#protectorofjapan

It started out harmless enough.

The graffiti, that was. It started out in Tokyo, the messages of an unknown perpetrator spreading across the walls of the sprawling city. Spray-on scribbles appeared in the small corners of Shibuya before fanning out into impressive and colorful displays, sporting various messages that no one could quite make out. But they were vast and wonderful. Wonderful. That was a huge motif among the spreading murals, apparently. On more than one occasion did passersby report seeing the message "ⅠᎢ'Ꮪ ႽՕ ᎳՕɴᎠᎬᏒϜՍᏞ" in complex lettering and imposed over luxurious backdrops.

Talk of the graffiti started out like any other rumor did. The subject hopped from one circle to another, and it began to take on a certain stigma that reasonable people would wave off as silly or irrational. The most popular rumor was that the murals spread happiness. People would stand in front of some of this unknown graffiti and feel a certain joy in the otherwise senseless designs.

But no one knew who was behind it.

Of course, the graffiti was a Tokyo matter. What happens in Rome stays in Rome, right? Thing was, it didn't stay in Tokyo.

It spread to Osaka.

The designs were different, but the style was the same. So was the cryptic nature of each mural that appeared. They were just as impressive as the ones in Tokyo, if not strangely daunting, stark, and even a little bit frightening. Like before, talk spread, but no Osakan called them wonderful. They said other things.

"They're kind of scary."

One mural that shadowed a typical Osakan street roared ᎪᏢᏢᎬαᏒ and displayed a winding dragon. ᎪᏒIᏚᎬ clung to the dragon's tail, and the beast's claws clutched convincingly-drawn cracks on the wall. Several more pieces of this nature were not-so-hidden across Osaka, aggressive and loud, not unlike the city's people.

Unlike in Tokyo, people were almost repelled by the images. They weren't gory or obscene or anything. Yet somehow, they were edgier. They weren't reassuring or soothing like the ones in Tokyo. What started out as cosmetic additions to the city had taken on some secret, perhaps supernatural turn.

Undoubtedly, inevitably, even JP's could not ignore them.

------

"Chief."

Late at night, one senior JP's peon was hastily running down the corridor to catch up with the top dog of the organization, Yamato Hotsuin. The peon's bright yellow uniform made sure he was not hard to miss, and the papers in his hand were definitely not to be overlooked.

"Chief, a report. It's urgent."

The young man straightened his back, caught his breath, and cleared his throat. This particular peon knew better than to keep the Chief waiting. He snapped the papers flat so he could read them properly.

"About the graffiti... The graffiti murals that we've been keeping track of. As you know, we've detected minute traces of Magnetite around them... We believe from our data that they are actually attracting Magnetite, albeit in inconsequential amounts. There's no other activity around them aside from that. Except..."

Now the young man looked...distressed. Perhaps even disturbed. He had not been on the scene in person, but the graphs and eyewitness accounts that had been sent to him were very alarming. After brief discussion with his peers, they had thrown together a report and sent him running to Yamato Hotsuin.

"Except we've detected a massive spike in Magnetite levels."

The young man proceeded to describe exactly where the spike was occurring. Somewhere along some nearby Osakan highway, at these exact coordinates, and just how big the spike was. It was huge, and unnaturally so. It was safe to say that the levels were dangerous—the levels were at the point where demons could manifest and wreak havoc on the highway.

((Fufufufufufufu~ -innocent look- I have no idea what you speak of))

((Your voice is awesome! -giggling ‘cause the answers are funny-))

((Aw….-gives Allkeeper-san a hug- I hope you feel better soon…))