The Wave

Kenji Takahashi sensed the danger before he saw it. The wind from the sea carried a strange, shrieking intensity, and as he stepped onto the crooked porch outside his family’s small wooden house, he realized the surf was no longer a distant hiss. It boomed with a force that rattled the old bell tower on the far hill.
Lightning slashed the sky, revealing an impossible sight: a towering wall of water, dark as midnight, surging toward the coastal cliffs. Despite living in a hill village far above sea level, Kenji had never felt such dread. The Takahashi family—Kenji, his wife Aiko, and their young daughter Yuna—barely had time to gather valuables when the storm unleashed its fury. The wind howled like an enraged spirit, and rain slapped their faces in stinging sheets.
In the midst of this chaos, a figure emerged from the swirling gloom, nearly invisible except for the faint metallic glint of a pocket watch in his hand. The stranger wore a hooded cloak drenched by the storm, face partially hidden in the folds of dark fabric. He didn’t introduce himself, didn’t shout above the wind. Instead, his eyes locked with Kenji’s. In a firm, measured tone—neither frantic nor calm—he said, “Come. Now.”
The stranger turned and set off along a narrow, overgrown path behind the old stone chapel. Kenji hesitated just an instant. They’d lived in this village for generations—he knew every trail and footbridge around these hills. But this path led deeper into the wild thicket, an area he thought was impassable. The gravity in the stranger’s voice nudged him to trust, so he and Aiko clasped Yuna’s hands and hurried after the man.
Fallen branches clawed at their ankles as they raced through the storm. Thunder rumbled, and the sea’s roar crescendoed behind them with terrifying speed. Each time Kenji glanced back, the wave seemed even taller, the sea glowing with flashes of lightning that revealed its monstrous shape. His heart pounded, certain that they were out of time.
They reached the chapel’s crumbling rear wall, slick with moss and pounding rain. There, beneath an ancient carving, the stranger pressed his palm against the stones. A hidden mechanism clicked, and the outline of a heavy door took form. Kenji’s eyes widened in disbelief. No one in the village had ever spoken of a bunker or secret chamber. But the door ground open, revealing a narrow corridor descending into the earth.
“Inside,” the stranger urged, still gripping his watch. Briefly, in the flicker of lightning, Kenji glimpsed strange symbols etched around its face, some crest or insignia he couldn’t recognize. The man offered no explanation, only motioned them into the hidden shelter.
They slammed the steel door shut just as the full force of the tsunami struck the hillside. A thunderous crash rocked the bunker; the ground lurched beneath them like a quake. Yuna screamed, clinging to her mother. Kenji pressed against the door, bracing for it to buckle. But the hidden fortress, whatever it was, held strong. Water thundered above, forcing an eerie hush into the protected chamber. They waited, hearts hammering, until the quaking stopped.
When the roar finally receded, Kenji carefully eased the door open. Pale daylight filtered through ragged storm clouds. The village below lay under churning seawater, debris floating where streets and houses had once been. In shock, he surveyed the devastation but felt immeasurable relief that he and his family were safe.
He turned to thank their savior—only to find the bunker’s corridor empty. The stranger was gone. A single silver droplet glinted on the floor, seemingly fallen from the watch’s polished casing. Kenji picked it up, finding no clue or mark beyond the faint swirl of a symbol that dissolved as soon as he blinked.
A secret organization or a guardian angel, Kenji couldn’t be sure. He only knew the man with the unusual watch had saved them from an impossible disaster. In hushed tones, he and Aiko promised to honor that rescue—and wondered how many other times, and timelines, were being silently protected by those who stayed hidden in the shadows.
Micro stories are a content feature offered by $TIME's dev Woj. Handwritten and accompanied by art, they serve to deepen the story world we're creating here. Enjoy!