Tokyo Exorcism Diary

BOOM——!!

A muffled crash echoed through the underground parking garage, instantly silencing the crowd that had been buzzing with excitement just moments ago.

Because the scene before them was completely different from the script they’d imagined—where Warhammer would crush that pretty boy with overwhelming force. Instead, Warhammer—swung with full power—had been dented by a single punch from what looked like a harmless little lamb.

Warhammer stared down in disbelief at the pale fist pressed against his chest, blood filling his mouth. His bulging eyes trembled as his body leaned weakly against Hoshino Gen’s fist. Slowly, he raised his head, meeting the boy’s serene smile and delicate features—so harmless, so beautiful.

Suddenly, rage exploded in Warhammer’s brain.

He was Warhammer! An unstoppable force capable of smashing any opponent! Yet here, in front of this crowd, he’d been humiliated by this lamb—his ribs shattered, blood spat from his mouth!

Adrenaline surged. Pain was buried beneath seething fury.

“ROAAAAR——!!” Warhammer howled, blood and saliva spraying from his mouth.

Hoshino Gen took a quick step back, as if avoiding something filthy.

That small movement made Warhammer’s anger boil over. He would tear this lamb to pieces!

“Warhammer! Warhammer! Warhammer!” The crowd, stunned into silence before, began chanting again—louder, wilder, more frenzied.

Perhaps the sight of Warhammer rising again mirrored the classic underdog comeback scenes from their favorite manga, striking a chord in their hearts.

With murderous momentum, Warhammer’s massive fist hurtled toward Hoshino Gen’s face—

But the boy’s left eye flickered faintly red.

He sidestepped gracefully, his right fist clenching tight. Power surged—

CRACK!

A crisp crack and the sound of tearing rang out simultaneously. The audience seating fell into sudden, deathly silence — until a moment later, a red-haired youth clutching a severed head in his arms let out a shrill scream, snapping everyone back to their senses.

Chaos erupted.

On the blood-soaked arena floor, the headless corpse toppled over. The boy in the bloodstained white shirt stood there, smiling. His left eye glowed crimson, and his gaze swept over the crowd beyond the iron fence—like a predator sizing up its prey.

Amid the panic, a gunshot cracked through the air, plunging the scene into silence once more.

All eyes turned toward the source.

A bald middle-aged man in a white suit stood with a smoking pistol pointed at the ceiling. His sharp gaze locked onto Hoshino Gen.

“I don’t know what kind of monster you are… but do you know what happens when you kill a member of the Yamashita Group?”

On the other side, Itou Tomoya finally snapped out of his daze. He tugged at his still-stunned boss, Akita Hiroto.

“Boss! The Yamashita Group isn’t admitting defeat!”

Akita Hiroto snapped back to his senses, opening his mouth to speak, but was suddenly stopped by the wakagashira beside him.

The wakagashira shot a glare at Itou Tomoya, then leaned close to Akita Hiroto’s ear and whispered, “Boss, don’t get involved in this. That kid isn’t one of our Akita-gumi’s people anyway. The bastards from Yamashita-gumi don’t know his identity either—if something does happen to him in their hands… heh, maybe we can use the conglomerate to wipe out Yamashita-gumi for us.”

“……”

Akita Hiroto’s eyes flicked sideways, considering the logic. The mouth he had just opened quietly closed again.

Itou Tomoya’s eyes widened in panic at the sight, his voice urgent. “But if that kid really dies here, Akita-gumi won’t be able to wash its hands of it! Even if the conglomerate comes down on Yamashita-gumi afterward, we—”

He was still speaking when another gunshot suddenly rang out.

Itou Tomoya’s head whipped toward the ring.

Hoshino Gen stood there unharmed.

But the gun in the hand of the man in the white suit—Yamashita-gumi’s leader, Yamashita Toru—was unmistakably aimed straight at him.

The red haze in Hoshino Gen’s left eye had deepened. The bloodlust from his kill, the scent of fresh blood—it all stirred something primal inside him. His breathing grew heavy, the smile still plastered on his pale face.

He stared straight at Yamashita Tetsuo, every muscle, every cell in his body urging him to kill the man who dared point a gun at him.

Test failed.

The whole reason he’d stepped into this ring was to test how far the pollution in his body had spread—whether he could suppress his bloodlust when faced with an enemy’s killing intent.

He couldn’t.

And the raging emotions surging in his mind only confirmed how dire his condition had become.

With the last shred of his sanity, Hoshino Gen leapt out of the ring, landing beside Shimizu Yuu.

He bent down, voice low and rapid:

“Take your friends and go home. Now.”

Without waiting for a reply, his figure vanished.

By the time anyone noticed, he was already beside Yamashita Tetsuo, pressing a phone to his ear.

The call connected.

“If someone kills by accident while under pollution… how does the Special Affairs Unit handle it?”

“Huh? Normally… it’s treated as a mentally ill patient committing murder… Wait—why are you asking? You didn’t— Where are you right now?!”

Hoshino Gen hung up before the voice on the other end could finish.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Before Yamashita Tetsuo could react—

A black glow surged in Hoshino Gen’s right hand.

A pitch-black demon blade materialized.

Steel flashed.

Yamashita Tetsuo’s body split in two, collapsing to the ground.

A twisted grin stretched across Hoshino Gen’s face. His sanity snapped.

He seized a screaming woman by the throat, snapping her neck with a casual squeeze before tossing her aside. Another thug rushed him with a machete—Hoshino Gen buried the blade in his chest.

Three bodies.

All in the span of two breaths.

“D-Demon…!!” Someone screamed, fleeing.

Others picked up weapons, trying to fight.

At the stairwell, Shimizu Yuu glanced back—and her blood ran cold.

It’s over… it’s over… that guy… he really went crazy!!

Even Itou Tomoya was dragged away by his sister, Itou Saki. Before leaving the underground garage, he couldn’t help but glance back one last time.

He didn’t see much—only the sight of that boy, whom he thought might die here tonight, ghost-like, appearing right in front of the boss.

The boss was panicked, saying something in a trembling voice—begging for mercy? Threatening him? Ito Tomoya couldn’t hear clearly.

But that boy didn’t even have the slightest interest in listening.

With a casual flick of the blade—just like that—he chopped off the boss’s head.

Blood blossomed into the air like a fountain.

Itou Tomoya didn’t know what he was feeling at this moment.

The boss was dead… the Akita-Gumi’s boss was dead.

Maybe the Akita-Gumi would fall apart after tonight.

Was he free now?

He didn’t know.

He only let his sister pull him by the wrist, fleeing the underground garage like a machine running on instinct…