aoiwavesblog

[aoiwavesblog]

He came to Tokyo with silence in his chest.

She met him with moonlight in her hair.

Together, they walked between shadows and spring.

A story of hearts that flicker—

and find light anyway.

https://aoiwave.wordpress.com/2025/06/15/when-cherry-blossoms-fall-in-another-world/

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The Porcelain Predator – A Whisper Behind the School Gates

https://aoiwave.wordpress.com/2025/06/09/the-porcelain-predator/

[aoiwavesblog]

In the end, it’s not the bullets that kill you... it’s the silence you swallow to stay in the game.

https://aoiwave.wordpress.com/2025/06/04/rain-soaked-allegiance/

[aoiwavesblog]

I wrote a story inspired by light novels and yuri anime, but with a twist — it's a satire disguised as a poetic slice of life. If you enjoy calm narratives hiding chaotic harem energy, you might like this one:

👉 https://aoiwave.wordpress.com/2025/05/31/beneath-the-ginkgo-tree-blossoms-of-unlikely-hearts

[aoiwavesblog]

"In a world where eyes no longer blink, there’s still beauty in the moments that dance in silence."

[aoiwavesblog]

This was my favorite show growing up. I used to watch it every afternoon on Cartoon Network.

[aoiwavesblog]

Crowned in bones. Clothed in silence.

[aoiwavesblog]

The ruins remember what we forget."

"She lived. The school didn’t die."

"The quake stopped. The echoes didn’t.

Click here:

https://aoiwave.wordpress.com/2025/05/16/echoes-of-the-ruin/

[aoiwavesblog]

Click here:

https://aoiwave.wordpress.com/2025/05/24/blood-blooms-at-midnight/

[aoiwavesblog]

The Neighbor's Shadow

Chapter 1: The Arrival

The rain drummed against Sayaka Komori's bedroom window with an intensity that seemed almost alive. At seventeen, she had grown accustomed to the perpetual drizzle that plagued their Tokyo suburb, but tonight felt different. Tonight, the darkness beyond her glass seemed to pulse with an unnatural rhythm.

Sayaka pressed her nose against the cold window, watching the moving truck navigate the narrow street below. Someone was moving into the house next door—the house that had stood empty for three years, ever since old Mr. Yamamoto had died in his sleep. The neighbors whispered that he had been found weeks later, his face frozen in an expression of pure terror.

Through the curtain of rain, Sayaka glimpsed a woman emerging from the passenger seat. Tall and unnaturally pale, she moved with an odd, flowing gait that reminded Sayaka of kelp swaying in deep ocean currents. The woman's long black hair hung like a veil, obscuring her face as she glided toward the front door.

For a moment, the woman stopped and slowly turned her head upward. Even through the rain and darkness, Sayaka felt the weight of her gaze—cold, penetrating, and somehow hungry. The woman's lips curved into what might have been a smile before she disappeared into the shadows of the doorway.

Sayaka pulled back from the window, her heart racing for reasons she couldn't explain.

Chapter 2: First Contact

Three days later, Sayaka encountered her new neighbor while hurrying home from school. The woman stood motionless beside the rusted mailbox, her pale fingers tracing patterns on its surface that seemed to leave dark smudges behind.

"You must be Sayaka," the woman said without looking up. Her voice carried an odd echo, as if she were speaking from the bottom of a well. "I am Maiko Takashiro."

"How do you know my name?" Sayaka asked, clutching her school bag tighter.

Maiko finally lifted her head, and Sayaka gasped. The woman's eyes were completely black—not just the pupils, but the entire visible surface, like two pools of ink. When she smiled, her teeth seemed too sharp, too numerous.

"Neighbors should know each other, shouldn't they?" Maiko's voice seemed to come from multiple directions at once. "Perhaps you'd like to visit sometime. I have such interesting things to show you."

Before Sayaka could respond, Maiko had already turned away, gliding toward her house with that same unsettling movement. As she walked, Sayaka noticed that Maiko cast no reflection in the puddles she passed through.

That night, Sayaka's dreams were filled with drowning sensations and the sound of something wet dragging across her bedroom floor.

Chapter 3: The Invitation

The visits began innocuously enough. Maiko would appear at Sayaka's door each evening after sunset, always bearing strange gifts—dried flowers that smelled of low tide, smooth stones that felt warm to the touch, and old photographs that showed places Sayaka had never seen but somehow recognized.

