Chapter 39: Qiao Qiao’s Exorcism Notes

In the Line chat group of the "Tokyo Exorcism Enthusiasts' Association," the first day of the Golden Week holiday passed in silence, as if everyone had vanished. The group was eerily quiet, nothing like the lively chatter that filled it during school and workdays. It remained so until late at night.

"The Sole Designated Spirit," commented, "Today's chat is unusually quiet. No otaku onmyoji getting all excited—it's a world apart from usual."

"Suzuka Is My Wife," replied, "?"

"The Sole Designated Spirit," quipped, "Ah, so the otaku is still awake. I thought you'd be busy with your waifu right now."

"Yongcheng Did You Chant Today," said, "It’s the first day of the holiday—everyone must be busy."

"Ghost Shark," chimed in, "Yeah, I spent all day battling the forces of darkness, finally won, but lost several companions in the process. Busy indeed!"

"Claw Machine Slayer," exclaimed, "Wow, Sasa, you're amazing!"

"The Sole Designated Spirit," continued, "By the way, I heard there was a serious supernatural incident in Suginami Ward today. Apparently, Tenmangu Shrine took care of it, along with some onmyoji lackeys."

"Yongcheng Did You Chant Today," added, "I heard as well—a truly tragic event."

"The Sole Designated Spirit," explained, "The malevolent spirit was haunting a stretch of highway, causing car accidents. Trying to root it out along several kilometers of road is quite a challenge."

"Suzuka Is My Wife," said, "What’s so hard about that? Just control a few hundred shikigami and sweep the area."

"Yongcheng Did You Chant Today," suggested, "Buddhism has a method: the Pure Land. Perhaps that could force out the spirit."

"The Sole Designated Spirit," mused, "There must be a thousand ways. I could come up with twenty methods to pinpoint a spirit with my eyes closed."

"Suzuka Is My Wife," retorted, "I could think of thirty without even trying."

"The Sole Designated Spirit," fell silent.

The group launched into a heated discussion about the incident with the evil child. Though some exchanges were beyond Joqiao's understanding, their words brimmed with passion and insight. With a mere tap of a finger, the evil child was imagined killed hundreds of times in dozens of ways. Joqiao watched quietly, finding their ideas both reasonable and elegant—far more refined than his own brute methods, with a certain sophistication.

Without realizing it, Joqiao began taking notes, jotting down ideas he thought he could implement. For instance, Master Yongcheng's suggestion about the Pure Land—Joqiao pondered that perhaps it involved channeling spiritual energy into the earth beneath his feet, infusing an area with power to achieve exorcism. He believed he could attempt this in the future.

As for controlling shikigami for a systematic search, that was beyond him—he had no idea how to operate shikigami. But then it struck him: what if drones could substitute for shikigami? The trouble was, domestic drones were expensive. Joqiao couldn’t afford them yet, so the idea would have to wait.

His experiments that day also led him to realize that recording the sound of the kagura bells for exorcisms wasn't practical. For reasons unknown, the recorded bell sounds had much weaker effects on vengeful spirits. It seemed the major shrines had already researched this and abandoned the approach. Still, Joqiao hadn’t given up entirely; he just needed a deeper understanding of Shinto before new inspiration might strike.

He set down his phone. The Tokyo night was deep. Joqiao had already made it home. As an exorcist with a firearms permit, he was lucky not to be taken to the police station for questioning. Although, after he drew his massive revolver and blasted the evil child’s head, every officer instinctively reached for their own sidearm, ready to draw. But soon, everyone calmed down, and the subsequent procedures took another hour.

They confirmed the evil child was completely eliminated, and had also (physically) resolved the lingering resentment of his parents' spirits. Some officers remained on site, while the others returned to the city. Inspector Ito, kindly enough, personally drove Joqiao and his scooter home, giving his address a meaningful look before leaving. But these were just side notes.

Joqiao washed up, studied until half past eleven, then lay in bed. He reviewed the chat logs, organized his notes, and prepared to rest. Today’s exorcism had been unexpected, but the evil spirit was not strong.

