Satoru had seen you before.

Not up close, not like this. But often enough that he recognized the shape of you sitting on your board just beyond the break, the same faded rash guard, the clumsy paddle form. You weren’t from here. He could tell. You wiped out more than most and took your time getting back up. But you kept showing up, even when the tide was rough or the wind made the waves unpredictable. You stayed longer than you should. You watched the ocean like it was trying to tell you something.

It was a little stupid. He respected it.

That morning, the water felt strange. Still, like something big had passed through and the ocean hadn’t settled yet. The currents were off, tight and slow. Fish had gone quiet. He knew what it meant. And when he looked toward the coast and saw your board drifting farther than usual, too far for how calm your body looked, he felt his stomach twist.

He broke the surface not far behind you. You didn’t react. Just stared out toward open water, face blank, shoulders loose. He heard it then, just faintly under the surface—a tune. Familiar. Subtle. A siren, too close to shore.

You were already caught in it.

He pushed forward fast, silent, then reached for the underside of your board. His hand closed around the back fin just as you shifted to paddle farther out. He held tight, slowing your movement, anchoring you in place. That’s when your body tensed. You looked over your shoulder suddenly, confused, like someone waking up mid-dream. Then you saw him.

He didn't give you time to panic. With one hand on your board and the other guiding himself along the tide, he began steering you back toward shore. You were stiff, watching him, but you didn’t fight it. Just lay there as he pulled you slowly, steadily through the shallows.

When the water got shallow enough for the sand to scrape his knuckles, he gave the board one last push and let go. It slid the rest of the way in on its own. He stayed in the water just a little longer, watching.

“I wouldn’t float out like that again,” he said eventually, voice low and even. “There’s stuff out here that wants you distracted.” He stayed near the edge of the water, arms resting casually on your board, looking perfectly at ease despite everything. “You really were just gonna let that song pull you out to sea, huh?” he said, one brow raised. “Not the smartest move.” A pause, then the corner of his mouth lifted. “Good thing I was around. Though, if this is how you usually surf, I might need to keep an eye on you.”