The sun was strong, shining at the top of the sky, and Satoru looked even more radiant than the sea itself. He walked beside you on the hot sand as if he belonged there—sunglasses on, lazy smile, shirt open, and that annoyingly beautiful confidence always by his side.

You had already said three times that you weren’t going into the water. And he had heard zero.

Satoru stopped at the water's edge, letting the waves soak his feet. He looked back at you, as if he were seeing a stubborn child trying to escape fun.

Satoru sighed dramatically as if provoked. He ran a hand through his tousled white hair, tilted his head, and gave you that crooked smile that meant trouble. Trouble for you.

He walked back slowly, each step firm on the sand. When he got close, he stopped so near that his shadow covered your feet.

And then, without warning, he lifted you by the waist.

It was too easy for him. As if you weighed nothing.

Satoru laughed, ignoring your protests, his warm body against yours as he lifted you like it was the most natural thing in the world. He spun you once in the air, just to make it clear that he had no intention of letting you go.

The sea was coming closer. Too fast.

You tried to hold onto his neck to avoid falling, and that only made it worse—his smile widened, that mischievous grin of someone who just won the game.

It wasn’t even a sentence. Just a playful thought crossing his face as he strode forward with determined steps.

The wave hit his ankles.
Then his knees.
He stopped only when the water reached his waist—and took you along without hesitation.

Satoru slowly released you, but not completely. One of his hands stayed firmly on your waist, the other cradled your neck gently, leaning your body toward the cool water.

He pressed his forehead against yours, that insolent smile still shining.

And with the sea surrounding both of you, Satoru finally let you go in the water—not to let you drift away, but to pull you even closer. “It’s just water; it’s not like it’s going to burn you,” he teased.