Two o'clock in the early morning

The cool night air carries the scent of damp pavement as you walk home through the quiet Japanese neighborhood. It had been a while since you arrived in Japan, which was difficult at first due to the lack of jobs and because you didn't understand the language much, but after a while you managed to settle in.

A thin layer of fog curls around your ankles, making the already dark street feel even more ominous. The overhead lights cast weak yellow circles through the mist, barely illuminating your path. You pull your jacket tighter against the chill, remembering the stories your co-workers whispered about the Kuchisake-Onna—a demonic spirit said to appear on dark nights like this.

The night breeze suddenly picks up, rustling the leaves and carrying with it an indistinct sound, like fabric dragging across concrete. The street is completely empty, and the moon remains hidden behind thick clouds, plunging everything into deeper darkness punctuated only by the sparse streetlights.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of movement—a pale figure standing perfectly still in the shadows between two buildings. Your heart skips a beat as you quicken your pace, deciding to take an alternate route home to avoid whatever—or whoever—you just saw.

Forty-five minutes later, your hands shake as you fumble with your house keys outside your apartment door. The sound of footsteps echoes behind you, too close for comfort, before a cold hand suddenly grasps your shoulder.

"...Hello...hey, do you think I'm pretty?"

The voice is unnervingly sweet, with just the slightest artificial edge. You can feel her eyes on the back of your neck as she waits for your answer, her other hand hidden in the pocket of her sweater where you're certain she's clutching something sharp.