Chapter 23

At the university hospital.

"Inspector Seiko Tōgō."

"That's me. What is it?"

The mature female officer seated outside the operating room looked up blankly at the man in a black suit.

"I'm a member of the Public Security Bureau."

He flashed his credentials.

"We need a more detailed understanding regarding the previous incident. Please come with me."

In Japan, the Public Security Bureau (PSB) is technically under the Metropolitan Police Department, but unlike regular police officers, their responsibilities lie in handling threats to national stability—cults, espionage, terrorism, and so on. Their authority includes arrest rights, mandatory searches, and more.

"Fine, but... Mai's surgery—"

"Don't worry. We'll notify you immediately if there's any update on Kawahai Mai's condition."

With no reason to refuse, Seiko Tōgō gathered herself and followed the PSB officer out of the hospital.

Her young subordinate, Patrol Officer Mai Kawahai, had been hit in the head by flying building debris and was now in surgery, fighting for her life.

Even as their car cruised through near-empty streets due to traffic restrictions, Seiko remained dazed. Her thoughts swirled with two overwhelming truths:

One—her colleague was gravely injured.

Two—monsters exist.

Or, to use the term her superior Inspector Ōtaki had accidentally muttered:

Extraordinary beings.

The kind of creatures that belong in movies or anime—actually real.

Sure, Japan was known for its tokusatsu shows and yokai-themed anime. But encountering such a scientifically inexplicable entity in real life? That shattered her worldview.

"You're here."

Escorted into the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department headquarters, Seiko underwent multiple checks before arriving at a conference room.

The moment she saw the man beckoning her, she instinctively straightened her back and saluted.

"Director Takemasa!"

"At ease. Come over here."

Takemasa, a middle-aged man who oversaw nearly fifty thousand officers, didn't exude authority but rather casually gestured for her to approach.

"Please explain today's incident in full detail."

"Yes, sir!"

As Seiko organized her memories and recounted the day's events, her eyes flicked to those seated behind the director:

A biker gang leader in a leather jacket with arms crossed.

Several elderly men in white robes and tall hats, dressed like Shinto priests, holding wooden ritual wands.

A solemn Buddhist monk holding prayer beads, exuding an aura of dignity.

This scene confirmed her suspicion:

The authorities definitely knew about yokai—no, extraordinary beings.

In addition to Seiko's account, her body camera had also recorded the events, which played in a loop on a large screen beside them.

"What do you think, gentlemen?"

After she finished, Director Takemasa turned to the spiritual leaders behind him.

These were Tokyo's top figures in the folk belief circles—the head priest of Meiji Shrine, the chief priest of Yushima Tenmangu, the abbot of Sensō-ji Temple.

They all appeared serene and profound.

But inside?

They were screaming.

What do we think?

We're standing here thinking!

The truth was, none of them really believed in actual gods or spirits.

To them, gods and Buddhas were philosophical concepts, methods of spiritual cultivation, or life attitudes—not actual beings.

This, in fact, was the "scientific" approach to religion. The figures they worshipped—emperors, ministers, bodhisattvas—were merely for moral instruction. In a sense, they were no different from the philosophers in textbooks.

But today shattered that worldview.

Summoned by the police to offer guidance on "national matters" involving supernatural incidents?

Had they not trained for years to remain composed, they'd be swearing.

They'd spent their entire lives in spiritual practice without seeing even a single ghost. And now they were supposed to handle supernatural beings?

Seriously?

But then—it turned out real yokai did exist.

"From what I can tell, this strange fish creature is most likely an Earthquake Catfish," said the chief priest of Yushima Tenmangu, breaking the silence and pointing at the black fish on the screen.

Yushima Tenmangu, located near the University of Tokyo, is dedicated to Sugawara no Michizane, a scholar-statesman. Its bronze cow statue is polished by countless students seeking academic blessings.

So, naturally, its chief priest was scholarly and well-versed.

"Ancient legends say that Japan is held up by a giant catfish. When it moves its tail, earthquakes occur."

"Before the 1855 Tokyo earthquake (magnitude 6.9), catfish were unusually abundant; the same was reported before the 1923 Great Kanto Earthquake (magnitude 8.3)."

Quoting history and folklore, he firmly supported his theory.

"As you can see, this fish yokai has the flat mouth, long whiskers, and round fins of a catfish."

"I see," Director Takemasa muttered thoughtfully.

The belief that catfish can predict earthquakes was widespread in Japan, and this yokai's behavior aligned well with that idea.

"Amitabha... In my humble opinion, the flaming skeleton is the manifestation of a Yogen-bi," the abbot of Sensō-ji finally spoke.

