Chapter 158: Codename: Shadow
“According to our reporter, a recent leak of an unknown virus from the Kyota Research Institute has led to several carriers escaping, unfortunately infecting others.”
“The virus shows no life-threatening symptoms in clinical studies, only causing flu-like effects, fever, and bodily warmth, with a high likelihood of physiological changes after three days…”
“The virus has been contained, so please rest assured, citizens.”
Kamihara Shinji lounged on his sofa, watching the news anchor deliver a solemn report on the recent gender-swap incidents. Despite the serious tone and expert-backed theories, Kamihara found it utterly unconvincing. Checking online, he saw netizens buzzing with envy, some even starting petitions for the “gender-swap drug” to hit the market. They’d bought the experts’ claims hook, line, and sinker. Kamihara was speechless.
Beyond this, the past two days had seen significant societal upheaval. Gender-swapped individuals sparked heated debates. Some men-turned-women harbored ulterior motives, exploiting their new identities to harass women on crowded trains. A few women-turned-men did the same. Others, men now women, capitalized on Japan’s crusade against molesters, framing innocents for quick cash. Train-related incidents, already averaging 2,000 annually under anti-nuisance laws, were surging, and public outrage followed.
Kamihara shook his head at these swapped individuals’ antics. He understood that some men, turned into unattractive women, acted out from shattered self-esteem. But the train issue sparked an idea. With Kaoruko trapped in the Silent Horn of Sound, he desperately needed legend points, and now he had a lead.
Ding-dong. The doorbell rang. Peering through the peephole, Kamihara saw Chihaya Mashiro. Opening the door, he noted her stunned expression and said flatly, “Come in.”
“Oh… oh…” Chihaya gaped at the stunning woman before her, recalling the photo. “President?” she asked, incredulous.
“It’s me.”
Kamihara had spent two days holed up at home, wasting time on his computer and news, not stepping outside. Chihaya was here because she’d stabilized at stage two and needed soul beads to reach stage three. He’d told her to come by after school.
He didn’t mind her seeing his swapped form—after all, he’d sent her the photo, and his mindset had settled. Initially, panic over being stuck female had nearly broken him, but knowing he’d revert tomorrow restored his calm.
“Here.” He handed her a small bag of soul beads. “By the way, I’m adding you to a monitor group. Pick a codename.”
Chihaya’s heart sank—she’d feared this. Joining Ghost-sha was about safety, hoping to be a coin-flipping tool. But now, the president was using soul beads to push her to stage three. Per his pamphlet, stage-three spiritual power plus a rule-based item made one a monitor, tasked with anomaly investigations. Was she being sent into the field?
She looked at him pitifully. His female form seemed softer, less intimidating despite his usual stoic expression, thanks to his beauty. But she knew safety without contribution was unrealistic. If he insisted, she’d comply.
“Don’t worry,” Kamihara said, reading her fear. “You’re a coward, I get it. Just join the group, lurk, and log info. No need to chat.”
The group had grown from thirty to nearly sixty members since he joined. He couldn’t monitor it constantly, so Chihaya could handle data collection. Even wild monitors had unique insights, and this would broaden her anomaly knowledge, boosting her vigilance.
“Okay,” Chihaya said, relieved. Logging info was doable—she had a knack for writing, thanks to her diary habit.
“But at stage three, as a Ghost-sha member, you’ll have to pull some weight.” He handed her a slip with the Spirit-Exorcism Net’s URL, passed on by Aokiji. “Stage three makes dealing with grudges easy. I won’t send you after anomalies, but you can’t do nothing.”
Chihaya took the paper without protest. Exorcising grudges was far simpler than anomaly hunts. The president’s kindness in keeping her in Ghost-sha was enough, especially since her fate coin was her only real value to him.
“Plus, exorcising grudges pays. We’ll split it fifty-fifty, which can help your family’s finances.”
Chihaya’s family, modest middle-class, relied on her father, Masato. Her eyes lit up at the prospect.
Kamihara smiled faintly. “Pick a codename for the group.”
He messaged Yakuman, explaining. Yakuman hesitated: Stage two? The group’s for monitors only, not assistants. That’s the rule.
