Cassian woke up on the narrow hotel bed in Tokyo, the grayish light of dawn seeping through the curtains. The air smelled of disinfectant and damp city streets. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and pulled the paper with Yumi's number from his pocket, the hastily scribbled digits still legible from the night before. He placed it on the nightstand, his mind torn between the memory of her skin and the mission that brought him to Japan. Before he could get up, a sharp knock echoed at the door.
"Cassian, open up," Helen called from the hallway, her voice cutting with impatience. "Sato's downstairs. We need to move."
He put on a clean shirt and opened the door, finding Helen with her blonde hair tied back in a messy ponytail, a folder tucked under her arm.
"You slept too long," she said, entering without waiting for an invitation. "I thought you'd be ready after the flight."
"I needed rest," Cassian replied, adjusting his backpack. "What did Sato say?"
"He's in the lobby waiting for us," Helen explained, placing the folder on the bed. "He wants to talk in private. He says the situation worsened last night. Let's go."
Cassian nodded, tucked the paper with Yumi's number into his wallet, and followed Helen to the lobby. There, an elderly man waited, hunched in a chair next to a fake plant. Sato had a face as wrinkled as old parchment, thin white hair, and trembling hands gripping a cane. His small, bright eyes studied them as they approached.
"You're from the Vatican," Sato said in English, rising with effort. "Come with me."
He led them to a private room in the hotel, a narrow space with beige walls and a round table. He closed the door behind them and sat down, resting his cane against the chair.
"I'm Sato," he began, his voice raspy but firm. "I was a priest until ten years ago, when I left the habit for my health. The Vatican called me yesterday and said you were coming for Kuchisake-onna."
"That's correct," Cassian replied, sitting across from him. "Daniel informed us that three agents have been lost. What do you know about her?"
"More than I'd like," Sato said, clasping his hands on the table. "It started in Hino, a town an hour from here. A month ago, children began disappearing. At first, there were rumors: a tall woman with a surgical mask, asking, 'Am I pretty?' to kids on their way home. Then they found bodies. A fourteen-year-old boy, Haruto, appeared two nights ago in a park near Tokyo's suburbs, his face slit ear to ear, scissors embedded in his chest. It's not just Hino anymore—she's moving."
"That's outside the pattern we were given," Helen interjected, crossing her arms. "Daniel said it was localized to Hino."
"It was," Sato replied, narrowing his eyes at her. "But something changed. The Vatican's agents tried before you. The priest came first, a skinny Italian with demonology books. He went to Nobuko's grave in an abandoned cemetery in Hino, thinking a traditional exorcism would stop her. They found him three days later, scissors in his heart, his face destroyed. Then came Tanaka, a Japanese man from Osaka who knew both Shinto and Catholic rites. He tried sealing the place with salt and prayers, but they found him the same way, in a field near the village. The last one, Conti, was two days ago. He was strong, an ex-soldier turned priest. He left a message saying he confronted her in an alley, but all they heard was a scream before the signal cut off."
"They all died the same way," Cassian said, drumming his fingers on the table. "What's so important about the grave?"
"It's the origin," Sato explained, leaning forward. "Nobuko was a mother who abused her children decades ago. One of them cut her mouth with scissors before she killed him and then committed suicide. Her grave was forgotten until some teenagers desecrated it a month ago, playing with invocations. Since then, she's been killing. I believe sealing it is the key, but no one has survived long enough to try again."
"Then we'll go to Hino this afternoon," Cassian decided, standing up. "We'll check the grave ourselves."
"I'll be with you," Sato said, taking his cane. "I know the way."
Before they could leave, Cassian's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, seeing an unknown number, and answered.
"Cassian, it's Yumi," a soft voice said on the other end, tinged with nervousness. "I know you said you'd call me, but I couldn't wait. Can we meet? I want to have lunch with you near Shibuya."
He hesitated, glancing at Helen, who frowned.
