Tokyo Exorcism Diary

Hoshino Gen ’s reflexes had always been razor-sharp. The moment he saw the glint of a blade flash before his eyes, his body had already reacted.

He stepped back and arched his upper body away—sure enough, the blade missed him entirely. But just as Hoshino Gen was about to take advantage of Sasaki Shinichirou’s opening to launch a counterattack, something felt off. His instincts screamed at him.

Without hesitation, he kicked off the ground and retreated several meters in an instant.

Sasaki Shinichirou remained in place, watching him with a strangely amused expression. Hoshino Gen reached up and touched his neck.

His fingers came away wet and sticky.

A twitch ran through his eyelids. Hoshino Gen’s gaze fixed on the gaunt old man in front of him, dark and heavy with emotion. His eyes half-lidded.

…This geezer is terrifying.

Just like he said—if this keeps up, I really am going to die.

Hoshino Gen reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a black magnetic keycard. In one fluid motion, he unlocked the remaining three ability locks on his body.

Clink. Clatter.

The restraints hit the floor one after another. A red afterimage streaked through the air—Hoshino Gen appeared above Shinichirou in the blink of an eye, cleaving down with his blade mid-air. Shinichirou raised his sword to meet it.

Clang!

With a sharp crack, a chunk of Hoshino Gen ’s blade flew off, embedding itself in the wooden floor of the dojo.

His expression was cold as ice. Wind spiraled beneath his feet, lifting him mid-air. In the same instant, he spun midair with a powerful burst of momentum.

Onikiri tore through the air, leaving behind a dark crimson arc as it slashed down toward Shinichirou’s sagging neck.

Yet, even faced with a blow that could have ended his life, Shinichirou only smiled faintly, as if it were all a game.

Just before the blade could touch skin—he moved.

Hoshino Gen  didn’t even see what happened. All he knew was that a sharp jolt of pain exploded through his wrist—then, suddenly, Onikiri was gone, knocked from his hand and embedded in the floor.

An immense force clamped down on his wrist, yanking him out of the air like a ragdoll.

Then—

A crushing blow to the stomach.

Another to the back.

Pain erupted across his body, and with it, a rush of dark emotion burst from within. Malice surged up like a flood, tinting the crimson in his left eye ever deeper—

Thud!

A knife-hand strike slammed into the back of his neck.

And then—darkness.

Thump!

Hoshino Gen collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Shinichirou tossed aside the broken blade in his hand and reached up to touch his own neck.

His palm came away stained with blood.

“Kids these days are seriously scary…” he muttered, more in awe than anger.

He looked down at Hoshino Gen lying on the floor and sighed, shaking his head. Then, with his hands behind his back, he began walking out of the dojo, all composed like some venerable master—

Only to freeze two steps later as a sharp crack came from his spine. His face twisted in pain, and he clutched his lower back.

“Ghh—my back!”

“Ayane, quick! Call a doctor!”

…

When Hoshino Gen came to, he found himself lying in a room that could only be described as girlish.

Soft light filled the space, and a pleasant floral scent lingered in the air. Plush toys of all kinds occupied every corner within view.

“You’re awake? This is my room in the manor. No one’s really visited in a long time, and most of the guest rooms haven’t been maintained because regular staff are forbidden from entering this area.”

A cool voice drifted in from beside the window.

Hoshino Gen turned his sore neck toward the voice.

The window was open. Afternoon sunlight spilled in at a slant, setting the white curtains fluttering in the breeze.

Sitting quietly in a chair by the window was a girl with flowing black hair and doll-like beauty, reading a book whose title Hoshino Gen couldn’t make out.

As if sensing his gaze, Sasaki Ayane closed her eyes briefly, then shut her book and turned to look at him.

“Are you still in pain anywhere?” she asked calmly.

Hoshino Gen didn’t respond. He pushed himself up on one arm, sitting upright on the bed.

His abdomen, back, wrist, and neck—all still throbbed with pain from where he’d been struck earlier. But he noticed his wounds had been tended to. A bandage was wrapped around his neck, and a small adhesive patch covered the cut on his face. Even the ability locks he’d unlocked were back in place.

He assumed a doctor must’ve treated him while he was unconscious—

Until Ayane’s next words shattered that assumption.

“I only did some basic first aid after you fainted. If you want, I can call a doctor to give you a more thorough examination.”

Hoshino Gen fell silent. Then, finally, he spoke. “How long was I out?”

“About seven hours. It’s five in the afternoon now,” Ayane replied coolly.

Her demeanor was completely calm, as though the chaotic, reality-breaking battle she’d witnessed that morning had never happened.

But that was exactly who Sasaki Ayane was.

The world might contain elements that defied logic and science—but so what?

She had lived sixteen years already. The hidden side of the world had likely brushed past her more times than she realized. Her life hadn’t fallen apart because of it then, so why should it now?

If she’d endured the world as it was before—then she could just as well continue to do so going forward.

Hoshino Gen, of course, had no idea what she was thinking. Nor did he care.

He pulled off the blanket, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and put on his shoes. Picking up Onikiri, which had been left leaning against the bedside, he made for the door.

But Ayane’s voice stopped him.

“If you’re feeling alright, Grandfather asked me to take you to see him once you woke up.”

She paused for a beat. “He said it’s related to the ‘Contamination.’”

There was a subtle edge of curiosity in her otherwise serene tone—perhaps wondering what that term meant.

No matter how composed she seemed, anyone would be curious when hearing about something they’d only ever seen in fantasy stories. Curiosity was, after all, a deeply human trait.

Hoshino Gen turned his head, glancing back at her.

Ayane was still wearing her summer uniform from Segawa Private Academy—neatly tied shirt, short skirt, flawless skin, flowing black hair, slender legs, graceful figure. The kind of girl that would stop anyone in their tracks.

But what Hoshino Gen was thinking about had nothing to do with her.

If that old man was that strong, then he must’ve had more than a few run-ins with ghosts in his day.

And yet he was still alive.

That meant his strength went far beyond just combat. He must’ve had knowledge, experience, and preparation that couldn’t be measured in raw power alone.

Like, for example—how to deal with Contamination, something that plagued every exorcist sooner or later.

As for losing today… well, maybe he’d been trained a little too well by his master in his previous life.

Getting beaten up by these freakishly strong old guys wasn’t something that bothered him much anymore.

Life wasn’t some overpower-fantasy where the protagonist always wins.

And honestly, this time, he’d underestimated his opponent. His temper flared after the initial sneak attack, and he wanted to use the opponent’s own strength against them. In the end, he failed by attacking where he was weakest, and losing was only to be expected. There’s nothing to complain about—it’s not like he’s invincible, nor has he ever thought of himself as invincible.