Tokyo Exorcism Diary

“Raaah… aaaaaahh—!!”

A harrowing scream echoed as the faceless swordsman vanished amidst the flames, erased from existence entirely. Only the black scabbard at its waist remained, clattering onto the wooden floor with a crisp sound.

Hoshino Gen, as if drained of all energy, collapsed to one knee. His left hand reached out to grip the cursed blade still piercing his right palm, and with a determined yank, he pulled it free.

A fresh spray of blood splattered onto the floor, and his face paled visibly. Fine beads of sweat formed across his forehead.

It wasn’t just the pain. Dark tendrils of black mist swirled around the gaping wound in his hand, a clear indication that this was no ordinary injury. The cursed blade’s touch was a far cry from that of any mundane weapon.

Hoshino Gen’s entire body ached to surrender, to close his eyes and let consciousness slip away. It felt as though an unseen hand was dragging his mind toward a bottomless abyss.

“Hey… hey!”

Shimizu Yuu’s voice broke through the stillness, snapping her out of the daze brought on by the gruesome events she had just witnessed. The sight of blood on the floor jolted her into action. Stumbling to her feet, she wobbled unsteadily before rushing toward Hoshino Gen.

“Are you okay? I’ll call an ambulance right now!”

Her phone was already in hand when Hoshino Gen stopped her, placing his bloodied hand firmly on her wrist.

From his waist, he retrieved another talisman, pressing it against the wound on his palm. The paper dissolved into a cool stream of water, cleansing the injury and washing away the lingering black mist.

Breathing heavily, as though he’d just surfaced from drowning, Hoshino Gen reached into his pocket and retrieved a roll of bandages. Despite his weakened state, he skillfully wrapped his wounded hand.

Even now, drained as he was, his eyes burned with an unquenchable fervor. He picked up the cursed blade from the ground with his left hand, inspecting it closely.

The once blood-red blade was now as dark as obsidian. Held close, it reflected Hoshino Gen’s mismatched eyes in its sinister sheen. The blood it had drawn from him earlier was entirely absorbed, its ominous nature laid bare.

He gave the blade a light swing. Its weight felt heavier than expected, but the way it sliced through the air filled him with satisfaction.

“Um, your hand…” Shimizu Yuu hesitantly reminded him from the side.

Hoshino Gen bent down to pick up the scabbard, sheathing the blade. He turned to her with a faint smile. “It’s just a scratch. Thanks for your help this time, Shimizu-san.”

“Eh?” Shimizu Yuu blinked in surprise, then scratched her cheek awkwardly. “Wasn’t I the one who held you back? You said thirty seconds…”

“Don’t worry about it. As long as the outcome is good, the process doesn’t matter. Luck is part of skill, after all.”

Leaning on the cursed blade like a crutch, Hoshino Gen pushed himself upright. Though his steps wavered slightly, he maintained a composed expression, concealing just how exhausted he truly was.

From his waist, he pulled out the remaining talismans and quickly counted them—eight in total.

After a moment’s thought, he handed all eight to Shimizu Yuu. “Here, these are your payment. To activate them, you’ll need a drop of your blood at the moment it leaves your body.”

With that, he turned and began walking toward the dojo’s exit, using the blade as support. Waving a hand casually, he added, “That’s the end of our employment contract. Honestly, we survived this time because your luck was exceptional. Stay away from supernatural stuff in the future—it’s dangerous.”

Shimizu Yuu, unwilling to remain alone in the eerie dojo, clutched the talismans tightly and hurried to catch up. “Wait, where are you going?”

Hoshino Gen glanced at her curiously. “It’s getting dark. I’m going home, of course.”

“Aren’t you going to the hospital? Your hand—”

“It’s just a flesh wound. No bones or tendons were damaged. If I went to the hospital, they’d just clean it, stitch it up, and rewrap it. That cleansing talisman already removed the impurities and accelerated healing. I have the medicine I need at home, and I know how to dress a wound, so why waste time at the hospital?”

Shimizu Yuu was left speechless, though perhaps it was because her thoughts were still a jumbled mess.

