Tokyo’s night was heavy and suffocating, thick with a sense of impending storm.
The glass facades of high-rises reflected neon, while a few crows perched on the shattered light border of a holographic billboard, letting out hoarse cries.
Beneath the seemingly ordinary urban backdrop, a storm had already formed, its surging undercurrents instantly sweeping across the entire Japanese archipelago.
The once-popular hate news like “Oh, this old Chinese is too evil, coming to Japan as a tourist to steal our rice” was quickly shoved into a neglected corner.
In its place, dominating every news headline, was a blood-red title that shocked the eye—
This was not the “nonexistent” collective memory of the GPRI Hunters incident.
For the first time, an “other” possessing power beyond mortals had committed a heinous crime in broad daylight, in such a cruel manner.
The already fragile barrier between Superpower Users and ordinary people was violently torn down.
True, there had been negative news before.
Scandals about certain notorious Superpower Users using their special status to amass wealth or toy with others frequently surfaced.
However, in the public’s mind, that still fell within the realm of “human universal evil”—greed, indulgence, moral decay—darkness common even among ordinary people.
Disgusting, but still in a “somewhat understandable” gray area.
But this time was different.
Burning a living person to death in the street—instantly seized everyone’s attention, sparking an indescribable wave of fear.
The visual impact was far beyond what written reports or moral condemnation could achieve.
Because of the recent Biochemical Crisis in India, platforms like Blue Bird had briefly turned into bloody video hotspots, with new scenes of severed limbs appearing every refresh.
Even the most “free speech” platforms couldn’t tolerate mainstream social networks becoming gore sites that anyone could browse without an onion browser.
Thus, platform review bots became stricter than ever.
Now, Saori Saiyonji’s burning video could only spread across platforms after being heavily mosaicked.
Yet under those blurry, flickering color blocks, the twisted human forms and rising flames were still vaguely visible—making it even more horrifying.
“Superpower beasts should all die!!”
“What is the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department doing? Dangerous individuals like this should be arrested!”
“Government-raised monsters.”
“I have inside information—the Cabinet has already been bought by Superpower Users! Everyone, follow Reiwa Shinsengumi, let’s destroy the traitors together!”
***
Inside the Vice Minister’s office at the Special Incident Response Headquarters, the atmosphere was heavy.
Vice Minister Kentarou Yamada stared at the endlessly refreshing comments on his phone screen, his fingertips pressing hard against his throbbing temple.
Would these unchecked insults be seen by some equally irritable Superpower User?
If that person lost control and clashed with ordinary citizens…the consequences would be unthinkable.
In just a few hours, the public image of Superpower Users had shifted from being rejected as “non-citizens” to outright non-humans!
“What do you mean ‘can’t confiscate phones’?”
Kentarou Yamada put down his phone, anger in his voice as he looked at the assistant standing by with lowered hands.
“So many Police on the scene, and they just watched as bystanders filmed and uploaded?”
“What about their professionalism? Basic scene control? Where was the network regulation?”
“The Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department reported… the scene was too chaotic. Officers focused on controlling the danger and rescuing possible victims, so they neglected to control bystanders’ phones at first.”
The assistant explained quickly, then paused, his voice dropping lower, as if finding it hard to continue:
“The Cabinet Office is undergoing reorganization. The newly established National Cyber Administration Office… hasn’t had time to connect the network cable.”
“…………”
There were no humans left.
The Vice Minister rubbed his aching temples and sighed.
“Has the person been brought in?”
The full name of the Headquarters was Special Incident Response Headquarters—but now, all they did was clean up after these Superpower User masters.
They might as well call it the Superpower User Toilet Paper Department!
“Just delivered to the interrogation room, but the suspect was injected with drugs and is unresponsive.”
The assistant finished, then whispered a reminder:
“The Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department is also taking this seriously. Online public opinion… is very ugly, and even our Headquarters has been attacked.”
Yamada’s heart sank further. He picked up his phone again, stubbornly refreshing comment sections on news and social media.
As he scrolled, a strange phenomenon occurred: hateful extremist comments from moments ago visibly decreased and vanished.
He refreshed again.
Now, the page was filled with neutral, gentle, even “rational analysis”-flavored messages.
“Urging calm.”
“Wait for the investigation results.”
“We can’t deny all Superpower Users’ contributions because of an isolated case.”
“Trust in the government’s handling ability.”
***
These comments, like a well-trained army, quickly filled the vacuum left in public opinion.
What’s going on?
Was the network cable plugged in?
He switched to an anonymous forum and found posts with comments like “Burning Sage.”
Well, anonymous boards still had that flavor.
Staring at these anonymous revelries, Yamada oddly felt a sense of reality.
He set aside online public opinion for now and refocused on the case itself.
Yamada’s voice regained the calm of work.
“What’s the preliminary cause and process according to the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department’s investigation?”
“Yes, Vice Minister.”
The assistant opened his tablet, quickly browsing the materials.
“According to emergency investigations and intelligence from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, the case is relatively clear.”
“Suspect Saori Saiyonji, formerly a staff member at a well-known Club in Kabukicho.”
“Recently, he reportedly wanted to quit and formally submitted a resignation to Club Manager Daizai Saitou.”
“However, Daizai Saitou refused the resignation and instead ordered several senior enforcers to lure Saori to the Club this afternoon, drug him, and kidnap him to a warehouse in Waseda Town.”
“Daizai’s goal was to use drugs to force Saori into continued service or make him an even more dangerous tool.”
“Are they insane? Kidnapping a Superpower User?”
Yamada frowned, flashes of other dangerous cases recorded in Headquarters’ files running through his mind.
The trickiest involved an ability side effect that caused small-scale temporal disturbances, dragging people or objects from the past briefly into the present.
When a warlord wearing an Emperor’s Loyalist Headband appeared near a Superpower User, SAT-EX Members acted decisively and eliminated the threat.
—Once again, Police Forces triumphed over Army idiots, known as the last military-police conflict of modern Japan.
“From the known facts, Saori’s actions seem more like self-defense or excessive counterattack?”
“If kidnapping and drug control are proven, the case should be pushed toward justified defense. That would help stabilize public opinion. But…”
A trace of worry flickered in Yamada’s eyes.
The standards for recognizing justified defense were extremely strict, especially given the brutal outcome.
He hadn’t finished his sentence—
Bang!