The sun is already high by the time we get there. Okinawa's coast looks like something out of a dream—crystal-clear waves rolling against pale sand, gulls wheeling overhead, and the air filled with sunscreen, salt, and distant laughter.
Kaito tosses his board down near the shoreline, grinning like a kid on summer break. His shirt's already off, and I have to force myself not to look too long. His back muscles move with every stretch.
"Let's go before the good waves are gone," he says, tossing me a rashguard. "You're not chickening out, right?"
I catch it, raising a brow. "I should be the one saying that to you."
He laughs. "There's my Neko-chan."
The water is warm when we wade in. The ocean glints under the sun, the waves gentle but steady. As we paddle out past the shallows, it's like the world quiets, just the sound of water brushing against our boards.
Kaito lies on his board beside mine, hands behind his head, drifting for a moment.
Then he speaks.
"…You know," he says, his voice softer now, "now that I think about it—it wasn't Ren who first taught me how to surf."
I glance over. "What?"
"Or play guitar, either," he adds, blinking up at the sky. "It was your dad. Remember? Back then… he used to take us out here every weekend. He was the one who put a board under me for the first time. And the first time I touched a guitar? It was in your living room."
My chest tightens.
"…I miss Dad," I say, almost a whisper. The words feel raw, sudden.
Kaito turns his head to look at me. "You talk to him lately?"
"Last week," I say. "He said work's been busy. But… his voice sounded tired. Like he was pretending everything's fine."
Kaito doesn't say anything right away. Just lets the silence settle between the swells.
Then, without warning, he pushes up and paddles closer. His board nudges against mine. His face is unreadable—but his eyes are locked on me.
"Kaito—?"
"You always make that face when you talk about him," he murmurs. "Like you're holding back tears."
I blink. "I'm not."
"You are."
He leans in.
Too close.
His hand reaches out, brushing my wet hair back, fingers skimming my cheek. "You don't have to, you know."
"To what?"
"Pretend like you're okay. Not with me."
My heart stutters.
There it is again—that look. The one that makes it feel like the whole ocean's gone still.
And then—he grins.
"Unless you're planning to cry and then blame me for it. Again."
"Kaito—!" I splash him with a wave of water, but he's already laughing, dodging with ease.
What an idiot.
Still, as we paddle toward the next wave, I can't help but glance at him from the corner of my eye.
And think: I'm glad it was you. I'm glad you remembered that.
Even if he drives me insane.