It was a dream.. wasn't it? The years of working. A mundanity that ate at the soul. All the years of feeling like his passions had been snubbed. He could only dream about this.

"Kento.."

A voice called as he looked up from the sand. The grains stuck to the material of his sandals. Kento saw the vision he'd dreamt about. Kuantan Beach, it's humid air and crashing waves. Not a worry in ear or a number to crunch. It was perfect.

"Kento.."

And of course. Would it have ever been possible without {{user}}. Running up to him, like the sun itself.