Ripples of Memories

Azumi’s mind drifted into a fog, her consciousness caught in the tenuous grip of a dream—if it could even be called that. The scene before her was fragmented, shrouded in a haze that felt both distant and uncomfortably close.

She found herself standing in a cold, sterile room, the air thick with a faint metallic scent that prickled at her senses. The dim light flickered overhead, casting uneven shadows on the glossy, tiled floor.

Large, cylindrical tanks lined the walls, their surfaces fogged over as if deliberately concealing their contents. Azumi strained to see inside, but whatever was encased within was maddeningly indistinct, shapes shifting and warping as though they belonged to another reality entirely.

Were they living things? Machines? She couldn’t tell—only that they pulsed faintly, as though alive in some way she couldn’t comprehend.

Her fingers brushed against one of the tanks, and the chill that seeped through the glass startled her. A muffled sound emanated from within—a low hum, or perhaps a distant cry. She recoiled, her pulse quickening. The room seemed to tilt, the walls closing in as her vision blurred further.

Faint whispers tickled the edges of her awareness, voices speaking in a language she didn’t recognize but somehow understood. Words like experiment and control lingered in her mind, their weight pressing down on her chest.

A flash—bright and searing—cut through the haze, and for a moment, she thought she saw a figure standing amidst the tanks, watching her. From its figure, she could say it's a woman—a woman she knew she had seen before but couldn't tell where and who.

But when she blinked, the figure was gone, leaving only an oppressive silence and the faint, rhythmic thrum of the mysterious vessels.

Her head throbbed, the memory—or dream—slipping further away as though it resisted being recalled. Yet one thing lingered in her mind as she began to stir: a suffocating sense that whatever was in those tanks wasn’t meant to be seen—or remembered.

Azumi's eyes fluttered open, drawn from the depths of unconsciousness by the soft rhythm of measured breaths, each exhale brushing against her ears like a whisper of warmth.

Slowly, she turned her head to the right, her gaze settling on Victor. His face was relaxed in the stillness of sleep, yet the faint furrows etched into his brow betrayed a lingering unease, a silent testament to the burdens he carried—even in dreams.

"What happened?" Azumi wondered, her mind clouded as she carefully pushed herself up, her movements slow and measured. Her gaze swept the room, trying to piece together about what had happened.

There was no way Victor would have fallen asleep with only Hiroshi and Adelina standing guard— Adelina!

The name escaped her lips in a sharp gasp, loud enough to jolt Victor awake.

He shot upright, his eyes instantly locking onto hers. "Love! You're finally awake!"

Relief poured from his voice as he leaned closer to check on her. But it was fleeting—his attention snapped toward the door, and his expression twisted into frustration.

"How did I even fall asleep? Dammit!" he muttered under his breath, his voice tight with self-reproach. His hands raked through his hair before he turned back to Azumi, his features softening with a hint of guilt.

"I'll get you something to drink," he murmured, almost to himself, his tone uncharacteristically hurried. "I forgot to prepare one earlier."

Before she could respond, Victor was already off the bed, his movements sharp and purposeful. Azumi's surprise deepened when he grabbed the shotgun resting nearby, the weight of the weapon a stark contrast to his earlier tenderness.

It was then she noticed the door. The sound of the lock, heavy and deliberate, struck her as unusual. They never locked their room—never needed to. The main door was always secured enough.

And yet now, the locked door felt like a silent warning, or was she just overthinking—or something did happen?

When Victor opened the door, Azumi’s gaze instinctively followed, her heart sinking at the sight of Hiroshi approaching. His shoulders sagged with the weight of unseen troubles, his steps hesitant, as though each one carried a burden too heavy to bear.

Though their voices were low, their exchange lost in the muffled space between their room and living room, Hiroshi’s body language spoke volumes. The way he avoided Victor’s gaze, the tension in his clenched fists—it all told Azumi that something had gone terribly wrong after she collapsed.

"Adelina," Azumi murmured, her voice barely audible as she pieced together fragments of memory. Her brow furrowed as a chilling realization began to surface. "She said something... B-But what was it?"

Victor suddenly turned back to Azumi, his voice gentle but laced with urgency. "Love? Can we have a moment?" Without waiting for her response, he stepped closer, his hands reaching out to help her up.

Azumi nodded, her movements deliberate as she steadied herself with his support. Together, they made their way to the living room, the air heavy with unspoken tension.

Hiroshi was already seated on the couch, his posture rigid yet weary, as though bracing himself for whatever was about to unfold. His eyes flickered briefly to Azumi and Victor but quickly shifted away, his demeanor cautious, almost reserved.

He seemed to be waiting—not just for them to settle down, but for the courage to speak.

"Well?" Victor's voice cut through the silence as he sat beside Azumi.

Hiroshi hesitated, his gaze falling to the floor before flickering briefly toward the kitchen, where Adelina remained unconscious. The heaviness in his expression sent a chill down Azumi's spine.

Her eyes drifted to the old wall clock behind Hiroshi. Only thirty minutes had passed since she had collapsed—but the dream, the unsettling walk through that hazy laboratory, had felt like an eternity. The memory of it lingered, its fragments elusive and disjointed, yet heavy with a meaning she couldn’t grasp.

Hiroshi's deep sigh pulled her back to the present, her focus snapping to him. Victor's gaze, sharp and unwavering, followed.

"I don't really know where to start," Hiroshi began, his voice strained, as though each word carried a weight too heavy to bear. "L-Last night, as we were escaping, Adelina suddenly lost herself—I believe you saw that... earlier."

Azumi leaned back slightly, the air around her thick with the tension his words carried. She watched as Hiroshi's gaze shifted to her, the unspoken question lingering in the space between them.

He continued, his voice faltering but determined, "She was the one who discovered that passage leading here, as if she knew exactly where she was going. I've seen that side of her before, but last night... it was different."

His eyes dropped to the floor, a deep sigh escaping him. "It seems to me that she was looking for this place, for some reason I couldn’t comprehend—at least, not until earlier. I’ve gathered some pieces together, and I think... everything she did before, when she entered that phase, it all leads to you, Azumi."

Azumi suddenly flinched, her body jerking as a memory—sharp and fleeting—flashed in her mind before vanishing as quickly as it had come. The moment left her disoriented, her vision swimming. She clutched her head, the pressure building like a storm in her mind, and before she could steady herself, she collapsed into Victor’s arms.

"Love! What’s wrong?!" Victor’s voice cracked, panic creeping into his words. His arms tightened around her, holding her steady as she fought to stay conscious.

Azumi’s breath came in shallow gasps, each one more labored than the last. "T-The woman in my memories..." she muttered, her voice weak, stumbling over the words. "I know her, love."

Victor’s grip tightened as he searched her face, his eyes wide with concern. "What do you mean?" His tone was insistent, but a trace of fear lingered behind his words. "What woman?"

Azumi blinked, struggling to focus as the fragments of her memory swirled and snapped into place, each piece sharp and jagged. "A-Adelina," she gasped, her voice trembling as she turned to Hiroshi. "We worked together before everything drowned into chaos."

The revelation lingered, its weight pressing down on them a

ll, as fragments of their shared past began to weave together in ways none of them had anticipated.