped its head toward us.
What followed was a controlled, chaotic dance. Kizawa and I didn't try to kill them all. We just needed to draw them in, to be the focus of all their attention. His dual blades were a wall of impenetrable steel, a blur of motion that deflected every claw, sword, and cursed projectile thrown at us. I weaved around him, a silver-haired ghost, my daggers lashing out not to kill, but to maim and annoy, keeping the demons off balance. We were a whirlwind of coordinated chaos, pulling the entire demonic patrol to one side of the cavern.
While the demons were focused on us, Erima, Yogawa, and Hachiro slipped past them on the far side of the platform, melting into the tunnel on the other side. Once they were clear, Kizawa and I disengaged. I threw a smoke bomb I'd made from crushed purification herbs to the ground. It exploded in a cloud of thick, white smoke that made the demons choke and hiss. By the time it cleared, we were gone, having vanished back into the shadows to follow our friends.
We had made it through the outer defenses. The air here was thick and heavy, charged with a powerful, malevolent energy. A low, rhythmic pulsing sound echoed from the tunnel ahead, like a giant, beating heart. We were close. We were at the door to the spider's parlor.