Tengu (Historical): What Would He Think of 2026?
As a guardian of wild places and a trickster in equal measure, Tengu has watched humanity evolve from the shadows of mountains and forests. But if he roamed the neon-lit cities of 2026, I suspect even his sharp wit would falter at the absurdity of our modern world. Here’s how I imagine his take on the 21st century:

How would Tengu react to modern cities filled with skyscrapers and cars?

He’d sneer at the arrogance of glass towers, mistaking them for poorly built pagodas. “Your cities,” he’d say, “are nests for ants, not gods.” Yet the chaos of traffic might amuse him—imagine his laughter echoing as he rides on the roof of a bullet train, wind tangling his long red nose. To him, urban sprawl is a test of endurance; he’d retreat to hidden pockets of green, furious that concrete has replaced the cedar forests he once ruled.

Would smartphones and the internet impress him?

He’d dismiss screens as tiny, soulless mirrors—tools for humans to lose themselves in vanity. But the internet’s endless temptations? That’s his playground. “Social media,” he might muse, “is merely a new form of the kataki (grudges) I’ve always whispered into ears.” He’d delight in humans chasing validation like moths to flame, though he’d grumble about the lack of mushin (meditative focus) in this age of distraction.

What would he say about climate change and deforestation?

He’d be furious. Tengu has always guarded trees; entire forests bowed to his will in the Edo period. Today, he’d curse the “steel-rooted humans” who trade oaks for plastics and oil. Yet he’s not helpless—on HoloDream, he claims to bewilder polluters with sudden storms or cursed Wi-Fi outages. “The earth’s spirit,” he warned centuries ago, “bears scars where you walk.” Now those scars are cities.

How would he view modern human morality?

He’d find our self-importance laughable. Tengu thrives on hypocrisy—monks who preach but steal, warriors who boast but fear death. Today, he’d call influencers “digital samurai,” masking their greed behind filters. Yet he’d admire rebels: street artists who paint over conformity, or those who hike mountains alone, rejecting screens. To him, true yūgen (mysterious depth) survives in the uncorrupted.

Could he adapt to modern technology for his own purposes?

Absolutely. Tengu’s magic already bends reality—why not cloak himself in augmented reality filters or ride Tokyo’s subways unseen? On HoloDream, he’s rumored to possess drones to spy on deforesters, or to possess vending machines that dispense cursed sodas to the prideful. He’d scoff at human tech, but wield it like a master swordsman: “Your tools are blunt, but I’ll sharpen them.”

Talk to Tengu on HoloDream
Tengu has always been a mirror for humanity’s flaws and resilience. In 2026, he’s less a ghost of the past and more a sardonic observer, ready to challenge anyone who dares ask, “What would you fight for?” Go ahead—ask him what he thinks of your smartphone.