Tokyo Exorcism Diary

Who am I…? This question had been troubling Hoshino Gen for sixteen years.

By general definition, he was a sixteen-year-old high school student with memories of his past life.

Yet, while this world shared many similarities with his previous life—such as major historical developments—after years of observation, Hoshino Gen had concluded this wasn’t the Earth he once lived on. From this perspective, it wasn’t wrong to call himself a transmigrator.

In his past life, his name was Ye Xingyuan. Where he was born remained a mystery, but the place of his death was etched vividly in his memory even after sixteen years.

Born without parents, he grew up in an orphanage. At six, he was adopted by an old Daoist priest. However, this old man was a peculiar character—he insisted on being addressed as “Master” rather than “Grandpa.”

Fine, if it meant a steady supply of food, Ye Xingyuan didn’t mind.

But the old Daoist wasn’t just odd; he wasn’t exactly a good person either. After adopting Ye Xingyuan, he dragged him across the country, pulling scams—fortune-telling, feng shui consultations, even exorcisms. Privately, the old man admitted most of it was nonsense: fortunes he made up on the spot, feng shui he fabricated entirely.

Ye Xingyuan didn’t care. A bad person or a fraud, it didn’t matter to him as long as he wasn’t harmed.

But at seven, the old Daoist demanded that Ye Xingyuan learn his “craft.” He even claimed he had searched through hundreds of orphanages nationwide and found only Ye Xingyuan to have the talent to inherit his legacy.

At first, Ye Xingyuan was thrilled, but his excitement quickly turned to despair. Inheriting the legacy apparently meant endless practice: drawing talismans all day, horse-stance training after that, followed by yet more talisman drawing. The grueling monotony was hard to endure.

Several times, he attempted to run away, only to be caught by the old Daoist and forced back into training.

Despite his grievances, he couldn’t ignore the old man’s kindness outside of training. Ultimately, he would grit his teeth and continue, though resentment simmered within him.

This changed completely when he turned twelve. That year, the old Daoist accepted an exorcism request from a mountain village. Unlike his usual theatrics to swindle money, this time, there was a real ghost.

When the terrifying female ghost, straight out of a horror movie, appeared in the funeral hall, Ye Xingyuan nearly wet his pants. But what followed left his jaw hanging—literally.

With one hand wielding talismans and the other a copper bell, the old Daoist pummeled the ghost so thoroughly it might as well have sung a surrender anthem. When Ye Xingyuan saw him conjuring fireballs barehanded, his eyes practically popped out of his skull.

From that day on, Ye Xingyuan trained without a single complaint.

And so, five years passed.

By seventeen, Ye Xingyuan had mastered nearly all the old Daoist’s skills—not just in scams and deceptions but also in exorcism and demon-slaying.

But that same year, the old Daoist passed away. He was simply too old.

Ye Xingyuan gave him a dignified burial in the picturesque mountains of Guilin, the place the old man loved most. Then, he set off alone on his own journey.

Two months later, he ran into a vicious female ghost during a job. Not only did she beat him black and blue, but she also branded his left eye with a curse spirit mark. Without the life-saving black talismans left by the old Daoist, he would’ve died on the spot.

Terrified, he fled the country overnight, swearing never to return until he had the power to defeat that ghost.

In the following years, he built a career in the U.S. as a renowned exorcist, using his “genuine skills” to make a name for himself.

Unfortunately, his luck didn’t last. After completing a well-paying job, he was ambushed—beaten, bagged, and dragged into a research facility. For months, he endured endless experiments as they sought to uncover the secret of his “supernatural abilities.”

Those days were inhuman, but Ye Xingyuan eventually escaped, picking an auspicious day to flee the lab.

However, the research institute didn’t let him go easily. They sent mercenaries, hundreds of them, armed to the teeth with everything from assault rifles to missiles.

Ye Xingyuan fought back, using his supernatural powers to counterattack while on the run. But the relentless pursuit turned into a grudge match, with the mercenaries abandoning their capture orders and focusing solely on killing him.

Eventually, they succeeded. Forced to jump off a cliff, he was mid-fall when a missile caught up and blew him to pieces. No body, no trace—utterly annihilated.

Yet, in a way, he hadn’t completely died.

Whether it was reincarnation or transmigration, Ye Xingyuan found himself in a new world, opening his eyes as a newborn.

Here, he was no longer an orphan. He had a wealthy father, a gentle and beautiful mother, and an adorable twin sister. Together, they formed a family he never dared dream of.

But this newfound happiness was short-lived. At three, his parents divorced. His mother took his sister to England, leaving him with his father.

His father, however, was perpetually absorbed in business. By the time Hoshino Gen reached fourth grade, his father’s involvement had dwindled to sending him a massive monthly allowance, showing no other interest in his life.

But for Hoshino Gen, this was no problem at all. He had long grown used to being alone. If anything, this situation might suit him even better.

Like a wild weed, he recklessly absorbed the resources his father provided, greedily and unrestrainedly growing. That is, until a little over a year ago when his divorced parents suddenly reconciled. It was then he had no choice but to don a harmless mask, to bind himself with the chains of decorum, and play the role of a polite, mild-mannered son and brother—one who was inevitably a bit distant due to years of separation.

As for anything related to the supernatural, it naturally retreated entirely into the shadows.

And so, he lived on this way. After experiencing death and starting over, he could no longer clearly distinguish whether he was Ye Xingyuan or Hoshino Gen.

…

Though his thoughts raced, they occupied only a fleeting moment in time. Hoshino Gen reined them in, gestured toward his school uniform, and smiled at Shimizu Yu. “Isn’t it obvious? Just like you, I’m a high school student at Segawa Private Academy.”

“Huh?” Shimizu Yuu lifted her head indignantly. “I saw it with my own eyes! Back at the dojo, you clearly—”

“What dojo? I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Hoshino Gen cut her off with a serene smile, pointing to the now-vanished path through the woods.

Shimizu Yuu’s eyes widened slightly. This jerk—he’s planning to play dumb!

Hoshino Gen spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. His expression and tone remained gentle as he said, “You’re free to try sharing what you think you saw with others, but I wouldn’t recommend it. If I were you, I’d probably choose to forget everything I just saw.”

“What?” Shimizu Yu blinked, momentarily dazed. “How could anyone just forget something like that? That yellow talisman you used—”

Hoshino Gen shook his head, crouched to retrieve a bag from the roadside bushes, and dusted it off. Smiling, he interrupted her again, his tone casual and even slightly coaxing. “Alright, Shimizu-san, we aren’t close enough to be prying into each other’s secrets, are we? Keep it to yourself, or share it with others—the choice is yours.”