Ironclad Anti-American

Akihi House.

"Traffic control has been implemented in Daishimaecho."

Upon returning home, Akiyu Sora opened her laptop and began searching for information regarding the "supernatural."

"Oh, this typical fog again. As expected, it's another supernatural incident."

Her fingers danced across the keyboard while her other hand picked up a potato chip to chew; if not for her petite and delicate girlhood form, she would have been the spitting image of a computer geek.

"Supernatural incidents are occurring frequently, so why are you happy?"

Carrying a glass of juice over and placing it in front of his younger sister, Akihi Yu sat down as well.

"Obviously because that means the police won't have time to bother us."

She rolled her eyes at her brother while pressing the Enter key.

"I've sent the data you wanted to your phone."

"Thanks."

Akihi Yu picked up his phone, scrolling through the information while scouting for targets.

Tanimura Wataru and Kishida Jun were merely products of chance encounters; with his current strength, Akihi Yu was already capable of actively establishing his own "faction."

Of course, a faction under the banner of his "alter ego."

Found it. This guy looks promising.

Ginza.

This was the commercial district of Tokyo's Chuo Ward, touted as the "most expensive place in the Eastern Hemisphere." It served as a symbol of the island nation's prosperity and was renowned for its high-end retail stores.

It gathered luxury brands from all over the world, with massive shopping malls lining the streets. Fashionable and unique apparel could be seen everywhere, with price tags that would make an ordinary person's wallet explode just by taking a second look!

At the same time, it housed top-tier restaurants from Italy, France, Arabia, and beyond, allowing people to taste delicacies from across the globe on a single street.

It is ranked alongside the Champs-Élysées in Paris and Fifth Avenue in New York as one of the world's three great centers of prosperity.

Inside an Italian restaurant, a group of men in their fifties and sixties were clinking glasses.

"That project of mine..."

"No need to worry, I have connections with Section Chief Kozuka at the Ministry of the Environment..."

"Hmph."

A cold snort interrupted their conversation as an elderly man with graying hair stood up.

"Today is the anniversary of the Director's passing. What are you all talking about?"

"Business, business, and more business!"

Faced with the old man's reprimand, the others fell silent, though their expressions remained dismissive.

"The old Director has been dead for ten years. Do you really think he'd want to see us still obsessing over 'those things'?"

A man in his fifties gestured toward the window, where luxury cars wove through traffic and high-end fashion filled the opulent streets, unable to resist retorting:

"Brother Onoda, you really should face reality."

"You—"

The gray-haired old man glared at him, his hands clenching as if he were about to step forward and teach him a lesson with a cane!

However, he was old, and the times had changed.

His gaze swept over those present; everyone was dressed in handmade couture, everyone was bloated with wealth—where was the hot-blooded passion they once had for struggling to break free from the control of America?

"Ignorant fools, not worth conspiring with!"

He spat out a scholarly insult before turning and pushing the door open to leave.

"Who does he think he is?"

"Hmph, I only call him 'Brother' out of respect for the old Director."

"Drink, drink!"

The dissatisfied complaints of his former "old brothers" drifted from behind him, and the gray-haired man realized that he and they had become strangers.

"Sir, what is the next part of the itinerary?"

A young man in a black suit stepped forward to greet him.

"Home!"

As he sat in his bulletproof sedan, the gray-haired man grew angrier the more he thought about it.

The government had grasped the supernatural, yet these "old brothers" hadn't even caught wind of it. They appeared to be masters of their domain in Ginza, but in reality, they were nothing more than a bunch of... losers!

He couldn't really blame them, though.

Although they possessed "some" assets, they were too far removed from the top echelons of the island nation, and their foundations were all in Brazil, so it was understandable that they were in the dark.

In truth, even the white-haired old man only knew a sliver of the inside story thanks to the lingering influence of the "Old Director."

As for participating in it?

Don't joke around. Mitsubishi, Mitsui, Sumitomo, Fuji—these behemoths were sharpening their heads to get into the game; how could they let a small fry like him get in the way?

Sigh.

The Old Director's connections were all in the military.

Now that the Self-Defense Force was utterly pathetic, doing nothing but waving flags and shouting behind the American beasts, what could he possibly do?

If he could seize this opportunity, perhaps the island nation could...

Amidst a thousand thoughts, the pitch-black sedan left Chuo Ward, passed through Minato Ward and Meguro Ward, and arrived in Setagaya Ward.