Silently, she followed beside him, her mind swirling with the day’s bizarre events.

Before she realized it, they had left the forest surrounding the dojo and returned to the familiar road she took to and from school.

Hoshino Gen hailed a taxi and waved her off as he got in, disappearing down the street.

Left alone under the deepening twilight sky, Shimizu Yuu looked up. The clouds hung low, their dark blue hues streaked with inky smears, as if painted by a careless brush.

She glanced down at the mysterious talismans in her hands, still brimming with an otherworldly allure. The thought of such fantastical things becoming tangible, something she could hold and touch, was utterly surreal.

Recalling Hoshino Gen’s instructions on how to activate them, an impulsive urge surged within her to prick her finger and test them out. But her rational mind prevailed.

Swallowing hard, she hugged the talismans close and took off running toward home.

“I’m back!”

Hoshino Gen habitually called out as he stepped into the house. Unsurprisingly, there was no response. His parents being absent was a given, and his sister was perpetually busy. However, to his surprise, he noticed Hoshino Rin’s small leather boots sitting neatly in the shoe cabinet.

She’s back? Or did she just come home briefly?

Without dwelling on it, Hoshino Gen went straight to his room. He leaned the ominous blade against the wall, grabbed some clean, season-appropriate clothes, and headed into the private bathroom attached to his bedroom.

The shower sprayed warm water over his body, droplets mingling with the blood from his wounded palm and pooling on the polished bathroom floor.

Hoshino Gen lowered his gaze, staring at his right hand. The gash was jagged, fresh blood still seeping from it.

“So painful…”

A crisp white shirt, knee-length shorts, and damp hair cascading over her shoulders—Hoshino Rin padded out of her room, her small, pale feet nestled in fluffy shark slippers. She scanned the living room with her striking heterochromatic eyes and tentatively called out, “Nii-san?”

Silence stretched endlessly.

Hoshino Rin blinked, doubting the sound of the door opening she’d heard earlier. Still, recalling her manager’s recent warnings about stalkers and obsessive fans, she decided to err on the side of caution. After a moment’s hesitation, she approached Hoshino Gen’s door and knocked lightly.

“Nii-san? Are you back?”

No response.

“Excuse me,” she muttered softly, gripping the doorknob and pushing the door open.

A faint, pleasant fragrance greeted her. The room was spacious, as large as her own. Gray walls and ceiling, a silver-gray carpet covering the floor—its Nordic-style decor was sophisticated and cool. Oddly, though, the room felt noticeably colder than the rest of the house.

It was Hoshino Rin’s first time entering Hoshino Gen’s room, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit curious. Her gaze, however, was quickly drawn to something resting by the wall.

A long blade, its sheath, hilt, and guard all jet-black.

Although Hoshino Rin was an avid gamer with a love for all things virtual, she’d never shown much interest in real-life weapons or collectibles. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, the blade seemed to exert a magnetic pull on her.

Her vibrant heterochromatic eyes dulled slightly. Without realizing it, Hoshino Rin stepped into the room and approached the blade. She crouched down and picked it up, her right hand naturally settling on the hilt. A whisper seemed to echo in her mind, urging her to unsheathe it.

Shing—

The clear, resonant sound of the blade leaving its scabbard filled the room. Staring at the blade’s obsidian surface, polished to a mirror-like sheen that reflected her mesmerizing eyes, Hoshino Rin couldn’t help but murmur, “So beautiful…”

She set the sheath down and curiously brushed her finger against the blade’s edge.

A faint sting pricked her fingertip, the sensation shooting up her nerves to her brain. Hoshino Rin snapped back to herself, stunned by her actions.

Why did I enter Nii-san’s room like I was possessed? Why did I… draw the blade without even thinking?

Before she could process her confusion, an overwhelming weight pressed down on her.

Her legs buckled, and she collapsed to the floor. Darkness swallowed her consciousness in an instant.

The fallen blade lay beside her, its edge faintly glistening where her blood had smeared. Yet, in the blink of an eye, the crimson vanished.