Chapter 57
Translator: penny
Chapter: 57
Chapter Title: The Staggering Investigation Line (1)
In a world with Ability Users, the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department's days spin even busier.
If the biggest criminals in the world where Serika originally lived were violent yakuza peddling drugs, then in this world, the most terrifying criminals are yakuza who peddle drugs and wield superpowers.
Abilities aren't hereditary, and it's all too easy for those gifted with strong powers to succumb to temptation. As a result, society was perpetually plagued by heinous crimes committed by villains abusing their powers. Lately, the Special Abilities Section of the Special Operations Division at the Metropolitan Police had been tracking intel on the most dangerous organization among these criminal syndicates: the Prophets.
"How's that data we got from the outside source this time? You said you dug into some land deeds in Rakugochō, right?"
"Yes. We traced it, and the landowner turned out to be an Ability User facility in Minotagu District. This facility belongs to a subsidiary of the Arima Group, supposedly built for local welfare purposes."
"Minotagu? Isn't that the ritzy area packed with industrial parks? They set up shop there? And the Arima Group? That's a mega-corp on par with Epsilon Corp. I figured nabbing the Prophets' tail wouldn't be easy, but ties to a behemoth like that...?"
The middle-aged man in a suit, his head balding, let out a triumphant whoop at the investigation results. The Prophets had haunted the underworld like a ghost story for ages. Rumors swirled of a terrifying cabal of unpredictable Ability Users banding together to usher in a "new era."
Rumors of them plotting to upend the world and carve out their own paradise.
Some said they were breeding an army of Ability Users for a coup. Others claimed they were a cult seizing a whole district to build their utopia.
Still others whispered they were funding pie-in-the-sky research into other worlds through a spree of organized crime.
No matter the tale, none were easy for the government to dismiss. They couldn't pin down the group's true nature, but whispers always linked the Prophets to major incidents, and they'd even nabbed suspected members now and then.
But those police-connected operatives always ended up murdered or "suicided" before spilling detailed intel, and the Prophets' true face slipped a step further into the fog every time.
After chasing their tails relentlessly, this was finally a solid lead.
A precious clue born of coincidence, luck, and meticulous legwork.
"What now? Should we just storm the facility and poke around? Round up all the cops and flip the place—bound to turn up something."
The middle-aged man shook his head at his subordinate's suggestion.
"No. It's not solid yet. The Arima Group's a juggernaut. You think the brass will greenlight raiding one of their facilities without ironclad justification or evidence? We need to lay more groundwork and nail down proof. Rush it, and they'll just scrap that one site. They'll chop off the tail and slink elsewhere. We're lucky to have this thread now—if we blow it, we might never get another."
The middle-aged man stated firmly.
"Focus on intel gathering for now."
*******
Time passed. The probe, kicking off around the start of summer vacation for elementary schools, took shape by vacation's end. Even as the cops worked the case, they gossiped about their kids.
"Taichi, how's your boy doing? Vacation's wrapping up soon. He finish his homework?"
"Don't ask. Why do they stick insect collecting in summer homework? My kid threw a fit for a big stag beetle, so I took leave last time and hit the mountains."
"Oh, that's why you took off? Score the stag beetle?"
"Don't ask. Caught a fist-sized Japanese rhinoceros beetle."
"Rhinoceros beetle? Lemme see pics!"
"Here, here."
"Whoa, damn. What is this? Fry it up, and it's a full serving."
"What're you on about? Anyway, Sōta, how's your kid?"
"Don't ask. Vacation hits, and he's obsessed with Bang Bang Man on TV. 'Bang! Bang!' all day at home. Every time I walk in, he makes me play villain. Killing me."
"Oh yeah, that show. We played it as kids too. What was ours? Power Rangers? That wolfman with the flute."
"Wasn't it Magic Rangers? We'd huddle up chanting spells and playing transform."
As they drowned in nostalgic chit-chat, the balding middle-aged man kicked the door open, smacked a file folder on the desk, and barked.
"Alright, you lot! What's this? Who said chit-chat on duty?"
"Oh, Section Chief. You're here."
"Yeah. Saw the case logs. Briefing, now."
"Yes, sir."
The gossiping man fired up the prepped beam projector and killed the lights. The middle-aged man leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, as the man launched the briefing with a tense face.
"Yes. Our division's Prophets pursuit has made solid progress. Beyond the Rakugochō plot we uncovered last time, we've traced several more sites bought under Arima Group subsidiaries. On the map here, these spots."
Eyeing the red dots on the map, the middle-aged man rubbed his chin.
"That bottom-right area's off. Isn't there already a factory there?"
The man nodded.
"Yes. Arima Group's leased it to a local SME called Iwamoto Industry as a research site. They're running some project inside, but inquiries just get 'classified' stonewalled—no details."
"Could be shady research there. Stories like that are a dime a dozen. Greedy types skirt the law at first, then hook up with crime syndicates for the big bucks."
"Right. So we checked out Iwamoto Industry's president, Iwamoto Yoshio. Minato District native, self-made businessman. Had a brief debt tie to a yakuza group back in the day."
"Debt tie?"
"Yes. Borrowed from a shady lender for quick business cash. All cleared now, no debts left."
An image of Iwamoto Yoshio popped up—plump face evoking a Western sweets or chicken chain boss, with a dapper mustache. The middle-aged man scowled.
"Hmph, suspicious. Those cherubic types always hide something. Innocent contract with a mega-corp? Any other links?"
The man nodded.
"Yes. Confirmed Iwamoto Yoshio's daughter is enrolled in an Arima Group-affiliated training facility. And get this—she went on a facility-led camp recently. Location? Rakugochō outskirts. Dates match the building collapse exactly."
The middle-aged man's eyes gleamed. You could call it forcing coincidences, but the red flags piled up. In court, it'd be "pure chance," but cop instinct screamed otherwise. The man pressed on.
"Iwamoto Yoshio's daughter, Iwamoto Serika, has strength-enhancement abilities. Eyewitness reports from the Rakugochō collapse site: a small-statured unidentified Ability User spotted nearby. Another saw that User carrying someone off, leaping from the building."
The middle-aged man eyed Iwamoto Yoshio's photo again.
That once-friendly face now looked like it concealed sinister schemes.
Not content with his own syndicate ties—now his daughter too?
Was Iwamoto Yoshio exploiting his daughter's powers as an organization fighter?
It wasn't a stretch; precedents abounded. Parents treating powerful-ability kids as cash cows, shoving them into brutal gigs.
The middle-aged man, versed in such cases, found the theory plausible.
Iwamoto Yoshio was hiding something.
The middle-aged man declared.
"Better to start with Iwamoto Yoshio than hit the facility blind. Whatever it is, he's key. Center the probe on Iwamoto Yoshio and his daughter, Iwamoto Serika. Proceed slow and steady. Remember: no slip-ups! Approach with extreme caution!"