⚠️ ADULT STORY - Magical Realism
In the quiet, lantern-lit streets of Matsushima, Sharva stumbles upon a small ramen shop hidden between towering buildings. Hungry and desperate for warmth, he steps inside-only to be captivated by Aika, the enigmati...
The week after Aika disappeared stretched into eternity for Sharva. Time lost all meaning as his world collapsed into fragments, each one piercing and inescapable. Her absence wasn’t just a void—it was a haunting, an ever-present shadow that followed him relentlessly. The echoes of her laughter mocked him in the stillness. The ghostly imprint of her touch lingered, once grounding him amidst the chaos of life, now unraveling him completely. His apartment, once a sanctuary, had become a crypt of memories. Everywhere he turned, she was there—in the unwashed ramen bowl she had held, in the faint floral scent that clung stubbornly to his apron when she wore it, in the quiet that now felt deafening.
Sharva sought refuge from his restless thoughts, immersing himself in the arduous task of mastering his dragon power. He longed to wield its immense strength without succumbing to the transformation that turned him into a beast. Yet, the path to control was far more treacherous than he had anticipated. Days turned into weeks, and still, he could command only the power in his legs, leaving the rest of his abilities untamed and wild.
Each passing day chipped away at the fragile hope that her departure had some reason, some resolution he could cling to. What remained was an endless sea of confusion and grief, drowning him in a storm of unanswered questions.
Sharva told no one. How could he? How could he explain a loss so profound, so unfathomable, to anyone who hadn’t felt the depth of their bond? The world outside blurred into a lifeless monotony. He moved through the motions of living, but his soul felt hollow, a mere echo of the man he’d been. Yet at night, the mask fell. Solitude swallowed him whole, and he lay awake, staring into the oppressive darkness, desperately searching for answers in the fragments of memories she had left behind.
Then, on one such night, his phone shattered the silence.
The sound was jarring, sharp like glass breaking in the quiet. His heart skipped, his gaze snapping to the glowing screen. He froze when he saw the words glaring back at him:
Unknown Number.
A knot formed in his chest. His instincts screamed to let it ring. Nothing good ever came from an anonymous call in the dead of night. But an inexplicable pull—a desperate hope he couldn’t deny—pushed him to answer.
"Hello?" His voice was hoarse, trembling with uncertainty.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a voice—soft, broken, yet unmistakably hers.
"Sharva...?"
Time stopped. His breath caught in his throat, his grip on the phone tightening as her name fell from his lips like a prayer.
"Aika?"
The word was barely a whisper, but the flood of emotions it carried was enough to shake him. Relief. Shock. Fear. They all clashed in a tempest that left him trembling.
"I’m s-sorry … But, I need your help," she said, her words spilling out in a frantic rush. "Please…."
Her plea hit him like a thunderclap, scattering his thoughts. He sat up straight, his mind racing to make sense of her voice, her desperation.
"Aika, what’s happening? Where are you?" he demanded, his voice sharpened by panic.
There was a hitch in her breath, a muffled sound on the other end—footsteps? Rustling? She lowered her voice to a whisper, trembling and raw.
"I called the police... but they didn’t come. They sent someone else. And I think... I think they’re with them. I don’t know what to do."
Her words unraveled him. Nothing made sense. Who were “they”? Why wouldn’t the police help her? He clung to her voice, steadying himself against the surge of fear threatening to consume him.
"Aika, listen to me. Tell me where you are," he urged, forcing his tone to steady. "I’ll come. Just tell me."
"I’m at my new apartment. The one I sent you the maps for," she said quickly, her voice tinged with dread. "They’re outside. I can hear them… waiting."
Her fear was palpable, cutting through him like a blade. Sharva clenched his free hand into a fist, nails biting into his palm as fury flared beneath his fear.
"Don’t move," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Barricade the door. Keep quiet. I’m coming."
"Sharva, no," she protested, her voice cracking. "If they see you—"
"I don’t care!" he snapped, his voice fierce and resolute. "Lock the door, Aika. Do it now. Don’t hang up."
The line crackled. He heard her breathing, uneven and shallow, and his chest constricted. Then, in a voice so soft it barely reached him, she whispered, "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… Please don’t get hurt because of me."
"You don’t get to say that," he replied, his voice firm, but the tremor of emotion was undeniable. "Not after everything."
He didn’t wait for her response. Tucking the phone into his pocket, he grabbed his jacket and keys, bolting out the door. Cold air bit at his skin as he sprinted down to the city streets not waiting for the elevator. Each step was a battle against the chaos raging inside him. Aika was in danger, and nothing else mattered.
---
At her apartment, Aika’s hands shook as she wedged a heavy iron chair under the door handle, the grating sound of metal against tile cutting through the oppressive quiet. Her heart thundered in her chest, each beat a painful reminder of the danger closing in.
She crept toward the window, peering through the thin curtain. Below, two figures loomed in the shadows, their faces obscured by hoods. They moved with an unsettling calm, their voices low and indistinct. Her grip on the phone tightened until her knuckles turned white, her mind racing as panic clawed at her.
Behind her, the faintest sound—a deliberate, measured footstep—made her whirl around, her breath catching in her throat. Shadows stretched and danced on the walls, their movements eerily alive. Her instincts screamed for her to run, but there was nowhere to go.
---
Sharva’s mind raced as urgency clawed at his resolve. He weighed his options: find a taxi or rely on sheer will and speed. The distance to Aika’s apartment was nearly three miles, every second ticking away like an unrelenting drumbeat in his chest. With a deep breath, he surrendered to the power coursing through him. His legs surged with draconic might, and he bolted forward, the world around him blurring in his desperate quest to save her.
Sharva’s pulse roared in his ears as he tore through the streets. He didn’t care about the startled stares of pedestrians or the honking cars he narrowly avoided. His body burned with exertion, his lungs seared with every breath, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
His mind replayed Aika’s trembling voice, her whispered terror. The image of her, trapped and afraid, fueled a cold fury that burned through his veins.
Her apartment came into view, the faint glow of her window a fragile beacon in the night. His heart pounded as he closed the distance, his thoughts a chaotic blend of desperation and determination.
Without hesitation, he charged inside, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell. Every step solidified his resolve. He didn’t know what he would face on the other side of her door, but one thing was clear:
No one would lay a hand on her. Not while he was still breathing.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
