"Huh?"
"Due to a sudden thick fog in Kitasenju, a Black Hawk helicopter crashed in the First District. Fortunately, there were no casualties."
As she scrolled through her phone while eating breakfast, Aki no Sora paused for a moment.
"It actually crashed in the city?"
"First the Ospreys, now even the Black Hawks are unreliable?"
American aircraft crashes had become so commonplace in Japan that nobody was really surprised anymore. With so many flights taking off and landing every day, a malfunction here or there felt almost routine.
"One helicopter? No casualties?"
Across the table, her brother Aki no Haru rolled his eyes.
It was clearly five helicopters!
Forget the residents and bystanders—weren't the American soldiers people too?
"And they have the audacity to call this 'news' when it's full of lies?"
Aki no Haru had every right to be upset. After all, he had been there himself, witnessing it with his own eyes.
If he hadn't taken down those five Black Hawks and eliminated the two operators, things could have turned out very differently.
"When it involves America, there's no way we'd ever be told the truth."
"Let's not dwell on that. Onii-chan, are you really going to school with that awful woman today?"
Putting down his phone, Aki no Haru answered seriously.
"Nao isn't an 'awful woman.' You used to be very attached to her, remember?"
He felt helpless in the face of his pouting little sister.
"C'mon, let's go. Another happy school day."
"Who knows how long this peaceful life will last."
"Hmph."
Sora snorted softly, choosing not to continue the argument.
Two days ago, her brother had killed four scumbags. Although it was an act of self-defense, killing was still killing.
Sora didn't want to see her brother go to jail, not even for a single day! So she naturally accepted his decision to destroy the evidence. But that didn't mean the matter was over. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the very next moment, the police would come knocking.
Faced with such a crisis, what had once been unforgivable now seemed tolerable.
"I still won't forgive that awful woman!"
As they stepped outside, Sora restated her position, leaving Haru with no choice but to nod helplessly.
"Yes, yes, I hear you."
"Haru-kun, Sora-chan!"
At the corner of the street, their class president anxiously adjusted her glasses and waved.
"Nao, let's go together."
"Ah, okay."
Bunkyo Ward.
"I'm heading out."
Wearing his school uniform, Jun Kishida slung on his backpack, grabbed a folded umbrella, and left the apartment.
But he didn't head straight for Koishikawa Middle School. Instead, he turned into a nearby residential block.
Knock knock knock.
"Jun, it's you again. I'm so sorry to trouble you."
A haggard middle-aged woman opened the door. Seeing the breakfast in Jun's hands, she forced herself to smile.
"Would you like to come in and sit for a bit?"
"No, I still have to get to school."
He handed over the convenience store breakfast.
Jun hesitated for a moment.
"Aunt Miho, please take care of yourself."
"Give me a little more time. I swear, I'll help you walk out of your grief."
"To think I need a kid to comfort me... I'm a failure of an adult."
Miho Miyashita, the grieving mother of Ryoko Miyashita, tried to smile, but it was clearly forced. Ever since her daughter died in a car accident six months ago, Miho had collapsed both mentally and physically.
She had been ordered by her husband to stay home and rest after repeated mistakes at work, but she remained in a daze most of the time. Jun had taken it upon himself to bring her breakfast every few days.
"Please hang in there, Aunt Miho."
After saying goodbye, he heard soft sobs from behind the closed door.
Jun tightened his grip on the umbrella.
If the earlier incident during the rain had only made him half-believe in the supernatural...
Then what he saw last night had completely convinced him:
This world truly held the extraordinary!
Werewolves. Paper-wielding warriors. Cops. Even the American military had gotten involved.
He hadn't been able to retrieve the 'Killing Stone' from the werewolf's forehead, but the sheer presence of supernatural beings confirmed it:
Shiro the spirit wasn't lying.
Reviving Ryoko...
Wasn't a pipe dream!
People lose all hope when they can't see the light. But if there was even a one-in-ten-thousand chance, it would be enough for many to risk their lives!
To bring Ryoko back, Jun would hunt the supernatural without hesitation—even if it meant targeting the military.
It had only been two days since he obtained his supernatural powers, but Jun Kishida had already undergone a massive shift in mindset.
Possessing power... naturally gave rise to killing intent.