Yes, the evil child seemed formidable, but as it was the soul of a child, its strength was limited; its greatest advantage was speed. In truth, even without Joqiao’s intervention, Masato Shindoi and Ayano Fujiwara could have handled it alone. Joqiao trusted their abilities.

Reflecting, Joqiao suddenly recalled something. Earlier in the day, while verifying the inventory, Masato Shindoi had mentioned something important belonging to the Onmyoji Bureau was destroyed in the fire. What exactly was that item?

...

In a luxurious residence in Shinjuku, Masato Shindoi stepped out of a room, heading to his own. His expression was grim. He hadn’t expected that item to be consumed by fire in the accident. The Onmyoji Bureau lost much cargo in the crash, but none of it matched the importance of that item. So, although it wasn’t directly his fault, as the one responsible for handling the case, he was reprimanded.

However, the head of the family was reasonable, issuing only a verbal rebuke and not pursuing further accountability. The item was valuable, but not unique, and completely useless to ordinary people. The Bureau still had plenty more; otherwise, they wouldn’t have entrusted it to a regular truck driver. Still, a loss remained a loss.

Climbing the stairs, Masato Shindoi saw a handsome young man sitting on the second-floor lobby sofa, playing a video game—an RPG, it seemed. Nearby, a phone displayed a monster-catching game, while a tablet streamed an unknown character’s live broadcast. On the coffee table were cola and chips—the very picture of an otaku.

“Masato, you’re back,” the young man said without turning.

“It’s late,” Masato replied, in a foul mood and not eager to talk. He turned to leave.

“Today’s incident—was it an evil child?” the young man suddenly asked, making Masato raise his brows.

“Yes, but it’s been resolved.”

“Masato, do you know why Father scolded you?”

“Don’t waste your divination skills on things like this!”

“If everything had gone smoothly, you wouldn’t have spent so long in Father’s study. No need for divination to figure that out.”

“Mind your own business,” Masato snapped, growing irritable—he’d just been scolded, and now this.

“I’m only reminding you,” the young man replied, as his game character fought a samurai-like monster in a fierce battle.

“Evil children aren’t common anomalies. But this one haunted the expressway for over a month, causing only minor accidents, until, coincidentally, it struck the truck carrying the Bureau’s cargo. And just as luck would have it, the Bureau’s most important item vanished in the fire. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

Masato, previously agitated, suddenly calmed, a chill running up his spine. Earlier, upon seeing the inventory list, he’d used divination and confirmed the item was destroyed. So he hadn’t suspected anything amiss. But now, thinking it over, it was all too coincidental. In the world of the supernatural, coincidence is rarely a good thing.

“So why didn’t Father bring it up?” Masato asked.

“Do you even need to ask?” The young man smiled, with a hint of something else. “If someone’s divinations are unreliable, would you entrust him to retrieve lost goods?”

“You—” Masato began to retort, but the other interrupted.

“It’s fine. Before you returned, I divined the item’s whereabouts. By now, a few uncles should already be on their way back with it.”

At this, Masato was completely subdued. Sitting at home, playing games, watching streams, never leaving the house, and yet he resolved the entire incident all over again. Was this what real genius looked like?

“But I didn’t expect you couldn’t even handle an evil child and had to rely on Tenmangu Shrine’s miko,” the young man remarked, moving his character forward after defeating the monster, a hint of disdain in his tone.

“Wait,” Masato’s eyes brightened. “The evil child wasn’t dealt with by Fujiwara the miko.”

“Huh?” The other’s hands froze.

“It was a little-known exorcist who shot it in the head with a handgun.”

Masato suddenly felt curious to see the expression on this genius’s face, wondering if it matched his own reaction at the time.

The young man was stunned.

“A handgun?”

On screen, a monster appeared and attacked his character, but he didn’t move. His health dropped to zero; game over. He put down the controller. A coin spun between his fingers, as if calculating something. After a long moment of confusion, he smiled.

“Interesting.”