EPISODE 16 — The Shadow Children
Night pressed down on Kamihama City like a hand smothering a scream.
A cold rain drifted across the empty streets as Takeru walked alone beneath his umbrella. He should have gone home hours ago, but he couldn't shake the sense that someone was following him. Since the incident at the library, since the Whispering Doors had burned themselves into his vision, even shadows felt alive. The God of Fear was quiet inside him tonight, almost too quiet, like something holding its breath.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Takeru whispered.
A faint pulse answered in his chest—soft, but warning.
He tightened his grip on the umbrella and continued past shuttered shops and rain-soaked vending machines. The city felt wrong. His instincts kept pulling him toward an alley behind the train station, a place no sane person would enter at night. But the Fear God's pulse matched his footsteps, urging him forward.
And Takeru obeyed.
The alley was narrow, choked with broken crates, flickering lamps, and the echo of dripping water. At the far end, a playground's faint bells jingled in the wind, even though nothing moved. Takeru took one step in—
And the world shifted.
The puddles on the ground rippled outward, forming rings that pulsed like living things. The shadows around him stretched upward, twisting into silhouettes. Small silhouettes. Child-sized.
Takeru froze.
A little girl stepped out of the darkness. She wore a school uniform that looked decades old, soaked from the rain. Her hair hung across her face, but he could see her eyes—hollow white circles glowing faintly like moonlit water.
"You can see us," she whispered. "Good. That means the Door chose you."
Behind her, more children emerged—boys and girls around eight or nine years old, their feet not touching the ground. Their movements were too smooth, too slow, like puppets being pulled on invisible strings.
"Who are you?" Takeru asked, voice trembling despite himself.
"We're the ones who didn't make it back," the girl answered. "The ones who opened the Door when we shouldn't have…"
The Fear God stirred sharply in Takeru's chest, bristling with tension.
Back away, its voice murmured. These are not souls. They are remnants… leftovers.
But it was already too late.
The girl floated closer, her head tilting. "We've been waiting for someone with the God's scent. Someone who can finish what we couldn't."
Takeru stepped back. "What do you want from me?"
Her expression shifted into something not human at all—stretched, cold, hungry.
"We want you," she breathed, "to open the Door again."
The alley lights exploded at once.
Takeru threw an arm over his eyes as darkness surged up the walls, swallowing the entire space. The Shadow Children screamed—not in pain, but excitement. They rushed at him with small, claw-like hands, chanting in broken voices.
"Open it. Open it. OPEN IT."
Fear burst in Takeru's veins. The sigil on his chest ignited in blue fire, forcing the shadows back. The children recoiled with shrill, distorted shrieks.
"Your protector still fights," the girl hissed. "But he's weak. He's sealed. One day… he won't be able to stop us."
Her face split into a monstrous smile.
"And when that day comes, you'll open the Door. Because everything you fear… is behind it."
The shadows collapsed into the puddles, sinking like ink into water until the alley was empty again.
Takeru stood alone, gasping, rain dripping from his hair.
Even after they were gone, their whispers clung to the air like wet fingers on his neck.
Behind him, the Fear God finally spoke—its voice deeper, heavier, almost trembling.
Child… whatever happens… do NOT go near the Whispering Doors again.
Takeru swallowed hard.
Because now he knew the truth.
Someone—or something—was pushing the Doors open from the other side.
And the Shadow Children were only the scouts.
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