Tokyo Exorcism Diary

Unlike the rain-drenched little towns of Hokkaido, Tokyo today basked in glorious, cloudless skies.

Even though night had fallen, the radiant full moon poured its silver light over the vibrant, neon-lit skyline, adding a final, dramatic brushstroke to an already dazzling canvas.

“WEE-OOH, WEE-OOH, WEE-OOH——!!”

The piercing wail of sirens sliced through the night, stirring up ripples in the noisy heart of the metropolis.

Between a dozen police cruisers weaving a chaotic path forward, several high-speed motorcycles surged ahead.

“Out of the way!”

On the back of the lead Harley, Kiryu Rakuye, dressed in a white T-shirt and denim shorts, knee-high white socks hugging her legs, and black-and-red AJs on her feet, clung tightly to the waist of the rider in front—Asakura Meika—with one arm, while shouting through a megaphone with the other.

Everyone who heard her voice suddenly slipped into a trance-like state, as if sleepwalking, parting almost unnaturally to create a clear path. It wasn’t until the roaring Harley and its police escort vanished into the distance that the pedestrians snapped out of it, blinking blankly at one another in confusion.

The motorcycle’s high speed cut the air with a low roar, sending Rakuye’s twin ponytails fluttering in the wind.

In contrast to the visibly tense Asakura Meika, who was practically twisting the throttle to its limit, Rakuye’s small face was the picture of calm—though behind that calm was a clear note of bewilderment.

“Damn it… Why now of all times…”

The roar of the wind made conversation difficult, but thanks to her noise-canceling earpiece, Rakuye could still hear the muttered curse from the women riding in front.

Of course she understood what it meant. Just ten minutes ago, a vengeful spirit had broken free from Tokyo’s No. 3 Containment Zone.

If it had been just any ordinary ghost, there’d be no need to panic. After all, the Tokyo metropolitan area had its fair share of stray spirits that hadn’t yet been secured. One more wouldn’t change much. But this one wasn’t ordinary—it had escaped from Zone 3.

There were four containment zones in Tokyo, and those confined within weren’t just mad exorcists who’d lost their minds and posed massive threats, but also vessels that housed truly dangerous spirits.

Zones One through Four were ranked by threat level, and anything dangerous enough to warrant Zone 3 confinement… was absolutely terrifying.

The entities inside were classified as high-risk—on the level of supernatural disasters like the infamous Nagano Hunted School.

Vengeful spirits couldn’t be easily destroyed. At least not by normal means. Unless their vessel—the object anchoring their soul—was completely annihilated, no amount of damage would kill them. At best, they’d just fall into a deep slumber.

But slumber implied they could wake again.

And of course, no one was dumb enough to suggest destroying all the vessels—like asking nuclear nations to dismantle all their bombs, or demanding the world destroy all its missiles. Laughable.

But just like radiation leaks or misfired missiles… incidents like today’s, where something escaped containment, were bound to happen eventually.

Chasing a blur that no ordinary eye could track, Asakura Meika’s voice rang out through the shared comms channel, her tone grave.

“We must re-contain C-08 immediately. It’s just woken up—it’s at its weakest right now. If we let it regain its strength, the consequences will be unimaginable!”

“Understood!” came a chorus of responses.

Rakuye said nothing. She simply looked up at the moonlit sky, her eyes unreadable.

…

Rustle rustle——!

Rain pattered softly on the windows of a warmly lit, traditional-style room. With Ryouko leading the way, the total number of people had risen to eight. All now sat gathered around a low table.

On the table was a thin stack of cards—eight in total.

Seven of them were numbered A through 7, and the last was the King.

The rules were simple. Each person drew one card. The number was kept secret. The person who drew the King got to issue a command to any numbered individual. That person, upon being called, had to obey—no questions asked.

On the surface, it seemed like a simple game of luck…

But then—

“Well, well, aren’t I lucky? First round and I’ve already got this.”

Asaba Shinichi propped his chin up with one hand and grinned, flashing the King card with the other. “That means I get to issue a command now, right?”

Takasugi Yusuke remained calm and collected. Hoshino Gen seemed unfazed as well. But the five college students were visibly tense, sitting upright with varying degrees of nervousness—some even a bit excited.

