It was just an ordinary evening in Tokyo. The hum of traffic, the flashing lights of neon signs, and the low buzz of late-night conversations all blended together in a symphony that had become background noise to my life. I was tired, running errands late into the night, as usual. The clock in my car's dashboard blinked 11:42 p.m. when I parked near the convenience store, not far from my apartment.
I wasn't expecting anything unusual. But, when you live in Japan, even the mundane can become unsettling if you don't pay attention.
I walked into the store, greeted by the cold air inside and the faint scent of cigarettes lingering from the previous customer. The cashier, a young woman in her early twenties, barely looked up from her phone as I grabbed a drink and some snacks.
As I approached the counter, I glanced out the window. There, just at the edge of the alley, stood a figure—a woman. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, and she wore a coat that seemed out of place in the heat of summer. She was standing perfectly still, looking at the ground. She wasn't looking at anyone, but something about her still made my skin crawl.
I tried to shake the feeling off, paying for my things quickly and heading back outside. The air was thick with humidity, but I felt cold.
When I stepped onto the sidewalk, she was gone.
I breathed a little easier, but my unease lingered. Tokyo was a busy city—no one ever really disappeared. But there was something about her, something so eerily still about the way she stood there, like she was waiting for something.
I began walking back to my apartment, trying to brush off the odd moment. I glanced at my phone—12:03 a.m. My heart thudded in my chest when I looked up again.
She was there.
She stood in the middle of the road now, but her posture was different. Her head was tilted at an unnatural angle, and her body looked like it was hunched forward, as though she were about to spring into action. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Her face was hidden in the shadow of her hair, but I knew—knew—that something wasn't right.
I told myself I was just tired, that I needed to get some sleep. But my feet moved slower as I approached the narrow street where I lived. The woman didn't move. She didn't blink. Just stood there, unmoving, as though waiting for me.
I reached my front door with a mixture of relief and fear, fumbling for my keys in the darkness. When I finally unlocked the door and stepped inside, I was thankful to be away from whatever that was. I collapsed onto the couch, finally allowing my body to relax.
The next day, I woke up early, feeling the weight of the night still on my mind. I tried to shake it off, but as I got dressed for work, something nagged at me. I needed to know more. Something inside me urged me to research, to understand what I had seen.
I pulled out my laptop and began typing, searching for the strange sensation that had crawled under my skin. It didn't take long before I found it—stories from decades ago, from people who had encountered the same thing I had.
The legend of Kuchisake-onna, or "The Slit-Mouthed Woman," is one of the most horrifying urban legends in Japan. The story is a simple one. A woman, once beautiful, is now a disfigured ghost who roams the streets of Japan. Her mouth is grotesquely slit from ear to ear, and she wears a surgical mask to hide it. She asks her victims, "Am I beautiful?" If they say yes, she removes her mask to reveal the horrific wound, then asks again, "Am I beautiful now?" If they say no, she kills them. If they say yes, she cuts their mouth open to match hers. Either way, the victim is doomed.
I felt my stomach churn as I read more. Kuchisake-onna isn't just a story—it's something people claim to have seen in the flesh. Over the years, reports have surfaced of a woman appearing on street corners or in quiet alleys, asking innocent bystanders the same question. But there's a deeper fear that makes the legend so terrifying: the idea that once you've seen her, it's only a matter of time before she comes for you.
I shook my head. This couldn't be real. It was just a story. People had seen her in different places, in different times, but there was no way this could happen to me, right?
The next evening, I walked the same route back home, trying to convince myself that it was just an odd encounter the night before. I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.
By the time I reached the alley where I had first seen her, I was hyper-aware of my surroundings. The streetlights cast long, eerie shadows, and the air was still, too still. It was as if the city had taken a breath and then held it.
And then—I saw her again.
She stood at the far end of the alley, near a streetlamp, her long coat billowing slightly in the wind. She didn't move, but she felt closer, as though she had been standing there for much longer than I realized. Her head was tilted at that same strange angle.
I didn't know why, but I approached her. Part of me was terrified, but part of me was desperate for answers. I had to know if this was real or just some sick joke playing with my mind.
As I got closer, I saw her face clearly for the first time.
Her hair hung in thick strands, covering the upper half of her face, but I could see enough. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, dark and hollow. Her mouth—the thing that had haunted me the most—was grotesque. The cut stretched from ear to ear, jagged and uneven. It was raw and angry, like something had torn into her skin and left a wound that never healed.
She turned her head slowly, her eyes locking with mine. She smiled—a smile that made my blood run cold.
She took a step toward me, and I froze.
"Am I beautiful?"
Her voice was soft, almost playful. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream. But I stood there, rooted to the spot, my body refusing to obey my brain.
I thought back to the stories I'd read—the rules. I couldn't answer. I couldn't. Saying yes would doom me, but saying no…
I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, she pulled down her mask.
Her mouth stretched wide, impossibly wide, the jagged edges of her wound opening even further, revealing teeth that were sharp and yellowed, like something from a nightmare.
I couldn't look away.
"Am I beautiful now?"
Her voice was no longer playful. It was sharp, cruel.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. My hands trembled, but I couldn't look away. There was no escape. I had to say something.
The words came out before I even thought.
"No."
Her smile twisted. Her eyes glinted with something dark, something deadly.
"Then you will die."
I didn't even have time to react before I felt a sharp pain in my stomach, as though something had struck me from behind. I fell to the ground, my vision blurring, my body too weak to move.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, cold and clammy.
I screamed, but no sound came out.
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To be continued...
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