"There's no doubt about it. This is a supernatural case."
Inside the apartment, a group of specially selected officers surrounded the young man hanging from the ceiling. They were documenting the scene with video and photos, whispering among themselves.
"Subject: Yamato Fujiwara, age 31."
"Seven years ago, he joined the Hayami Conglomerate under the Meguro branch as a salesman. Due to poor performance, he was dismissed three years ago."
"Roughly six months later, financially strained, Yamato Fujiwara joined the Takaoka Finance Company as a debt collector."
After receiving a call from the subject's father reporting a possible supernatural incident, the Metropolitan Police Department immediately dispatched officers to investigate. The information returned from the scene was eerie and abnormal, prompting an elite team to rush in.
"The Inoue residence has been sealed off."
"We are tracing all individuals the subject had contact with."
"Surveillance footage of Yamato Fujiwara en route has been collected and is being processed."
With the case involving the supernatural, the MPD was all-in. Intel on Fujiwara streamed into the Chiyoda Kasumigaseki headquarters like snow.
Even without stepping outside, the top brass could monitor everything happening in Tokyo.
That is, provided the incident was serious enough to catch their attention.
"Director Takeya, thank you for allowing us to cooperate on supernatural matters."
In the Special Operations Office, aside from the Japanese personnel, several Western officials with blonde hair and blue eyes stood in military uniforms.
"Likewise, we appreciate your support," Director Takeya responded, nodding to a white middle-aged man with a brigadier general's insignia.
Yes, when it came to the supernatural, the Japanese stood united for once—but against America? There was no way to reject their involvement.
If pushed, the Americans were more than willing to resort to direct action. They've started wars over oil and manipulated political factions in countless nations. Now, upon learning of supernatural activity, the U.S. had deployed not only the Seventh Fleet but also two other Pacific fleets toward Japan.
Japan wisely chose to cooperate, and the two sides reached a series of agreements:
America would provide technology, researchers, and equipment. Japan, in turn, would share all supernatural-related information.
In simple terms: Japan bears the risks; both share the rewards.
Though still unequal, it was, arguably, Japan's greatest diplomatic success in a century. Better than being completely devoured.
The white brigadier general was the U.S. appointed inspector.
"This is a malicious spirit incident," said Director Takeya. Concerned the Americans might not understand, he explained in layman's terms.
"The subject entered a long-abandoned apartment, unknowingly contacted the spirit of an elderly woman who died 43 days prior. Afterward, he began experiencing hallucinations."
Surveillance from multiple sources, especially the doorbell cam, helped piece together Fujiwara's movements. With U.S. involvement, secrecy protocols were relaxed, and over a hundred seasoned officers thoroughly swept every location he had been, leaving not even a strand of hair unchecked.
The current footage being shown came from the doorbell camera:
Fujiwara's face twisted in horror. He clawed at the air like something invisible was attacking him.
Then, he bolted into the apartment, seemingly trying to escape from something unseen.
Soon after, the sounds of a hammer smashing echoed.
"Once inside, he destroyed the doorbell camera, cut the phone lines, and hid under his blanket..."
It was futile. The scene suggested Fujiwara's mental state had deteriorated completely: hammer marks on the walls, sweat splatters across the floor.
"Finally, on the verge of a breakdown, he called his father."
"He confessed to being part of a phone scam network, and then—"
The final moments of the call featured a frail, elderly woman's voice:
"Is my son okay?"
This chilling audio was provided by Fujiwara's father.
"That's the situation. General Thomas, your thoughts?"
Though the golden-haired, muscle-bound general in uniform was the epitome of military intimidation, even he felt uneasy.
"There's no trace of the old woman's spirit?"
"None," replied Director Takeya. "With current technology, we can't detect any evidence."
"Perhaps it can only be seen with the naked eye," he added.
But if it came to that, survival would be the next concern.
Fujiwara had been hanged from a telephone wire. There was nothing underneath to support him—ruling out the possibility of suicide induced by hallucination.
"We have more evidence. Look here—"
The monitor displayed an armored vehicle pulling up to the Inoue residence. Several handlers unloaded a metallic dog cage.
Suddenly, the Shiba Inu inside leapt up, baring its teeth and growling menacingly at the house.
"This is one of our trained supernatural-sensitive animals. Its reaction confirms—"
"That the old woman's spirit still lingers?"
"That is one possible explanation."
"We've arrested everyone involved in the scam ring Fujiwara was part of."
Adjusting his glasses, Director Takeya calmly continued:
"We plan to place another call to the Inoue residence. We'll select a volunteer whose occupation aligns with a typical debt collector to see if Mrs. Inoue reappears."
This experiment was critical.
It would determine whether the spirit truly remained.
As for the unfortunate volunteer—sacrifices must be made for the nation.
Such cold logic was barely concealed.
"Very well, I leave it to you," the general nodded. Had it been up to him, he'd have fired a shell at the building to test its reaction.
Since discovering the supernatural, and especially after encountering this bizarre case, even hardened soldiers treaded more carefully.
Spirits were intangible, beyond bullets and muscle.
Even armed to the teeth with a global superpower at his back, he felt a rare sense of unease.
Though American horror films often ended in violent exorcism, there were always nightmares like "Freddy Krueger" from A Nightmare on Elm Street, unkillable and haunting even dreams.
Meanwhile, Japan's police moved efficiently, arresting suspects, screening volunteers, and preparing the test site.
Above the Inoue residence's front door, a wind chime swayed.
It wasn't just any decoration—it was a paper clone of Souta Kiryuu.
Using it, he could cast illusions on anyone entering the house.
For a true ninja, illusions were child's play. Disrupting chakra flow could break them. "Genjutsu: Release" wasn't even ranked E-class.
Most illusion-type ninjas served in support roles. Only a few could fight head-on using genjutsu, and they typically possessed special bloodlines like the Uchiha, Kurama, or Hozuki clans.
In this world, however, all mystical power stemmed from Souta Kiryuu.
His illusions were formidable. Even the weakest genjutsu he cast could mimic the effects of Tsukuyomi if he so desired.
And what made Tsukuyomi terrifying? It was inescapable—only brute force of will could endure it.
Even Kakashi, the Sixth Hokage, was bedridden for months after resisting it.
So, how would the authorities handle this?
The wind chime tinkled.
Souta Kiryuu waited patiently for Japan's next move.