(Marked By Hachisakusama)

This story is based on Japanese urban legend 'Hachisakusama' who is an eight foot tall who haunts little children but in this story Sawako an seventeen years old girl is haunted by Hachisakusama. 

Chapter 1: A Summer in Silence

My name is Sawako. I grew up in Tokyo, but I spent many summers in a small village near Gifu with my grandparents. It was a quiet place—too quiet. One of those towns where everyone knows each other’s business, and legends are whispered like facts.

The summer of 2015 was different. Heavy. Ominous.

My cousin Natsumi had vanished the year before. No note. No leads. Just… gone. Her family claimed she ran off with some boy. But in hushed tones, the villagers spoke of something else.

A curse.

A woman in white.

Hachishakusama.

I thought it was just folklore. Until I heard it for myself.

Chapter 2: The Sound

It was my third night at grandma’s house. I had stayed out late taking pictures of the fireflies. The countryside was beautiful after dark, lit only by the stars and the soft glow of the fields.

As I walked back, I heard it.

> “Po… po… po… po…”

Faint. Mechanical. Like an old speaker crackling in the distance.

I froze.

The sound grew louder—closer—rhythmic. I turned, and across the field I saw her.

Tall. So tall. Dressed in a white dress that dragged across the ground. A wide-brimmed hat. Pale skin. Long black hair that covered her face.

She didn’t move.

But I knew—she saw me.

I ran. Didn’t breathe until I was inside.

Chapter 3: The Talisman

When I told grandma what I saw, her face went pale. She called my grandfather, who immediately began sealing the windows with ofuda—protective paper charms. He sprinkled salt in the corners of my room and lit incense.

Grandma held a tiny bell in her hands, muttering prayers I didn’t recognize.

“She’s marked you, Sawako.”

“Who?”

“Hachishakusama. The Eight-Foot Woman. Once she sees you… she won’t stop. Not until she takes you.”

They made me stay in a special room that night—lined with mirrors, salt, and old statues. I wasn’t allowed to speak. Not even if I heard a familiar voice.

I didn’t understand. Until I heard it again.

> “Po… po… po…”

And then, through the door:

> “Sawako-chan… it’s me, Natsumi… please help me… I’m outside…”

Her voice. Crying. Begging.

I pressed my hands over my ears. I knew it wasn’t real.

But still—it sounded so much like her.

The scratching at the window lasted until sunrise.