"My grandmother's collection," Maiko would explain, her black eyes never blinking. "She traveled to many... distant places."

Sayaka found herself drawn to these visits despite the growing unease that settled in her stomach like ice water. There was something mesmerizing about Maiko's presence, something that made the ordinary world seem gray and lifeless by comparison.

During their conversations, Maiko would sit unnaturally still, her head tilted at angles that seemed to defy human anatomy. She spoke of things that made no sense—cities beneath the ocean, forests that grew downward into the earth, and people who had learned to live without shadows.

"You have such potential, Sayaka," Maiko whispered one evening, her cold fingers brushing against Sayaka's hand. "You could see such wonders if you truly opened your eyes."

When Maiko touched her, Sayaka felt something shift inside her mind, like doors opening in rooms she didn't know existed. The sensation was terrifying and exhilarating at once.

Chapter 4: The Transformation

As the weeks passed, Sayaka began to change. Her classmates noticed it first—how she would stare at empty spaces in the hallway, responding to voices only she could hear. Her skin grew pale, taking on a translucent quality that made her veins visible beneath the surface like dark rivers.

She stopped eating regular food, finding it tasteless and repulsive. Instead, she craved things that shouldn't be consumed—dirt from the cemetery behind the school, water from stagnant ponds, and flowers that bloomed only in shadow. These strange appetites were satisfied during her increasingly frequent visits to Maiko's house.

Maiko's home was unlike any other. The interior seemed to exist in perpetual twilight, with corners that stretched deeper than they should and mirrors that reflected rooms that didn't exist. Photographs lined the walls—thousands of them, showing the same pale faces across different time periods, all with those same impossible black eyes.

"My family," Maiko explained, her voice now seeming to come from inside Sayaka's own head. "We have been waiting so long for someone like you."

In the basement, Maiko showed Sayaka wonders that human minds weren't meant to process. Pools of liquid shadow that contained glimpses of other worlds, plants that grew from nothing and fed on emotion, and books written in languages that hurt to read but somehow conveyed meaning directly into the reader's soul.

Chapter 5: The Revelation

The truth came to Sayaka in fragments, like pieces of a nightmare slowly reassembling themselves. Maiko wasn't human—had never been human. She was something far older, something that fed on the boundary between the living and the dead, between the real and the imagined.

The house itself was a trap, a spider's web designed to catch young minds at their most vulnerable. Every girl who had lived in Sayaka's room before her had eventually disappeared, their essence absorbed into Maiko's ever-growing collection of shadows.

"You understand now," Maiko said, her form beginning to shift and blur around the edges. "You feel it, don't you? The pull toward something greater than this small, ordinary life."

Sayaka did feel it—a terrible yearning to let go of her human form and join the darkness that called to her from every corner of Maiko's house. Part of her wanted nothing more than to surrender, to become another photograph on the wall, another voice in the chorus that sang in frequencies only Maiko could hear.

But another part of her, the part that still remembered sunlight and laughter and the taste of her mother's cooking, fought back with desperate fury.

Chapter 6: The Escape

The battle for Sayaka's soul took place not in the physical world, but in the spaces between thoughts, in the pause between heartbeats. Maiko's influence had grown strong, threading through Sayaka's mind like dark ivy, but it wasn't complete.

Using every ounce of will she possessed, Sayaka began to sever the connections that bound her to the shadow realm. Each cut felt like tearing away part of herself, leaving wounds that might never fully heal.

Maiko's true form revealed itself then—not the elegant woman who had first appeared at the mailbox, but something vast and hungry, with too many limbs and eyes that opened like flowers in places where eyes should never be.

"You cannot escape," the thing that had been Maiko hissed with voices stolen from a hundred disappeared girls. "You have seen too much, tasted too deeply. You belong to us now."

But Sayaka had one advantage her predecessors had lacked. Her fear, instead of paralyzing her, had transformed into rage—rage at being manipulated, at nearly losing herself to something that saw her as nothing more than food.

She ran through the house as it began to collapse around her, its impossible geometry folding in on itself like origami made of nightmare. The photographs on the walls screamed as she passed, their subjects reaching out with inky fingers to drag her back into the darkness.

