In the rear section of the old school building lay what used to be the dormitories for female students and teachers decades ago.
A single glance revealed its age.
The walls were worn, the wooden structures rotting, and dust and debris covered nearly every surface.
Amid the decay, a white figure rested leisurely beside a moss-covered wall. Behind her, faintly visible, was a pile of pale bones, some resembling human remains, others animal.
"La la... la la la~"
The owner of that white figure swayed gently, her body subtly blocking the unsettling sight behind her.
Her silhouette was mature and curvaceous. A white blouse paired with a tight skirt that reached high along her thighs gave her the appearance of a refined woman in her thirties.
Yet something about her was undeniably wrong.
Though she wore clothing, her feet never touched the ground. She hovered slightly above it, as if suspended in air.
"I finally have visitors again... I've been hungry for so long..."
Her lips curved faintly as she spoke, anticipation creeping into her voice.
"Two of them... approaching one after the other..."
"Good. That means I can take my time."
Her tone softened, almost dreamlike, as if savoring the thought of what was to come.
Then, slowly, she opened her eyes.
Blood-red pupils stared into the dim corridor, unsettling and unnatural.
This was the spirit that ruled this abandoned building.
A mid-level ghost.
Hanako.
Her true name had long been forgotten by most, but once, she had been known as Mizuhara Rei.
More than forty years ago, she had died within these very grounds. Her resentment bound her here, transforming her into a lingering spirit tied to this place.
At first, she could not leave.
But resentment, once it grew strong enough, could influence reality.
The first death had been an accident.
The second, less so.
Over time, the area grew darker, heavier, filled with unease.
Eventually, the school had been forced to relocate entirely, abandoning this place to decay.
Authorities suppressed the rumors, and the truth faded from public memory.
Peace returned.
But so did isolation.
Without visitors, Mizuhara Rei's strength stagnated. She remained trapped at the mid-ghost level, unable to advance further.
In this world, spirits grew stronger through only a few paths.
The highest tier were those worshipped as "gods," sustained by shrines and belief, or great yokai whose legends had spread far and wide.
Below them were organized factions of spirits that fed on human vitality and emotion, maintaining influence over the human world.
Then came powerful wandering entities capable of freely entering the human world.
And finally, those like her.
Bound.
Limited.
Waiting.
"...Someone's here."
A sudden cracking sound echoed through the corridor.
Her gaze shifted toward the source.
A tall figure approached slowly through the broken hallway, stepping through debris without hesitation.
"My luck's not bad... a spirit with a human form."
The man's voice carried a certain rough amusement.
Around his neck hung large Buddhist prayer beads that clinked faintly as he moved.
With a casual motion, he raised his hand.
A faint ripple of energy spread outward.
It carried the unmistakable presence of Buddhist power.
The moment it reached her, Mizuhara Rei flinched.
A sharp pain burned across her arm as her form destabilized slightly.
"So... a monk?"
Her expression darkened.
This was not an ordinary human.
"Interesting..."
The bald man stepped into the room fully now, his presence steady and oppressive.
"You actually recognize this power."
Mizuhara Rei steadied herself, ghostly energy gathering around her as the air shifted.
"I don't need to fear you."
The temperature dropped instantly.
A violent gust of wind surged through the room as sharp, invisible blades formed and shot toward the monk.
He moved.
Fast.
Dodging with ease, though the force of the attack tore through the walls behind him.
"Good."
A grin spread across his face.
"You're stronger than I expected."
The clash began.
Wind and force collided with steady, disciplined movements. Each strike carried spiritual weight, each defense precise and controlled.
But slowly, inevitably, the gap between them became clear.
Mizuhara Rei was being pushed back.
Step by step.
Until her back hit the wall.
The monk closed the distance, his fist glowing faintly as it hovered inches from her.
The suppressive force of his presence alone was enough to make resistance difficult.
Her expression hardened.
This was bad.
She had heard of humans like this before.
Exorcists who wielded Buddhist techniques.
Dangerous ones.
Far more direct and ruthless than other practitioners.
If she lost here, there would be no second chance.
...
"Hmm?"
Elsewhere in the building, Minamiya Chiya paused.
He had been searching another section when the sound of battle reached him.
Curious, he moved quietly toward it.
Peering inside, he took in the scene at a glance.
"A ghost... and a monk?"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"So this is Hanako... looks like she died in modern times."
"And that monk... I've never seen him around Osaka before."
More importantly.
There was something else.
"That string of prayer beads... not bad."
Chiya observed silently, taking everything in.
The ghost was clearly mid-level.
Stronger than the one he had dealt with yesterday.
And the monk?
Not weak either.
Chiya did not move immediately.
He watched.
Waited.
Calculated.
Inside the room, the monk pressed forward, forcing Mizuhara Rei further into a corner.
"Submit."
His voice was calm, but carried undeniable pressure.
"Or you'll suffer for it."
Mizuhara Rei's expression twisted with frustration.
The gap in strength was too obvious.
This was not a fight she could win head-on.
...
A faint glint appeared in the air.
Before the monk could react—
A sharp, precise strike cut through the space between them.
He barely managed to twist his body aside.
A small wooden sword passed where his chest had been a moment earlier.
The air stilled.
The monk's expression changed instantly.
"Who's there?"
His gaze snapped toward the corridor.
Even Mizuhara Rei froze.
Someone else was here?
Then—
A calm voice echoed into the room.
"You've never heard the saying?"
"The mantis stalks the cicada... unaware of the oriole behind?"
Minamiya Chiya stepped into view.
Relaxed.
Unhurried.
Yet his eyes were sharp.
The floating wooden sword hovered beside him, steady and ready.
He had finally decided to act.
After all-
There was no way he was going to let someone else take his prey.
The next moment, all three of them stood facing each other.
A monk.
A ghost.
And a young exorcist who had just entered the battlefield.