Dead silence weighed over the dark lab. Black feathers drifted onto the tiles. The young man’s bullet-loud footsteps paused as he removed his mask and placed it in a safe box.

Neo Kira’s face stared back up at him, the two jaundiced eyes staring in different directions. It disgusted him. Did he disgust his would-be worshippers? Kira both fascinated and repulsed him, so perhaps these people felt that way about Neo Kira too. Kanade sealed away the box and walked down the empty corridor.

His wavy white hair stood out against his dark clothing. Moonlight from a small window illuminated his smooth ivory face and reflected against his pale violet eyes, casting a silver sheen over them. He looked more sculpted than Venus; he looked like an angel in a devil’s clothes.

A machine scanned his face before letting him into a chilly room. Kanade took off the platinum ring from his middle finger and tucked it into his pocket so it wouldn’t stick to his leather glove from the cold. He rubbed his gloved hands together. His breath crystallized in front of him, creating a shroud that partially concealed him as he wandered across the atrium.

Stained glass over the domed roof depicted various scenes from Paradise Lost, modified in honor of Kira and Neo Kira. The bitten ruby apple always caught Kanade’s eye first. Half a dozen different interpretations of Satan danced in a circle: a red imp with horns, a green-eyed sea creature with tentacles pouring out of his mouth, a yellow blob of phlegm, a Celtic fairy with skin made of tree bark bleeding amber sap, the shinigami that inspired Neo Kira’s costume, a handsome ivory-silver-and-lavender elf that resembled Kanade himself.

A man who looked like the Renaissance’s version of Adam sat on a throne made of dark gray leather. He wore a rumpled suit ripped open to reveal perfect abs. A gold ring adorned his outstretched index finger. Unlike the original Adam, the man representing Kira reached out to touch a withered gray finger. Kanade doubted that the man behind Kira had actually been an adult in his prime. He imagined a slim 17-year-old boy like himself, handsome but human, popular yet alone. The faint sounds of an organ reminded him that this lab was near a church.

At the dome’s vertix, a giant silver cross seemed to hog all the moonlight to create a spotlight for the machine in the middle of the atrium.

Kanade took off one of his gloves and rested his bare hand on the frosted glass, melting some of the condensation on the outside; it wouldn’t affect the temperature inside. He removed his hand and stared at the little girl in the machine.

In a jolt of horror, he remembered Maria Campbell, the tiny dark-skinned child who had flown toward him, trusting him, seeking family. He could feel her warmth through his gloves. She had kept smiling, not understanding when he cupped her face in his hands. She thought it was what family did.

This is what family does. Kanade snapped her neck viciously and let her fall from the sky.

He forced himself to return to the present. Two weeks had passed since that night. Interpol wasted time and resources chasing false leads in Nanjing, Paris, and even, strangely, the rural zones of Afghanistan, Syria, and Iran—Kanade suspected that at least one of the other god candidates was an American with Kira’s sense of justice.

His sister slept on, unaware of the chaos in the world. Kanade envied her tranquility. But he could see the faint injury on her neck, which the cryotherapy had missed. This is what family does.

“Uryu Kanade,” Meyza said, her low voice resonating with the organ. “It is time.”

Kanade nodded. The church bells began to chime for midnight mass. The first gong rattled the chains on his jacket and belt.

…

TWO WEEKS AGO

“You’re the Yellow Power Ranger?” Neo Kira exclaimed incredulously. He stared at the overweight Chinese woman on the park bench. Her skinny jeans stretched as she spread out her legs. She blinked up at him from under her messy bowl cut.

And she snarled, “The name is Jin-shi—Master of Gold. ‘Yellow Power Ranger’ sounds stupid.”

“Then it suits you. But what do you really want me to call you?”

The woman’s snarl softened into a smile, unfazed by the hideous mask staring back at her—or, more accurately, staring anywhere but her. “Paula. Paula Wen. And what about you?”

Neo Kira glanced around them. A group of senior citizens practiced tai chi nearby, some of them glancing over at the monstrous figure talking with a college-aged woman. Schoolgirls in ugly blue uniforms giggled and took pictures. Neo Kira posed, basking in the fame.

