One

The low hum of the radio filled the quiet shop, crackling softly between bursts of chatter and music.

“…I’m telling you, they are not dating,” a voice insisted through the speakers.

“Then explain the matching rings,” the other host shot back.

“Stylists exist. Or they just so happened to be wearing the same ring. Coincidences are a thing, you know?”

“Or this couple could be soft launching their relationship by dropping hints before the big announcement.”

Jurin stared at the dim screen of the cash register, her fingers tracing the worn edge of the counter. She wasn’t really looking at it—just… staring.

“…you’re ruining romance for everyone listening right now,” the second voice sighed.

“Romance is already dead. I’m just reporting facts.”

Jurin huffed quietly under her breath and reached over, turning the volume down just slightly.

Not enough to shut it off.

Just enough to dull it.

The scent of salt and sunscreen clung to the air, mixing with the faint, waxy smell of freshly polished surfboards. Business was slow today—not that she minded. It gave her too much time to think.

The chime above the door jingled, followed by the sound of flip-flops smacking against the wooden floor.

A can of iced coffee slid in front of her before she even had the chance to look up. Jurin blinked at it, then looked up to meet her friend Chisa's gaze as she leaned against the counter, wearing an expression that balanced sympathy and mischief.

“Figured you needed this,” Chisa said, nudging the can closer. “You’ve been looking like a sad, abandoned puppy all week.”

Jurin rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the small, tired smile that tugged at her lips. "I don’t look like a sad, abandoned puppy," she muttered, grabbing the can and popping the tab. "I just have a lot on my mind." She took a long sip, letting the bittersweet taste settle.

Chisa hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Amy would probably say otherwise if she was here.”

Jurin rolled her eyes, “Amy always has something to say.”

Chisa hummed, drumming her fingers against the counter.

“Let’s go out for a bit. You need some air.”

Jurin hesitated, her fingers tracing the cold condensation on the can. "I’m fine. Really—" she began, but Chisa was already grabbing hold of her arm, tugging her toward the door.

“Nope. We’re going,” Chisa gave her a firm look that said, ‘You’re not fighting with me over this.’

Jurin let out a relentless sigh, letting Chisa pull her from the counter to the blinding sunset. The ocean was just across the shop, and the smell of saltwater and seaweed was even stronger here. The air was warm, with a faint sea breeze rustling through her hair.

They walked in silence for a few moments, the distant sounds of seagulls crying and children laughing drifting in from the beach. Jurin kept her gaze forward, her fingers drumming against the can.

“So,” Chisa finally said, kicking a loose shell as they strolled, “how did it go?”

“How did what go?” Jurin responded.

“Your ‘urgent’ conversation with Hanta?’” Chisa put air quotes around the word ‘urgent.’

Jurin bit her lip, feeling the lump in her throat grow and her shoulders tense.  She knew this conversation was bound to happen the moment Chisa pulled her out of the shop, but she wasn’t ready. She was still trying to process everything that happened.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she muttered, looking down at her feet.

Chisa sighed and rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Come on, Jurin. You’ve been moping around for days. So obviously, there’s something to talk about.”

“I’m not moping,” Jurin said defensively. “It’s just… a lot.”

Chisa furrowed her eyebrow. “Did you guys fight?”

“No! God, no! We didn’t fight,” Jurin quickly said. “We just talked.”

“And?” Chisa arched an eyebrow, anticipating Jurin’s response.

Jurin’s grip on the coffee can tightened. She refused to meet her friend’s gaze while they walked along the shore.

“He…” she trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper. “He said we should take a break.”

Chisa blinked. “A break?”

“Yes.”

“And you honestly believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Chisa rolled her eyes. “Because something ain’t adding up and you know it. You two were practically joined at the hip last Christmas, and suddenly it’s ‘oh, I think we should take an indefinite hiatus from our relationship. Peace out.” She scoffed. “Yeah, not buying it, sweetie.”

“He’s been a bit distant since New Year’s, Chisa. You know this.”

“Yeah, but not bad enough for this without an explanation.”

“Maybe something was weighing him down that he couldn’t talk about with me.”

“And he decides that ‘taking a break’ is the best course of action? Yeah right.”

Jurin had no comeback for that.

