The Police

The police station was a stark contrast to the vibrant streets of Tokyo. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a cold, sterile glow over the rows of desks and uniformed officers. Aika sat nervously in a hard plastic chair, clutching the photograph Ryohta had sent her. Yumi sat beside her, her expression a mix of determination and frustration.

An officer finally approached them, his demeanor calm but detached. He introduced himself as Inspector Nakamura and listened as Aika and Yumi recounted their story. They handed over the photograph, the crumpled napkin from the coffee shop, and the notes Yumi had compiled on Ryohta's online activity.

Inspector Nakamura examined the evidence with a practiced eye, but his expression remained unreadable. "Stalking cases are difficult to prove," he said finally. "Without concrete evidence of a direct threat, there's little we can do."

Aika's heart sank. "But he's following me. He sent me this photo. Isn't that enough?"

The inspector sighed. "It's concerning, but it's not enough to take immediate action. We can file a report and increase patrols in your area, but unless he makes a direct move, our hands are tied."

Yumi leaned forward, her voice sharp. "What if he does make a direct move? What if it's too late by then?"

Inspector Nakamura's gaze softened slightly. "I understand your concern, but we have to follow protocol. In the meantime, I recommend you take precautions. Change your routine, avoid walking alone at night, and keep a record of any further incidents."

Aika nodded numbly, her mind racing. The police couldn't help her. She was on her own.

As they left the station, Yumi placed a reassuring hand on Aika's shoulder. "We'll figure this out. We just need to be smarter than him."

But Aika wasn't so sure. Ryohta was always one step ahead, always watching, always waiting. How could she outsmart someone who seemed to know her every move?

That evening, Aika returned to her apartment, her nerves frayed. She double-checked the locks on her door and windows, her eyes darting to every shadow in the room. The photograph Ryohta had sent her was still on her mind, a constant reminder of his presence.

As she prepared for bed, her phone buzzed. It was a message from an unknown number: "You can't escape me, Aika. I'll always be here."

Her hands trembled as she dropped the phone, the screen shattering against the floor. The message was clear: Ryohta wasn't just watching her—he was inside her life, her mind, her very sense of safety.