Creeptober 2025: Day Six
Kuchisake-onna
Cis Female Spirit x Transmale Reader
TW: disfigurement, blood
You had heard the stories of the Slit Mouth Woman. Who hadn’t? While she was said to be a Japanese urban legend, you had heard it all the way over in America. Thanks to the internet, you easily learned about her and became fascinated. Admittedly, she was part of why you decided to visit Japan. You had always been fascinated with horror and folklore. Plus, there were so many things that you wanted to see in urban Japan. What was a little casual ghost hunting?
During the dark night, you were walking back to your hotel. There was a part of you that was reminding you, in the back of your mind, that doing this was dangerous even without the supernatural element. You were in a strange country where you struggled with the language. Alone. At night. In a country where if your passport was stolen, you could go to jail for not having proper identification. Was this really worth it?
Yet, you couldn’t help yourself. You were eager for the chance to even try to meet her. The idea of hearing her voice, of seeing her beautiful but grotesquely disfigured face was too tempting. Something itched at the back of your brain, telling you that this was stupid and dangerous, but you refused to acknowledge it.
Feet from your hotel, a voice behind you said in broken English, “am I… beautiful?”
Your head turned before the words fully registered. Blood pounding excitedly in your ears as you stared at her. A white surgical mask covering the bottom of her face, but you could see a hint of blood seeping into the corners. Her eyes held you captive. Despite knowing what was under her mask, you couldn’t help but find her stunning.
What was it you were supposed to say so she wouldn’t attack you again? Nearly everything you knew about her flew from your brain. Her eyes on yours were so distracting that you can’t think. All you can focus on is her.
She repeated her question, the mask moving as she spoke while your heart was pounding in your chest. This time, all you could breathe was, “I want to see the rest of your face.”
That seemed to catch her off guard. In fact, her brows knitted together, her head tilting slightly. A sound almost like the grinding of gears, which you realized was her laughing. Both corners of your lips twitched into a small smile as you listen to the sound.
“Okay,” she said, before slowly pulling off the mask with a dramatic flourish. That actually made you laugh. “Am I beautiful?”
Every time you read or heard the story, her face was scarred, but when you saw it, the corners of her mouth were still bleeding, as if they had just burst from the stitches. The rest of the lines on her mouth were scarred over, so it was just the corners. Could she have lengthened the scars recently?
“You look nothing like I expected,” you said, which seemed to confuse her. You had luckily remembered that. That you should say she was average, or so so, anything to confuse her, but you had only been honest.
Her lips pursed in annoyance, as if catching the game you had begun to play. “But am I pretty?” she asked, taking a step closer so the streetlight light turned into a spotlight on her.
“You are so different than I thought you would be,” you said as you stepped closer to her as well.
The action made her frown despite the smile lines carved into her face.
“Am I beautiful?”
Her voice raised this time, her hands bunching into fists at her sides. Annoyance evident in her tone as it pitched higher and louder.
“Am I handsome?” you countered, wanting a few more moments with her before giving the answer you knew would make her confused long enough for you to escape.
Her head tilted, spilling the long black silk of her hair down her shoulders. “Handsome?” she echoed.
You nodded, wondering if the confusion was because she was being asked a question or because she was surprised by your word choice. You had only recently come out, and were using superficial and cosmetic ways to make yourself look more masculine. Makeup to create a sharper jaw. A binder to flatten your chest. Pants that made your hips look less curvy. Was even a supernatural being with a bleeding, scarred face, making fun of you?
“Yes,” she hummed finally, straightening her head. The word caught you off guard.
“What?”
“You are… handsome. Different. I like that,” she said as she gesturing with her just slightly too long fingers for you to come closer.
Of their own accord, your feet took another step. Then two. Then three. Then you were standing almost nose to nose with her as she suddenly was towering over you. Had she always been this tall?
“Am I beautiful?” she asked again, her voice low and sultry this time.
“You are the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, not caring if she sliced your face, not able to think about the fact that she could also kill you.
When you said that, her smile stretched across her face, and the scars were no longer scars but lips that pulled back to reveal rows of sharp teeth. Panic should have seized you, but you were in awe. Instead of killing you, like the single brain cell you still possessed said she would, she curled her slightly too long fingers around your neck and back of your head.
Her too large mouth with too long lips crashed against yours, hungry and almost desperate, as if you had made her feel seen for the first time in this spectral form. Eagerly your lips responded, ignoring the taste of blood and the smell of copper that clung to her. Unlike a regular tongue, hers was longer, thinner, like a snake. Or maybe you thought that because of the way it snaked down your throat.
You don’t know how long you kissed her, how long she was basically choking you with her tongue, but she pulled away, vanishing, just minutes before dawn broke. Leaving behind only that white mask right outside of the street light.
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