The three of them gathered in the quiet corner of a shrine courtyard, lantern light flickering against the stone fox statues. Rika leaned against the wall, the book clutched close to her chest. Her voice was steady, but her expression betrayed frustration.
"I've tried to capture her before," she admitted. "Kuchisake-Onna. The slit-mouthed woman. But every time I went looking… she wasn't there. Like she was mocking me."
Keizo frowned, arms crossed. "That one isn't like the others. She doesn't haunt one place—she moves. She hunts at random, luring victims when they least expect it. That's why you couldn't find her."
Tamao tilted her head, her eyes half-closed as if listening to distant whispers. "But she leaves a trace. All cursed spirits do. If we follow the pain she sows, the fear she spreads… we can draw her out."
Rika glanced between them, the flicker of hope in her eyes breaking through her frustration. "You think we can actually find her?"
Keizo gave a sharp nod. "We'll find her. And we'll take her down together."
---
They began their search the next day. Tamao walked at the front, her delicate hands outstretched, following threads of unseen energy only she could sense. Keizo trailed behind, eyes scanning alleys and rooftops like a hunter on edge. Rika kept close, gripping the book tightly, trying to feel for the subtle hum that always stirred when a ghost was near.
It didn't take long before the whispers started. Pedestrians in the streets spoke nervously about a woman who approached people at night, asking a single, terrible question.
"Am I pretty?"
Those who said "yes" were found mutilated. Those who said "no" were found dead.
Rika's stomach tightened with every rumor. "She's getting bolder," she muttered.
Tamao's eyes glowed faintly. "No. She's circling. She knows someone's hunting her. That's why she's showing herself more often."
"Then good," Keizo said coldly, his hand brushing the hilt of his blade. "Let her come. I've been waiting for this."
---
That night, they set their trap. Tamao led them to an abandoned underpass where the echoes of footsteps lingered unnaturally long. The air was thick, heavy with a strange perfume that turned bitter the longer they stood in it.
"She's here," Tamao whispered.
The sound of heels clicked against concrete. Slowly, she emerged from the shadows: a woman in a red coat, her face hidden behind a mask. Her dark hair swayed as she stopped in front of them.
"Am I pretty?" she asked, her voice smooth but unnatural, like silk stretched too thin.
Rika's pulse hammered in her ears. She had seen this moment before, during her failed hunts. The question always froze her, caught her in the ghost's rhythm before she could strike. But this time, she wasn't alone.
Keizo stepped forward, his blade flashing faintly in the dim light. "Pretty or not, you're finished."
The woman's head tilted, and she reached up with gloved fingers. With a deliberate slowness, she removed the mask.
Her face split from ear to ear, her mouth a jagged wound of teeth and blood. She grinned.
"Am I pretty now?"
The tunnel quivered with her voice, the air vibrating like the strings of a broken instrument.
---
She lunged, faster than Rika expected. In a blur, she was suddenly behind Tamao, her claws slashing down. Tamao cried out but managed to raise a talisman, the paper glowing and halting the strike midair.
Keizo was there in an instant, his blade clashing against her claws. Sparks lit the dark. "Rika!" he barked. "Now!"
Rika opened the book, its pages whipping wildly as a vacuum of energy pulled at Kuchisake-Onna. But the ghost resisted, her body warping, splitting into illusions that scattered across the tunnel. Each one asked in overlapping voices:
"Am I pretty?"
"Am I pretty?"
"Am I pretty?"
The voices stabbed at Rika's mind like knives, breaking her focus. She fell to her knees, clutching her head.
Tamao rushed forward, placing a glowing hand on Rika's shoulder. "Ignore her words! They're meant to bind you! Focus on her presence—the real one!"
Rika gasped, forcing herself to shut out the echoes, to breathe, to feel the thrum of power beneath it all. And then—there. A pull, like a single thread tugging against her chest.
She snapped her eyes open and shouted, "There!"
Keizo didn't hesitate. He spun, driving his blade into the correct form. The illusion shattered, leaving the real Kuchisake-Onna screaming, her jaw unhinged wider than humanly possible.
Rika thrust the book open. A torrent of light erupted, chains of ink spiraling out and binding the ghost. She writhed, shrieking, the tunnel walls shaking from the force of her fury.
"Am I—PRETTY—"
The book snapped shut. Silence fell.
---
For a long moment, the three of them just stood there, catching their breath. The underpass was still again, only the sound of dripping water echoing faintly.
Rika held the book against her chest, her heart pounding. "We did it," she whispered. "Together."
Tamao smiled faintly, brushing dust from her robes. "That's how it was always meant to be. Alone, none of us could have caught her."
Keizo sheathed his blade, his face unreadable. "Don't celebrate yet. That was just one ghost. Strong, yes, but still just one. The entity ahead of us will be worse."
Rika looked down at the book. Kuchisake-Onna's story was already writing itself into the pages, her cruel smile forever sealed in ink. But there was no satisfaction this time—only a quiet resolve.
"You're right," she said softly. "This is only the beginning."
The three of them stepped out of the tunnel together, the night air cool against their skin. For the first time, Rika felt that this path—the impossible one her grandmother once walked—was no longer hers alone.
And though the book grew heavier with every page, her burden was lighter.
Because now, she wasn't carrying it by herself.