Playing Tricks, Part Two

"There's no doubt about it. This is a supernatural incident."

In the apartment, a group of specially selected police officers surrounded the young man hanging in the room. They filmed and documented the scene while talking in hushed voices.

"The target is Fujiwara Yamato, age thirty-one."

"He joined the Hayami Conglomerate seven years ago and worked as a salesperson at the Meguro Company. He was fired three years ago due to poor performance."

"About six months later, strapped for cash, Fujiwara Yamato joined Taoka Finance Company and became one of their members, in charge of 'collecting money.'"

After receiving a report from the man's father that he might be involved in something supernatural, the Metropolitan Police Department immediately sent officers to investigate the apartment. The information sent back from the scene clearly pointed to something sinister, and a large force of elite officers rushed over without delay.

"The Inoshita House has been sealed off."

"We're investigating everyone the target came into contact with."

"We're retrieving surveillance footage that captured Fujiwara Yamato along the way."

Since this involved the supernatural, the entire Metropolitan Police Department was going all out. Information about Fujiwara Yamato poured in from every direction, like snowflakes, converging on the Metropolitan Police Department in Chiyoda Kasumigaseki.

Even from the comfort of their homes, the powerful could still keep tabs on everything happening in Tokyo.

That was, provided the matter was important enough to catch their attention.

"Director Takeya, thank you for opening the door to cooperation on supernatural affairs."

Inside the Metropolitan Police Department's Special Operations Office, alongside the Japanese officials, stood a group of blue-eyed, blond-haired white men.

"And thank you for providing us with your support."

As he exchanged pleasantries with the middle-aged white man beside him, whose uniform bore the rank of brigadier general, Director Takeya directed the operation at the scene.

That was right. This involved the supernatural, and the Japanese had, quite commendably, banded together. But how could they possibly refuse American involvement?

If they really angered America, given its usual way of doing things, direct military action wasn't out of the question! America could set fires around the world and stoke civil wars among rival political factions for the sake of oil. Now that it had learned the supernatural had appeared, two more Pacific fleets, in addition to the Seventh Fleet, were on their way to Japan.

Japan had taken a firm stance, but knew when to compromise. The two sides had settled on a series of cooperation agreements:

America would provide technology, researchers, and weapons, while Japan would make all information related to the supernatural available to America.

In short, Japan would shoulder the risks, while both sides would share the benefits. It still sounded incredibly "unequal," but, without exaggeration, it was a "major victory" for Japan in the past century!

Better than being devoured whole.

And this white-haired brigadier general was naturally the "inspector" America had sent over.

"This is an Evil Spirit incident."

Worried that the great power might not understand, Director Takeya thought for a moment before explaining in simpler terms.

"The target wandered into this residential building, whose occupants had already died, and conned the soul of an old man who had been dead for forty-three days. Afterward, he began experiencing hallucinations."

As witness testimony and surveillance footage from various locations—especially the footage from the apartment's doorbell camera—were retrieved, Fujiwara Yamato's movements gradually came together.

After America's involvement, the need for "confidentiality" had dropped considerably. More than a hundred experienced police officers had combed every place Fujiwara Yamato had visited again and again, making sure not to miss so much as a single strand of hair.

The footage playing in the conference room came from a doorbell camera:

Fujiwara Yamato's expression changed dramatically, and then he frantically clawed at something in the air with both hands.

Then he hurried into the apartment, apparently trying to escape some unseen presence.

Not long afterward, the sound of a hammer striking something rang out.

"After returning to the apartment, he damaged the doorbell camera, pulled out the telephone line, and hid under the covers."

But it was no use! From what they found at the scene, Fujiwara Yamato had been on edge. The apartment walls still bore marks from his wild hammer swings, and sweat had spattered across the floor.

"Finally, with his mind on the verge of collapse, Fujiwara Yamato called his father."

"He confessed that he'd become a 'phone scammer,' and then—"

At the very end of Fujiwara Yamato's call, there was a little old woman's voice:

How is my son?

This information had been provided by Fujiwara Yamato's father.

"That's what happened. Brigadier General Thomas, what do you think?"

In response to Director Takeya's question, even Thomas, a tough-looking soldier whose bulging muscles strained his uniform and whose short blond hair stuck straight up, couldn't help feeling a headache coming on.

