Kamikura Ringo had been tracking the so-called Sugar Bean Man for a long time.
Born into a family of Onmyōji, she was a newly certified shrine maiden—though the Kamikura
family had little in common with those serene maidens who tended quiet courtyards.
They were mercenaries of the sacred: hunters who wielded ofuda and shikigami to banish
spirits for hire.
Looks didn't matter in that line of work. The only reason Ringo still wore her shrine maiden
robes tonight was because she'd just come from a family banquet.
With a quick spin, she shrugged the robe from her shoulders.
It fluttered to the floor, revealing what she normally fought in—plain sportswear.
So plain, in fact, it looked suspiciously like a Chinese school tracksuit.
Typical Kamikura: no grace, no glamour, just raw "grass-roots energy."
Honestly, who exorcised spirits dressed like this?
Unlike Kiryu Touta, ordinary humans couldn't see or sense the supernatural with ease. Even
trained Onmyōji like Ringo needed rituals and talismans to find spirits. To most people, her
profession was little more than an eccentric luxury—fortune-telling with extra paperwork.
And yet, none of them—none—could match Kiryu Touta's power.
Even his presence outclassed theirs.
Really, what was scarier: a few monks chanting with ofuda in hand…
or a two-meter-tall, muscle-bound, bubblegum-pink Sugar Bean Man?
Even monsters had probably never seen anything so horrifying.
Others performed purification rites with incense and prayer.
He, on the other hand—
Ringo had seen the videos.
Those weren't exorcisms.
Those were beat-downs.
He broke arms. Snapped legs.
Shattered rib cages like brittle fans.
But tonight, she wasn't here for him.
She was here on family business—an old assignment concerning this very school.
Within these walls, a spirit was sealed: a construction worker dismembered during the building's
foundation work, his remains entombed in the concrete.
Unable to pass on, the fragmented soul twisted in agony, tearing itself apart again and again.
Every month, a member of the Kamikura clan performed a pacification rite.
Skip a month, and the hauntings began anew.
Tonight, the duty was hers.
But someone had beaten her here.
Ringo vaulted the locked gate and stepped into the main hall—only to stop cold.
The wall that should have held the spirit's left hand had been torn open.
The hollow cavity beyond was empty.
Her eyes widened.
That sealed fragment—gone.
Who did this?
How did they even know where to look?
And weren't they afraid of dying under the curse?
She touched the ragged concrete.
The steel reinforcement bars were bent outward, twisted apart by brute force.
It looked as if someone had dug through solid cement with their bare hands.
That wasn't human strength.
That was monstrous.
A brutal, primal method… and one name flashed through her mind.
The Sugar Bean Man?
No. No way.
She clenched her jaw. "Focus."
Drawing a short blade from her belt, she moved deeper into the dark.
The school's structure formed a hollow square, a small courtyard at its center where five sakura
trees stood—one at each corner, and one in the middle.
Beneath those trees lay the vengeful spirit's bones.
Beyond the gym, at the edge of the baseball field, stood an old well from the Shōwa
era—sealed and forgotten. Some whispered a tengu slept within.
Ringo started up the stairwell, planning to check the top floor first; that was where the spirit's
skull—the core of its rage—had been sealed.
She'd barely reached the third floor when she heard footsteps.
Hurried. Uneven.
She flattened against the wall, blade hidden behind her back, and peeked around the corner.
A figure in a white lab coat turned sharply and vanished down the left hall.
A lab coat? A teacher? An intruder?
Duty overruled caution.
She followed—silent, swift. Through the corridor windows, she glimpsed the figure's reflection:
running fast, unmistakably human.
Wait. No… something was wrong.
From her angle, she could see both the third- and fourth-floor corridors.
And on the fourth floor—running perfectly in sync—floated another form.
A white shirt, faintly stained, drifting through the air, mimicking the woman below.
Like a puppet's shadow moving its master.
Wrong.
So wrong.
The sealed spirit was stirring.
Ringo broke into a sprint.
Light flared under her sneakers—charms igniting with each step. Her pace was superhuman,
every stride sharp and sure.
The woman ahead must have heard her coming, because she turned, eyes wide with terror.
"Help! Help me!"
It was Kume Chinatsu.
Ringo lunged. Her short blade flashed gold as she slashed across the woman's collar.
The lab coat hissed like acid eating metal; black smoke curled upward.
Kume collapsed, strength leaving her body.
Above them, the floating shirt shuddered—and stopped.
Then, from the fourth floor, came a faint sob.
Ringo knelt beside the girl, checking her pupils—clear. No trace of corruption. She exhaled in
relief.
Her brand of shintō arts turned offerings into weapons or tools, not disposable charms. If the girl
had truly been possessed, purification would've been long and dangerous.
Thankfully, she'd cut the tether in time.
"Who… who are you?" Kume asked weakly.
"You don't need my name," Ringo said. "Just tell me—how were you controlled?"
"I… I don't know." Kume shook her head. "Wait—did you see him? Someone on campus
wearing a Sugar Bean Man mask?!"
Ringo frowned, steadying the girl. "Calm down. Tell me slo—"
Her words died.
Through the window, moonlight poured into the courtyard.
The cherry trees, green and leaf-heavy, cast long, broken shadows.
And under one of them—
a pink glow.
A hulking, round-limbed figure crouched beneath the central tree.
Its plump hands dug into the earth, scooping and clawing like a grotesque gravedigger.
As if sensing her gaze, the creature slowly turned its head.
Two blank, soulless eyes met hers.
In its hands, it held a bone.
Cold terror stabbed through Kamikura Ringo's chest.
This was no vengeful spirit.
No mere haunting.
Whatever that thing was—pink, ridiculous, horrifying—
she knew instantly she could never defeat it.
That was—
The Sugar Bean Man.
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