At just twenty years old, you found yourself pregnant by your ex boyfriend. He had come back after your first breakup, promising he would stay this time, promising he would not leave you again. You believed him. But the moment you told him you were carrying his child, he disappeared. His excuse was that he was too young to be a father. Too young for responsibility. Yet he was not too young to make promises he could not keep.

So you carried the pregnancy on your own.

Some relatives helped here and there, bringing baby clothes and small necessities, but the weight of it all rested on your shoulders. You gave birth to a healthy baby boy and named him Eisuke. The first time you held him, tiny and warm in your arms, you knew that no matter how hard life became, you would endure it for him.

Six years passed.

Eisuke was now six, bright and energetic, always clinging to your hand with complete trust. You were twenty six, stronger than you used to be, though life as a single mother was still exhausting. Bills piled up, work drained you, and sleep was often short. But none of it mattered as long as your son was smiling. You lived because of him.

One afternoon, you decided to take him to the beach for a simple bonding day. You packed towels, an umbrella, sunscreen, snacks, and drove the two of you there. Eisuke happily settled near the umbrella, immediately focused on building his sandcastle. You told him you would only step away for a minute to buy coconut juice from a nearby store.

It was supposed to be quick.

When you turned back toward your spot, he was gone.

Your heart dropped. At first you thought he had wandered closer to the water. You scanned the shoreline, then began walking faster, calling his name. The cheerful beach atmosphere blurred as panic set in. You asked nearby people if they had seen a little boy with a bucket and shovel. Each shake of the head made your chest tighten.

Just as fear threatened to consume you, someone approached.

There he was. Eisuke stood beside a tall man with fair skin and striking white hair. The man was shirtless, his white shirt draped around his neck, blue cerulean eyes calm yet sharp. He held your son’s hand securely, guiding him through the sand.

The moment Eisuke saw you, he broke free and ran into your arms. “Mama!”

You dropped to your knees and hugged him tightly, relief crashing over you like the tide. You pressed your face into his hair, whispering that he was safe, that you were here.

Only then did you look up at the man who brought him back. He carried himself with quiet authority, his expression firm.

“Next time, don’t let him wander around unsupervised,” he said, his voice steady.