14. The Effect of Minato's Seals How Powerful Are They?
From a shadowed corner of the ceiling, a humanoid evil
spirit lunged, its pointed hand aiming straight for the heart.
Just before contact, a long arm clad in a black glove
twisted, and a clenched fist pierced through its distorted head.
Without even a scream of agony, the creature crumbled,
shattered into fragments, scattering into nothingness.
In the blink of an eye, a beast-shaped evil spirit sprang
from the corner of the room.
Minato kicked it aside, sending it flying in a straight
line, crashing into the wall, crumbling into dust, and vanishing.
Within just a few minutes, all the lower-tier malevolent
spirits hiding in the last classroom on the first floor of the abandoned school
were swiftly exorcised.
Minato observed the scene with a cool expression there was
not even a trace left behind. Harima, standing nearby with his suit collar
neatly adjusted, headed toward the exit door.
“Scary,” muttered one of Harima’s colleagues, shrugs his
shoulders.
Harima’s back disappeared down the corridor, his black suit
moving straight ahead unfazed. Behind him, desks and chairs were haphazardly
scattered in the cluttered classroom.
Thanks to Harima’s solo effort in banishing the spirits
lurking inside, the only person left standing silently was a middle-aged man
wearing a Panama hat.
Both of them were exorcists belonging to the national
agency, the Onmyo Bureau. They had been dispatched to cleanse the malevolent
spirits infesting this three-story abandoned school, having just finished
purging the first floor.
Spreading across abandoned buildings schools, hospitals, or
large facilities are where spirits tend to gather most densely.
Places that see many visitors, or where people spend a long
time, become especially prone to harboring spirits.
Residual negative emotions jealousy, resentment, unfinished
business, regret cling to the structures, feeding the spirits that die with
those feelings still inside them. These spirits gather and grow stronger,
turning into vengeful ghosts.
Eventually, they threaten the living with spiritual
disturbances hauntings, poltergeists, and more.
The relentless summer sun pours through cracked windows,
flooding the hallways with unnatural brightness. The two exorcists move through
this glaring corridor.
Harima’s colleague fans his talismans in a wide arc, looking
up at the scorching sun, but inside the sealed school, no amount of breeze can
bring real relief.
“It’s hot,” he grumbles, fanning himself. “Maybe I should
wear traditional clothes like my dad someday.”
Harima’s colleague, in a summer jacket, looks at him with a
side glance his face cool and unaffected by the heat.
“You’re not hot? Even with those gloves?”
“Of course I am,” Harima’s colleague replies,
matter-of-fact.
“You don’t look it,” Harima responds. “Still, your exorcism
style scary, old-fashioned there’s no way I could imitate it.”
“We each have our own methods,” Harima says calmly.
“Yeah, but… Did you change your way of doing things? I
remember you used to do the ‘Kuji’ the sacred hand signs before. Now you just
punch them out?”
“Because that’s faster,” Harima replies simply.
His colleague, whose stomach is starting to sag from age or
overindulgence, makes a face as if he’d just swallowed vinegar.
“Hey, are you one of those guys who, despite how you look,
believes strength is everything?” he asks.
“Yeah. That’s pretty much how I am,” Harima says with a
shrug.
“Seriously? Well, I guess you’re not wrong. But—”
Suddenly, a spirit drops from the ceiling, heading straight
for their heads.
Harima ducks to the side, clutching his hat, and throws a
talisman. It shatters the spirit’s form from the point of contact, pieces
crumbling away as if peeling off.
Without stopping, Harima turns around at the corner,
watching the spirit’s collapse, then heads toward the central staircase.
“Real brainpower, huh? You’re more suited for desk work,”
his colleague comments, stepping on a spirit lurking in their path.
Harima crushes it underfoot, the talisman embedded in his
shoe causing it to pop and scatter like a ball hitting a pin.
His colleague quickly shields his mouth with a fan, watching
the exorcism with a mixture of awe and unease.
Harima, adjusting his glasses, steps onto the stairs with
calm determination.
“You say that because I’m wearing glasses,” he teases.
“That’s not it,” his colleague snaps. “It’s more than that,
Harima-san.”
