Dawn in Tokyo was a gradual dilution of color. The deep indigo of the night sky bled into a soft grey, and the vibrant neons of the SmileMart sign began to look tired and pale. For Aiko, the rising sun was usually a promise of release—the end of the sterile, silent world of her shift and the beginning of the quiet anonymity of her small apartment. But this morning, the light brought no comfort. It only served to make the memory of the man in the black suit feel more like a fever dream.
Before clocking out, her rational mind demanded proof. There was one place where reality was indisputable: the security footage. In the cramped back office, smelling of cardboard and instant coffee, she sat before the small monitor. She rewound the footage, her fingers flying over the buttons. 2:00 AM... 2:15... 2:30... The timestamp for his arrival approached.
2:37 AM.
The screen flickered.
A wave of shimmering static, like a swarm of angry digital insects, washed over the image, erasing the interior of the store. The audio hissed. For exactly ten minutes of footage, there was nothing but noise. At 2:47 AM, the image snapped back into perfect clarity. The store was empty. The counter was clean. There was no man, no feather, no business card. It was as if a slice of time had been surgically removed.
Aiko's blood ran cold. This wasn't a prank. Pranksters couldn't corrupt digital recordings with their sheer presence.
She finished her closing duties in a haze, her precise movements now automatic, detached from the frantic spinning of her thoughts. When she finally stepped out of the store, the morning air was cool and crisp. The city was waking up, a symphony of rumbling delivery trucks, rattling train lines, and the first wave of commuters marching towards the station. It was all so normal. So aggressively, maddeningly normal.
Then she saw him.
Across the bustling street, sitting patiently at the entrance to an alleyway, was the scruffy dog she had fed the night before. It looked just as pathetic as she remembered, a mess of matted fur and skinny limbs. It stared directly at her. As their eyes met, the world seemed to narrow. For a single, impossible second, the dog's eyes glowed with a faint, predatory intelligence. It wasn't the reflection of a passing car; it was a light from within.
The dog tilted its head, a gesture that seemed less animal and more anciently knowing. Then, it turned and vanished into the darkness of the alley.
The illusion of normalcy shattered. That was the sign. That was the proof her rational mind could no longer deny. Her hands trembled as she fumbled in her uniform pocket, her fingers closing around the thick, black cardstock. This was real. The man was real, the warning was real, and that thing was real.
Finding a small alcove away from the river of pedestrians, she pulled out her phone. Her thumb hovered over the call button, her mind a battlefield of fear. Calling this number felt like stepping off a cliff. But not calling... not calling felt like waiting for whatever was hunting in the dark to find her. She pressed the screen.
It didn't even ring once. He just answered.
"Tanaka-san." The voice was the same low, calm baritone, devoid of any surprise. He'd been waiting.
"Who are you?" Aiko blurted out, her voice barely a whisper. "What was that thing? You have to tell me what's going on."
"I am the man who is trying to keep you alive," he replied, his tone clipped and devoid of patience for her questions. "You made a choice when you fed the dog. You invited a stray into your territory. Now you must make another choice. Listen to me, or deal with the consequences yourself."
"But I don't understand—"
"You don't need to understand. You need to obey," he cut her off, the steel in his voice absolute. "Do not take your usual route home. The one that passes the Inari shrine. Use the main avenue. Stay under the lights and in the crowds. Do not stop for anything. Do you understand?"
She was too stunned to do anything but stammer, "Yes."
"Good."
He hung up.
Aiko stared at her phone, a mixture of fury and terror churning in her stomach. Obey? Who did he think he was? Yet, the image of those glowing eyes was seared into her mind. Swallowing her pride and her anger, she turned away from her normal, quiet side-street route and merged with the crowds on the main avenue.
She walked faster than usual, her skin prickling with a newfound paranoia. Every shadow seemed too long, every passing glance a threat. The noise of the city, usually a comfort, now felt like it was hiding something sinister. As she approached her block, she had to pass by the entrance to a narrow, dark alley that served as a popular shortcut. Her usual shortcut.
Just as she passed its mouth, a sound drifted out from the darkness within.
A low, guttural growl that vibrated in her bones. It was deep and wet and did not sound like any dog she had ever heard in her life. It was close.
Aiko froze, her feet glued to the pavement. The morning sun had never felt so far away.