Sayaka burst through the front door just as the sun began to rise, the first light she had seen in weeks that wasn't filtered through Maiko's influence. Behind her, the house let out a sound like the ocean crying, then fell silent.

Epilogue: The Aftermath

The house next door stood empty again, its windows boarded up and a "condemned" sign hanging from the front gate. The authorities found nothing inside but ordinary rooms filled with ordinary dust, though several investigators reported feeling "profoundly unsettled" during their examination.

Sayaka never spoke of what had happened, knowing that no one would believe her. But the experience left its mark. She could see things now that others couldn't—shadows that moved independently of their casters, reflections that showed different faces than the people casting them, and doorways that led to places that shouldn't exist.

Sometimes, late at night, she would hear Maiko's voice carried on the wind, promising that she would return, that the connection between them could never be truly severed. Sayaka had escaped, but she had not emerged unchanged.

She kept her curtains drawn and her doors locked, and she never, ever looked too long into mirrors after dark. Because she knew that somewhere in the space between worlds, something was still waiting for her, patient as the tide, hungry as the grave.

And sometimes, just sometimes, she found herself wanting to answer its call.

[aoiwavesblog]

click here👇👇👇

https://aoiwave.wordpress.com/2025/05/23/when-winter-hunts/

[aoiwavesblog]

"Have you ever heard something you shouldn’t have?"

A new horror short — strange, ambient, like a signal from the other side.

Read:

https://aoiwave.wordpress.com/2025/05/21/the-deep-frequency/

Don’t listen too closely. Some say it changes people.

[aoiwavesblog]

Read here 👇

https://aoiwave.wordpress.com/2025/05/19/whispers-in-the-tatami/

[aoiwavesblog]

Whispers of Cherry Blossoms

Spring

Tsukiko Yamada stood frozen at the entrance to class 2-B, clutching her transfer papers so tightly they crinkled at the edges. The April breeze gently swept cherry blossom petals through the open windows, scattering them across the polished floor. Twenty-eight pairs of eyes turned to her, and Tsukiko felt her throat constrict.

"Please welcome Yamada Tsukiko-san, who's joining us from Hokkaido," the teacher announced.

Tsukiko bowed deeply, her long black hair falling forward like a curtain. "P-pleased to meet you all," she whispered, the words barely audible.

"You may take the empty seat by the window, next to Ayanami-san," the teacher instructed. "Ayanami-san, please raise your hand."

A slender arm rose from the third row. Tsukiko looked up to see a girl with short, tousled hair dyed a soft lavender color and eyes that reminded her of summer storm clouds. The girl smiled, and something inside Tsukiko's chest fluttered.

"I'm Ayanami Rei," the girl said as Tsukiko slid into the neighboring desk. "Class representative. If you need anything at all, just ask."

"Th-thank you," Tsukiko mumbled, keeping her eyes on her desk.

Later, during lunch, Tsukiko sat alone beneath a cherry tree in the courtyard, picking at her bento box. Moving to Tokyo after her father's transfer had been difficult. She missed the quiet mountains of Hokkaido, the familiar faces of her old school.

"Mind if I join you?"

Tsukiko looked up, startled. Ayanami stood there, holding her own lunch, head tilted slightly.

"N-no, please," Tsukiko gestured to the space beside her, then immediately regretted how eagerly she'd responded.

Ayanami sat comfortably close, their uniform skirts almost touching. "So, Hokkaido, huh? I've always wanted to visit during winter. Is the snow really as beautiful as they say?"

Tsukiko nodded, surprised by how easily the words came. "The whole world turns white. On clear nights, with the moon reflecting off the snow, you can read a book outside at midnight without any lights."

"That sounds magical," Ayanami said, leaning back against the tree trunk. "Tokyo must feel overwhelming in comparison."

"It's... loud," Tsukiko admitted. "And there are so many people."

Ayanami laughed, the sound like wind chimes. "Well, now you have at least one friend in this crowd."

*Friend*. The word warmed Tsukiko's heart more than she expected.

Summer

By summer break, Tsukiko couldn't remember what life had been like before Ayanami. They studied together, ate lunch together, and walked home together, taking the long route through the park to extend their time together.

