Chapter Forty-Nine: Return

"Woo-woo~ Woo-woo~ Woo-woo~"
Urgent sirens blared through the streets of Tokyo as the double-flowered cherry blossoms, also known as "October sakura," drifted down in the bleak autumn wind. Tires rolled relentlessly forward, crushing the snow-white petals underfoot, and a sense of emergency filled the air.

News bulletins poured out through every medium, from television to radio, like blood being pumped from a heart—information transmitted by electronic signals to every corner of Tokyo's streets.

"Breaking news: a sudden incident has occurred on Minamimichi, Megechō, Arakawa Ward, suspected to be a terrorist attack..."

"The area from Megechō to Shomaechō has been cordoned off. Pedestrians and vehicles are advised to take alternate routes as soon as possible..."

"Further details are still under investigation by the police, but there are also rumors and videos circulating online. We are currently analyzing these..."

The voice of the news anchor spilled from the television screen. In a shabby izakaya on the suburban edge of Arakawa Ward, a few middle-aged patrons nursed their drinks at the counter, even though it was broad daylight.

"Even Tokyo TV is broadcasting the news now—such a big stir, that's rare. I wonder what happened over in Megechō?"

"Was it an earthquake or a nuclear leak? Can't be the former; if it were that close, we'd have felt it here. But a nuclear leak? There isn't even a plant near Megechō, is there?"

"Stop speculating... If it were an earthquake or a nuclear accident, wouldn't we have been evacuated by now?"

"I'd believe the former, but the latter? Maybe not."

"Or maybe it was a government experiment gone wrong—a monster crawled out of the ground and swallowed everyone up. The Self-Defense Forces are probably fighting it over Megechō right now. 'Boom—bang!' Just like in Ultraman, hahahaha!"

"Come on, if Godzilla ever showed up, the only ones battling it over Tokyo would be the Americans, ha!"

The grizzled men at the counter burst into drunken laughter.

Behind the counter, the proprietress—a woman of a certain age—wiped glasses and shot them a sidelong glance.

"What’s this? Weren’t you listening to the news just now?"

"Ah, sorry, Suzuko-chan. When I watch the news, I only pay attention to the anchor's figure."

"That's right! And the anchor on Tokyo TV just now was wearing black stockings—she had quite the legs!"

"Really? Looks like I'll have to look up a recording when I get home tonight."

The proprietress set the glass down with a sigh and rolled her eyes at them, somewhere between a wink and a glare.

"You lot... honestly, what am I going to do with you?"

"What’s wrong, Suzuko-chan? Are you angry?"

"Sorry, sorry! To be fair, Suzuko-chan, you’ve still got quite the figure yourself~"

"If you were twenty years younger, there’d be no need for that TV anchor!"

As the patrons roared with laughter, the proprietress shook her head.

"You all... Didn't the very first sentence of the news broadcast say it? A suspected terrorist attack..."

"A terrorist attack?"

The drinkers fell silent for a moment.

One of them hiccuped and looked thoughtful. "Wait... Now that you mention it, could this be another incident like that cult from before?"

They glanced at each other, and suddenly a faint pall settled over their faces. After a long pause, one of them sighed, raised his glass, and took a deep drink.

"If that’s the case, what a shame it didn’t happen at a mansion in Chiyoda Ward!"

"Exactly—or even in one of those luxury apartments in Minato would be fine!"

They all shook their heads in exaggerated regret, clinked their glasses, and the lively mood returned.

"You lot..." The proprietress shook her head again in resignation.

She began tidying up, but as she bent down, she thought she glimpsed something flash past the doorway.

—Was it just her imagination?

With a faint sense of unease, she lowered her head again to continue cleaning. At that moment, one of the patrons glanced at his phone and suddenly let out an excited shout.

"My god! Is this for real?"

All eyes turned to him, even the proprietress raising her head in surprise.

"What are you yelling about?"

"Hey, check your phone—Yahoo’s headline news... Look, it’s live footage from the scene during the Megechō incident! It’s everywhere now!"

...Live footage?

The others pulled out their phones, searching for information on the incident. Moments later, the izakaya was filled with cries of disbelief:

"No way!"

"My god!"

...

As sirens blared in chorus across Tokyo and the snow-white petals of the October cherry blossoms fell to the ground amidst the shrill alarm, as the area from Megechō to Shomaechō was sealed off and the truth behind the incident spread like wildfire online, stirring up a frenzy of speculation—

In a remote corner of Arakawa Ward, Mio Ito’s feet once more touched down before her own door atop a rusty iron staircase.

Though separated by a heavy metal door, the voices of a man and a woman reached her newly sharpened ears with perfect clarity.

"Hey, how much longer is it going to take you to come up with this month’s offering?"

"I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... I’ll get it together, I promise, I will..."

"I’ve heard that too many times. You’re five months behind on your offerings. At this rate, even the gods will be angry, and there’s no way you’ll get salvation from the King of Supreme Bliss, you know?"

"I’m sorry, please, just give me a few more days... I promise..."

"Stop just saying sorry. Didn’t the Master always say? Instead of saying ‘I’m sorry,’ say ‘I can do it.’ That’s the only way to receive the King’s blessing... Do you understand or not?"

"I’m sorry..."

"Tch, hopeless... Hey, do you really have nothing for the offering? If you can’t pay, then you’d better stay home and reflect during this month’s worship meeting."

"I can’t go to the meeting?! But... that’s the one thing..."

"If you can’t offer to the King, the King can’t bless you. Fair’s fair—wait, what are you doing? Don’t touch me with your filthy hands!"

"Brother, I... I don’t have any money, but my body..."

"Ugh, get away from me! Who knows how many men you’ve been with—you think you’re worth anything? Disgusting!"

The shouting behind the door grew louder.

Mio Ito pressed her palm against the door; vivid blood welled up, coating the entire surface. The blood seeped into the keyhole, molding itself into the shape of a key. The lock clicked softly, and the door opened without a sound.

The moment the door swung open, the cramped living room was laid bare before her eyes: religious portraits, an incense burner, folded mats, and in the center of the room, a man and woman locked in desperate struggle.

The woman, hair disheveled, clung to the leg of a young man in a robe. He looked down at her with disdain, trying to kick her away, but she clung to him with all her might.

"Please believe me, I’ll get the offering! Please don’t leave me out of the worship meeting—I need salvation!"

"Tch..."

The man barely had time to click his tongue before the sudden flood of light from the doorway drew his attention.

"You... who are you..."

He stared at Mio Ito standing in the doorway, his face awash with disbelief.

The woman, too, turned to look at the girl whose figure matched the one in her memory, though her face was now entirely changed. Her eyes went wide with shock—

"How... how can this be... Are you... Mio?"

Mio Ito looked at them both and smiled—a smile as pure and flawless as crystal.

"Yes, Mother."