Aka Manto

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2013 Copyright

All rights reserved

Any reproductions, publications, or distributions of the work "Aka Manto" without the given consent of the author is strictly prohibited and is punishable by law.

The author of this work does not claim to be the original creator of the Japanese legend of the same name, nor does she claim to be the creator of the original image used as this work's cover.

The following story is based on my own interpretation of the Japanese urban legend Aka Manto. It may contain content not suitable for young readers; this includes gore, violence, and content that younger audiences may find disturbing. However, I do hope you enjoy it! Feel free to comment with reviews, and maybe even vote if you liked it!

Thanks so much, love you guys!

~Kate :) ]

Michi Toru sat in the back row of her World History class, her head turned and her hazel eyes trained intently on the Tokyo Bay. From her third- floor window vantage point, Michi watched as numerous citizens of Japan scurried around below her. Children hugged their mothers' waists, while other skipped down sidewalks, laughter filling the air. People in cars sat at stoplights, honking their horns and shouting in Japanese. Women in clusters walked along, talking, smiling, gesturing. Michi seethed with envy. Whilst others were outside and enjoyed the warm, beautiful, vibrant summer's day, she was forced to endure yet another agonizing lecture on the fall of the Roman Empire. She remained numbly fixated on the glorious outside world for what felt like an eternity-- she longed to be outside, in the full radiance of the sunshine.

"Is your response outside, or have you fallen mute, Miss Toru?" a voice pondered. Michi instantly recognized it as her professor, Mr. Takuto's.

Only then did she realize that the entire class had fallen silent. Michi pulled her focus from the Bay, bringing her attention to the front of the room where Mr. Takuto stood with his arms folded over his chest. Behind him, the chalkboard was overflowing with information: tables, bulleted lists, paragraphs- all mocking her. She dropped her eyes to her notebook, which was turned open to a blank page, and prayed the answer would miraculously appear and rescue her from the inevitable embarrassment she knew she would face. But it didn't. The sole contents of her paper were her name and the date. She remained silent, but could feel the intensity of the twenty-three pairs of eyes in the room staring, waiting.

He spoke again, his voice laced with irritation. "Do you even know what the question was?"

Michi felt her face grow hot, and swore under her breath. "No, sir," admitted Michi, embarrassed, then murmured, "I don't know what the question was."

He sighed. "Perhaps you'll hear the question next time. And, hopefully, your fascination will be in my class, not in the clouds."

The bell chimed to mark the end of class. Students gathered their things, rose, and, in each bowing to their professor, departed. Michi, however, remained seated, although her things sat in her book bag on her lap. Mr. Takuto leaned against a nearby desk, removed his glasses, and sighed.

"Michi-chan, I don't understand why you do this to yourself." He said quietly, earnestly. "You used to be at the top of your class; now I can scarcely keep you afloat."

She looked up at him from under her black bangs. She stood and slung her bag over one shoulder, and retorted curtly. "Then I suppose I shouldn't be here. You shouldn't need to support a student in an Honors-tier class."

He cringed inwardly, and, before he could open his mouth to utter a reply, she opened the door and slammed it shut behind her.

*.*.*.*