Rinne stood outside the wrought-iron gates of the emptied dormitory, her foot tapping impatiently against the cobblestone path. The evening air was thick with the scent of rain, a hint of petrichor mingling with the distant hum of the city. She leaned against the weathered stone wall, her phone pressed to her ear. "Captain, is Shigure coming or not?" she asked.
The captain's voice crackled on the other end. "He said he's on his way. Just give him a few more minutes."
Rinne tilted her head back, her eyes tracing the unsettling hues of the sky. The once-familiar canopy was now a discolored painting of sickly greens and inky blacks, clouds swirling like shadows cast by some unseen malice.
Reports had come in about girls in this very dormitory being attacked when they ventured to the bathroom in the dead hours of the night. The images haunted her—a few girls found lifeless on cold tiles, their bodies marred by countless slices, the floors slick with crimson. The Yashu-tai had been called in to investigate, and Rinne suspected the handiwork of a Demon. It was quite often for a demon that managed to escape the Yashu-tai to go into hiding and cause trouble during the Midnight Hour when the Yashu-tai was the busiest.
"Captain," she said firmly, pushing off the wall, "I'm not waiting any longer. I'm going in without Shigure."
He hesitated. "Rinne, wait. It's safer if—"
She cut him off, her grip tightening on the phone. "Besides, are we even sure we should let that pervert into a girls' dormitory?"
There was a pause on the line, but before he could respond, she ended the call, slipping the device into her pocket.
The gate creaked softly as she unlocked it with the key they'd provided for the mission. The dormitory loomed ahead, the windows stared back at her like vacant eyes, and the building seemed to exhale a quiet sigh of despair. She stepped inside, the door closing behind her with a muted thud.
The hallways were eerily silent, each footstep echoing against the tiled floors. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting sporadic shadows that danced at the edges of her vision. Rinne methodically checked each floor's bathroom, pushing open doors to find nothing out of the ordinary. The mundane normalcy was almost disappointing.
Scratching her head, she muttered under her breath, "Maybe it's not coming out tonight." Her voice seemed swallowed by the emptiness around her. Deciding to take a brief rest, she entered one of the stalls, and sat on the toilet seats. She crossed her arms, lost in thought.
Suddenly, a chill swept through the air, prickling her skin with goosebumps. The fluorescent lights dimmed, and the soft hum of electricity faded into silence. The door to her stall creaked ominously before flinging open with a force that rattled the hinges.
Standing before her was a figure draped in a tattered red cloak, its fabric fluttering as if caught in an unfelt breeze. A golden mask adorned its face, the lips curved into a crescent smile that was anything but friendly. The eyes were hollow voids, dark and infinite, pulling at the edges of her courage.
An aura of malevolence radiated from the apparition, the air thick with the scent of old metal and decay. The mask's smile seemed to widen, mocking her. The figure extended skeletal hands, each finger elongated unnaturally, and in them, it held out two rolls of toilet paper—one red, one blue.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
A voice slithered from behind the mask, echoing as if spoken from the depths of a cavern. "Do you choose the red paper or the blue paper?"
Rinne's lips curled into a smirk. "So, you finally decided to come out and play," she said, her tone steady despite the hammering of her heart. "Aka Manto—the notorious spirit haunting girls' bathrooms."
She rose slowly, her eyes never leaving the figure. Thoughts raced through her mind. An urban legend brought to life, thanks to that cursed tower. Ever since the tower's appearance, all sorts of abomination had been manifested into reality. And unlike the Gooning Demon she fought last night, long standing urban legends like Aka Manto were far more formidable.
In some versions of the myth, she recalled, you can defeat it by refusing to choose either option.
Gathering her resolve, she met the empty gaze of the mask. "Neither," she declared confidently.
The spirit's mask seemed to distort, the perpetual smile twisting into something more sinister. "Then you shall receive both," it hissed, the voice slicing through the air like a blade.
So much for that plan, Rinne thought, her muscles tensing. She’d anticipated this might not be easy.
With a swift motion, Aka Manto snapped its fingers. Around them, dozens of red toilet paper rolls materialized, hovering in the air. The paper unraveled rapidly, each sheet transforming into razor-sharp tendrils that sliced through the air toward her.
Reacting on instinct, Rinne leaped back, the stall behind her exploding into fragments as the tendrils shredded it effortlessly. Porcelain shards and splinters of wood scattered across the floor. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the dust as a stray cut grazed her cheek.
She landed gracefully atop a row of sinks, the cold ceramic pressing against her palms.
"Is that all you've got?" she taunted, wiping the thin line of blood from her face. "I've dealt with scarier things than a second-rate ghost with a toilet paper fetish."
Aka Manto tilted its head, the mask's smile unwavering. "Arrogant child," it whispered. "Your bravado will be your undoing."
The tendrils coiled back like serpents preparing to strike again. Rinne's mind raced. I need to find its weakness.
As the razor-like sheets lunged once more, she grabbed the detachable faucet hose from the sink beside her, yanking it free with a burst of strength. Water sprayed wildly, and she directed the stream toward the spirit. The liquid caught the light, forming a shimmering barrier between her and the oncoming attack.
The toilet paper tendrils hissed upon contact with the water, steam rising as they disintegrated mid-air. Aka Manto recoiled slightly, the first sign of unease breaking through its eerie composure.
"Not a fan of a little rinse?" Rinne quipped, seizing the advantage. She propelled herself forward, closing the gap between them. She aimed a hard kick at the spirit’s chest, blasting it out of the bathroom and to the area outside.
Landing gracefully, she leapt down to join it. Her expression was almost smug as she marched up to the fallen spirit, her confidence swelling. "I’ve got a feeling," she said, voice dripping with mockery, "that a spirit who haunts bathrooms might feel a bit like a fish out of water out here."
Aka Manto twitched, his form shuddering as he lay at her feet, but she felt no threat. She loomed over him, her eyes narrowing. "Any last words?" she taunted, reveling in her dominance.
But then, something changed. Aka Manto’s writhing stopped abruptly. He became unnervingly still. His voice, usually filled with the ominous echoes of a thousand haunting whispers, turned strangely serious, and a chill ran down Rinne’s spine.
"You know," he began, "just now, I reached an epiphany. A revelation, if you will." His voice was calm, contemplative. "I realized… the whole world is a giant toilet."