Paula repeated, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Trust goes both ways, Neo Kira. If you want a proper negotiation, you need to offer something too.”

“Not here.”

Paula smirked. “Shy little boy, aren’t you? No matter. I know you know a place we can talk freely. A place not too far from your home, actually.”

Neo Kira froze. Behind him, Meyza chuckled. “She’s referring to a love hotel, boy. Egura, shall we make arrangements for these humans?”

Paula’s angel stared up at Meyza with contempt in her golden eyes. Egura shook her head, the golden rings on the ends of her curly white hair clinking like glasses. “We are angels, Meyza, not butlers. I can’t speak for your pet, but mine is capable of making her own damned arrangements.”

Paula smiled and waved her fingers up at Neo Kira. “I’ll see you tonight, lover boy.”

…

The church bells continued to gong. Kanade leaned back, a look of bliss on his face as he closed his eyes, moonlight from the atrium roof washing over his flawless skin, his silver-white lashes fluttering over his sharp cheekbones. He’d die a virgin.

…

Kanade spun his platinum ring on the Internet café table. The screen reflected on his pale violet eyes, and he scoffed at what he saw.

Meyza commented, “Are you stalking your upcoming date?”

I’m gathering intel, Kanade replied in his mind. And Paula isn’t a date. She’s a loser, a bigger idiot than I thought, and a terribly ally.

“Oh? Do elaborate.”

Kanade glanced up at his angel, both amused and annoyed. She failed the entrance exam for three consecutive years. During that time, she’s been working part-time at a bookstore. After her third rejection, another young woman began working in the bookstore. As it turns out, her new coworker, Joan Chu, left her parents’ house after failing the entrance exam. She has a history of cutting herself and even attempted suicide several times in the past. She must have been a negative influence on Paula, who would’ve felt miserable already—even if the fourth time is the charm, she’d be entering university while her old high school classmates are graduating—because on September 23, Paula Wen and Joan Chu attempted a double suicide by hanging from a tree in the campus of Beijing University. The low-quality rope snapped, and they were saved.

Kanade stifled a laugh. “Saved by angels.” The other customers ignored him, engrossed in their video games. Little did they know, greater beings were playing a far grander game. His ring resonated as it twirled on the table like a spastic ballerina.

Kanade scooped it up and put it on. Without his Neo Kira disguise, it was his only armor. Better to reign in Hell, said the outside. And pressed against his skin: Better still to reign in Heaven.

…

The church bells continued to gong. Kanade took off his ring and held it up to the soft moonlight. He held it in front of his right eye like a scope.

A dark gray eye stared back at him from a winged soldier flying just below the stained glass.

…

“Since you disdain Paula,” Meyza commented, her low voice like honey, “is that Red Arrow for a better lover?”

“Don’t be so simple.”

“Humankind is simple. We give you a power that takes away a person’s free will, and most of you use it like Cupid’s arrows. It isn’t true love, of course—that requires free will—but for men like Felipe Amor and women like Paula Wen, sex is enough.”

Kanade grimaced, less out of disgust than a blossoming pain. Both the Red and White Arrows burned but differently.

Meyza noticed his discomfort and murmured, “You have grown accustomed to the ice of the White Arrow, so now you believe the fire of the Red Arrow is hotter, when it is actually the other way around.”

Yes, the White Arrow burned so hot it numbed like a piercing frost. Kanade had learned to relish it. But this Red Arrow was awful, just awful—

He shot a skinny young man wearing a skull hoodie and chains dripping to his knees.

The street thug turned toward Kanade, his contorted face mellowing into a more tranquil state as he stared at the white-haired teenager, anticipating an order. His eyes widened; his lips parted. He was probably a few years older than Kanade, but just then, he looked younger.

For a moment, Kanade understood the power the other god candidates felt when they wielded Red Arrows. In a way, the Red Arrow was more powerful—but he preferred the White Arrow’s efficiency. Besides, if he wanted to make out with someone, it wouldn’t be with a street thug whose mind had been stolen and whose breath smelled like crack.

“Brush your teeth,” Kanade muttered.

The thug began to turn around to go brush his teeth.

Kanade grabbed the thug’s elbow, wincing at the sticky sleeve. “Before that,” he said, his voice seductively low, “there are a few more things for you to do.”

