I Am The Strongest Ghost Hunter

chapter 11

After what felt like another eternity, though it was probably only fifteen or twenty minutes, Hank eased off the throttle and pulled into the underground parking garage of a tall, modern bank. The building loomed above them, all glass and steel, with the name of some big financial chain glowing in blue letters across the facade.

Hank parked in a shadowed corner and swung off the bike.

Raito followed more slowly, rubbing his tired eyes. “When are we actually getting to the base?” he asked, voice small and worn out.

Hank didn’t answer. He just started walking toward the main entrance, hands in his pockets, shades still hiding his expression.

Raito sighed and trailed after him, feeling more like baggage than ever.

Inside, the bank lobby was cool and quiet, polished marble floors, soft classical music drifting from hidden speakers, a few suited customers murmuring at tellers. Everything screamed normal. Safe. Boring.

Hank strode straight to one of the reception desks, flashed a plain black card at the young woman behind the counter. She scanned it without a word, typed something quickly, then handed it back with a polite nod.

Hank pocketed the card and kept moving, deeper into the back corridors marked “Employees Only.” Raito hurried to keep up, glancing nervously at security cameras and the occasional guard who didn’t spare them a second look.

They reached a sleek elevator at the end of a hallway. Hank stepped inside and pressed a precise sequence on the regular floor buttons, nothing obvious, just a pattern Raito tried to memorize but lost track of halfway through.

The elevator hummed… then began descending, even though they’d already been on the lobby level. It kept going, past what should have been the basement garage, deeper still, until the display flickered and went blank.

The doors opened to a small, empty shaft, no floor visible below.

Hank turned to face the opposite wall. Three small, unmarked buttons had appeared where there’d been none before. He pressed them in quick succession: middle, top, bottom.

A soft chime. Then the back panel of the elevator slid open like a secret door, revealing a brightly lit corridor beyond.

Raito’s breath caught.

They stepped out into a massive underground hall, easily the size of a school gymnasium, maybe bigger. High ceilings with industrial lighting bathed everything in crisp white glow. The air smelled faintly of sweat, wood polish, and metal.

Dozens of teenagers and young adults filled the space, all moving with purpose. Some practiced forms with wooden bokken, blades whistling through the air. Others jogged laps around the perimeter or lifted weights in a corner gym area. A pair sparred fiercely in a roped-off ring, fists and feet connecting with muffled thuds and sharp grunts. Everyone wore simple black training uniforms, some with bandages, some with bruises. No one looked older than twenty.

Raito stood frozen just outside the elevator, mouth slightly open. This was the GHO? This hidden world beneath a bank, full of kids learning to fight ghosts?

His mind reeled.

Hank stepped forward into the hall, raising his voice just enough to carry.

“Listen up.”

Every head turned. Training paused mid-swing. Conversations died. Dozens of eyes locked on them.

Hank jerked a thumb toward Raito.

“This is Raito. He’s joining the GHO today. Treat him like one of you. Show him around. Be kind.” A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “And try not to kill each other.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel, stepped back into the elevator, and was gone. The hidden door sealed shut behind him with a soft hiss.

The hall stayed quiet for a beat, everyone sizing Raito up.

Then a boy about his age broke away from a group stretching near the mats. He had messy brown hair, bright eyes, and an easy, welcoming smile that felt completely out of place in this intense underground arena.

He stopped in front of Raito and offered a small wave.

“Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Akito.” He gestured around the hall. “I’ll show you around.”

Raito hesitated, then nodded, managing a tiny, tired smile in return.

He followed Akito deeper into the hall, the noise of training slowly picking up again behind them, wooden swords clacking, feet pounding, voices calling out counts and corrections.

For the first time since that awful night three years ago, Raito felt something shift inside him.

Not safety. Not yet.

But maybe… the beginning of something new.