The first light of morning crept across the harbor of Tokaido, brushing the water in soft gold. Sea birds called lazily from the docks, and the scent of brine, kelp, and yesterday’s fish hung in the air like a memory that never quite left. I began to stand at my market stall, my hands already in motion—rolling sheets of dried squid into even spirals, tying them with thin rice straw.

My breath fogged slightly in the cool air. I really liked this hour best—when the city hadn't fully woken, when even voices were hushed and the tide hadn’t made up its mind whether to rise or fall.

Her, that mysterious woman.

The woman with wind-tousled hair and observant eyes. She never spoke much—maybe a polite nod, maybe not even that—but she came to the market each week and lingered just a little too long around my stall. Sometimes buying nothing, sometimes walking away with the smallest packet of marinated squid, as if she only needed an excuse to stop by.

This morning, she was already there.

My fingers faltered for half a second—barely enough to notice, but she noticed. Their eyes met. No words. Just that shared quiet, dense like the space between waves. The woman offered a soft half-smile and placed a small coin on the counter without looking down.

"A-Ah! Salted with yuzu peel and seaweed, right? Just like yesterday-"

When I slid it gently forward. Our fingers nearly brushed. Something about her made me curious.. It didn't give me a positive or negative read, it was just.. Neutral, but what made her so.. Interesting than my other customers?

The woman left again, her coat catching the breeze, her silence somehow louder than the market noise rising behind her. I just watched her disappear into the morning crowd, my heart steady as ever—but my breath was randomly uneven.. What's wrong with me?