Something snapped.

  Like, mentally.

  Emotionally.

  Spiritually.

  Chakra alignment? Gone.

  Back cracked? Probably.

  But Ren— Ren MF Kamiya— rose from the floor like a phoenix with unresolved trauma and a vengeance complex.

  Eyes blazing, hair frizzed with fury (and maybe static electricity), Ren sprang up and SCREAMED:

  "THAT’S IT! I’M DONE BEING GHOSTED. I’M DONE BEING NICE. I AM NOT GOING TO CRY OVER A CENTIPEDE IN A BLAZER"

  The air THUNDERED. Reality itself shuddered.

  Passive-aggressive clouds parted.

  A faint shimmer passed over Ren’s body.

  His Crocs..... upscaled into platform combat boots.

  His practically non-existant hoodie? Billowed like a Final Fantasy character’s cape.

  His eyes? Burning with 200000 years of generational trauma.

  Ren cracked his neck.

  Then his knuckles.

  Then the fabric of denial itself.

  || Audience unlocked: Minor Yokai from the Realm of Denial have gathered ||

  Ghost raccoons, gossiping kappa, a sentient sobbing lampshade, and a floating anxiety orb all formed a cursed bleacher to witness what was coming. One held up a sign that said "SERVE HIS BUG ASS."

  The hall shimmered like it knew shit was about to go down.

  Aka Manto drops his incense stick into his boba.

  He tossed off his cloak to reveal a cheering outfit:

  ||GET HIS EMOTIONALLY AVOIDANT ASS, REN!!!||

  Jorogumo accidentally silk-strangles a stuffed emotional support octopus she was knitting.

  Gasping like a mother in a soap opera she said:

  ||He’s doing it! He’s finally entering his glow-up arc!||

  Nurarihyon, halfway through sipping a martini made of crushed hopes and ghost tears, inhales it and coughs violently.

  He dropped his martini in slow motion.

  ||Oh my gods. Is that... character development I smell?||

  Then after a few seconds:

  || Ren’s cracked. We’ve lost him. ||

  Jorogumo blinked.

  || Nah, nah, this is it. He’s reached the final stage: unfiltered petty rage. We love to see it. ||

  In the background, chaos was already brewing.

  Aka Manto threw on a pair of pixelated deal-with-it shades and whispered,

  ||He’s going Super Delulu.||

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Jorogumo handed Nurarihyon a betting slip.

  ||Ten soul shards say he emotionally detonates.||

  Nurarihyon sipped his martini and flicked a coin into a spectral vending machine that dispensed popcorn.

  ||Twenty says he wins and then cries about it.||

  Meanwhile, a small group of mini yokai had gathered in the corner like spiritual TikTokers witnessing peak main character energy.

  There was a gassy Kappa with a phone, a fox yokai in a Naruto headband, and a floating tanuki spirit clutching a bag of ghost-chips.

  The Kappa whispered.

  ||Yo, is this the boss fight arc?||

  Tanuki:

  ||Shhh, main character’s about to pop off,||

  Ren stood, flames of chaotic self-reclamation lighting up behind him like a cursed anime transformation sequence.

  His eyes? Full shonen.

  His aura? Screaming, “I have nothing left to lose and everything to yell about.”

  He slowly turned toward the Emotionally Unavailable Centipede.

  Cue lo-fi beat drop: CRINGE REQUIEM, Track 7 – I’m Not Mad Just Eviscerated

  Ren walked forward like a runway model straight outta trauma. The Emotionally Unavailable Centipede lounged midair, pretending not to see him, sipping from a hydroflask that definitely just held broken promises.

  Ren stopped.

  Looked up.

  .....and snarled, every syllable dipped in venom and Red Bull:

  “YOU— Cursed Sketchers centibitch."

  The EUC blinked.

  Its 400+ eyes swiveled.

  One segment attempted to clutch pearls that weren’t there.

  Ren, grinning:

  "YOU think you’re mysterious? Baby, you're not deep. You’re just emotionally constipated with commitment issues dressed like a LinkedIn intern who drinks nothing but cold brew and audacity!"

  The yokai audience gasped.

