Tokyo: Metropolitan Police Department Headquarters
"What did that person say?"
In a highly secure, secret room within the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department (MPD) Headquarters, Superintendent General Hakuba habitually fed the black crow perched on his shoulder. This was a true first-generation species—a divine bird bestowed directly by Lord Seiran. No matter how many times he saw it, Hakuba felt an extreme sense of supernatural security.
'Indeed. Our initial path was the right one.'
Following in Lord Seiran's footsteps, the MPD was now a massive, untouchable supernatural force in Japan. At least they no longer had to be so cautious and politically maneuvering, constantly being unfairly blamed for everything by the mundane government. That wouldn't be a life fit for a human.
Now look. Except for the military brass, the personnel of the MPD were treated like honored guests wherever they went. It wasn't just that politicians feared the newfound power of the MPD; rather, the MPD was now a symbol, a face.
Whose face? Naturally, that person's…
Therefore, the MPD had thoroughly experienced what it meant to "abuse one's master's power." Moreover, with the offspring of the Black Crow utilized for surveillance, investigating mundane cases became a trivial matter. The recent media had been showering relentless praise on the police, calling it a "prodigal son's return" and a "resurrection of the MPD," publishing headlines like, "It used to be high school detectives who got all the opportunities."
This made Juzo Megure, a high-ranking officer incredibly active on the front lines, beam with absolute joy. Now, he smiled brightly at everyone he met. And it was true; his amiable demeanor and suddenly swift, decisive investigative skills had earned him the new, terrifying moniker in the underworld: "The Smiling Tiger of the Empire."
Deputy Commissioner Toshio Moroboshi, on the other hand, frequently glanced at the Black Crow on Hakuba's shoulder, unconsciously revealing a deeply envious expression. It wasn't just him; high-ranking officials throughout the entire MPD were also coveting it. This made Superintendent General Hakuba both intensely proud and fiercely protective, wanting to conceal his treasure from their greedy gazes.
There was only one first-generation Black Crow bestowed by that Lord; whoever possessed it acted as that Lord's true face in the secular world. So, this divine treasure was not to be trifled with.
"That person just told us to do our own thing," Hakuba stated, settling into his chair. "You know how that country operates."
'They've gotten used to being arrogant; they'll get what's coming to them sooner or later.'
Upon hearing this, everyone present wore amused expressions, as if they were comfortably watching a good show unfold overseas. Unfortunately for America, they didn't have a superhuman entity like Seiran to uphold true justice and maintain order. Their national character heavily emphasized individual heroism. Since their culture was based on individual heroism, without massive disaster, oppression, or harm, where would the heroes come from?
Therefore, Toshio Moroboshi was slightly tempted to intervene.
"Superintendent General, what do you think about us...?" Moroboshi made an extremely obvious, disruptive gesture with his hand, instantly catching the eyes of the various bigwigs in the room.
It seemed... there was political potential. Even Hakuba seemed quite interested. Making small, covert moves and causing geopolitical disruption—he was quite familiar with that game. Moreover, besides their "official business," that person had given them a massive amount of operational autonomy. Adding a little artificial disaster to America's plate was well within their jurisdiction.
And Moroboshi had one more thing he kept purely to himself: blonde, blue-eyed Western women could also be politically leveraged. They could easily win over some foreign beauties for Seiran to enjoy.
'He can't always be surrounded by those four little policewomen, can he?' Moroboshi reasoned.
Of course, this couldn't be done openly; they had to be highly mindful of the international impact. To advance their own power, one must first deeply consider protecting that person's face.
'Let's test the waters first,' Hakuba decided. This matter couldn't be rushed. After all, America was a major global power; rushing off to cause trouble for them blindly wouldn't render their powerful intelligence agencies useless.
"Then let's talk about our other business," Hakuba announced.
