Setagaya District – One hundred meters underground, inside a hidden military base.
"Tch, this dog's getting better treatment than us," muttered Iori Ichika, arms crossed in irritation. Through the thick glass wall, she watched the Shiba Inu left behind by Wataru Tanimura surrounded by a team of professional pet caretakers, nutritionists, and groomers. The dog was grinning in absolute bliss like a pampered noble.
"If you had supernatural abilities, you could enjoy the same perks," said a voice from behind. Ichika turned and glanced at her superior from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.
"Director Takeya, are you done arguing?"
"Hardly," Director Takeya, clad in plain glasses and embodying the very image of a high-level Japanese bureaucrat, massaged his temples. "The Prime Minister's residence is in complete chaos. Don't expect any progress over the next few days."
Japan might be America's lapdog, but when pushed too far, even dogs will bite!
"We're lucky," Takeya continued, shifting the topic to international affairs. "There have been constant accidents around the world, and it's an election year over there. America's attention is stretched thin."
If it were the old days, U.S. troops would've already stormed Tokyo. But now, with other countries catching up, the once-unrivaled superpower is losing its grip on global dominance.
"Our allies on Capitol Hill are lobbying hard. They're even considering cooperating with the North."
"Wouldn't that spark a war?" Ichika shot back, arms still folded.
"Negotiation is fundamentally a game of bluffing," Takeya replied. "When it comes to supernatural matters, even if we can't lead, we must never let America take full control. That's our bottom line."
Of course, Japan wouldn't actually align with the North—but America knows that too. That's politics: a dance of strategic posturing.
"Enough about these political games. Ichika, do you have any way to recruit Wataru Tanimura again?"
Catching a 'canine demon' was something, but it was still just an extraordinary animal. Getting Wataru himself would be the real prize.
"It's going to be tough," Ichika admitted.
Given their past relationship, she had nearly convinced him to join the police force. But America's blundering interference had completely soured the situation.
"Thanks to those damn American idiots, anyone would develop distrust and hostility toward the government."
She glanced again at the pampered Shiba Inu.
Wataru should be the one enjoying that kind of treatment right now.
As long as communication remained possible, even 'freedom' could be negotiable.
"You said 'tough,' not 'impossible'?" Director Takeya caught the nuance in her tone. "So, there's a plan?"
"More or less," Ichika replied.
Despite her delinquent appearance, Ichika had passed the elite Civil Service Class I exam and skipped the patrol officer stage entirely.
"Since he's a 'canine demon,' we'll give him a 'leash.'"
Freedom might be nice, but if things continue unchecked, Wataru is doomed.
Whether he's a werewolf or a demon dog, even he couldn't withstand a serious military response.
This plan had to work—for everyone's sake.
———
Chiyoda Ward – Prime Minister's Office – Conference Room
The meeting room was in total disarray. The so-called 'elites' of Japan were loosening their ties, shouting, pounding tables—it resembled a fish market more than a government chamber.
Finance Minister, Chief Cabinet Secretary, Defense Minister, Public Safety Commission Director—major players all, and the remaining members were high-ranking ministry heads. Nearly all of Japan's top officials were there, faces contorted in outrage.
Opposite them sat a Black man in a U.S. military uniform with a lieutenant general's insignia—the only one in Japan with such a rank: the commander of the Seventh Fleet, the sword hanging over Japan's neck. In effect, he was the shadow emperor.
Beside him were other U.S. officers—and one Japanese man: the head of the Tokyo District Public Prosecutors Office's Special Investigation Department.
Despite being just a 'department head,' his power was significant. If the Seventh Fleet was the dog collar around Japan's neck, the Special Investigation Division was the barbs on that collar.
The U.S. controlled Japan not only through military force but also through softer means. Most of the time, the prosecutors acted normally. But when a politician stepped out of line, they pounced—digging up dirt, or even fabricating it if necessary.
Today, though:
"Fifteen officers dead—that's fifteen loyal public servants!" "Seven buildings destroyed, damages estimated at—" "We absolutely will not back down—"
The Japanese officials roared with righteous fury, sounding like patriots on a crusade. All that was missing were headbands and war chants.
