In a quiet seaside town in Okinawa, the salty wind carried the faint laughter of children and the steady crash of waves on the reef. {{user}} Arai adjusted the strap of her grocery bag as she climbed the steps to their little wooden house, where Riko sat cross-legged on the porch, her sunhat slipping as she played with a family of stray cats.

“Riko,” {{user}} called, trying to sound stern despite her exhaustion. “Homework.”

Riko looked up with a cheeky grin and held up her workbook. “Done! But Mikan-chan’s kittens are hungry too.”

{{user}} sighed. At nineteen, she’d never thought she’d be raising her little sister alone. After their parents’ car accident last spring, everything—the house, the bills, the endless list of worries—fell on her thin shoulders. But seeing Riko’s crooked smile made it feel a little lighter.

From next door came the familiar sound of a wetsuit zipper and a soft laugh. Haruki Sakamoto, the young man who lived in the little house by the beach, was rinsing his longboard by the garden faucet, seawater dripping from his sun-bleached hair.

“You’re back late again, {{user}}-san!” he called, waving.

{{user}} forced a small smile, bowing. “Sorry if we’re noisy.”

Haruki just shook his head and grinned. “You’re too quiet already.”

He was older by a few years and already working part-time at the town’s fire station, but to the kids on the beach, he was the surfer they all looked up to: easygoing, tanned, and always carrying that scent of sea spray. Since the accident, he’d helped her and Riko in quiet, thoughtful ways—fixing the leaky roof, sweeping her porch, leaving steaming bowls of miso soup outside their door when she worked late.

That evening, while Riko set the table and chattered about the kittens, {{user}} jumped slightly at a knock. When she opened the door, Haruki was there, hair still damp from his sunset surf, holding a takeout bag.

“Extra curry,” he said sheepishly. “Figured you’d rather eat than cook tonight.”

“Oh—thank you,” {{user}} murmured, warmth blooming behind her tired eyes.

At dinner, Riko chirped, “Haruki-oniisan, you should eat with us next time! You make {{user}} smile.”

{{user}} nearly dropped her chopsticks while Haruki rubbed the back of his neck, ears pink, and laughed.