Tokyo Exorcism Diary

The middle-aged spirit introduced himself as Jerome, a retired Swiss soldier. Due to his family’s debts to loan sharks, he had gone to the Middle East six months ago to work as a mercenary.

All the money he earned during those six months had been deposited into an anonymous Swiss bank account. However, his death had come too suddenly—he hadn’t even had the chance to share the account number and password with his family before he was shot and killed during his final mission.

Before that, he had neither dared to tell his family where he was nor wanted them to know he was working as a mercenary. Besides, on the battlefield in the Middle East, trying to contact his family back in Switzerland was nothing short of a luxury.

He had planned to finish this mission and return home with the money. Even if he died, his brothers in the mercenary group would have taken the money back to his family.

But plans never keep up with changes—especially on the battlefield. He died, his entire mercenary group was wiped out, and there was no one left to bring the hard-earned money home. He would never be able to tell his family, “Don’t worry, the problem is solved.”

His body had been transported back to Switzerland by the employer who had hired him, and his spirit followed. He had watched his family break down at the sight of his body and witnessed local gangsters come to their home, smashing things and making threats over the unpaid debt.

Finally, his body was sent to the church for a funeral. He didn’t know why he could still see everything after death, but he vaguely understood that he wouldn’t last much longer—he would soon disappear.

At his most desperate moment, Hoshino Gen appeared. The moment those eyes fell on him, Jerome was almost ecstatic—someone could see him!

His request for Hoshino Gen and Hoshino Rin was simple: deliver his account number and password to his family.

The employer who had hired him for his final mission had been generous, promising a large death gratuity if he died. The money in his account was more than enough to pay off the debt.

Hoshino Rin listened carefully, then meticulously translated every word for her brother.

After Jerome entrusted them with his account number, password, and a description of his wife, Hoshino Rin repeated everything to herself a few more times to make sure she remembered it all. Finally, she tugged at her brother’s hand.

“Onii-chan, let’s go quickly. Jerome gave his life to save his family—this shouldn’t be how the story ends.”

Hoshino Gen had no objections. If something required effort or came with difficulties, that was another matter. But a simple gesture that could bring immense goodwill and gratitude? Why not?

He still remembered his master’s teachings. If the opportunity arose, he wouldn’t mind putting in a little effort.

With his sister’s translation work done, Hoshino Gen shook off her soft little hand, stuffed his own hands into his pockets, and walked toward the church.

Hoshino Rin puffed her cheeks, ready to follow, but Jerome suddenly called out to her.

“Beautiful miss, please wait a moment. I can’t express how grateful I am to you and that gentleman. Please forgive my intrusion, but if possible, I would like you to deliver a message to my wife.”

Hoshino Rin turned back, curious.

Jerome’s translucent figure stood bathed in sunlight, gazing at the clear blue sky with a gentle smile.

“Please tell her that everything has an end—life, and suffering alike.”

“Please tell her… the quarrel on March 6th last year—I was wrong.”

“Please tell her to use less salt when cooking. I loved every dish she made, but in the life ahead, she should meet more people… people other than me.”

“Please tell her never to skip her nightly glass of warm milk. The debt is no longer her burden, and she must take care of her stomach.”

“Please tell her not to cry for me. That would only break my heart.”

“Please tell her… I’m sorry I couldn’t give her a happy life. From now on, I hope she lives for herself.”

“…I’m rambling, aren’t I? Finally… please tell her… I love her.”

Jerome’s smile remained gentle, but his face was already streaked with tears, his voice trembling.

Hoshino Rin took a deep breath and nodded solemnly.

“I will tell her.”

“Thank you… thank you.”

Hoshino Rin ran into the church, finally catching up with her brother. Amidst the somber funeral music, her gaze fell on the boy bending down, speaking quietly to a middle-aged woman.

The woman sat on a bench in front of the coffin, dressed in black. Her eyes were red, but her face showed utter disbelief.

As others looked on in confusion, Hoshino Rin approached.

“You have a husband who loves you dearly madam.”

Hoshino Rin only caught the last sentence her brother spoke. She was surprised the woman understood English—but even more surprised that her brother would say something like that to a stranger.

Hoshino Gen straightened up and walked away, brushing past his sister.

Unable to resist, Hoshino Rin glanced back at his retreating figure—then noticed Jerome standing at the church door, watching her.

She nodded to him, then approached the woman and spoke in German.

“Hello, madam. Your husband asked me to deliver a few messages.”

…

Hoshino Gen leaned against the church door, arms crossed, watching his sister—mirroring his earlier posture—bend down to speak to Jerome’s wife.

He saw the woman go from stunned to disbelieving, then finally collapse into sobs, clutching Hoshino Rin.

His sister glanced back at him in helplessness, and the two siblings exchanged a look before turning to Jerome.

Jerome was crying, too—but smiling. Spirit tears left no trace, even as they fell to the ground.

His form was already breaking apart. He had lingered in the world too long, sustained only by sheer will. Now, with his last wish fulfilled, he couldn’t hold on any longer.

Jerome gave Hoshino Gen a deep bow, then straightened and waved at Hoshino Rin, who was still being held tightly by his wife.

In German, he said, “No matter where I go next, I will pray for you both. May your lives be filled with happiness.”

With that, his form dissolved—his light carried away on the wind of Zermatt, vanishing into the blue sky.