Chapter 36: The Man-Portable Anti-Tank Missile

Five team members stood at five different angles, each shouldering a flamethrower. As they pulled the triggers, relentless, searing flames erupted from the nozzles. The fire, exceeding 1,000°C, engulfed the surging mass of hair almost instantly. With every step they advanced, the hair of the "Hair Ghost" diminished at a rate visible to the naked eye.

Seeing this, Asakawa Yuya could not suppress his excitement. To combat the supernatural, the Metropolitan Police Department had prioritized resources for their newly formed Supernatural Division. They were fully equipped with high-lethality weaponry; the tactical vehicle he sat in even held two RPGs. Furthermore, to mitigate the delay in mobilizing heavy assets like tanks, the department had modified anti-tank missiles provided by the Self-Defense Forces.

Once designed for attack helicopters, these man-portable, single-shot anti-tank missiles had now become the arsenal of the police. At this very moment, two were primed in the rear, ready to fire at a moment's notice. Flamethrowers were mere child's play.

Pressing his earpiece, he reported, "The situation is under control. The 'Hair Ghost' has been suppressed and is about to be contained."

At the Metropolitan Police Department, Commissioner Hakuba, forced to work the night shift due to the emergency, wore a look of delight. After several unfavorable encounters between technology and the supernatural, the police had finally scored a victory.

"Capture it alive... and that supernatural individual as well. Try to persuade them to join the department."

After issuing the order, he turned his gaze to a corner of the screen. Standing aloof with a sword in hand, the supernatural individual, whose face was obscured, looked down at the scene, seemingly uninterested in the battle.

Another supernatural.

Commissioner Hakuba’s eyes flickered. He wondered if this person possessed hereditary powers, had been blessed by a deity like Jiroku, or was a "wild" supernatural. Regardless of their origin, if the police could recruit them, it would certainly break the current stalemate.

At the scene, several flamethrowers operated in unison. Rolling waves of heat surged forth, replacing the cool night breeze with a sweltering heat that made everyone sweat.

'So, this is the weaponry people use nowadays. It's much more convenient than in our time.'

'What did you use back then, Lady Raiko?' Miku asked out of curiosity. She assumed people back then must have used torches or something similar.

'In my time, Onmyoji could use fire-attribute spiritual spells, and samurai could simply strike their blades against stone to ignite them. Those who kept shikigami or minor spirits had it even easier. Back then, the world was far grander than it is now; shattering a mountain during a battle was a common occurrence.'

'...' My apologies for my baseless assumptions.

Miku could hardly imagine a battle that could shatter a mountain. Were those even human?

'...Actually, I could do that too.'

"Eh?"

As Miku stood stunned, the battle below reached its finale.

'It is only a Hair Ghost. With the current power of the authorities, it is simple to subdue it. It is strange, though, that not one of these people possesses supernatural abilities.'

Those who could stand alongside gods with the bodies of mortals were few and far between. In reality, without bloodlines, resources, or opportunities, one could not go far. The Hair Ghost was such a case—newly born and a low-level spirit. Perhaps it could have become stronger after harming more young girls, but once it attracted the attention of Minamoto no Raiko and the Metropolitan Police, its defeat was only a matter of time.

'Does Miku want to interact with the authorities?'

Hearing Raiko’s question, Miku shook her head slightly. "Not yet."

She was just an ordinary high school student; she only stood here because of Raiko. Dealing with the government was out of the question—she feared she would be sold off before she could even finish a conversation, and would likely end up helping them count the money.

'Then let us return.' Raiko was satisfied. The purpose of this outing was to accustom Miku to the fear of facing spirits. Killing a chicken was different from killing a person, and killing a person was different from killing a spirit. As long as Miku was determined, it would be no problem for Raiko to train her into a qualified samurai.

A familiar sensation washed over her, and with two flashes of movement, Miku disappeared into the night.

Asakawa Yuya swallowed the words he was about to speak. At the same time, in the shadow of a building nearby, a tall figure quickly retreated.

With flamethrowers closing in and assault rifles providing cover—not to mention the RPGs and anti-tank missiles in the vicinity—the Hair Ghost was locked into a special container filled with anesthetic, its strands of hair finally ceasing their assault.

After a brief silence...

"Ohhhhhh—!!"

...

In a distant factory, Gin stood against the wind, his black trench coat flapping violently. Through his binoculars, he took in every detail of the scene.

The supernatural, it really existed!

"If the Organization could grasp that kind of power..." Gin muttered to himself. He felt an urge to seize it.

But it was only a thought. He recognized the equipment deployed: man-portable anti-tank missiles. There was likely further support in the distance. Even if he could slaughter this group, who were currently off guard, he would be hunted down and intercepted by the reinforcements sure to follow. Given the importance the Metropolitan Police placed on this, they might even turn Tokyo upside down to find him.

"Brother, what should we do now?" Vodka asked.

Gin lowered his binoculars, his long hair obscuring the lower half of his face. Only his voice emerged: "Rest up. We're going to visit a shrine tomorrow."

————

The next day.

[Minazuki Haku: Requesting leave]

Looking at the message that lacked even a reason for the absence, veins pulsed on Hiratsuka Shizuo's forehead. Nakano Miku, passing by, rubbed her sleepy eyes and glanced through the window, confused by the sight of Shizuo in a fit of rage.

As for Minazuki:

Going to school was, to put it simply, for a better future. To put it harshly, among students, everyone except the true geniuses were merely expendable resources; only the cash in one's hand was real.

"So far, we've seen the Nurikabe, the Mizuchi... plus the Hair Ghost captured by the police and the Black Ghost that was eliminated."

By a small river, Minazuki Haku sat on the railing, his legs dangling in the air as he took inventory of the spirits that had appeared. They were mostly bottom-tier—some first-rank, a few second-rank. He had guided the Tsuchigumo to recruit the first and second-rank spirits to bolster his forces for the upcoming Parade of One Hundred Demons.

The bottom-tier ones aside, the first and second-rank spirits could be easily suppressed by modern firepower. Like the Hair Ghost last night—it looked intimidating, but it feared fire. Once its weakness was found, it could be wiped out in one go; it could even be killed by ordinary people.

Second-rank spirits varied depending on the individual. The Three-Tailed Bone Cat from before had been polished by him personally; although he didn't spend much desire-power on it, its configuration was far beyond that of a common mountain spirit. It was like a frail farmer holding a hoe facing an armored warrior. Even among the supernatural, there were gaps.

Just then, the sound of rapid running approached from behind. After a few breaths, a figure rushed past, stirring up a breeze. Judging by the stride, one could tell at a glance that he was a skilled soccer player.

"Kudo Shinichi." Minazuki glanced sideways and smiled slightly. "And the detective from Osaka, and..."

The antique-loving specialist who used a Beretta and drove an old clunker.