Kanade described an elaborate plan: forging ID to steal explosives from his family’s company, selling those explosives on the black market, hacking the market site to ensure the goods ended up with a contact in Beijing, getting a burner phone to stalk Joan Chu, taking a flight to a nondescript town in China, riding the bullet train to Beijing, finding the contact, trading for the explosives, tracking down the one-armed Blue Power Ranger, and blowing up her, himself, and anyone in the vicinity.

“Yes, sir,” the thug said, as if Kanade had just asked him to pour a cup of coffee.

Meyza watched the mindless man walk away prepared to commit murder. “Not even God has this power,” she murmured as she followed Kanade down the neon-lit streets.

“What? How could He give this up?”

“Just as angels cannot comprehend humankind’s simplicity, a man cannot understand a god.”

“The shinigami managed to keep these powers.”

“Only a fraction.” Meyza sighed wistfully, and Kanade realized she had lusted after them. “They can’t make someone perform something so complicated, anything beyond what’s realistic for them. And certainly not murder. If only they could…”

“So the shinigami have a discount version of what I have.” Kanade sneered. “They’re weak. When I become a god, it won’t be a god of death. To accomplish what I want, I need to be a god of life. I need to be God.”

“And what is it that you wish to accomplish, Uryu Kanade?”

…

The church bells continued to gong. Kanade looked away from the god candidate. He couldn’t help it; he turned to the machine with his little sister frozen inside. Force of habit, he supposed. Months ago, a foreign soldier might have been after this technology. But now, one god candidate hunted down another.

Kanade unfurled his wings and rose to the top of the atrium. Whether this soldier was after him or his sister, Kanade would get rid of this obstacle. This is what family does.

He cupped the soldier’s head between his hands. The soldier stared back at him with his gunmetal-gray eyes. He looked only a couple years older than Kanade.

…

Kanade chatted with Meyza out loud on the way to the love hotel. Under these neon street lights in the safety of night, he didn’t care what these lowlifes thought of him. They were crazier than him anyway.

“Gods of death can only cause death, while God can only give life, is that correct?”

“That’s only part of it,” Meyza replied. “The intent matters too. In the past, God took life in the name of a greater good. However, shinigami can never kill with the purpose of preserving another person’s life.”

“What happens if they do?”

“It is the only way for a shinigami to die.” Meyza sighed, wistful again. “Sometimes, when a shinigami is sick of their rotten world, they find a human to love—and they use their powers to protect that human.”

“Is that what happened to Kira?”

“Kira was not a god,” Meyza reminded him, “and neither are you.”

“Ah, but unlike Kira, I will become God.”

A human voice remarked in English, “What sheer arrogance.”

Kanade curled his lip back when he saw Paula leaning against the wall next to the entrance to the love hotel, her vain angel flying in lazy circles so the gold rings at the ends of her hair chimed. “You understand Japanese?”

Paula winked at him. “I watch anime. Maybe that’s how we can spend our night, lover boy.”

Kanade rolled his eyes. After they checked in—they paid in cash, and the attendant barely glanced at his bag—and headed up to their room, Paula gushed, “I’m gonna be real here, pretty boy, I thought I’d get stood up. Lan-shi was supposed to show, but she’s not even replying to my texts or calls.”

Kanade locked the door behind them. “Oh? Were you planning a threesome?”

Meyza scoffed. Egura frowned, but Paula blushed. The room smelled like vanilla and roses and was decorated how Kanade imagined his little sister would want, minus all the stuffed animals. No, the attendants expected their guests to bring their own toys. Kanade placed his bag at the foot of the water bed.

Paula wandered toward the vanity. “It wasn’t going to be an ambush, I swear. Well, maybe Lan-shi would get huffy about the arm, but we’d work around that. The thing is, she’s my partner in everything. Work, god candidacy, sex. Even before all that—” Paula turned to smile at Kanade, not noticing that he was now wearing gloves—white to match his ivory peacoat. She continued, “Did I tell you how we met? We were taking the entrance exam together; it was her first time but my third time. She seemed really smart, and I was really desperate, so I cheated and got us both disqualified.” She made it sound like an achievement. “I referred her to my workplace as compensation, and we started getting closer.”