The memory of their break-up was still fresh in her mind: the flatness in his eyes, the rehearsed way he’d spoken, the way his eyes were focused on his twiddling thumbs, refusing to meet her confused gaze. It had only been two weeks, yet it still felt like it had happened yesterday.

“He… he said he needed space. That he couldn’t be in a relationship right now,” she said quietly with a lackadaisical shrug.

Chisa blinked. “Space? Almost two years together, suddenly ‘he needs space’? Nah. Something’s definitely not adding up.”

“Could you at least try to be a little supportive?” she muttered, irritation creeping into her voice.

“I am being supportive,” Chisa responded matter-of-factly.

“No, you’re being judgmental. There’s a difference.” Jurin responded defensively.

“It’s not being judgmental if the sense ain’t sensing. For goodness' sake, you dyed your hair red just a week after your talk.” Chisa pointed out.

Jurin’s hand quickly flew to her hair, fingers grazing the short locks, the stark red standing out sharply against her pale skin. “What’s wrong with my hair?” she asked, defensive.

“Nothing at all. It suits you, actually. I’m just surprised that it took getting dumped to change your look when you were so set on keeping it natural.”

Jurin’s cheeks burned at Chisa’s observation. She had always embraced her natural dark hair, opting not to dye it different colours for photo shoots that required a specific look. Not to forget, she wanted to protect her hair and scalp from any potential hair damage that came along with it. The closest thing she ever did was cutting into a short bob or wearing wigs.

She wasn’t sure what drove her to the salon, asking to dye her hair. It was impulsive, maybe a desperate attempt to seize some control in her life, but it felt right in that moment. Or so she thought.

“It’s just hair,” she muttered, sipping her coffee to hide the heat creeping up her neck.

“And you’re gonna have a hell of a time explaining this to Amy.”

“She was fine with Cocona shaving his head!”

“Yeah, because Cocona can get away with anything if he bats his eyes hard enough. You, on the other hand? Different story. The whiplash she’s going to get seeing you with a short, dark bob one week and a shaggy red one the next will be legendary.”

“You also dyed your hair just a week before, too!”

“Yeah. Only difference is I dyed my hair for fun and vibes. Not because I got dumped.” Chisa tossed her vibrant pink hair playfully, a confident smile spreading across her face as she spoke.

Jurin pressed her lips into a thin line and didn’t say anything after that. For all her blunt honesty and frankness as her manager and close friend, she knew that Chisa was right. But her stubbornness wasn’t going to let her admit that out loud.

"She won't press for answers if that's what you're worried about," Chisa said, as if she read her mind. ““You know Amy is not one to outright pry—unless her nosiness gets the best of her.”

“Real reassuring Chisa,” Jurin remarked sarcastically, kicking a rock.

“I say it with love, Ju-chan,” Chisa replied, batting her eyes.

Jurin opened her mouth, about to say something snarky until she saw it—a figure lying motionless near the shoreline, tangled in seaweed and glistening under the afternoon sun.

Jurin's heart leapt into her throat. For a brief, irrational moment, she hoped it was just a mannequin or a washed-up fishing net, but the sight of limbs sticking out at awkward angles dashed that hope.

"Is that..." Chisa’s voice trailed off, and Jurin didn’t wait for her to finish. She was already running towards the form, sand kicking up behind her as Chisa called out in alarm. "Girl, what are you doing?!"

Jurin didn’t slow down. As she got closer, the details sharpened—broad shoulders, long limbs, and hair, unusually long and silver, splayed out like a dark halo. And he was completely, unmistakably naked.

"We have to check if he's alive!" she shouted over her shoulder.

Crouching beside him, she hesitated only a second before reaching out, her fingers trembling as she gripped his shoulder. His skin was cold—but not the kind of cold that belonged to the dead. She attempted to turn him over, her breath catching as his face was revealed—sharp, striking features, marred only by the unnerving stillness of unconsciousness.

"A little help would be nice, Chisa," she gritted out, struggling under his weight.

"Uh-uh, no way. That mofo could be a serial killer for all we know. I’m staying right here."

Jurin shot her a glare. "Stop being so paranoid! He’s clearly unconscious and—"

A sharp gasp interrupted her. The man’s eyes flicked open, startlingly silver, meeting hers in a dazed, unfocused stare. Then he coughed, violently expelling seawater.

