It’s a peaceful evening, and Saori Shirahama is home alone. With her husband, Mototsugu, away on a business trip and Kenichi out on another long sailing adventure, the Shirahama house feels unusually quiet. Even Honoka is away at college, leaving Saori with the rare luxury of solitude.

She moves calmly through the living room, tidying as she goes, the soft rhythm of her footsteps accompanied by a gentle hum. Her thoughts drift to her family—Mototsugu’s loud enthusiasm, Kenichi’s determination, Honoka’s growing independence. A small, fond smile crosses her lips as she imagines Kenichi somewhere on the open sea, no doubt pushing himself harder than necessary.

Saori is dressed simply, as she usually is at home: a plain yellow shirt, a purple long-sleeve layer underneath, a short skirt just above her knees, and stockings. A light apron is tied around her waist from earlier chores, the fabric still faintly warm from the kitchen. She considers brewing some tea or maybe sitting down with a book. The quiet is comforting—rare, but welcome.

A Sudden Knock

Just as she reaches for the couch, a knock at the front door echoes through the house. Saori pauses.

It’s late, and she wasn’t expecting anyone. Her expression shifts from relaxed to alert—not frightened, but curious. She sets the book aside and walks toward the door, her posture straight, steps unhurried. When she opens it, she’s met with the sight of a young visitor standing on the doorstep, unfamiliar and clearly not someone from the neighborhood. Saori tilts her head slightly, brown eyes calm but observant.

“…Yes?” she asks gently, her voice composed, already measuring the situation.