After all, anyone who’s played this game knows where it’s headed… “Number 1, kiss Number 2 on the cheek.” “Number 3, drink from the same cup as Number 4.” That kind of thing.

And unless you had a really good reason, most people played this game for the thrill of that ambiguity.

So naturally, Shinichi flashed a smirking, almost sleazy smile. The room had fallen completely silent. Apart from the soft drumming of rain, the only sounds were the occasional gulps of anticipation.

“Hmm, alright then… Number 3—”

The tall, broad-shouldered Iwato suddenly sat bolt upright, caught between anxiety and a sliver of hope.

“—go to the front desk and ask the old innkeeper this: ‘Excuse me, do you know where I can find a ghost?’”

“Eh?”

Not only Iwato, but the others—including the three girls and the guy with the gold-rimmed glasses—all blinked in confusion.

Even so, Shinichi just chuckled, undeterred.

“The King can command anyone to do anything. The chosen number must obey. That’s how the game works, right?”

Iwato opened his mouth, but no words came out. With a shrug, he stood up and left the room—presumably to carry out the bizarre order.

A white cat, semi-transparent and invisible to normal eyes, silently followed him out.

It wasn’t long before Iwato returned, flopping back into his seat with a groan.

“What a weird command… I asked her the question, and the old lady just stared at me. Like really stared at me. Her eyes were all spooky and stuff. Gave me goosebumps.”

Hoshino Gen and Shinichi exchanged a glance.

Yusuke gave a barely noticeable nod.

“Haha, well, yeah… I guess that was a weird one,” Shinichi said cheerily. “Totally a spur-of-the-moment thing, y’know? Just trying to lighten the mood—it is the first round, after all. Let’s keep it going!”

The game resumed. This time, the King card landed in Yusuke’s hands.

He laid it down, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a white cloth square inscribed with a pentagram.

With a smile: “Number 4, please take this and stick it on the road outside the inn. No umbrella. No raincoat.”

The five college students exchanged confused looks.

Eventually, the gold-rimmed glasses guy sighed, took the cloth, and left the room.

“Is it just me, or does this feel more like ‘Truth or Dare’ now? And your order… kind of creepy,” Ryouko said, brow raised. “What, you trying to summon ghosts or something?”

Takasugi Yusuke nodded with a grin. “Pretty much. The three of us are all really into ghost stories and the paranormal. That’s why we came all the way from Tokyo. Isn’t that why you’re here too?”

“We are so not here for that!” Iwato huffed, rolling his eyes. “Only weirdos like you would enjoy creepy stuff like that. We’re just tagging along to help Saya with her research, okay?”

“Research?”  Shinichi tilted his head with interest. “I think I heard you mention that earlier. So, Miss Saya’s writing something… paranormal?”

The petite girl with oversized glasses—Saya—nodded shyly.

Ryouko, on the other hand, puffed up with pride, like she was the one who’d written the thing. “You’ve heard of Spirit Detective Notes, right?”

Yusuke and Shinichi both feigned confusion.

But Hoshino Gen’s expression shifted slightly. He looked at Saya with a trace of surprise. “Miss Saya is the author of Spirit Detective Notes?”

“Hahaha! That’s right, handsome!” Ryouko laughed loudly. “Our dear Saya is the genius behind that super popular paranormal novel!”

Just then, the glasses guy returned. His clothes were a little damp, though not soaked—likely from sprinting outside, tossing the cloth down, and dashing right back. It’d dry off soon enough.

Judging by his demeanor, he seemed to think so too. He took the towel handed to him by the girl with the big waves—Yuri—and casually wiped his hair before plopping back into his seat.

“Done with the task. What were you all talking about? I could hear Ryouko laughing all the way outside.”

“Oh, nothing, nothing! Let’s keep going! I refuse to believe I won’t get to be King today!”

The strange tension from the earlier commands had been mostly dispelled by the banter.

But before long… that strange chill was back again.

Hoshino Gen flipped over his card with a smile.

“Number 7—please go steal that straw doll charm hanging over the bar counter.”