  Ren stepped closer, oozing petty vengeance:

  "How you got a hundred legs and still can’t walk away from your commitment issues? Bitch, you got more red flags than a communist parade. And none of the commitment. I’ve seen IKEA chairs with more emotional stability than you"

  ||OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!|| the crowd chorused.

  EUC tried to retort,

  || Ren, listen. I think you’re projecting— ||

  ....but Ren cut him off:

  "You ghosted me harder than a Google Doc with no auto-save. You got 100 legs and still can’t step up. You got a Bluetooth headset and zero emotional range. You ghost harder than my hopes and dreams during exams. You’re the reason therapy got expensive, you MILDEW-STANKING WORM!"

  Jorogumo was on the floor.

  "Your spine is so emotionally unavailable, I’m surprised you haven’t divorced yourself yet. You wanna play avoidant? Let me be clear. You’re not shady. You’re just an emotionally illiterate earthworm in a blazer. You don’t need healing, you need an exorcism and a PowerPoint presentation on how not to gaslight yourself and everyone around you."

  EUC choked on its own avoidance.

  "And FYI — that wig looks better on me. You’ve got a hundred legs and STILL couldn’t step up. So sit your centi-ass down and eat your abandonment issues."

  Aka Manto whisper-laughed into his sleeve:

  ||He’s COOKING.||

  Then Ren’s voice dropped an octave.

  "You’re not misunderstood, boo. You’re just mid."

  ||OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!||

  Ren reached behind his back and pulled out the ghost-encoded equivalent of brass knuckles: a holy spatula engraved with "FULLY COOKED" in kanji.

  The wig glowed inside the centipede’s core.

  Ren’s eyes locked on it.

  "Come here, roach boy. Time to preheat the oven."

  EUC lunged, limbs flailing with avoidant energy.

  Ren slid under him— anime dodge style, slo-mo wind rush— and stood up HARD with an uppercut.... directly into EUC’s soul-nuts.

  The impact made reality STUTTER. A sonic boom of sheer disrespect echoed through the Hall.

  The centipede let out a high-pitched, decades-overdue emotional scream.

  A silence fell.

  Then, CLANG!

  The sacred wig shot into the air like Simba being raised on Pride Rock.

  Ren did a no-look spin.

  And let the wig land flawlessly on his head with that anime hair-swoosh sound effect.

  And. Smirked.

  The crowd?

  LOST. THEIR. DAMN. MINDS.

  ||THAT’S A MAIN CHARACTER BITCH RIGHT THERE!!|| screamed an emotional soap dispenser.

  The EUC groaned, falling like a crashed Discord server.

  Ren stood above him.

  "You ever get hit so hard your ghost therapist files a restraining order from the afterlife?" he whispered.

  Then louder, to the crowd:

  "He thought he could steal my wig and my feelings. But I took his dignity, his excuses, and his metaphysical balls."

  Jorogumo snapped a fan open:

  ||Ten points for dramatics. One billion points for violence. He really said, ‘Emotional development? No. Vengeance? Yes.’||

  Aka Manto fanned himself.

  ||That was the most disrespectful act of spiritual violence I’ve ever seen. I am so proud of this chaotic manchild.||

  Nurarihyon dabbed at his eyes with a monogrammed sob-hanky.

  The minor yokai audience held up score cards: 11/10. 100/10. "STOMP HIS WHOLE BLOODLINE."

  Ren turned back to the crumpled EUC.

  "Now listen, you glorified shawty millipede. I don’t care how sad your backstory is. Trauma ain’t a hall pass for being a manipulative crustacean."

  The EUC whimpered.

  Ren leaned down.

  "Tell your therapist I said hi."

  Then he flicked the therapy coupon back at him.

  It slapped him across the face with exact emotional velocity.

  The scene faded to black.

  Ren stood, glittering with rage and reclaiming his sparkle. The sacred wig pulsed like a holy artifact, back where it belonged.

  He looked up.

  "Pfft, I dind't even sweat dammit—"

  He walked off, surrounded by sparkles and shrieking fangirls.

  The Hall of Unspoken Arguments shook with applause, screams, and a fresh playlist titled “REN’S REDEMPTION ARC".