"General," began the Prime Minister solemnly. "We strongly protest the damage caused by your forces. Until this issue is resolved, we will refuse any military cooperation."
"Hmph," the Black lieutenant general's expression grew darker.
Even lapdogs will bite when pushed too far.
In Yokosuka Base, aside from the Seventh Fleet, over 100 Japanese Self-Defense Forces ships were mobilizing. Local defense units had also been activated with unprecedented speed, showing a readiness to fight to the death.
The emergence of the supernatural had changed the stakes. While Japanese leaders could ignore the public or national interest, they would never sacrifice their personal power.
If they handed over control of all things supernatural, America would eat the meat, and Japan—if lucky—might get the scraps left over by NATO and others.
Unacceptable!
If their interests were threatened, they'd rather sacrifice the whole nation!
Some officials even openly hinted that if the U.S. tried to monopolize things, Japan might align with the North. Bluff or not, it had forced the general to proceed cautiously.
Yes, the U.S. could crush Japan militarily. The pathetic Self-Defense Forces wouldn't last a day against the Seventh Fleet.
But this wouldn't be another quick Gulf War. Japan and the U.S. were now deeply intertwined. Many major companies were multinational and had powerful influence on Capitol Hill. A war would destroy their mutual prosperity—and China and Russia would be the only winners.
War was always a last resort.
"We lost five Black Hawks and three tactical teams. And you stole the captured supernatural creature!"
"Let me reiterate! If not for your blunder, we could have secured the supernatural's cooperation!"
"Hand it over—"
"Absolutely not!"
One side was wary, the other shameless. The negotiation devolved into a shouting match.
The general knew his career was over. Soon, a white replacement would take over. Whether diplomacy or force was chosen next—wasn't his problem anymore.
Damn fog. Damn supernatural freaks!
————
What the bigwigs were secretly squabbling over didn't concern Souta Kiryuu at all.
His daily life remained the same: school and more school.
But the group picking up his sister from school now had one extra member.
"Thank you, Souta-kun," said Class Rep Nao quietly, pushing up her glasses.
Her past actions had nearly broken the ties between their families, and Souta's sister, Sora, remained cold toward her.
"Nao, don't keep dwelling on the past. Look ahead."
Souta waved dismissively as he directed his fleet of paper crows to keep playing political chess with the government.
That minor issue was nothing compared to what he was doing—and planning.
"Exactly~" chimed in Amane Tennyo, patting her modest chest. "If I'm still alive and kicking, you don't need to mope. Even the gods will get annoyed."
"Tennyo-san, your way of comforting people is... unique."
Even gentle Nao had to comment.
Still, she understood. Compared to Tennyo's tragedies, hers were trivial.
If she kept sulking, even the gods would frown.
"You're right. I should cheer up."
The three chatted as they walked to Royal Sakura Academy. Minutes later, Sora and the heiress Ichiba Nagisa walked out of the gate.
Normally, this was where everyone parted ways. But today:
"What did you say?" snapped Nagisa by her luxury black car, face darkening.
"Miss, I'm truly sorry," said the sunglasses-wearing driver. "Your father instructed us to take you home immediately after school."
"He wants to control even my social life now?"
"Not at all," the driver replied calmly. "Tokyo hasn't been safe lately. It's for your safety. Please don't make things difficult for us."
"Sorry, Amane..."
Facing the unwavering driver, Nagisa turned to Amane apologetically.
"Hehe, it's fine. If your father said so, then you should go. Don't make him worry."
"I can go alone—"
"We'll walk Amane home, don't worry," Souta interjected, diffusing the tension.
Normally, Nagisa gave Amane a ride. With the change today, Souta and the others would step in.
As for Tokyo being 'unsafe'... the one responsible was standing right here.
"Then I'll leave her in your hands."
Nagisa bowed, her long hair cascading.
After bidding farewell, she entered her luxury car.
"Let's get going," Souta waved to the trio of beautiful girls.
"To Amane's place."