Tokyo Exorcism Diary

By the end of May, as Tokyo approached June, the weather grew increasingly hot. Even though the sun had long set, beads of sweat still formed on Hoshino Rin’s pale forehead as she followed behind her brother along the nighttime streets.

Whether it was from the heat or nerves, she couldn’t quite tell.

Just ten minutes ago, she had followed her brother to Sanchome Park, where they’d received a wooden box from a woman dressed in black. Now, they were heading toward the antique shop.

Hoshino Rin didn’t know what was inside the box, but her intuition told her it must be something connected to Marika.

Clatter—

The metal shutter rolled up, revealing the glass display window and wooden door behind it. Hoshino Gen held the wooden box in one hand and used the other to unlock the door.

He stepped inside first, and Hoshino Rin followed closely behind.

The shop, having gone some time without cleaning, had gathered a thin layer of dust. Hoshino Gen casually flicked a talisman inside—a habit from before his certain helper joined—sending a gust of wind through the space to clear the surface dust. The result was about as effective as a quick vacuuming.

After changing into indoor slippers, Hoshino Gen didn’t pause. He led Hoshino Rin straight into the exhibition room behind the double wooden doors.

A cold, damp chill greeted them. The heat that had made Hoshino Rin sweat moments ago evaporated instantly, sending a shiver through her small body. The lights in the exhibition room were on, but the glow cast on the display platforms was dim and murky.

Especially those holding antiques—just a glance at them was enough to make one’s hair stand on end.

Hoshino Rin pinched the hem of her brother’s clothes between her thumb and forefinger, not daring to let her eyes wander.

Hoshino Gen paid her no mind, walking to an unused display stand. He bit his finger, letting a drop of blood fall onto the pillar, activating the golden runes carved into its surface. Then he opened the wooden box, carefully placing a sandalwood comb with a deep purple hue onto the platform.

The comb trembled slightly before falling still.

Hoshino Rin watched intently, silently waiting for a miracle.

Without hesitation, Hoshino Gen pressed his still-bleeding finger against the comb, squeezing out more blood. Droplets splattered onto the surface, forming mottled stains.

In the next instant, the comb began to shake violently. As the blood was absorbed, a crimson radiance bloomed from the wood. Slowly, a hazy figure emerged from the comb.

Pale face, red clothes, wet hair clinging to her back—her wide eyes brimmed with hatred. The figure locked onto Hoshino Gen and Rin, emitting a shrill screech as she lunged forward.

Hoshino Rin flinched, but the display stand’s golden barrier flared to life, forming a faintly glowing shield that blocked the ghost’s advance.

The wailing echoed through the exhibition room. Hoshino Rin’s fear gradually gave way to sorrow as she gazed at Marika’s spectral form, her voice trembling with sobs.

“Marika-chan… don’t you remember me?”

The ghost gave no response, continuing to pound against the barrier in desperation.

“Kojo Marika, your killer is already dead. Who are you still hating?” Hoshino Gen’s voice was calm as it passed through the barrier.

The ghost froze, her neck twisting stiffly to face him. The venom in her eyes flickered, giving way to a hint of clarity.

“I’m not questioning you. I’m simply asking—besides your murderer, is there anyone else you hate?”

Marika remained silent, staring at him blankly. Confusion gradually clouded her gaze.

Vengeful spirits were driven by obsession, with hatred often taking up the largest share. Marika had been brutally killed—naturally, her greatest hatred was directed at her murderer. But with the killer dead, who else could she still hate?

Her life had not been difficult. Aside from her final moments, she had rarely encountered hardship. Her family, though not wealthy, was middle-class. Her parents loved her, her teachers and classmates adored her. Even the bullying she faced after joining TKY02 had been brief—her tormentor dismissed shortly after.

Marika’s expression grew dazed. The malice surrounding her body visibly dissipated, her claw-like hands lowering, wet hair drooping.

She looked less like a vengeful ghost and more like a child reflecting on her mistakes.

The sight surprised Hoshino Gen, though not overly so. While spirits could dispel their obsessions, most simply latched onto new grudges from their lives, no matter how petty—like holding a lifelong hatred for someone who once refused to lend them an eraser.

There aren’t many like Chi-chan, who can completely erase their grudges and regain their sanity. Unless someone was exceptionally kind in life, turning into a vengeful spirit after death almost always ends with being consumed by hatred.

In that sense, perhaps there was some truth to the notion of karma.

“Have you come to your senses?” Hoshino Gen crossed his arms, gazing at Marika’s hollow figure.

“…Thank you.”

Hoshino Gen recognized her voice—he’d heard it on television. With TKY02’s popularity, their music videos played on countless screens across Japan.

Her voice now carried a hoarse undertone, like someone who had been submerged in water for far too long.

“Marika-chan!” Hoshino Rin clutched her mouth, tears streaming down her face. She had never imagined she would hear Marika’s voice again.

Marika turned toward her, her empty eyes softening.

“I’m sorry, Rin-chan… did I scare you?”

Hoshino Rin shook her head vigorously, unable to form words through her sobs.

“How is everyone in TKY02?”

Hoshino Rin sniffled, struggling to compose herself.

“E… Everyone… misses you… so much…”

“Is that so…” Marika glanced down at her transparent hands, a bitter smile on her pale face. “I doubt anyone would want to see me like this.”

“That’s not true!” Hoshino Rin wiped her tears with both hands, her voice urgent. “I’m seeing you right now, and I’m… so happy… I… I…”

Marika’s smile widened—a beauty undiminished by death.

“You can see me because of your brother. But not everyone has a brother like yours, Rin-chan… I’ve already died, after all.”

Hoshino Rin’s breath caught. Instinctively, she glanced to her side—only to find the spot beside her empty.

At some point, Hoshino Gen had slipped away, leaving the space to the two girls whose fates should have been separated by life and death.