This was a gathering place for old-money aristocrats, but it was gradually falling into decline: wealthy young people all preferred to flock to Minato Ward and Chuo Ward.

Yet, once trouble struck, they would come scurrying back here, begging the elders to intervene.

Sigh, he was getting old.

A thousand words dissolved into a single sigh.

The white-haired old man stepped out of the car and walked toward his home alone.

It was a classical wooden house, with materials transported from Wakayama Prefecture, every brick and tile restored exactly as it was.

Even the dry landscape, cherry blossoms, and willow trees in the courtyard were identical.

Sliding open the wooden door, he was met with a black-and-white landscape painting, and on the adjacent wall hung a military saber; the scent of the Showa era from the last century rushed to meet him!

Click.

Pulling the cord, the room lit up with an orange glow; the furniture in the living room consisted entirely of pieces from fifty or sixty years ago.

Except for—

A mysterious person wearing a simple, wide-sleeved hunting robe and a tall, black ceremonial hat, with a piece of white cloth marked with the character "Three" hanging down to obscure their face?

"Who are you?"

The white-haired old man's gaze sharpened, his feet spreading slightly apart.

"Who I am is not important; what matters is who you are."

The mysterious person sat brazenly in the living room, as if they had been waiting for a long time, or perhaps as if they had only just appeared.

Swish.

Seeing that this "mysterious person" would not answer his question, the white-haired old man kicked off the ground and lunged forward, his target:

The military saber on the wall!

As he ripped the saber from its mount, he turned and charged, his body angled at nearly forty-five degrees to the floor, the blade at his waist set in a classic iaido starting stance.

Clang—

The sound of the blade leaving the scabbard was accompanied by the old man's furious roar!

"Cut!!"

Swish.

His vision blurred. The old man, having swung at empty air, looked up, his pupils trembling.

"Director?!"

Before him stood a middle-aged man in a tattered, old military uniform, wearing a lieutenant's rank on his shoulders and holding a military saber.

The next second, the opponent's saber swung down violently!

The white-haired old man instinctively raised his blade to block.

This old man was a die-hard anti-American in the island nation and held considerable influence within the Self-Defense Force.

However, none of that mattered, so long as he could be of use to Akihi Yu—

Clang.

The saber in his hand plunged into the floorboards. Drenched in cold sweat, the white-haired old man knelt on one knee, looking up in horror at Akihi Yu—or rather, the avatar he was controlling.

"Your Excellency... are you a transcendent?"

"Transcendent?"

Leaning back in the chair, the mysterious person with the white cloth covering his face scoffed.

"Gods, demons, transcendents."

"Call it whatever you humans like."

As expected!

Having fought the Old Director forty times in the illusion and been killed thirty-nine times, the white-haired old man set down his saber and knelt properly on the floor.

"I do not know why you have graced me with your presence; what are your orders?"

"To be able to break free from the Narakumi Technique—you are quite the talent."

With a wave of his hand, a stone the size of a fingernail drifted before the gray-haired old man.

"Consume it, and you shall obtain extraordinary power."

Hearing this, the old man leaned forward and bit down.

Gulp.

Without a moment's hesitation, he swallowed the stone.

"You do not ask me for the price?"

Facing the mysterious figure's playful question, the old man kneeling on the floor shook his head slightly.

"No matter the price, I fear nothing."

Without any movement from him, the military saber embedded in the floor flew up of its own accord, turned horizontally, and drifted before this mysterious figure.

"My lord, please give your instructions."

To offer one's blade is to submit.

With extraordinary power, the flames to drive out the American beasts began to burn once more within his aged body!

But before that, he still had to complete the task set by the lord before him.

Having lived for half a lifetime, he had seen plenty of things fall from the sky—though usually, they were incendiary bombs, which was exactly how his entire family had perished.

"Not bad."

A pawn so sensible; Akihi Yu was very satisfied.

"I give you one day to familiarize yourself with what you call 'extraordinary power.' When the time comes—"

A gust of wind swept by, and the mysterious figure sitting before the man vanished.

"I will send someone to find you."

Akihi House.

Putting down his phone, Akihi Yu rubbed his chin.

This old gentleman, Onoda, had made anti-American statements several times and made no secret of his hatred for America; he was precisely the vanguard he needed.

Since he had transmigrated to this island nation, if he didn't control it and start a war with America, wouldn't that be lacking in fun?

Besides, once the flames of war ignited, wouldn't his proficiency points skyrocket?

As for the unlucky souls who might die?

Oh well, casualties are always unavoidable.