“Please, stop calling me that. I’m twenty-seven, not a kid,”
Harima says with a wry smile.
They reach the second floor, turning their heads to survey
the corridor.
Every door along the long hall is wide open, spaced evenly.
They focus, sensing for any presence. After a moment, they
conclude there are no spirits on this floor.
His colleague closes his eyes and nods, confirming.
“Second floor’s clear. Sorry I keep doing that. It’s a bad
habit.”
Harima’s colleague is familiar with Harima’s father and has
known him since he was young. The nickname “Harima-san” has stuck from those
days, unchanged.
Harima’s colleague, cheerful and straightforward, shows no
shame about teasing him. Minato had warned him, but it’s all in good fun.
It irritates Harima slightly being treated like a kid even
if he knows it’s just friendly teasing.
He exhales softly, a little annoyed, and glances upstairs.
The staircase is dim and windowless, shrouded in an ominous
miasma that drifts downward. He can hear faint sounds voices, clashes likely
from the third floor, where other exorcists are battling spirits.
His colleague, following Harima’s lead, also looks up, his
face clouded with concern.
“What do you think? Do we need backup?” he asks quietly.
“Someone who’ll thank us? Or someone who’d just sneer at the very idea?”
Harima’s expression hardens.
“We can’t just leave it,” he says. “It’s our job.”
His colleague sighs, rubbing his shoulder in a gesture of
reassurance.
“They’re tough on you,” he admits. “Jealousy, probably.
Still, it’s a shame we didn’t get more help. Well, let’s do our best dinner’s
on me tonight.”
“Sushi, please,” Harima says.
“Always so modest, even though you’re from a good family,”
his colleague chuckles. “It’s fine, though.”
“Your family’s not much different,” Harima replies smoothly.
Both come from long lines of elite exorcists families with
generations of spiritual mastery.
To become an exorcist, innate talent is essential. Harima,
descended from a long line of masters, relies not only on natural gift but on
relentless effort, making him one of the top exorcists in the bureau.
His junior, Ichijo, on the other hand, depends heavily on
talent.
He’s been able to banish spirits since childhood without
much effort, neglecting to hone his skills and only growing more overconfident.
Over the years, the gap in ability and rank between Harima
and Ichijo has widened.
Their rivalry has soured constant competition, accusations,
and grudges.
Who exorcised more spirits? Who faced stronger ones? It’s
childish, really.
Harima, the perpetual victim of their comparisons, receives
pity from others who try to keep their work separate to avoid conflict.
But this time, due to a staffing shortage, they ended up
working together and from the moment they arrived, tension simmered.
They immediately spotted the strongest spirit lurking on the
third floor.
Their boss ordered Harima to handle the weaker spirits
downstairs, while he and a childhood friend, a woman, headed straight for the
third floor before he could even respond.
There’s no hope for mending their relationship now.
All that matters is fulfilling their duty. That’s it that’s
all they can tell themselves.
Harima’s gaze drops in gloom.
His polished leather shoes are faintly dusty, his brow
furrowing in irritation.
The environment is the worst filthy, dusty, stagnant air.
Honestly, he’d rather not breathe it.
He needs to eliminate the spirits quickly and get out of
this cursed building.
Turning back toward the stairs, he frowns slightly.
“Every year, I look older only on the outside… it’s kind of
depressing,” his colleague mutters.
“Oh, here comes the stray shot,” Harima replies dryly,
forcing a grin as he places his foot on the first step.
Suddenly......
“Gyaaahhh—!!”
A shrill, familiar scream an utterly unwelcome sound pierces
the air.
Both turn their heads in unison.
“Ichijo!” comes a trembling female voice behind them.
Harima’s colleague, with a dramatic flourish, pulls the hem
of his coat and steps up the stairs.
“Man, I tell you, that deep, manly scream of a guy just
doesn’t make me want to rush in,” he says with a wry smile.
“Can’t be helped, considering who it is,” Harima mutters.
“Yeah,” his colleague agrees quietly.
The two ascend the stairs with a composed, almost elegant
pace, ready to face whatever lies ahead.
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