Anime Crossover: Eating Evil in a Daily World — Chapter 17

Chapter 17: A Transaction with an Exorcist

The practiced, merchant-like smile vanished from the old man’s weathered face, replaced by a gaze of sharp interest as he studied Yozora.

“It seems you are quite the special individual yourself.”

“Hold on a second.” Miko looked back and forth between the two of them, her confusion mounting. “What do you mean he’s a genuine psychic, and that’s exactly why he sold you fakes? That logic makes zero sense.”

Yozora shrugged, his tone entirely indifferent. “Generally speaking, people who claim to have the sight and make a living out of exorcism fall into a few distinct categories.”

“The first type is your standard con artist. Total frauds who don’t know the first thing about the trade. But since he is managing to keep a shop open on a busy commercial street, he’s probably not one of them. Besides, you already noticed that some of the junk in here actually has a bit of juice in it, right?”

Miko gave a slow nod. She had noticed it the moment she stepped through the front door. While the vast majority of the inventory was ordinary trash, a select few items scattered across the dusty shelves emitted a faint, hazy glow. It was genuine proof of spiritual energy, a ward against the supernatural. Though, considering the grotesque monstrosities Miko usually encountered on her daily commute, these trinkets were little more than a mild deterrent. Better than nothing, but barely.

Yozora let the silence stretch for a few seconds, giving her brain time to catch up, before he continued his lecture. “The second type is someone with actual ability, running a shop where the merchandise can genuinely ward off evil.”

“So you’re saying this old gentleman is the second type?”

To her surprise, Yozora shook his head. “No. He belongs to the third type.”

“The third type?”

“The elusive third type.” Yozora shifted his gaze to the old man behind the counter, dragging out his words. “A true psychic who can actually see whether or not the customer walking through their door is currently being haunted by an evil spirit.”

“If the customer is genuinely cursed, he takes their money and resolves the disaster. But if there isn’t a single spirit hovering over their shoulder, then their problem is purely psychological. In that case, selling them a cheap piece of plastic to act as a placebo does the exact same job.”

Realization dawned on Miko’s face. So that was the trick. She had spent the entire morning assuming Yozora dragged her out here just to aggressively demand a refund over a cheap trinket. It turned out he was testing the waters all along.

“You are quite knowledgeable for someone your age, young man.” The old man offered a faint, appreciative smile as he crushed his cigarette butt into a glass ashtray. “I neglected to introduce myself. I am Oda Noto.”

Yozora gave a minimal nod. “Right. I’m Yozora, and this is Miko.”

Oda maintained his polite, elder-statesman smile, ready to offer a formal greeting, but his composure nearly shattered at the very next sentence.

“Noto? Solid name. I’ll just call you Old Geezer from now on.”

Oda released a long, weary sigh. ‘You have been calling me Old Geezer since the moment you walked in. What exactly is the difference?’

“Since we have all our cards on the table.” Yozora drummed his fingers against the glass counter, tapping out a lazy, rhythmic beat. “I will just ask directly. What is the most effective product you have in this place for dealing with evil spirits? Bring out the real stuff.”

“You want to see the real merchandise?” Oda studied Yozora with a deep, calculating look. After a brief moment of silent deliberation, he turned his back and disappeared into the dimly lit storeroom behind the counter.

The second the old man was out of earshot, Miko seized the opportunity. She leaned in close, keeping her voice down to a harsh whisper. “Um… with your specific abilities, you shouldn’t really need to spend money on weapons, right?”

“That is exactly where you are wrong.” Yozora let out a wide yawn, looking as though he had just rolled out of bed, his expression the picture of absolute laziness. “If I can find a weapon that actually does the job, it saves me a massive amount of physical effort during a fight.”

“Fair enough.” Miko nodded slowly. It did make a certain amount of sense.

She had witnessed Yozora’s methods firsthand. She had watched him tear into those grotesque entities, and she knew the harsh reality of dealing with the supernatural. Ordinary weapons, regardless of their material, simply could not inflict lasting damage on an evil spirit. The monsters recovered far too quickly, rendering standard blades and blunt objects useless as anything more than a temporary distraction.

Miko had no idea if Yozora’s bizarre devouring ability had a bottomless capacity. But logically speaking, there had to be a limit, right? Even a black hole of an appetite would eventually hit a wall. There would inevitably come a day when he simply couldn’t stomach another bite.

Besides… those evil spirits were horrifying. They looked like twisted, rotting abstract paintings dragged straight out of a nightmare. She still could not fathom the sheer mental fortitude required for Yozora to willingly sink his teeth into their spectral flesh.

If they could actually secure a weapon capable of permanently exorcising an evil spirit, it wouldn’t just benefit him. She could potentially get her hands on one too, keeping it by her side as a desperate insurance policy.

While Miko was lost in her grim train of thought, Oda emerged from the shadows of the storeroom. He walked slowly, carrying a long sword with a simple, ancient design. The weapon looked incredibly old, practically steeped in history.

“This should meet your requirements.”

Oda placed the sword gently upon the glass counter. The bare steel, completely devoid of a scabbard, caught the dim overhead lighting and reflected a harsh, freezing gleam.

Miko gasped, taking a sudden step back. “What is that!?”

To the eyes of an ordinary person, it was just a sharp piece of antique metal. Its age was obvious, and the edge was marred by several jagged notches of varying sizes. Its physical condition was terrible, far too battered to ever be considered a legendary blade.

But Miko possessed the Yin-Yang Eyes. She could see the truth bleeding off the steel.

A dense, suffocating red mist was radiating continuously from the blade, thick and heavy like fresh blood. Just a single glance was enough to make her skin crawl, the sheer malice and unusual nature of the weapon practically suffocating the air in the small shop.

“How much?” Yozora asked without missing a beat. “I’ll take it.”

Oda waved a dismissive hand, a highly meaningful smile playing on his lips. “Consider it a gift. A token of my absolute sincerity. Perhaps you could leave your contact information in exchange?”

Yozora looked as though he had fully expected the old man to say exactly that. He rattled off his mobile number without hesitation, then casually pointed at the bare steel.

“Since you are already giving away the sword, you might as well give your new buddy a scabbard to go with it.”

“Are you trying to act like you have seniority over me now?” Oda grumbled, though his hands moved honestly enough. He retrieved a simple wooden scabbard from beneath the counter and slid it across the glass, offering a final word of caution. “By the way, that blade is live and fully sharpened. You cannot take it on the train. Be careful.”

“Got it. Let’s keep in touch, Old Geezer.”

Yozora slid the ancient sword into the wooden scabbard with a smooth, practiced motion. Without another word, he grabbed the sleeve of Miko’s uniform—who was still staring blankly at the counter, trying to process the rapid-fire transaction—and dragged her out the front door.

Oda stood in the quiet of his shop, watching their retreating backs through the glass door. He pulled a fresh cigarette from his pocket, sparked his lighter, and took a long, deep drag.

As a seasoned exorcist, he had extracted a wealth of valuable information from that brief exchange. First, the boy knew immediately that the amulets he initially handed over were useless fakes. Second, based on his own spiritual observation, Yozora was completely free of any lingering evil spirits. And third—perhaps the most crucial detail of all—was the sheer, unfiltered shock that had flooded Miko’s eyes the moment he placed that cursed sword on the counter.

Piecing those fragments together painted a very clear picture. These two teenagers, who looked like nothing more than average high school students skipping cram school, were exactly like him. They were psychics.

And judging by the boy’s supreme confidence, he likely possessed the one terrifying ability that Oda himself lacked: the power to truly, permanently eliminate those things from the world.