Tokyo Exorcism Diary

“Alright, it’s done. Your sister’s taken care of—now it’s time to deal with our side of things.”

Shinichi put away the phone he’d used to contact the Special Affairs Unit, turning with an easy smile to glance at Ryouko, who was still pinned to the wall.

Yusuke, seated cross-legged on the floor, pushed himself up with one hand and strolled over to the girl. Her face was blank, eyes vacant—expressionless, lifeless.

Yusuke lifted his right hand and traced a few lazy shapes in the air. A faint white glow wrapped around his fingers. He brought his index and middle fingers together and pressed them against the center of Ryouko’s forehead. A bit of pressure—and his fingers slipped inside as if her skin were made of water.

With a twist and a pull, he yanked something out.

A semi-transparent spirit wrenched free from Ryouko’s body.

Her head dropped at once. Consciousness gone.

Snap.
Shinichi flicked his fingers, and the four long black nails pinning Ryouko’s limbs vanished instantly. Her body slumped forward, but he was already in place to catch her, scooping her up into a bridal carry with practiced ease.

“I’ll return her first,” he said with a smile toward Hoshino Gen and Yusuke, then turned and walked straight out of the room.

Only the two of them remained. The sound of rain drummed steadily outside. Inside, the air was still, heavy with breath and silence.

Hoshino Gen reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of straw—something he’d secretly plucked from the charm doll during the King’s Game.

The translucent spirit in Yusuke’s grasp trembled slightly, struggling toward Gen’s direction.

“Huh… So that creepy little charm really was cursed.” Yusuke rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Which means… the innkeeper here, and the staff at the diner we ate at earlier—they’re in on it too.”

Hoshino Gen said nothing. It was obvious. They’d suspected as much, and now they had confirmation.

He stepped forward and reached for the spirit. Yusuke tilted his head, curious, watching as Gen murmured an incantation under his breath—a string of obscure, guttural syllables. His eyes narrowed.

The spirit shrieked.

A raw, piercing wail split the air… but it cut off halfway.

Hoshino Gen’s eyes were already closed.

The paper door of the room slid open. Shinichi, who had just left moments ago, was back. He peeked in and raised an eyebrow. “What was that? Thought I heard a scream just now.”

Yusuke shrugged and pointed with his chin toward Hoshino Gen, who sat cross-legged, motionless, still clutching the spirit.

“Looks like he fell asleep… or maybe not. Meditating? No… feels more like a consciousness dive.”

He circled around Hoshino Gen, intrigued. Then, spotting how tightly Hoshino Gen’s hand still clenched the now-fading spirit, Yusuke let out a surprised bark of laughter. “No way—he’s reading the spirit’s memories?”

And he was right.

Hoshiono Gen’s consciousness drifted through a sea of fractured, blurry memories.

Soul-searching—one of the cruelest and most invasive techniques there was. His master had warned him time and time again never to use it lightly.

But in a situation like this? It was the perfect tool.

“Death doesn’t mean it’s over. You know… ghosts.
Want your son back?”

“This stuff’s called Ghost Incense. Just a whiff, and a normal person becomes a puppet…”

“Ghosts can get married, too. Ever heard of a Ghost marriage?”

“Creating a vengeful spirit? It’s easier than you think…”

Through the haze of scenes, Hoshino Gen found a familiar face: the old man who’d raised his own zombie son.

So this spirit—was he behind the Tokyo Bay ghost incident? Or at least… one of the hands that moved it?

Hoshino Gen dived deeper.

More scenes whirled by. Most of them trivial. Then—something caught his eye.

The memory’s owner was fleeing. Blurred surroundings zipped past. He was desperate.

A shadow dropped from a rooftop—a man with a single horn on his left temple, and eyes glowing green.

Takatsugi Yusuke.

Panicked, the memory’s owner spun around—only to find the path behind him blocked by a man in a samurai robe, a sword dangling from his hand.

Asaba Shinichi.

A heavy blow from behind. The man was kicked into the air by Yusuke.

Shinichi grinned and drew his blade.

A clean arc through the air.

The memory fragmented.

And then—a frozen image of a headless corpse hitting the ground.

Hoshino Gen hesitated—then dove even deeper.

Now the scenes were warped, soaked in crimson. Nearly unintelligible—until he hit bottom.

There, the final memory played.

Figures in black robes, heads bowed, hoods up, encircled the scene. One stood in the center, his back to the memory’s owner.

Darkness surrounded him.

Then he turned, and said quietly:

“You’ve exposed us.”

The black deepened, swallowing everything—but those eyes remained.

Cold. Mad. Calm.

And they weren’t looking at the memory’s owner anymore.

They were looking at him.

Hoshino Gen.

The spiritual space shuddered, splitting at the seams.

Hoshino Gen pulled himself out of the search.

His lashes fluttered. Eyes opened.

The spirit in his hand let out a soft, final wail—then scattered into translucent dust and faded away.

“So?” Shinichi’s voice came immediately, close to his ear. “What did you see?”

Hoshino Gen exhaled and sat up straighter. “I saw you two kill him. After death, he turned into a ghost and ended up in some hidden place. He met a bunch of people in black robes—probably some kind of cult. One of them, looked like the leader, was pissed he exposed their existence. I’m guessing they stuffed him into that straw doll as punishment.”

“Oh? That guy?” Shinichi grinned. “What a coincidence.”

Then his expression shifted—eyes lowering, smile thinning.

“Well, now that we’ve got a lead, we can’t afford to lose it. So, what do you two think? Do we raid the ramen shop now and grab the other straw doll? Or take a breather first?”

Hoshino Gen was already in a corner of the room, slumping against the wall. “That soul search took a lot out of me. If you want to move, go ahead. I need rest.”

“Haha, splitting up in a horror setting? That’s how you die first.” Shinichi’s grin returned as he looked over to Yusuke. “Hey, Yusuke. You rest too. I’ll take the night watch.”