Tokyo Exorcism Diary

The weather tonight was excellent—so clear that even the midnight sky displayed a mysterious deep blue hue. Though the stars were sparse, with only a few faint points of light scattered across the expanse, the silver moon hanging high above was undeniably large and luminous, casting its cold, radiant glow.

Given Tokyo’s current levels of urban pollution, such weather was indeed a rarity.

Hoshino Gen leaned against the antique shop’s doorframe, arms crossed as he gazed at the heavens. The faint, crisp sound of footsteps echoed from the alley’s far end, catching his ear. He turned his head, looking toward the source of the noise.

A young man had appeared at some point, dressed in a plain white samurai outfit, feet clad in tabi socks and wooden geta sandals.

If the outfit could still be chalked up to cosplay, then the fact that the man was wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night was something Hoshino Gen found a little harder to understand.

Clack, clack, clack… The crisp sound of geta striking the stone pavement echoed through the alley as the young man approached.

As the distance between them shrank, Hoshino Gen’s gaze was inevitably drawn to the object the man cradled in his arms.

It was a long, slender Japanese katana. Even though the blade remained sheathed, Hoshino Gen could tell without a doubt that it was a real sword—not because of any particularly sharp observational skills or some telltale feature exclusive to genuine blades.

No—he knew simply because the sword’s presence felt far too sharp.

Even through its scabbard, it made his eyes sting faintly… or to be more precise, this was no ordinary sword, but a cursed blade—just like his Onikiri.

“Mm… such a thick stench of decay.”

The young man stopped about three meters away, lifting his head to meet Hoshino Gen’s eyes. His lips curled into an uncontrollable grin, his voice trembling with barely restrained excitement.

“Looks like I didn’t come to the wrong place. You’re the one who took Onikiri, aren’t you?”

Hoshino Gen remained leaning casually against the doorframe, his gaze calm as he replied flatly, “No.”

“…”

The young man’s expression froze for a moment.

Two seconds of silence passed—

Then he burst into laughter, wild and manic.

“Hahahahaha—! I don’t believe you…”

As the words fell, he drew the katana from its sheath. Under the moonlight, the blade glistened with a pure, spring-water-like brilliance.

In the next instant, his entire figure transformed into a gust of icy wind, appearing before Hoshino Gen in a blur. The chilling blade sliced through the air, carrying an edge so sharp it made the skin sting as it slashed toward Hoshino Gen’s neck.

Clang—!!

The cold clash of steel reverberated like ripples through the night.

The dark red Onikiri blocked the strike, but that was far from the end. Faced with this unprovoked provocateur, Hoshino Gen had no intention of holding back.

His left hand flicked to his waist, producing several talismans that floated into the air around him. They instantly ignited, transforming into blazing spheres of fire that surrounded the still-clashing swordsmen.

Sensing the shift, the young man abruptly withdrew, using the force from Hoshino Gen’s arm to leap back several meters. The fireballs exploded in the space where he had just been, leaving scorch marks on the alley floor.

By now, the moon had risen high overhead, bathing the alley in its cold white radiance.

The young man exhaled slowly, then smiled.

“To block that strike… you’re qualified to be my opponent. I acknowledge you.”

“They say you’re the kind of guy who can’t handle provocation… but if you managed to take Onikiri, you can’t be as fragile as the rumors claim, right?”

“Asaba Shinichi.” He raised his katana, pointing it at Hoshino Gen, the corner of his mouth curling up.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Boom!

The air detonated with a sharp crack as the world seemed to stutter.

Asaba Shinichi reappeared in front of Hoshino Gen in an instant, delivering the exact same downward slash as before.

This time, Hoshino Gen’s eyelids twitched—he sidestepped the strike.

Boom!

The blade carved into the doorframe, splintering the expensive wood into fragments. Without missing a beat, Asaba Shinichi spun on his heel, the katana flashing in a triangular arc toward Hoshino Gen’s shoulder.

Hoshino Gen stepped back, landing lightly on the stone pavement. A few strands of severed hair drifted through the air before being swept away by the night breeze.

Yet Asaba Shinichi clung to him like a shadow—appearing at his side with a flicker of silver light, thrusting his blade toward Hoshino Gen’s heart.

Hoshino Gen flipped his wrist, reversing his grip on Onikiri.

Clang—!!

The second clash of yokai blades echoed through the alley. At the last possible moment, Hoshino Gen caught the thrust with the flat of his sword.

Narrowing his eyes at the man in sunglasses, Hoshino Gen’s mind raced—

This guy… was strong.

Far stronger than the swordsman at the dojo who had once wielded Onikiri.

“You’re wondering why someone this strong didn’t just take Onikiri for himself, aren’t you?” Asaba Shinichi grinned, his katana slashing in a diagonal arc once more.

“Because it’s boring.”

Hoshino Gen parried with a reverse diagonal cut—one blade dark red, the other moonlit silver—cursed blades colliding head-on.

“Do you know how agonizing it is to have unmatched strength, but no opponents?” Asaba Shinichi lamented, voice dripping with mock sorrow. “I’ve endured that agony for three whole years—ever since I obtained this Muramasa, I’ve dreamed of finding a worthy opponent.”

He sounded like he was baring his soul… but even Hoshino Gen couldn’t help the urge to punch him square in the face.

The two blades parted. Asaba Shinichi’s katana came down in a vertical cut—Hoshino Gen evaded, only for the strike to transform into a high thrust.

A talisman intercepted the blade’s tip, Hoshino Gen’s fingers pressed lightly against the paper’s surface.

“I didn’t take Onikiri myself because I was waiting… waiting for someone strong enough to claim it.”

With a sudden burst of force, the katana pierced through the talisman, forcing Hoshino Gen to block the follow-up strike. The impact jolted through his arms, nearly making him lose his grip.

Asaba Shinichi leapt into the air, crashing down with a powerful overhead strike. At the last moment, Hoshino Gen raised Onikiri to parry—but Asaba Shinichi landed atop the sword itself, balancing precariously.

Bathed in moonlight, he grinned down at Hoshino Gen—

“Lucky for me… it seems I’ve finally found one.”

With a flick of his wrist, Hoshino Gen sent him flying.

Asaba Shinichi flipped through the air, landing lightly on the alley wall. He slung Muramasa over his shoulder and grinned, curling his left index finger in invitation.

“Don’t hold back now—I’m the one who came knocking. Even if you kill me… you’d be in the right.”

A black cloud passed over the moon, plunging the alley into shadow.

Hoshino Gen stood motionless, sword in hand. His expression remained calm, but deep within his left eye—

A faint crimson light slowly began to burn.