Tokyo Exorcism Diary

The LZP Fitness Club, located in the western part of Koto Ward along the shores of Tokyo Bay, was renowned throughout Japan. Known for its excellent atmosphere, stunning scenery, state-of-the-art equipment, and—perhaps most importantly—its strict members-only policy, it was considered one of the most exclusive fitness clubs in the country.

As for becoming a member, the criteria were deceptively simple yet not quite so easy. Difficult? Not exactly. Easy? Not so much either.

To put it plainly, as long as one held a certain social standing and possessed enough financial assets, there was virtually no barrier to entry. Of course, the tens of thousands of dollars in annual membership fees were another matter entirely—something akin to Disney’s Club 33 membership in nature.

In essence, it was a luxury gym tailored solely for the wealthy. There was no talk of cost-performance here; it was nothing more than a symbol of status.

Hoshino Gen had his reasons for choosing this place. If one wanted to improve physical fitness efficiently and effectively, regular training was naturally the best route. Though his own home was outfitted with a private gym, at present, he had another more pressing concern—dealing with his contamination problem.

Unfortunately, there was no quick fix for that. Nor were there any particularly reliable methods. That incident with Jerome back in Zermatt had been a complete fluke—a lucky break, really—not something one could depend on.

For Hoshino Gen, the only realistic approach now was to steadily wear down the contamination by mingling with others and absorbing the positive energy of the living—what you might call ” yang energy.”

It was common sense: the more people, the stronger the yang energy. So whether it was his private gym, a personal training room, or here at LZP, the choice practically made itself.

Any chance to be around a crowd was one he would take. Whether at school or in a gym like this, every little bit of purification counted. If he could get the contamination in his body down below the danger threshold before heading off to Hokkaido, he’d consider it a huge success.

Right now, the gym was at its peak hours. There were quite a few patrons around, but given how massive the facility was, it somehow still felt spacious.

Hoshino Gen changed into a brand-new workout outfit—”complimentary” from the club—and made his way straight to the treadmills lined up before the floor-to-ceiling windows.

It wasn’t that he had a special passion for running. It was just that the view was the best here. Exercising while overlooking the glittering cityscape bordering Tokyo Bay—who could resist?

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with that idea. More than half of the several dozen treadmills were already occupied.

Without much thought, Hoshino Gen picked a free machine and started it up. At the same time, he gathered the special power circulating through his limbs and core back into his dantian, leaving his body entirely to its natural state.

Instantly, the lightness he’d felt before disappeared, replaced by a sudden heaviness, as though he’d been burdened with invisible weights. His body felt sluggish, and that sensation of being able to push every physical function to its peak vanished without a trace.

This was Hoshino Gen’s true, unaltered physical condition.

He stepped onto the treadmill and began running, dragging his unreasonably heavy body forward.

But after just half an hour, he was already gasping for breath, drenched in sweat, his stamina clearly reaching its limit. Maintaining a speed of 200 strides per minute for half an hour—stronger than an average person, sure, but nothing particularly remarkable for someone with workout experience.

At the thirty-seven-minute mark, he had no choice but to slow down. Panting, he shifted into a light walk, easing his heart rate and helping his blood flow return to normal.

“Your form’s off. You’ll hurt your knees like that.”

A cool, indifferent voice came from beside him. Hoshino Gen adjusted his breathing, then glanced over instinctively.

The speaker was a girl jogging on the treadmill next to his. She had sleek, glossy black hair tied in a crisp high ponytail, swaying lightly behind her as she ran.

Her skin was fair, nearly porcelain-like, dotted with faint cool undertones. The fitted workout gear traced the elegant curves of her figure with effortless grace.

She kept her gaze forward, expression distant. Even mid-exercise, she radiated a calm, frosty aura, untouched by her surroundings.

If Hoshino Gen hadn’t been sure he’d just heard her voice clearly, he might’ve doubted whether she’d actually spoken at all.

He glanced at her a few more times, noting that her running form was impressively smooth—not the exaggerated kind, but genuinely efficient. The rhythm of her arms, the angle of her lifted knees, even the timing of her breaths—everything was fluid, seamless.

It wasn’t so much about burning calories or exhausting herself, more like… a dance. Like she was savoring the act itself.

By now, Hoshino Gen’s breathing had settled. Having received her unsolicited advice, he figured he should at least respond politely. Smiling, he asked, “Are you… an athlete?”

“No.” The girl answered flatly.

And that was it. No follow-up, nothing extra. It matched her aloof demeanor perfectly.

Hoshino Gen was just as happy to leave it at that. If someone wasn’t in the mood for conversation, he wasn’t about to force it. After walking a bit longer and feeling his strength return, he resumed running—this time with a subtle adjustment to his posture.

At first, he didn’t feel much difference. But as he kept going, Hoshino Gen was startled to realize that, despite burning himself out during the first round, this second run lasted even longer. It wasn’t until fifty minutes in that he finally hit his limit again.

Once he slowed down, breath ragged, he couldn’t resist glancing at the girl beside him.

She was still moving with that same fluid grace, her pace unchanged. After all this time, her smooth forehead had only gathered the slightest sheen of sweat.

To his surprise, though, she abruptly stopped, despite clearly having plenty of stamina left.

She turned her head slightly toward the still-heaving Hoshino Gen, her delicate, cool features marked by a trace of curiosity.

“With that level of endurance, how exactly did you manage to beat one guy to death and cripple two others—all the same age as you?”

Her question threw Hoshino Gen off, and now it was his turn to feel intrigued. Still polite, he smiled and asked, “Oh? You know who I am?”

“So you didn’t recognize me.” The girl blinked, a hint of realization passing over her face before her usual composure returned. “I’m Sasaki Ayane. We go to the same school, Hoshino-kun.”

Sasaki Ayane… the name rang faintly familiar. Maybe he’d heard it mentioned at school before, but Hoshino Gen didn’t pay it much mind. Smiling, he replied courteously, “Ah, I see. Looks like you work out regularly, Sasaki-san. Your stamina’s impressive.”

“…” Ayane paused for two seconds, then said coolly, “Seems like you really don’t pay attention to what happens at school.”

“Oh? What makes you say that?” Hoshino Gen chuckled.

“Nothing.” She shook her head, shutting down the topic. Then, without another word, she turned off her treadmill, tossed a quiet “See you,” over her shoulder, and walked away.

Hoshino Gen watched her slender figure retreat into the distance, tilting his head slightly, mentally filing her under one label:

—A strange girl.