Rita leaned out of the window of her cramped, third-floor apartment, eyes scanning the bustling Tokyo streets below. She had always liked living high up, away from the noise. But lately, she’d been feeling…watched.

It started a week ago. Every night, just as she was about to drift off, she’d hear a strange noise outside—a slow, scraping sound, like nails dragging down concrete. It was subtle, almost easy to dismiss. But there was something unnerving about it. It only came when she was alone.

Tonight, the sound returned. But this time, it wasn’t subtle. It was louder, like something heavy brushing against the building’s exterior. The curtains drawn but fluttering slightly from the cool night breeze. It’s just the wind, she told herself. Just the wind.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

Slowly, she sat up, her hands trembling. Curiosity, mingled with dread, urged her toward the window. She pulled the curtain aside, her gaze dropping to the street. But there was nothing unusual—just the usual late-night traffic, headlights casting fleeting glows along the pavement.

Rita exhaled shakily, shaking off the feeling of unease. She turned to head back to bed when she felt she wasn't alone.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The noise wasn’t coming from the front door but from the window behind her, three floors up.

She turned slowly, "Who is there?" Rita squeaked.

Then from the corner of her eye, she saw it—something moving, creeping its way up the side of the building.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

入ってもいいですか？

Rita backed away from the window, She turned to run, but as she did, the scraping noise came again, this time right above her. She looked up and sensed the antagonizing threat.

Rita screamed, bolting toward the door. She fumbled with the lock, her hands shaking, but as she pulled the door open she heard a whisper again as she ran down the stairs.

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Cold fingers wrapping around her throat ceasing her from going anywhere, “ Please" Rita cried..

The next morning, the apartment was eerily quiet. Rita’s neighbors had heard nothing unusual, but when they found her door ajar, they couldn’t help but investigate.

The apartment was empty, save for a single mark on the floor—long, deep scratches, as if something had been dragged…up.

Rita was never seen again.

Years later a college student moved into an apartment on the same floor, the woman's mysterious disappearance was never solved,

Dylan sat hunched over his neat desk, writing about local legends and strange occurrences. Tonight’s story was about the Takaonna, the mysterious “Tall Woman” from Japanese folklore, a topic that had drawn more clicks than he expected.

A sudden whisper broke the silence.

私のものになる!

"What was that?" Dylan wondered. It could be just the wind but or his imagination.. he thougnt he heard something.

Dylan trained his ears to detect a weird sound, Only silence so far, Dylan moved towards his desk, he decided to work further on his article with the persistent feeling of fear in his gut. He was spooked but tried to brush if off as nothing.

Then came a thud.

He turned slowly, eyes darting toward the bedroom door. It was open. He knew he had closed it earlier.

The air in the room shifted, a chill spreading through the air like a creeping fog. A soft gust of wind blew in from the door behind him, causing the curtains to rise ever so slightly.

That’s when he saw them—two grey, ghostly bare feet, hovering just inches off the floor.

Dylan’s pulse raced. He shot up from his chair, backing away toward the wall, his eyes fixed on the window. The feet didn’t move, but he could feel the presence behind them—tall, looming, waiting.

Without thinking, Dylan bolted for the window, shoving it open wide and launching himself onto the fire escape.

He slipped, grabbing hold of a rusted pipe as he swung himself down to the alley below. His feet hit the ground hard, but he didn’t stop. He sprinted to his car, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. He yanked the door open, jumped inside, and jammed the key into the ignition.

The engine roared to life, and Dylan slammed his foot on the gas, tires screeching as he sped down the street. He didn’t dare look back. But something pulled at him, a curiosity he couldn’t ignore.

In the rearview mirror, he caught a glimpse of it.

Standing in his window was the Takaonna—her massive, elongated form barely fitting in the frame. He could only see her swaying arms and the tattered remains of a white dress fluttering in the breeze. Her face remained hidden, but her presence felt overwhelming, filling every dark corner of his mind.

Dylan’s throat tightened, his hands gripping the wheel He squeezed his eyes shut and kept driving, too terrified to glance back again.

What did it want? What did he do to provoke it?

“ ディラン!! " もう逃げられな !!

Dylan almost paralyzed with fear but his foot remained steady on the gas, this creature sounds angry now.

The only thing that mattered was that he had escaped—this time.