Kanade knew how this story ended. Paula’s so-called friend must have hated her, ultimately coercing her into a double suicide. “So you work together. But why work with me? You tried to kill me.”

“The game’s changed, pretty boy. Haven’t you heard? There are god candidates from America, and if you have even an ounce of patriotism, you’ll work with us to stop them.”

“Patriotism toward Japan? Or China? Have you forgotten where we are, Miss Wen?”

Paula grabbed Kanade’s hands. “Please. You’re a formidable fighter. We—” She paused. “Why are you still wearing gloves? And your coat?”

Kanade twisted out of her grip and reached into his bag. He held his Neo Kira mask in one hand and a syringe in the other, putting on the mask and stabbing Paula’s throat in the same gesture. “Send my regards to Miss Joan Chu.”

Paula collapsed. Her mouth began to foam. She began to croak out Joan’s name—but it wasn’t Joan’s name. She whispered, “General Scott.”

Egura bowed over Paula’s body, where no soul remained. Unlike Jami, the angel who had chosen young Maria Campbell, Egura did not loudly mourn her candidate, and Kanade didn’t berate her for damning someone. Why go through the same performance again? Instead, Egura said, “Emaka and I chose them not because we thought they were worthy to be God, but because we thought they were worthy of being shinigami.”

Kanade laughed. “They have no self-preservation. They’ll take one look at that world and just kill themselves.”

Meyza chuckled. “Most shinigami never find out how to die.”

Egura added, “They’ll rot for decades before their time runs out. And perhaps they will get bored and kill a human or two, further lengthening their lifespans.”

Kanade took off his mask and stared hard at Egura. “Angels are cruel.”

Egura smirked. “Are you just realizing that?” She vanished in a burst of light and the sound of gold rings raining on the rose-scented floor.

Later, Kanade began researching General Scott. He scoured Paula’s apartment, but if she had intel on the American god candidate, it must have been in Joan’s apartment, which he’d blown up. He thought he’d been thinking ahead, killing Joan before Paula could alert her, but now he had nothing. So much for thinking ahead.

And every time he thought he found a lead on the general, he left behind bread crumbs leading the general right to his own home.

…

Kanade stared into the young man’s dark gray eyes, trying not to be distracted by the gun pointed at him. All Americans carry guns, he reminded himself. This is their version of a handshake. “Are you General Scott?”

The foreigner smiled sweetly. “I’m his soldier.” He fired the gun.

Kanade unfurled his wings and dodged the bullets. He ran across the stained glass images of yaoi-model Adam and even the silver Kira cross—did this count as blasphemy?—while bullets zipped by him. One nicked his cheek, spraying blood. He glimpsed his reflection on the machine’s glass, fascinated by the dark red streaking his hair and wings. And he laughed. He’d never felt so alive! He had always worn that hideous mask while flying, but now he could enjoy the wind from both his flight and the bullets, and it was the most exhilarating thing he knew.

Kanade reached the soldier and kicked aside his gun. The soldier was ready. Kanade blocked his punch and tried to strike back, but the soldier twisted his arm and shoved him into Kira’s cross. Kanade grimaced. He heard the gun land on the marble floor, but he and the soldier grappled too closely for either of them to reach it. The soldier licked his lips and headbutted Kanade’s skull.

Along with the blood loss, Kanade’s dizziness threatened to overtake him. He roared. This American wanted to fight like an animal? Fine. Kanade could fight savagely too. This is what family does.

The soldier slipped out of Kanade’s grip. He stared at Kanade with sorrowful eyes. “I didn’t want to have to resort to this.”

Before Kanade could question him, the soldier swooped into a sharp descent. Kanade screamed as the machine shattered and spilled his lifeless little sister onto the floor. For an instant, he saw Maria Campbell on the bridge. The memory disappeared just as quickly as he rushed to cradle his sister’s decaying body. Without the freezing, the stench of death rose up and nearly suffocated him. Behind him, the soldier muttered prayers in Arabic.

Maybe Kanade missed it when he remembered another lifeless child, but he couldn’t find his sister’s soul. Had an angel already brought it up to Heaven? Or had the machine been holding an empty body, and all of Kanade’s efforts had been for nothing? Either way, death reminded him.