Ayanami was everything Tsukiko wasn't—confident, athletic, popular. She played on the school volleyball team, served on the student council, and knew exactly what she wanted to be (a marine biologist) and where she would study (Tokyo University).

Tsukiko was content to orbit in Ayanami's brilliant light, to be the quiet shadow to her friend's vibrant presence. She kept a journal filled with observations about Ayanami: how she tucked her hair behind her ear when concentrating, how she always gave her umbrella to others when it rained, how her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when she laughed genuinely.

One humid July evening, they sat on Ayanami's bedroom floor, oscillating fan blowing warm air across their faces as they worked on summer homework.

"I can't focus anymore," Ayanami groaned, flopping backward onto the tatami mat. "Let's go to the summer festival this weekend. There's one at the Meiji shrine."

"In yukata?" Tsukiko asked, imagining Ayanami in traditional summer wear.

"Of course! I have an extra you can borrow. Blue would suit you perfectly."

That Saturday, Tsukiko stood in Ayanami's room, heart pounding as her friend helped her into the borrowed yukata. Ayanami's fingers brushed against Tsukiko's skin as she adjusted the collar, sending shivers down her spine.

"There," Ayanami said softly, turning Tsukiko toward the mirror. "You look beautiful."

Tsukiko barely recognized herself in the midnight blue yukata patterned with white lilies. Beside her, Ayanami wore a lavender yukata that matched her hair, adorned with swirling patterns reminiscent of ocean waves.

The festival grounds glowed with paper lanterns. They ate shaved ice and grilled squid, tried to catch goldfish with paper nets, and watched fireworks bloom across the night sky. When the crowd pressed in during the fireworks display, Ayanami took Tsukiko's hand.

"So we don't get separated," she explained, but didn't let go even after they found a quieter spot.

Under the exploding lights, with Ayanami's hand warm in hers, Tsukiko realized with sudden clarity that what she felt was more than friendship. The knowledge both terrified and elated her.

Autumn

School resumed, bringing with it college entrance exam preparations. Tsukiko threw herself into studying, partly to distract herself from her growing feelings for Ayanami. They still spent most of their time together, but Tsukiko became more reserved, afraid her emotions would somehow become visible.

Autumn painted the school grounds in fiery hues. During lunch one day, they sat beneath a maple tree whose leaves had turned crimson.

"You've been different lately," Ayanami said suddenly, breaking their comfortable silence. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Tsukiko said, too quickly. "I'm just... worried about exams."

Ayanami studied her face. "Are you sure that's all? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

The urge to confess welled up in Tsukiko's throat, but fear pushed it back down. "I know," she said instead.

Later that week, during volleyball practice, Tsukiko watched from the gymnasium bleachers as Ayanami landed awkwardly after a spike. The sound of her cry echoed off the walls as she crumpled to the floor, clutching her ankle.

Tsukiko was at her side before she even realized she'd moved.

At the hospital, the diagnosis was a severe sprain. Ayanami would need to rest for several weeks, putting her volleyball scholarship opportunities at risk. Tsukiko volunteered to bring her homework and notes each day.

"You don't have to do this," Ayanami said one evening as Tsukiko helped her organize her study materials in her bedroom.

"I want to," Tsukiko replied simply.

Ayanami caught her wrist gently. "Why?"

Tsukiko froze, trapped between honesty and self-preservation. "Because... because you're important to me."

"How important?" Ayanami pressed, her gray eyes intense.

The autumn light streaming through the window caught in Ayanami's lavender hair, creating a halo effect. Tsukiko felt something inside her break free.

"More important than anyone," she whispered.

Ayanami's expression softened. Slowly, she pulled Tsukiko closer until their foreheads touched. "I was beginning to think you'd never say it," she murmured, and then, so naturally it seemed inevitable, their lips met.

The kiss was brief, gentle, a question more than a statement. When they separated, Tsukiko's eyes were wide with wonder.

"I've been in love with you since you talked about reading by moonlight on the snow," Ayanami confessed, a blush coloring her cheeks.

Winter

Winter brought college application deadlines and their first Christmas as a couple. They kept their relationship private, a precious secret shared only in stolen moments—fingers intertwined under desks, brief kisses in empty stairwells, text messages that ended with hearts.

