For a heartbeat, neither Riku nor Aya moved.
The whisper—Riku…—still echoed through the cold morning air, soft as breath on glass, yet sharp enough to freeze the blood in their veins.
Aya's grip tightened around his arm."That wasn't me," she said, voice barely audible.
Riku scanned the deck.No crew.No stowaways.No one alive who could have spoken that name.
But the whisper had come from the stern.
And something—someone—stood there now.
A figure, soaked head to toe, water dripping steadily onto the wooden planks. Its clothes were shredded, seaweed tangled around its arms. Its head hung low, chin to chest. Riku couldn't see the face, but he already knew:
This wasn't a survivor.
It was one of the lost.
"Riku…" the figure repeated, voice distorted, as if spoken through a mouth filled with water.
Aya clutched the maritime journal so hard her knuckles turned white."It's a drowned echo," she whispered. "A soul the Umibōzu consumed. It's speaking for it."
The Umibōzu loomed beside the ship, silent now, waiting.
The drowned echo lifted its head.
Riku staggered back.
The face—if it could be called a face—was half-rotted, skin pale and translucent like thin jelly. The eyes were vacant, pupils washed out by the sea. When it opened its mouth, seawater spilled out.
And then it smiled.
"I gave it my name…"The voice gargled."…and now you will too."
Riku felt something tug at his mind—an invisible pull, like fingers hooking behind his thoughts, prying them open. The pressure around his skull intensified, his vision dimming at the edges.
Aya snapped open the journal."There has to be a way to break the connection!"
Riku tried to step back, but his feet felt glued to the deck. The drowned echo drifted closer without walking, moving as if pulled by the tide. Its eyes locked onto Riku's.
"Say it."
Riku clenched his jaw. "No."
The echo let out a wet, horrible laugh.
Behind it, the Umibōzu rose higher from the ocean, as if the refusal amused it.
Aya flipped the pages desperately—lines about sea rituals, protective knots, forbidden chants—until a sentence caught her eye.
"Aya," Riku managed through gritted teeth, "find something!"
"I'm trying!"
But the drowned echo stretched out its hand, dripping, skeletal, insistent.
Riku could feel the monster's will pressing into his skull, urging him to obey.
And then—
Aya slammed the journal shut."I found something."
She grabbed Riku's shoulders, forcing him to look at her instead of the apparition.
"Riku, listen. This says the Umibōzu can be resisted if the person breaks the identity bond. You can't give your true name—you have to give it a false one."
Riku's heart pounded."A false name? Will that work?"
"It won't stop the monster forever," she said, "but it will break its grip—for now."
The drowned echo hissed, realizing the plan.
Riku took a breath.
Steadied himself.
Then looked directly at the Black Tide.
"My name is—"
But before he could speak, a wave slammed into the ship, nearly knocking them both off their feet. The Umibōzu roared, a sound like a thousand storms, shaking the mast.
It knew the trick.
And it wasn't going to let him finish.
The drowned echo lunged.
Aya screamed.
Riku shouted the false name—
"KAZURO!"
The effect was instant.
The drowned echo spasmed, the connection snapping like a rope under strain. Its body collapsed into water, splashing across the deck and evaporating into mist. The Umibōzu recoiled, the shadow around the ship thinning.
The sea returned to silence.
But not peace.
Aya grabbed Riku's hand.
"We need to go. Now."
Riku stared at the place where the echo had vanished.
The Umibōzu had been denied.
And monsters didn't take denial lightly.
To be continued…