The morning mist clung to the northern coastline like a shroud, softening the jagged cliffs and silent coves. Riku Takeda adjusted the brim of his cap and scanned the horizon. The sea, deceptively calm, stretched endlessly, a pale mirror reflecting the timid sun. Fishermen in the nearby port whispered of strange disappearances—boats found empty, nets torn to shreds, and sailors who returned pale-eyed and muttering incoherent warnings.
Riku shook his head. Superstitions, he told himself. Years at sea had taught him the ocean's temperament, and yet, there was a shiver crawling up his spine he could not explain. Today was supposed to be routine—a short supply run along the northern coast. Nothing more.
The first hour passed without incident. The waves lapped lazily against the hull of his small vessel, and the gulls cried overhead, their sharp voices piercing the early haze. Then, as the sun climbed higher, Riku noticed a shift. The water ahead darkened unnaturally, as though a shadow had been cast across the surface. A low hum, like a distant drum, seemed to rise from the depths.
"Just imagination," he muttered, gripping the railing. But the sea seemed to respond, ripples forming into a slow, deliberate pattern. The air thickened, heavy with the scent of brine and something fouler beneath.
And then he saw it.
A silhouette rose from the waves—a vast, bald head breaking the surface, eyes reflecting the sunlight in a way that swallowed it whole. The Black Tide, the fishermen had called it. Umibōzu.
Riku froze, the cold gnawing at his bones, the stories of lost sailors flashing before his eyes. The water churned violently around the figure, pulling at his boat as though the sea itself had teeth. His instincts screamed at him to flee, but every ounce of his being was rooted to the spot, watching the monster that legends had whispered about for centuries.
A voice—or was it the wind?—whispered across the deck. "Do not leave."
Night was still hours away, but the ocean had already begun its claim. And Riku realized, with a dread that sank deeper than any tide, that this was no ordinary storm.
Some legends were not meant to be survived.