Tokyo Exorcism Diary

“Unbelievable… No matter how many times I see it, it’s still so unreal.”

As if replaying the events of yesterday, Shimizu Yuu once again found herself standing before the dilapidated dojo bathed in the amber glow of sunset.

But unlike the last time, when she had secretly followed Hoshino Gen here, this time, she was accompanying him openly—as a helper and a companion.

Holding the bamboo sword that Hoshino Gen had “enhanced,” Shimizu Yuu’s eyes sparkled with amazement. Electric arcs coiled around the bamboo blade, exuding an aura of mysterious fantasy.

However, a thought struck her, and she couldn’t help but ask, “Didn’t your bamboo sword get cut in half by the ghost inside last time? Why not just get a real one? It shouldn’t be hard for you, right?”

Hoshino Gen cast her a sidelong glance, clearly reluctant to answer such a foolish question. But considering he would soon need her to risk her life, he gave a casual explanation. “What matters is the talisman infused into the sword, not the material of the sword itself. Without the talisman, you wouldn’t even be able to touch the ghost.”

As he finished speaking, Hoshino Gen took out a talisman and held it between his fingers. Smiling, he turned to Shimizu Yuu and asked in a gentle tone, “Are you ready?”

“…” Holding the bamboo sword tightly, Shimizu Yuu’s lips trembled slightly. Even though she had spent the entire journey mentally preparing herself, the moment she stood here, her fear surged to an overwhelming peak.

Hoshino Gen silently watched her trembling figure for a moment before smiling faintly. “You can still back out now. The supernatural things you yearn for might not be as glamorous as you imagined.”

The words had barely settled when Shimizu Yuu took a step forward. “I’m ready.”

Hoshino Gen shrugged. What more could he say? If she wasn’t afraid of death, he had no objections.

Together, they stepped into the decaying dojo under the setting sun. The moment they crossed the threshold, a chill seeped into Shimizu Yuu’s bones, making her shiver uncontrollably.

The suffocating stench of decay that filled the dojo was deeply unsettling.

Shimizu Yuu glanced around but couldn’t find any trace of the faceless swordsman from yesterday. It wasn’t until Hoshino Gen threw the talisman onto the floor that ripples spread across the wooden planks like waves.

Just five meters in front of them, a wandering swordsman straight out of a historical drama materialized. He held a cursed blade, and his face was shrouded in pitch-black darkness, devoid of any features.

Shimizu Yuu swallowed hard and instinctively turned to Hoshino Gen for reassurance. But when she looked back, she found that he had already retreated to a safe distance, wearing an expression that screamed he was here solely for the entertainment.

(TL: Yuu’s expression probably)

Thud!

The faceless swordsman moved. With a single step, the floor groaned under his weight, and in the next instant, a glint of steel slashed toward Shimizu Yuu’s neck.

Almost reflexively, she raised the lightning-wreathed bamboo sword in defense. A tremendous force surged through the blade, traveling into her wrists. Her entire arm went numb in an instant.

But the swordsman’s relentless assault didn’t falter. With a reverse diagonal slash, his cursed blade descended again. Panicking, Shimizu Yuu stumbled backwards. It had to be said—her reflexes, honed as a national runner-up, were indeed exceptional.

However, dodging a wraith’s diagonal slash purely by retreating was wishful thinking. Its relentless pursuit left her with no choice but to block with her sword. Otherwise, she wouldn’t last thirty seconds—perhaps not even three.

Suppressing the overwhelming stench of bloodlust and malice emanating from the swordsman, Shimizu Yuu forcibly steadied her trembling legs. With a burst of determination, she countered the incoming slash with a desperate upward strike.

And was sent flying.

Her slight frame, accustomed more to finesse than raw strength, was ill-suited for such a brutal clash. Although the enhanced bamboo sword withstood the cursed blade’s strike, the sheer force was far beyond what an ordinary sixteen-year-old girl could handle.

She crashed hard onto the dojo floor, nearly losing her grip on the sword. Before she could recover, she glimpsed the wraith’s black, mist-shrouded feet rapidly closing in.

Terror surged through her like a flood. Her yearning for supernatural powers and all her swordsmanship training turned to dust. The only thought left in her mind was survival.

Paralyzed by fear and the earlier blow, Shimizu Yuu found herself unable to move. She instinctively glanced toward Hoshino Gen, clinging to a fragile hope that her enigmatic classmate might save her. After all, she hadn’t even lasted fifteen seconds, let alone thirty.

But what she saw next was a sight she would never forget.

A massive crimson-purple fireball crackled between Hoshino Gen’s palms, radiating an intense light. His slightly tousled hair danced in the heatwave, and talismans floated in a swirling orbit around him, one by one merging into the growing fireball. With each talisman added, its color deepened, and its glow burned brighter.

Shimizu Yuu suddenly realized that the icy chill permeating the dojo had vanished, replaced by unbearable heat.

The heatwave swept through every corner of the room, finally drawing the faceless swordsman’s attention. Sensing the true threat, it instantly lost interest in the “insignificant bug” that was Shimizu Yuu.

Without losing any momentum, the faceless swordsman executed a sharp right-angle turn in front of Shimizu Yuu. The cursed blade in its hands glowed a menacing blood-red, tendrils of black mist coiling around it like sinister serpents.

The air vibrated with tension as Hoshino Gen moved as well. He extended his right hand, propelling the searing fireball toward the charging swordsman.

The fireball and the tip of the cursed blade collided.

Like cold water striking acid, the point of contact erupted in an intense reaction.

“Raaaahhhhhhh—!!”

The faceless swordsman let out another ear-splitting screech. Hoshino Gen’s calm, almost indifferent expression shifted, a streak of malice flashing across his face. His left eye, once a serene blue, was instantly consumed by a crimson hue, his gaze turning feral and vicious.

The fireball, destabilized by its clash with the cursed blade, could no longer maintain its spherical form. But in return, the heat it released was overwhelming, transforming the sauna-like atmosphere of the dojo into something akin to a blazing inferno.

Buzz—!

The vibrations in the air grew sharper and more grating. Hoshino Gen stepped forward, pressing the attack. Yet, the faceless swordsman refused to retreat. The blade of its cursed sword had already pierced deep into the fireball.

Then, in a sudden and decisive move, the swordsman gripped the hilt with both hands and thrust forward with all its might.

Boom!

The massive fireball erupted in a fiery explosion, scattering flames in every direction. Amid the inferno, the blood-red blade drove through the palm of Hoshino Gen’s outstretched right hand, a crimson spray of blood following its path.

The excruciating pain seemed to carve into his very soul, twisting his features into a grimace. Yet, in that very moment, the corners of his mouth curled into a sharp grin.

The blood splattering through the air merged with the scattered flames. The red-purple blaze deepened to a blood-red hue, its embers adhering to the faceless swordsman like iron filings drawn to a magnet. The creature’s entire form became engulfed in fiery plumage, as though cloaked in a robe woven from flames.

“Raaaahhhh!!”

Its screech grew even more piercing, now tinged with agony and desperation.

Hoshino Gen clenched his jaw, pushing past the agony coursing through his pierced hand. He shoved his right hand forward, gripping the hilt of the cursed blade tightly to immobilize it.

With his free left hand, he snatched at the air. The remaining talismans that had not been used for the fireball fluttered into his grasp. Crushing them in his palm, they ignited, wrapping his fist in a sheath of flames.

In one decisive motion, Hoshino Gen drove his flaming fist forward, punching through the chest of the swordsman wreathed in hellish fire. It was as if he were breaking through the hollow shell of a plaster statue.