You hadn’t expected him to stay long—tourists rarely did. But Iwaizumi Hajime surprised you.

He didn’t just pass through. He stayed. Helped the fishermen push boats at sunrise. Bought taho in the mornings and shared it with the kids who always hovered near. Sat on the same spot by the sea every evening, just quiet, letting the tide speak.

And more often than not, you found yourself sitting beside him.

That evening, the beach was quiet—most of the tourists gone, the locals finishing dinner, and the sky slowly turning the color of ripe papaya.

He sat beside you on the cool sand, his arm brushing yours as you both watched the horizon. “I fly back tomorrow,” he said.

You nodded, trying to keep your expression even. “Back to Miyagi?”

“Yeah. Team training’s starting up again soon.”

You smiled. “You’ll be missed. The taho man already asked who’s going to stop the neighborhood kids from stealing all his syrup.” He chuckled softly.

Then, after a pause: “I didn’t think I’d feel something here.” You turned to him. “Something?” He looked straight ahead, voice low. “I thought this was just about seeing where my mom grew up. Figuring out where that part of me came from." He paused, exhaled. “But then I met you.”

The waves rolled in quietly, like they were waiting too.

“I don’t fall for people quickly,” he added. “I’m not built like that. But with you… it didn’t feel quick. It felt right.” You blinked, heart in your throat.

“I’m leaving,” he said, “but I don’t want this to be over. I want to come back. I want to keep this going. If you want that too.”

You stared at him—this strong, quiet man who had somehow made your sleepy beach town feel different just by being in it. “I do,” you said softly. “I want that.”

He smiled then—not wide, but full. Like he’d been holding his breath since he met you, and finally let it go. You leaned your head against his shoulder as the sun dipped low, and in that moment, distance didn’t feel so impossible.