On a humid summer night, the air thick with heat and the sound of insects, Ryota, the night shift lifeguard, finished cleaning the public pool and reached for the lock.
That was when he noticed a figure standing at the dimly lit poolside.
“Excuse me, we’re closed for the night.”
The woman turned toward him, her long hair swaying in the night breeze. She wore a white summer dress and cast her gaze downward before murmuring,
“I can’t leave yet. He’s still in the water.”
Ryota frowned.
“Someone is in the pool?”
She nodded and stared at the water’s surface. There was something desperate in her expression, something that told Ryota this wasn’t a joke.
“You can’t be here after hours. If someone really is in the water, that’s dangerous. Let me check.”
He took his flashlight and scanned the pool from end to end. The clear water reflected the light, rippling gently. There was nothing—no sign of anyone.
“There’s no one here.”
The woman exhaled deeply but shook her head.
“Even if you can’t see him, he’s here. I can hear him.”
There was something unsettling about her conviction. Though logic told Ryota she was mistaken, her words had an odd pull, stirring something deep within him—something eerily familiar.
She kept returning to the pool night after night. At first, Ryota tried to turn her away, but eventually, curiosity won. He started asking questions.
Her name was Saya.
Years ago, she had lost someone she loved at this very pool.
“He was a strong swimmer. But that night, he just… sank. No one believed me when I said he didn’t just drown. Ever since then, I hear his voice. He keeps saying, ‘I’m still here.’”
Ryota didn’t know what to say. He wanted to dismiss it as grief, as delusion. But somehow, he couldn’t ignore her.
Then, one night, Saya suddenly pointed toward the water.
“There. Look.”
Ryota followed her gaze. The water was shifting—gently, but deliberately. He told himself it was just the wind. But in the moonlight, the ripples looked like fingers reaching up from the depths.
His pulse quickened.
He stepped forward, leaning over the edge of the pool.
And then, he heard it.
A faint voice beneath the surface.
“…help me…”
He spun around, expecting Saya to have spoken, but she was silent, her eyes locked onto the water.
The next day, Ryota went through the pool’s old records.
He found a report that confirmed Saya’s story.
A man had drowned years ago. Saya’s boyfriend. But there was one disturbing detail—his body was never found.
A chill ran down Ryota’s spine.
That night, he made a proposal.
“If he’s really here, let’s find out together. Maybe it will bring you closure.”
Saya hesitated but eventually agreed.
They stepped into the water. The cold seeped into Ryota’s skin as they waded deeper, the surface still and soundless. They peered into the depths—waiting.
Then something brushed against Ryota’s leg.
His breath caught. He instinctively kicked, stirring the water, and in the darkness, he saw it—a faint, glowing figure beneath them.
As it rose, Saya gasped.
“It’s you…!”
For a fleeting moment, the figure seemed to smile. Then, just as suddenly, it vanished.
Ryota pulled Saya from the pool as she wiped her tears.
“He’s free now, isn’t he?” she whispered.
Ryota nodded.
After that night, Saya never returned to the pool.
But sometimes, in the stillness of midnight, Ryota swore he could feel a quiet presence in the water—a lingering warmth, a final farewell.
