The sun had vanished behind an ominous haze, leaving the sea a flat, gray expanse. Riku's boat rocked gently—or maybe violently; he couldn't tell anymore. Every shadow seemed alive, every wave whispered secrets he wasn't meant to hear. He had tried to steady his mind, chalking it up to fatigue or fear—but deep down, he knew this was something else.
He remembered the stories told by old fishermen at the docks: boats dragged into the darkness, sailors lost without a trace, the sea swallowing them whole. They spoke of the Umibōzu not as a myth, but as a predator—ancient, patient, and cunning. And now, as the water bubbled unnaturally near his hull, Riku understood that he was no longer in a world ruled by ordinary tides.
A ripple spread across the water, concentric circles growing faster and faster. The waves seemed to form a pattern, almost deliberate, almost… intelligent. The air itself thickened with pressure, pressing down on his chest. Riku felt the hair on his neck rise, the same chill crawling up his spine from hours ago, now amplified tenfold.
Then it emerged.
The water erupted, black and oily, rising into a figure impossibly large. The bald head loomed above him, eyes vast voids that reflected nothing but darkness. Riku stumbled backward, heart hammering. His hands fumbled for the radio, but all he could hear was static—and the low, guttural vibration from the depths, like the sea itself was speaking.
"Who's there?" he shouted into the wind, though his voice sounded small and insignificant against the growl of the ocean.
No answer came, just the rhythmic crash of waves and the oppressive presence of something watching. Riku's mind raced—he could turn back, sail for the harbor, warn the others. But part of him knew that running would not save him. The Black Tide had chosen this moment, and it would not release its grip so easily.
A sudden tug at the stern nearly capsized the boat. Riku grabbed the railing, muscles straining against the force. The water swirled violently, and for a brief, horrifying second, he saw faces—those of missing sailors—trapped within the black depths, their eyes wide in silent terror before they disappeared again into the abyss.
Riku swallowed hard. Survival would require more than courage. He needed answers. And if the fishermen's whispers were true, finding the truth meant facing the Umibōzu directly.
The sea fell silent once more, but the shadow lingered beneath the surface. Riku stared at the horizon, knowing that the calm was only temporary. Somewhere in the darkness, the Black Tide waited, patient and eternal.
And he was not alone.