But with Ghost involved, Yakuman was about to relent when Kamihara added: Relax, she’ll hit stage three in a few days.
What? Wasn’t she just stage two? Yakuman realized Kamihara planned to stack soul beads—a bold move. No problem, Ghost-sama. Add her.
Kamihara looked at Chihaya. “Got your codename?”
“Shadow.”
Shadow? Simple, unassuming. Fitting.
Transition…
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 159: The Seventh Urban Legend
Carrying her bag of soul beads, Chihaya Mashiro reluctantly left the president’s home. She wanted to stay but had no excuse. The president’s feminine scent—a faint, captivating fragrance—enchanted her. As an only child, she’d always longed for a gentle older sister, and Kamihara’s current form fulfilled that fantasy. But, as he’d said, he’d revert tomorrow, likely never to be seen as a girl again. Disappointed, she trudged off.
After she left, Kamihara exhaled. In the club, Chihaya barely met his eyes, but at his home, her bold stares unnerved him, making him wonder if his charm lingered. Dismissing the thought, he pulled out his notebook to craft his seventh urban legend.
His notebook held both created and contained anomalies: Eyes in the Cracks, Hell Girl, Your Turn, Ghost Call, Human Body Hospital (Heart), and Gender-Swapper—six in total. There was also the proto-anomaly Evil Neighbor, Matsunai-san, and a rule-based item, the Soul-Imprisoning Brush, stored within the notebook’s quasi-storage space, which only accepted rule-related objects.
The Human Body Hospital (Heart) was unique. Touching his chest, he felt its steady beat and smiled. Unlike other contained anomalies, this heart, integrated with his soul post-revival, was part of him. Using Your Turn or Gender-Swapper cost legend points, but the heart didn’t. At stage four, he could use its power once without dying—a trump card, though its indiscriminate attack, causing nearby hearts to resonate and burst, spared only heartless beings like Chihaya. Against anomalies, which lacked hearts, it was likely useless.
Sitting on the sofa, Kamihara opened the notebook to a blank page. He’d been pondering how to craft an unsolvable urban legend—not wholly impervious but resistant to Special Division containment. After Ghost Call, he realized one-off anomalies were inefficient. Long-term, subtle anomalies were ideal for harvesting legend and virtue/vice points.
Kaoruko’s brief rampage had panicked the Division, mobilizing monitors nationwide until the Silent Horn of Sound restrained her. This taught Kamihara that the Division’s myriad rule-based items could counter flashy anomalies. He needed a discreet anomaly that quietly sent evildoers to hell, avoiding Division scrutiny.
The Division prioritized stability. Disruptive anomalies drew their full focus, but only a truly unsolvable one would force them to reveal anomalies publicly—a global policy. Kamihara believed controlling the Division was key to understanding their items, allowing him to craft legends that sidestepped their countermeasures. For now, he relied on his own logic to create a quasi-unsolvable anomaly.
This seventh legend was an experiment. Inspired by recent train-related news, he saw potential in Japan’s ubiquitous trains. Students and workers relied on them, and the sprawling rail network made trains a containment nightmare for the Division, which couldn’t halt all lines.
“I recall a Japanese urban legend about trains from my past life,” Kamihara mused, pen in hand. A blueprint from an existing legend would simplify creation. He vaguely remembered Kisaragi Station, where a girl boarded a train late at night, arriving at a nonexistent station. Without details, he couldn’t copy it outright but could adapt it.
In his study, he searched online for recent train accidents in Japan. As a rail-dependent nation, accidents, though rare, accumulated over decades. One stood out: sixteen years ago, a train derailed during a track switch, colliding with another. All passengers perished, making it a notorious tragedy still debated online.
Rather than write immediately, Kamihara researched other accidents, planning to blend elements. After hours, late into the night, he began:
“On May 18, 2020, starting in Tokyo, Japan, a train between reality and illusion, the Kisaragi Train, appeared. Boarding it triggers terrifying events.”
“Originating in Tokyo, it circles the globe in 24 hours, passing through Caracas, Rio de Janeiro, Bogotá, Cape Town, and other cities, before returning to Tokyo…”
(End of Chapter)
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