Our encounter with the exorcist had provided us with information I never could've imagined. The weight of Kōki's words pressed against his chest like a stone. His mind spun, refusing to settle.
This changes everything, Kōki thought, staring blankly at the road.
Sayoko wasn't murdered. She hadn't killed herself. According to the exorcist, her soul had been extracted from her body—ripped out during some kind of ritual five years ago.
It sounded impossible, absurd, like something from an urban legend whispered after dark. And yet… the evidence was standing right in front of him. Sayoko was a ghost, yes, but not like the others. She was still… alive. Somehow. The exorcist had explained that her soul wasn't classified as "dead." That was why the binding spell hadn't worked on her.
Kōki's lips moved before he could stop himself. "If she's technically still alive… then her body must still exist. Somewhere. Intact."
The thought gnawed at him. It couldn't be buried, couldn't be rotting in the earth. It had to be preserved. But why? And for what purpose? By who?
What do they want with her body…?
"I'm… still alive…" Sayoko's voice wavered, carrying both awe and terror. She sat a few feet away, gazing at her pale, translucent hands that flickered faintly with every movement. Her words were barely more than a trembling whisper. "I'm really… alive."
Nearby, Takuto writhed in pain. His form bent unnaturally, shimmering and vanishing at the edges like a candle flame about to die. He clutched his chest with desperate fingers, his mouth opening in silent cries that scraped at the air. His presence looked thin, unstable—like a memory on the verge of disappearing.
Kōki clenched his fists, heart pounding. "Can you… can you let him go, please?" he said quickly, turning toward the man. "I know he looks dangerous, but he isn't. We need him. I'll explain everything—just don't let him vanish."
The exorcist's sharp eyes lingered on Takuto. His posture was tense, one hand hovering near the talismans on his belt. His coat swayed gently in the still air. For a moment, Kōki thought he would refuse. But then, with a short nod, the man raised his hand and spoke a chant.
"You are no longer bound to this place. Release!"
The words echoed unnaturally, overlapping in layered tones, as if dozens of voices whispered alongside his. A thin shimmer of light coiled around Takuto's fading form, pulling him back from the brink. Slowly, the trembling outline of his body steadied. Still faint, but no longer disintegrating.
Sayoko floated forward, her body weightless and untethered to the floor. Her feet hovered behind her as she leaned downward, almost upside-down, until her flickering hands reached Takuto's trembling form.
"You're so pale… are you going to be okay?" Her voice cracked with worry. Her hands pressed gently against him, as if anchoring him to the world. "It looks like you'll disappear any second…"
"He'll live," the exorcist replied flatly. Then, after a pause, he corrected himself. "…Or whatever the ghost equivalent is. His essence was nearly erased. It'll take time, but he'll recover to his usual haunting self."
Sayoko exhaled shakily, brushing a wisp of spectral hair from her face. "Thank you… truly."
The man gave a low grunt. "You're lucky that this high school kid and this girl spirit begged for you," he warned, his gaze stabbing at Takuto. "But if I ever learn you're an evil ghost in disguise… I won't hesitate. I'll erase you without remorse."
Then, his demeanor shifted. His posture eased, and his gaze softened when he looked at Kōki. "Now that the situation has settled… allow me to introduce myself. My name is Raikou Kazehara. Some know me as Deacon Crowe. I am an exorcist. I deal with hauntings, curses, rituals—anything that preys on the balance between the living and the dead. My work is to send malignant spirits into the afterlife before they harm anyone."
Kōki straightened his shoulders, his heartbeat still heavy in his ears. "I'm Kōki Takeda. I attend Yomigaoka High." He paused, glancing at the two flickering figures beside him. "This girl is Sayoko Mizuhara… and the one you nearly erased is Takuto. I can see spirits—that's how I got dragged into all this." He held out his hand awkwardly.
Raikou studied him with quiet curiosity before taking his hand in a firm grip. His palm was rough, calloused, like someone used to fighting.
"Sayoko asked me to help her figure out what happened five years ago—when she was still alive," Kōki continued. "I agreed. Takuto claims he knew her back then. Sayoko doesn't remember, but I believe he's connected. That's why I need him here."
Raikou's expression hardened. "So at first, you assumed she was a typical ghost. Murdered, maybe. Now you know she wasn't killed. Her body was stolen."
"Exactly." Kōki's voice was firm, though his throat was dry. "But why? What's the point of stealing her body?"
Raikou fell silent. His sharp eyes swept across the area, as though searching the shadows for hidden ears. Finally, he lowered himself onto a nearby stone bench. His coat rustled softly against the cracked stone.
"There's an old story we exorcists whisper among ourselves," he said. His tone was quieter, heavier. "When I was a rookie, still struggling not to burn my own charms, I heard it from my master."
Kōki leaned in slightly. "Tell me."
"Over five hundred years ago, there was a cult called Hakabamishū. The Grave Dance Sect." Raikou's voice carried a dark weight. "They worshipped a goddess of the underworld…, Mínghuáng, the Underworld Phoenix Empress. They believed she could be reborn in the living world if they provided her with proper vessels."
Sayoko froze. The faint shimmer of her body flickered faster.
Raikou went on. "They performed rituals to extract souls, leaving the bodies as empty shells. They offered those vessels to Mínghuáng, hoping she'd descend into them. But it never worked. Either the vessel rejected her, or she ignored them entirely. Every attempt failed."
Kōki swallowed. "What happened to the cult?"
"They were hunted. Exorcists, knights,Samurais, even common villagers—everyone who feared them rose up. Hakabamishū was annihilated. Their last known priest screamed as fire consumed his altar, more than fifty years ago." Raikou narrowed his eyes. "Or so we thought."
"And yet… here we are," he muttered under his breath.
"If Sayoko's soul was taken five years ago," Raikou said gravely, "then someone revived the ritual. That means cultists are still alive. Still hunting. Still seeking vessels."
Sayoko stared at her hands again. Her voice was barely audible. "…Why me?"
"Maybe you were compatible," Raikou answered simply. "We don't know what exact criteria they use, but not everyone can serve as a vessel. You were chosen."
Silence fell. Heavy. Suffocating.
Kōki clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms. "So… our next step is to find the cultists. That's how we'll find her body, isn't it?"
"Yes," Raikou said. His voice was like iron. "But listen well—this path isn't easy. These people are dangerous. They kill without hesitation. If you aren't prepared to risk your life for her, turn back now."
Kōki froze, his stomach tightening. Risk my life? His heart pounded so loud he thought the exorcist might hear it. He pictured the classroom at Yomigaoka High, his sister nagging him about his grades, the normal days he thought he still had ahead of him.
He hadn't signed up for this. He just wanted to help a ghost find peace. Not challenge a death cult devoted to an underworld goddess.
But when his eyes met Sayoko's—the faint light of her form, the fear trembling in her gaze, the fragile hope she carried—he knew his answer.
"…I'm not backing out."
Raikou's eyes softened ever so slightly. Then he pulled a phone from his pocket, flipping it open. He held it out. "Give me your number. We'll talk more tomorrow or later."
Kōki quickly typed it in and handed it back. The exorcist rose, adjusting his long coat. As he walked away into the thickening morning fog, the stone steps echoed beneath his boots.
"Take care," he called, without looking back. "You'll need it."
Kōki and Sayoko stood in silence. The fog curled around them, damp against their skin. Sayoko's flickering hand lightly grasped her opposite elbow, looking away. Her voice was quiet, uncertain. "…I'm still confused about all this."
Kōki's shoulders sagged. "Yeah… me too."