Elsewhere, another participant in last night's events was having a rough time:
"Tch~~"
With a sharp noise, a pair of tweezers pulled out a blood-stained metal fragment.
Clink.
A deformed bullet fell to the ground, while cold sweat poured down Wataru Tanimura's contorted face.
"Damn Americans..."
He cursed under his breath while spraying his wounds with a medical antiseptic.
A tactical flashlight overhead lit up the muddy, grimy walls around him.
On the floor were two backpacks stuffed haphazardly with guns, night vision goggles, grenades, and medical kits—all high-end military gear courtesy of fallen American soldiers. He even found some MREs. Apparently one of the black guys had brought rations on the mission.
"My demon power can heal, but it uses a lot of energy."
After treating his wounds, Tanimura, now wrapped head to toe in bandages, stood up and stretched.
Anyone could use the basic transformation jutsu to turn into a dog. But the Inuzuka clan's Four-Legged Technique was on another level entirely.
Transforming into a dog gave boosts to his strength, speed, agility, and sense of smell. Sure, being overly sensitive meant someone could knock him out with a fart, but the combat benefits made him elite among entry-level shinobi.
"I'm starving. I need to eat a ton of meat."
Chomping into an energy bar, Tanimura began planning his next move while hiding in the sewer.
After killing so many American soldiers, he knew they were out there combing the streets for him.
He would have to watch for plainclothes cops, surveillance cameras, and drones from now on.
They had found him way too fast last time. Disguises alone wouldn't cut it.
His animal transformation ability had been exposed, so what if he stayed in a "half-transformed" state?
If he kept his face, hands, and feet from revealing any features, maybe he could pass as someone else entirely?
This idea sparked something. Tanimura began practicing his transformations right there in the sewer.
Meanwhile, a certain isekai transfer student diligently practiced his skills as well.
So diligent.
From his classroom window, Aki no Haru watched the crows he controlled circling above the city.
He wasn't just managing his two operators. He was keeping a close eye on everything.
Kitasenju, First District.
The place resembled a war zone. Not a single civilian was in sight. Uniformed officers were everywhere, armed to the teeth.
Helicopters patrolled the skies. The only reason they hadn't deployed the Self-Defense Forces was due to how politically sensitive that would be—plus concerns about their competence. Otherwise, this area would already be under military lockdown.
Police vehicles had completely blocked off every street.
Residents had been evacuated to hotels in other districts under the pretext of a U.S. military aircraft crash. Many of them wondered aloud if the aircraft had been carrying radioactive materials or biological weapons.
Why else such a massive operation?
In the face of the state's overwhelming machinery, thousands of locals left quietly with "no complaints."
Even on the internet, beyond a vague accident report, the incident quickly disappeared beneath waves of celebrity gossip.
"Absolutely not!"
"No unauthorized personnel allowed—I don't care who you are!"
Outside the blockade, a furious Japanese police inspector glared at an American soldier pointing a gun at his forehead.
"Don't give me this 'military operation' crap. I haven't received any orders about you. Go ahead, shoot if you dare!"
"Sir..."
The American captain leading the team looked furious. Normally, in Japan, people treated U.S. officers with deference.
Now he was getting spat on.
But no matter how angry he was, he couldn't just order his men to shoot a Japanese officer.
Especially this bald-headed inspector who clearly didn't fear death.
"Please step aside. We're under orders—"
"No order from the Ministry of Defense, no entry. Period."
The inspector drew his sidearm. Eyes bloodshot, he ignored the rifles aimed at him.
"Anyone who crosses this line, I have the legal right to shoot."
He stood there with the air of someone daring them to kill him.
"My son died here last night!"
"He was killed by a 5.56mm rifle round. You know who did it?"
"Want to get past me? Step over my corpse!"
"Oh, shit!!"
The American captain cursed, veins bulging on his forehead.
Ordering the shooting of a Japanese officer? In broad daylight?
No way.
America may be Japan's "daddy," but he was just a small-time officer. No matter how things ended, he would be the one court-martialed.
The folks on Capitol Hill wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice him to calm public outrage in Japan.
"Contact the Lieutenant General. Have him put pressure on their side."
In the end, the captain could only fall back on the age-old tactic:
Let the higher-ups handle it.
No way he'd risk jail for a paycheck that barely covered the rent.