For Christmas Eve, traditionally a couples' holiday in Japan, they met at Tsukiko's apartment while her parents visited relatives in Hokkaido. They cooked dinner together, exchanged small gifts, and watched the snow fall gently outside the window.

"I got accepted to Tokyo University," Ayanami said, curled against Tsukiko on the couch.

Tsukiko's heart sank. She hadn't applied to Tokyo University, knowing her grades weren't strong enough. "That's wonderful," she said, forcing enthusiasm. "Your dream school."

Ayanami sat up. "Where did you apply?"

"Keio and Waseda," Tsukiko admitted. "But I'm not sure I'll get in."

"Both excellent schools," Ayanami said, then took a deep breath. "And both in Tokyo. We could get an apartment together."

Tsukiko stared at her. "You'd want that?"

"I want a future with you," Ayanami said simply. "Whatever form that takes."

Later that night, wrapped in the warmth of Ayanami's arms, Tsukiko found herself thinking about snow in Hokkaido—how it transformed the familiar into something magical, how it blanketed the world in possibility. That's what loving Ayanami felt like.

In the quiet of Tsukiko's bedroom, illuminated only by the soft glow of string lights, they explored each other with tender curiosity. Their kisses deepened, hands wandering with nervous anticipation. Clothes were removed slowly, each new revelation met with whispered admiration.

"Is this okay?" Ayanami asked repeatedly, attentive to every small reaction.

"Yes," Tsukiko affirmed, finding courage in vulnerability.

They moved together in the gentle rhythm of discovery, learning the language of each other's bodies. What began as hesitant touches evolved into a dance of increasing confidence and trust. Time seemed suspended as they shared this most intimate connection, their breathing synchronized, hearts beating as one.

Afterward, they lay facing each other, the winter moonlight casting silver patterns across the sheets.

"I love you," Tsukiko said clearly, without stuttering or whispering.

Ayanami smiled, tracing the curve of Tsukiko's cheek. "I love you too. Always."

Outside, snow continued to fall, covering Tokyo in a blanket of white that reminded Tsukiko of home. But home, she now realized, wasn't a place—it was the person beside her, the future they would build together, one season at a time.

[aoiwavesblog]

See more here 👇👇👇

https://aoiwave.wordpress.com/

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Click here to read the full story👇👇👇👇

https://aoiwave.wordpress.com/2025/05/19/the-rains-silent-tear/

[aoiwavesblog]

Fanfic: Moonlight Connections – Part III

As Rafael walked alone beneath the last of the cherry blossoms, something inside him felt... unsettled. The warm breeze that once carried comfort now felt too quiet, like the world was holding its breath.

He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the crystal his grandmother had given him before he left Brazil. It pulsed.

Actually pulsed.

A soft hum filled the air—low, ancient, and sad. The petals that swirled in the wind suddenly froze midair, suspended in time.

Rafael looked up.

A silver light descended from the sky, gentle and eerie, like moonlight underwater. And from that light, a figure emerged—cloaked in shadows, yet radiating cold power.

“You shouldn't be here,” the voice said. It wasn’t human. It echoed inside his mind, as if whispered by stars long dead.

“You’re not supposed to awaken yet.”

Rafael stepped back, instinctively holding the crystal in his palm.

Then—it shattered.

Not into pieces, but into light. Streams of glowing fragments lifted into the sky, swirling around him like fireflies. And in that moment, Rafael remembered.

A battlefield.

A broken moon.

A promise made beneath silver rain.

He had been here before. Long ago. With her.

“Usagi...” he whispered.

The stranger stepped forward, but was stopped—by a blinding burst of energy erupting from Rafael’s chest. His eyes turned pure white for a second, and the stranger flinched.

“This world protects him,” it hissed. “She has already chosen him.”

And just as quickly as it appeared, the figure dissolved into stardust—scattered by the very wind it had silenced.

The petals fell again.

Rafael collapsed to his knees, the crystal gone—but something new left in its place: a crescent mark, glowing faintly on his wrist.

Behind him, a familiar voice called out.

“Rafael!” It was Usagi, running, breathless. “Are you okay?”

He looked up at her, eyes wide but calm.

“I think... I remember you.”

She froze. “What did you say?”

Rafael smiled, heart racing with fear and wonder.

“I think we’ve met... in another life.”

And above them, unseen, the moon shone brighter than it had in centuries.