"I'm busy today," Cassian replied. "I have work that can't wait."
"Please," Yumi insisted, her tone more urgent. "Just an hour. There's a small restaurant in Dogenzaka that serves homemade ramen. I won't take much of your time, I promise."
Cassian was silent for a moment, intrigued by her voice, by the memory of the night before.
"Alright," he finally said. "I'll be there at noon. But only for an hour."
"Thank you," she replied, relieved. "See you there."
He hung up, and Helen crossed her arms, clearly annoyed.
"Who was that? We don't have time for distractions, Cassian."
"An acquaintance," he said, pocketing the phone. "I'll meet her quickly and be in Hino by sunset. Prepare with Sato."
"I don't like this," Helen retorted. "But do what you want. See you at Hino Station at five."
Cassian arrived at the restaurant in Dogenzaka just before noon, a small place with wooden walls and the smell of boiling broth. Yumi was already there, seated at a table in the back, wearing a blue blouse and jeans, her bag on her lap. She saw him and smiled, raising a hand.
"You came," she said as he took a seat across from her. "I thought you'd say no."
"I almost did," Cassian admitted, ordering ramen from the waiter. "I have a complicated day ahead. Why did you want to see me so soon?"
"I don't know," Yumi replied, stirring her tea with a spoon. "After last night, I felt different. I couldn't stop thinking about you. And this morning, I had a strange dream—I wanted to tell you about it."
He leaned forward, studying her.
"What did you dream?"
"I was in an alley," she began, lowering her voice. "It was dark, and a tall woman was following me. She wore a long coat and a white surgical mask, like the ones we use in winter. She caught up to me and asked if I was pretty, with a voice that gave me chills. I tried to run, but my legs wouldn't move. Then she removed the mask, and her mouth was slit, filled with blood. I woke up sweating, my heart racing."
Cassian frowned, the ramen arriving at the table but ignored for a moment.
"Did you see anything else? Where was the alley?"
"I don't know," Yumi said, trembling slightly. "It didn't look like a place I know. But she looked at me like she hated me. Do you think it means something? I've always had strange dreams, but this one felt real."
"Sometimes dreams are just that," Cassian replied, choosing his words carefully to avoid alarming her. "Did you say anything when she asked if you were pretty?"
"I didn't get the chance," Yumi explained. "I woke up before answering. It was horrible. Do you believe in those things? Ghosts, spirits?"
"I've seen strange things through my work," he admitted, picking up his chopsticks. "But don't worry about this. It was probably the sake from last night."
Yumi smiled faintly, but her eyes remained nervous.
"Maybe. Thank you for coming, Cassian. I didn't want to be alone thinking about it."
They ate in silence for a few minutes, the hot broth calming the atmosphere. When they finished, Cassian paid the bill and stood up.
"I have to go," he said. "I need to be in Hino soon."
"Hino?" Yumi asked, standing as well. "That's far. What are you doing there?"
"Work," he replied evasively. "I'll call you later."
They said goodbye outside, but as Cassian turned to catch the train, he noticed a tall figure across the street, motionless among the crowd. She wore a long coat and a white mask, her black hair falling over her shoulders. He watched her for a second before she disappeared behind a group of students. Cassian tightened his grip on the dagger at his belt and boarded the train to Hino.
He arrived at the station at five, where Helen and Sato were waiting. They took a taxi to an abandoned cemetery on the outskirts of the town, the gravestones covered in moss and surrounded by bare trees. Nobuko's grave was at the back, a broken slab with her name barely legible, surrounded by rusty scissors stuck in the ground like a warning. Cassian knelt, touching the cold metal.
"This is where it began," Sato said, leaning on his cane. "They desecrated it, and she awakened."
A childlike whisper filled the air, a low laugh coming from everywhere. The shadows of the trees stretched, creeping toward them, and Cassian pulled out his holy water, knowing Kuchisake-onna was close.