The door to Yuzuha's apartment creaked as it swung open, the familiar scent of home wrapping around her like a blanket, its warmth battling the chill that clung to her skin. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders, but the sight of Inui and izui, her loyal dogs, sitting patiently by the door with their tail wagging in quiet anticipation, brought her a flicker of comfort. Their dark eyes gleamed with unspoken devotion, a silent promise of unwavering loyalty.
She mustered a tired smile. "Hey, buddy. You hungry?"Her voice was hoarse, laced with fatigue. As she knelt,their eager tongue brushed her cheek, the warmth of their affection sending an ache through her heart. For a moment, the burdens of the day melted away.
With a sigh, she ruffled thier fur one last time before dragging herself toward the bathroom. The scalding water cascaded over her, washing away the grime and tension, but the unease beneath her skin remained. It had been gnawing at her for days now, creeping in at the edges of her consciousness like a shadow just out of reach.
When she emerged, wrapped in a towel, the apartment felt strangely silent. The hum of the city bled through the windows, yet inside, there was a stillness, thick and heavy. Moving to the kitchen, she prepared a simple meal, her hands moving with mechanical precision. The knife sliced through vegetables in a rhythmic cadence, each soft thud echoing unnervingly in the hush.
Inui and izui, now fed, lay at her feet, their body unusually still. His eyes, locked onto her, held an unsettling intensity. Normally restless, tonight they was frozen, rigid.
The television flickered on in the background, catching her attention as she set her plate down at the dining table. The voice of the news anchor sliced through the silence like a blade.
"Good evening. This is Kiyomasa Takata with the latest headlines. Our top story tonight: a chilling rise in global underworld mafias, and the terrifying figure behind it, known only as 'Dark Shadow.'"
Yuzuha froze, chopsticks hovering above her plate. "Dark Shadow?" she whispered, the name sending a shiver through her.
The newscaster continued, voice weighted with grim authority. "Citizens live in constant fear due to the ruthless actions of this criminal mastermind. 'Dark Shadow' is believed responsible for the grisly murders of multiple prominent figures—mayors, lawyers, even ministers—who dared to oppose him. His influence spans across the Yakuza, the Italian Mafia, the Russian and Mexican cartels. His true identity remains unknown, but speculation ties him to the Yakuza's highest ranks."
A cold dread seeped into Yuzuha's veins. The world beyond her window suddenly felt smaller, suffocating. "Monsters," she muttered under her breath, fingers tightening around her chopsticks. "If only they'd disappear. The world would be better off."
The apartment grew colder, the shadows stretching ominously. She reached for her book, 1,000 Types of Philosophy by Akira Minumi, seeking refuge in its familiar pages. But the words blurred, refusing to ground her. The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating.
Then, her phone buzzed.
She flinched, heart leaping into her throat. Frowning, she reached for it. An unknown number glowed on the screen.
Three messages appeared in quick succession.
I'm watching you.
I track your every move.
You can never escape me.
Yuzuha's blood ran cold. Her breath hitched as she read the words over and over, as if repetition would change their meaning. Her fingers trembled. A prank? No. The malice beneath them was palpable.
She forced a shaky laugh."Is this some kind of joke?" she murmured, but the words felt like a lie.
Before she could process further, Inui and izui erupted into a frenzy of barks—sharp, desperate. Their body was taut, ears pinned back. His eyes fixated on the balcony.
Yuzuha's breath stalled. Slowly, she followed his gaze.
A shadow.
Tall, motionless. Just beyond the glass, bathed in pale moonlight. Two glowing blue orbs pierced the darkness, locked onto her.
Her stomach dropped. A chill skittered down her spine. Her instincts screamed—run—but she stood frozen, paralyzed.
Hands trembling, she reached for the light switch. The room flooded with brightness.
The figure was gone.
Their barking waned, but their posture remained tense, eyes never leaving the spot where it had been.
Yuzuha swallowed hard, heart hammering against her ribs. "Did I imagine it?" she whispered. A nervous chuckle escaped her, but the terror in her chest refused to subside. She hadn't imagined it. She knew she hadn't.
The night crawled forward in oppressive silence. Sleep came reluctantly, her body exhausted, but her mind restless.
And then—
A shadow, silent as death, slipped back into the room.
It moved with unnatural grace, its presence so chilling that the air itself seemed to freeze. It loomed over her sleeping form, unmoving. Watching.
Then, with an eerie tenderness, it brushed a lock of hair from her face. The touch was ice-cold, the sensation pulling her deeper into a restless slumber.
A single rose, dark and unnatural, was placed beside her pillow. Beneath it, a note.
I'm always watching you. And I always will.
The figure lingered a moment longer, its gaze drinking her in. Then, soundlessly, it melted back into the darkness.
Yuzuha remained lost in sleep, oblivious to the terror that had hovered inches away. But deep within, something stirred—a whisper of warning, an instinct screaming that the nightmare had only begun.
Somewhere, in the deepest shadows of the world, the watcher remained. Waiting. Always waiting.
And soon, the real horror would begin.