I forced myself to remain still. The thick plastic hood over my head reeked of something foul—stale, suffocating, metallic with the tang of blood. Maybe it was seeping up from the pools around us. I just hoped the police wouldn't suspect me. After all, my claw marks looked like an animal's. There was no way they could link them to me, a man whose only daily work was at sea.
I prayed Aika's wounds weren't too serious. I hadn't even checked on her yet. The ropes binding me should be convincing proof that I was a victim. The bruising on my head would serve as my excuse—that I'd resisted before the monster attacked and knocked me unconscious.
Why had that creature spared us? I'd simply claim ignorance. Maybe I'd implicate Himemori somehow—though I feared doing so might only worsen Aika's condition. Safer to say I'd passed out from their beating before the monster even arrived. Yes… that would be safest.
Now, there was nothing to do but wait. I drew shallow breaths, feigning the near-death stillness of the dark warehouse around us. But I could still see—my senses were sharp.
As the sirens drew nearer, I felt Aika stirring beside me, consciousness returning in soft waves. Her gentle, steady breathing filled the silence, grounding me even as I lay frozen. I discovered her condition wasn't nearly as bad as I'd feared.
I felt her shift, heard the sharp intake of her surprise breath before her back slid away from mine.
"Oh, God!" she gasped—and then I heard her vomiting violently. Who could blame her? Nobody can stay composed after seeing torn human flesh and pools of blood.
After a moment, I heard her call my name.
"Sharva…?" Her voice was faint, fragile, as she crawled toward me, her body bumping softly into mine.
"H-hey! Sharva, are you alright? Wake up… please." Her urgent plea gripped my heart as she pressed her teeth against the plastic, working it loose—and succeeded.
I released a slow breath, letting out a soft groan as my eyelids fluttered open. I lifted my head to meet her eyes; my voice came out hoarse and confused. "A-Aika… w-what… happened?" A thin trickle of blood dripped from the corner of my mouth, completing the illusion of my battered state.
The sirens grew louder, slicing through the air as the screech of tires echoed below. Tension coiled in my chest when I heard heavy footsteps rushing toward the warehouse.
"Thank God you're alive…" she whispered.
I saw a tear roll down her cheek. I wanted to wipe it away, but I couldn't risk giving myself away. I remained motionless, still bound.
"You okay?" I managed to ask.
Aika nodded fiercely. "Who did this to us?"
I wriggled upright. "I don't know. I blacked out shortly after you lost consciousness."
Aika's brow furrowed, but before she could respond, the door crashed open. Police officers stormed in, flashlights sweeping the space as they assessed us. Paramedics followed, their calm but urgent voices mixing with our terror as they checked for injuries.
Aika squeezed my hand and repeated her apology in a whisper.
They separated us, laying each of us on a stretcher. The ambulance's rhythmic sway felt oddly soothing, yet my mind remained restless—haunted by Aika's panic and the memory of her touch. My injuries were superficial, but seeing her forehead wrapped in bandages, the stitched scar marring her soft skin, left a dull ache in my heart. I longed to comfort her, to erase her pain, but instead I answered the officers' questions with a mask of shock. I pretended to be in utter trauma.
I knew they would find no trace of our attacker. In my dragon form, I'd left no fingerprints, no DNA—no evidence to follow.
Besides, CCTV on the street showed exactly where we were taken. That proof confirmed we were victims, not perpetrators. The police decided to pursue a rival mafia group they suspected.
Finally, they allowed us to go home. Aika sat across from me in the back of the ambulance, her white bandage stark against her skin, her expression a mix of exhaustion and quiet strength. I felt a powerful urge to smooth the worry from her brow; my fingers hovered inches from her skin before I forced myself to restrain my emotions.
"Does it still hurt?" I asked softly, unable to hide the concern in my voice.
Her gaze softened as she touched her bandage, testing it. "N-no, it doesn't hurt anymore," she replied, a faint smile lifting her lips. "The doctor did a great job—quick and clean."
Her mouth curved into a wry grin. "Although I think I'll have a scar. Consider it a souvenir that I survived, right?"
She laughed lightly, the gentle sound easing the tension between us. Her hand lingered in mine, her touch steady and warm, calming me in ways I couldn't fully explain.
"I suppose so," I echoed playfully. "But next time, let's skip the part where we get ambushed by thugs, okay?"
Aika squeezed my hand—a gesture as intimate as it was reassuring—and I felt her warmth even after she released me. I wanted to ask about the mysterious Tsukishiro Himemori—the name whispered through the fog of danger—but I held back. This was not the time. She needed peace, not new questions.
"So… are you sure you can go home alone tonight?" I asked, concern creasing my brow.
She sighed softly, her smile weary but sincere. "Yes, I'll be fine," she murmured, though a flicker of unease remained in her eyes. "I've been through worse, believe me. Besides, you look like you need rest too." She nudged me playfully, mischief returning to her gaze. "Maybe tomorrow we can cook together—far from all this trouble."
The thought warmed my chest, and I returned her smile. "That sounds perfect," I replied. "Maybe I'll finally see those famous knife skills of yours in action."
I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But don't expect me to keep up. I'm more of a 'slow and steady' type in the kitchen."
Aika's laughter softened the night's edges, her eyes crinkling with amusement. My gaze drifted over the curve of her cheek, the way the light caught her hair, and before I could stop myself, I blurted, "Would you… I mean, if you're comfortable… you could come over to my place tomorrow?"
Her cheeks flushed, her eyes widening in surprise, and she fidgeted. "Oh… um, thank you," she stammered, shyly sweet. "That's very kind of you."
She bit her lip, looking down. "If you don't mind… maybe we could meet there? My little ramen shop isn't exactly the best place for… you know."
A slow smile tugged at my lips as I watched her fumble, my heart racing. "Of course," I said quickly. "It's nothing fancy, but… it's quiet. Cozy, I hope."
We exchanged a look, her hand lingering in mine as though to bridge the unspoken words between us. "Get some rest, Aika," I murmured as I dropped her off, a sense of calm settling over me when she paused at her door.
"Good night, Sharva," she whispered, warmth in her voice as she turned inside.
As the door closed, I drew a deep breath—the chill of the night air no match for the warmth she left behind. Yet I couldn't shake the image of her—vulnerable yet strong, her laughter lingering in my heart like a promise that I would always stay by her side.