Hakuba ushered Kiyotaka Ayanokoji and Kakeru Ryuen into the private room. The gazes of the assembled police veterans were incredibly intimidating. But the two young men were no ordinary high schoolers. Their remarkably composed, unfazed demeanor earned them many subtle nods of approval from the bigwigs. Very good young men indeed.
"Besides the two regular superhuman units, we also need a department to recruit and manage civilian superhumans," Hakuba explained.
So today, this civilian superhuman unit was officially being incorporated into the MPD's formal command structure. They were no longer temporary workers or outsourced teenage personnel.
"Megure."
"Yes, sir!" Juzo Megure smiled brightly, standing ramrod straight, basking in the admiring, envious, and jealous glances from his peers.
"You'll be leading this unit. Congratulations on your promotion. From now on, you'll be Superintendent Megure."
"Yes, sir!!" Megure responded loudly, pulling Ayanokoji and Ryuen forward to bow respectfully.
He knew many ambitious people in the room were deeply resentful that he had obtained leadership of this powerful new department. But they wouldn't dare say much. Because he had caught the eye of Seiran and had left a good impression during previous incidents. This was his absolute "golden shield." As long as the golden shield remained intact, no one in the MPD dared to utter a single word of gossip against him.
Downtown Tokyo: Granny Mitsue's Psychic Shop
At the same time, Rom, who was diligently managing the unassuming business left to him by his teacher, was greeted by several unexpected, high-profile guests.
Kyomei Hashimoto, the contemporary Great Onmyoji who had recently resigned, and Yoshitomi Kamo, the only recognized head of the Kamo clan in the contemporary era.
Neither of the two incredibly powerful old men was willing to concede to the other. But they tacitly agreed not to make too much of a destructive fuss in this sacred place. Instead, they crowded the counter, looking at Rom with fawning, overly friendly smiles.
"Child, you must be Granny Mitsue's little apprentice, right? Come to Grandpa, Grandpa will teach you a few tricks..." Kamo started, his voice dripping with temptation.
"Bullshit!" Upon hearing Yoshitomi Kamo's blatant seduction, Kyomei Hashimoto immediately bristled and glared. "Don't listen to this bastard's nonsense, boy. Come and talk to me. Granny Mitsue and I are old friends!"
"Pah! What old friends! You're just shameless, Hashimoto!"
"What!? You want to challenge me right here!?"
"Come on! You just want to try out the latest cursed technique you've learned, don't you?"
This... Rom was a little dumbfounded. He had never heard of his esteemed teacher having such complicated romantic entanglements... Two incredibly powerful old men actively fighting over their teacher in his lobby... It was quite an eyesore.
But the other party's offer to teach him how to properly condense and utilize "spiritual power" made Rom very tempted. After thinking about it carefully, he decided it was better to respectfully refuse. He would wait for his teacher to free up her hands to teach him properly.
He shifted his gaze to the street outside the shop window. Having survived the last major supernatural incident, Rom was now highly sensitive to his surroundings. He could sense many supernaturally powerful people seemingly passing by the shop "unintentionally." He could also spot some opportunistic individuals acting suspiciously in the dark alleys.
'This is truly… a viper's nest.' Rom squinted his eyes.
He cherished this hard-won opportunity to run the shop even more. If he didn't hold onto it tightly, plenty of others would be scrambling over his dead body to take his place. Therefore, Rom diligently fulfilled all of his teacher's strict daily requirements. Even when wealthy or powerful people approached him, trying to curry favor or offer massive bribes for a consultation, Rom resolutely refused.
Wealth, status, power… Rom ignored the two old men's ongoing argument and looked up at the evening sky.
He had already entered the true gate of the supernatural world. The rest was up to time to prove his absolute sincerity. If he messed up this crucial step, he feared he would completely lose his mind and might even drown himself in the river out of sheer shame one day.
Facing the indistinct, covetous gazes hidden around him, Rom merely chuckled softly as he cleaned the counter.
'Teacher… please watch over me. Your disciple will not make any more mistakes…'
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Give me powerstones.
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