He couldn’t revive his sister anymore.

Kanade picked up a large piece of glass and pointed it toward his stomach. “Stop!” the soldier cried out.

Kanade turned toward him. The soldier had his gun again. Kanade burst out laughing. “Did your precious general order you to kill me yourself, so you can’t even let a damned man choose his own death? Too bad, foreigner.” He plunged the glass into his stomach, relishing the pain. It was far more glorious than his first suicide attempt, which Meyza had rudely interrupted. He stared up at the silver cross, where the noose had hung from.

He could hear the soldier speak in a gentle voice. “My name is Abbas Hassan.”

Fool. Don’t you know what we become when we fail?

“You can end me as soon as you become a—a shinigami. It would be my penance.”

Another man said, “He’ll take your time with you, that one.”

“How do you know that, Balta?”

Abbas had a flirtatious angel. “Call it intuition, sweetheart.”

It was the last thing Kanade heard before he passed out.

…

TWO AND A HALF WEEKS AGO

Venus tried to focus on the moon instead of Ulyana’s rambling. “Even though my parents thought I was so ugly they sold me to circus, my angel saved me. Ogaro calls herself Angel of Darkness, but she is made of light.”

Venus patiently replied, “All angels are made of light.” She wanted to throw herself into the river and drown, but that would waste Latenue’s hard work.

Ulyana laughed like she had phlegm stuck in her throat. Only Venus and the angels were around to hear that awful laugh. “That is good joke. But no, Venus, you are made of light. Our angels are strange creatures. It is hard to tell if they are man or woman.”

Venus sighed. She didn’t bother to explain to this silly girl that angels weren’t male or female; they were angels. They simply took on a humanoid form for humans to comprehend, and Revel had chosen alluring ambiguity while Ogaro looked even more of a circus freak than her candidate.

A lovely swarm of fireflies drifted by, casting Ogaro in an ominous light. Ulyana leaned on Venus’s shoulder, basking in the tranquil romance the City of Love offered.

Venus looked down at the vulnerable girl. “Ulyana Sidorova, love, how did you try to kill yourself?”

Ulyana looked sheepish. “I can’t swim, so I tried drowning myself.”

“Did you learn how to swim since then?”

“I should have.”

“Yes,” Venus agreed. “You should have.”

The clock tower began to chime midnight. Venus forced Ulyana into the river, not caring that her dress and the ends of her wig got soaked, not caring how freezing the water was, not caring that Ulyana scratched her arms and ripped white feathers off her gloves trying to free herself. After twelve resonant gongs, Ulyana stopped struggling.

Venus looked up. Ogaro did not mourn Ulyana, and Venus wondered why the powerful Angel of Darkness had chosen the little Sidorova girl and taken on a freakish form. She voiced these thoughts out loud.

Ogaro barked out a laugh. “I chose this form so Ulyana Sidorova would think she found one sympathetic creature in a merciless world. And I chose Ulyana Sidorova because she deserved to be a shinigami. That is how many angels choose their candidates, Lee Mi-sun. Some choose the clever and the chaotic. I chose someone who was already so hideous, she might as well be a shinigami.”

Mi-sun pitied Ulyana. After Ogaro vanished, taking the fireflies with her, Mi-sun waded down the river, letting her tears spill into the water.

“You killed her, so why are you crying for her?” Revel exclaimed.

“No one else will cry for her. And… and her angel was so cruel.”

“Was she?”

“Revel, why did you choose me? Am I actually ugly?”

“Quite the opposite. Ogaro is lazy and chose someone who already looked like a shinigami. Meanwhile, I chose someone so beautiful it would be a tragedy to see her become a shinigami.”

Mi-sun’s lip quivered, but she refused to cry for herself. “I will never become that. I will become God and make the world beautiful.”

Revel smiled. “I know. That’s why I chose you, love.”

Mi-sun wasn’t done. “There will be no more Ulyana Sidorovas, no more sad children sold to circuses, no more tears of pity. I will get rid of everything ugly,” she declared, smiling bitterly up at Revel, “starting with angels.”

...

End of Part One: Gods

Next—Part Two: Pawns