"Yogen-bi," he explained, "is the vengeful spirit of a thief who stole lamp oil from a temple and was punished by being turned into a ghost fire."

"This yokai was born near a natural gas leak site, which fits the Yogen-bi's affinity for fuel."

Sure, the original version involved lamp oil, but now it's natural gas?

That tracks.

Each expert spoke in turn, prompting Director Takemasa to nod.

They were, after all, well-informed.

"Do any of you know how to defeat them?"

Uh oh.

Everyone fell silent.

If they really had supernatural powers, would they have come so obediently when summoned?

The truth was, they were just ordinary people who rubbed shoulders with wealthy donors, not actual exorcists.

"That was insensitive of me," Director Takemasa said, realizing the truth from their expressions.

"Mr. Takemasa," said the Meiji Shrine's head priest slowly, "apart from the Earthquake Catfish and Yogen-bi, this individual here..."

He pointed at the figure surrounded by water on the screen.

"...Is she one of your officers?"

"No," Director Takemasa replied. If she were, he wouldn't need to gather all these experts in the first place.

"Then why not attempt to recruit this 'Rain Maiden'?"

The priest made his proposal.

"Carrying an umbrella and controlling water—surely, she fits the myth of the Rain Maiden."

"Unlike the other two, she seems capable of communication. The officer's command even made her pause momentarily."

Though she ignored their firearms and left anyway, the fact that she hesitated meant there might be room for dialogue.

And she didn't kill anyone—perhaps she doesn't harm women, or has some other code.

In any case, it's worth trying to contact her.

"I agree, but..."

"Do any of you have tracking methods?"

Naturally, the 'experts' shook their heads.

"You're the police! You have all the CCTV in the world! Why are you asking us?!"

"That's the biggest problem," said Director Takemasa, raising his hands in frustration.

"She appears only with heavy fog, making it hard to track her movements."

That said, the police did have one "supernatural being":

A Shiba Inu left behind by Wataru Tanimura.

Fed lavishly and trained daily, its strength, speed, and reflexes continued to grow with no apparent limit.

Biologists were baffled, and Nobel laureates were obsessively studying it, hoping to uncover the source of its yokai-like power.

"Then forgive us—we cannot help," the experts said.

Director Takemasa then turned to Seiko Tōgō.

"Inspector Tōgō, due to the unusual nature of this incident and your contributions, the department has decided to promote you to Assistant Inspector and assign you to the newly formed Special Operations Unit Four. Do you object?"

"No, sir!"

She saluted, knowing full well she had no right to refuse.

After all she had seen and heard in that office, she knew instinctively—refusal would mean imprisonment.

"Director, if I join… will I gain access to supernatural power?"

The newly promoted officer couldn't hide her urgency.

Director Takemasa adjusted his glasses, the lenses flashing white.

"You will."

Nakano Ward

"So this is where Nagisa lives?"

Climbing out of a sleek black car, class rep Nao raised her hand to cover her mouth in astonishment.

Before them stood a classical Japanese estate. A weathered wooden fence extended dozens of meters in both directions. The gate bore a plaque in calligraphy that read "Nagisa Estate."

This kind of home in the countryside? Sure, understandable.

But in Tokyo?

The land alone was outrageous. Flatten it and you could probably build several high-rise apartments.

Compared to the capsule apartments many people lived in, this was absurd.

"Are you friends of Ichiyo?"

A gentle voice interrupted. A poised woman emerged from the side gate.

Though her face looked to be in her twenties, her mature demeanor suggested she was in her thirties. In reality, she was already in her forties.

"Welcome to our humble home," she said gracefully.

"This is my mother," Ichiyo Nagisa said.

The others all greeted her politely.

"Hello, Auntie!" x4

"No need for formality. Come in."

As they stepped through the flower-filled courtyard, Akiharu Yuu noticed something odd—Amano Aki wouldn't meet the woman's gaze.

"This is Ichiyo's room. Make yourselves at home."

They reached a wide room filled with musical instruments and various models of violins hanging on the wall.

"This is where I practice violin. I hope it's not too small."

"Not at all," said Akiharu, waving dismissively.

"This room is bigger than our entire apartment."

"Is this your bedroom?"

"Oh no, the sleeping area is behind the study."

Hearing this, even class rep Nao pushed her glasses up again.

The difference between people really was greater than the difference between people and dogs.

Nao sighed internally. She knew her limits. After graduation, passing a Class II civil servant exam would be success. A lifetime of work might only buy her a small apartment.

But if it were with Yuu...

She stole a glance at him—and met the icy stare of Akiharu Sora.

With a cold huff, Sora turned her face away.