"Did the old woman's spirit leave behind no trace at all?"

"That's right."

"With the technology we currently have, we haven't detected anything."

Director Takeya added,

"Perhaps we would have to witness her in person to detect her presence."

But if it came to that, the question would be how to stay alive.

Fujiwara Yamato had been hanged from the ceiling by a telephone line, with nothing beneath his feet to stand on—in other words, they could completely rule out "suicide brought on by hallucinations."

"We have other evidence. Take a look—"

On the monitor, an armored vehicle slowly approached a detached house bearing an "Inoue" nameplate.

The rear doors opened, and several animal handlers climbed out, pushing a metal dog crate.

The next second,

The Shiba Inu that had been lazily lying in the crate sprang to its feet!

It stared at the building ahead, crouched low, bared its teeth, and let out a warning growl.

"This is the supernatural creature in our possession. It reacted to this building, which proves—"

"That the old woman's spirit is still there?"

"That's only a theory."

"We've already arrested all the members of the scam organization connected to Fujiwara Yamato."

Pushing up his rimless glasses, Director Takeya calmly continued.

"We'll call the Inoue House again with a scam call."

"We'll screen volunteers whose professions match that of a 'money collector' and have one enter the Inoue House, so we can observe whether Mrs. Inoue appears again."

This was important!

It would determine whether souls existed.

As for the unfortunate "volunteer," there would always be sacrifices for the greater good of the country.

The coldness behind his words was unmistakable!

?

"Fine. Leave it to you."

The brigadier general nodded. If he were in charge, of course he'd start by firing a full barrage of shells and seeing what was strange about the building.

Since learning of the supernatural, and after encountering this bizarre "case" upon arriving, the once-overbearing soldier had grown cautious.

Souls—

Things that couldn't be seen or touched.

No matter how much he trained his body, no matter how heavily armed his men were, and no matter that they had a superpower backing them, he still couldn't feel confident.

Although American horror movies favored gore, and most ended with "exorcism by physical force," there were also movies like A Nightmare on Elm Street, with Freddy roaming through dreams and proving impossible to kill. He had been a nightmare for many American children.

As he watched the Japanese police arrest people, screen "volunteers," and set up the "experiment site" in an orderly fashion,

the "wind chime" above the entrance to the house, which had been classified as a "haunted house," felt very pleased.

That's right.

The wind chime hanging above the Inoue House's front door was Akihi Yu's "Paper Clone."

Through this Paper Clone, Akihi Yu could cast an Illusion Technique on anyone who entered the house. Illusions weren't much of a threat to real Ninja.

All they had to do was disrupt the flow of their chakra to break an illusion. "Genjutsu: Release" didn't even count as a proper technique; its difficulty didn't even reach the lowest rank, E.

That was why most Ninja who specialized in Illusion Techniques focused on support. The few who specialized in using them offensively usually had some kind of special bloodline, like the Uchiha, Kurama, or Hozuki clans.

And in this world, all the chakra came from Akihi Yu!

Against his Illusion Techniques, even the lowest-level one would be incredibly difficult to escape once someone was caught in it. If Akihi Yu wanted, he could even make a D-rank illusion have the same effect as Tsukuyomi!

What was Tsukuyomi's greatest strength? Wasn't it that it couldn't be dispelled, and could only be resisted through sheer will?

Even Kakashi, the Sixth, had been bedridden for months after resisting Tsukuyomi.

So, how will you deal with this?

The wind chime swayed.

Akihi Yu waited to see what Japan would do.

PS: Let me clarify: I'm not that notorious author Rain-After-No-Knife. I just write in the same genre, and I'm a struggling webnovel author.

You can tell from the writing, actually. That guy may have questionable character, but he's still skilled. Every one of his abandoned books got a steady stream of recommendations, made a beeline for Sanjiang, and then got dropped. He's the envy of plenty of struggling authors. Meanwhile, my book didn't get signed until it was sixty thousand words long, and my first recommendation is still nowhere in sight.

That guy started out too high, then dropped his books whenever the results disappointed him. After doing that too many times, it became a vicious cycle. Among the authors writing fanfiction in the Ninth Group, he's practically a classic cautionary tale.

Mistaking me for him is giving me far too much credit. So there's no need to worry about me dropping the book. I'm a struggling author with very modest expectations; if I can earn enough to get by, I'll count that as success.