Jurin felt her heart jump as he turned onto his side, still hacking up saltwater. She held onto his shoulder, keeping him anchored.

"Hey, hey," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Are you okay? Do you know where you are?"

His silver eyes blinked against the last rays of the sun, and suddenly his entire body tensed. He twisted away with a strangled gasp mixed with a hiss, arm snapping up to shield his face from the light. For a split second, Jurin swore she saw raw panic flash across his features—an instinctive, bone-deep fear, like someone who had been burned before.

Her instincts kicked in before she could think. She shifted, crouching lower to cast her shadow over his face. "It’s okay. Stay still, you’re safe," she murmured, her tone calming, practised. “Do you know where you are?”

"Is he dead?" Chisa called hesitantly, coming closer but still maintaining some distance.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Jurin answered, her eyes rapidly scanning for any injuries. His breathing slowed slightly as he turned onto his side into the foetal position, though hisbody trembled—but not from the cold. Something deeper. Something wrong. Jurin pressed her fingers lightly to his neck. "Pulse is strong… he’s just in shock," she muttered more to herself than to Chisa.

His gaze finally locked onto hers, but there was no recognition, only confusion. Then he spoke in a language unlike anything she had ever heard—hisses, clicks, and a cadence that didn’t belong to any human tongue.

Jurin’s eyebrows knitted together. "That's... definitely not Japanese."

"You think?" Chisa deadpanned from behind her.

Jurin ignored her and tried again. "Do you understand me? Can you speak Japanese? English?"

He responded in the same strange language, his voice raspy but insistent, before passing out.

“Well, that wasn’t helpful,” Chisa commented.

Jurin sighed, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Chisa, can you get over here and help me?"

"Why?"

"Because he’s confused, probably hurt and hypothermic. And if you haven’t noticed, he can’t speak anything we can understand.”

“Sounds like something straight out of a horror movie.”

“Well, we can’t just leave him here. We need to take him to a hospital.”

“A hospital? You wanna walk into an ER with a guy who hisses like a broken radiator and explain that?”

“Fine! We’ll take him to the shop then! Now will you please help!”

"Alright! Jeez!" Chisa jogged over but halted when she got a full view of the situation. "Okay, but first—we gotta deal with his uh… issue.”

Chisa gestured vaguely at his nudity. Jurin grimaced. She was so focused on checking his vitals that she hadn’t processed just how exposed he was.

"We need to cover him. A towel, maybe?" Jurin suggested.

"And where are we getting a towel from?" Chisa asked.

Jurin huffed, casting around the deserted beach. "We can use a jacket."

"Not mine," Chisa said immediately.

Jurin shot her a withering glare, her patience quickly running out.

"Do you know how much this linen-silk costs? You'd better find another solution." Chisa sassed.

Jurin rolled her eyes before shrugging off her track jacket. She carefully tied it around the man’s waist, covering as much as possible.

"Okay. Let’s get him up." She draped his arm over her shoulder and gestured for Chisa to do the same.

Chisa groaned. "I swear, if this turns into some horror movie shit—"

"Just help me, Chisa!"

With a reluctant sigh, Chisa bent down and grabbed his other arm. They tried to walk, but the weight distribution was off, and they all tumbled forward.

"Oof!" Jurin grunted as she hit the sand, the man’s dead weight pressing down on her. Chisa landed right beside them in a heap.

"How much does this guy weigh?" Chisa grunted, pushing his arm off her.

Jurin groaned, shoving at the man’s shoulder. "Okay. New plan. I take the arms. You take his ankles."

"Hell naw! My freshly manicured hands ain't touching his dogs!" Chisa grimaced, pointing at his feet.

"Chisa, come on!"

“Six thousand yen, Jurin. And that’s including the nail art. Beauty doesn’t come cheap!”

Jurin let out an exasperated sigh. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm even friends with you," she muttered, shaking her head. "Fine, I’ll take his ankles."

Chisa rolled her eyes but complied, grabbing his arms while Jurin took his feet. Together, they began the slow, awkward process of dragging him across the sand. His body was a deadweight, making the task all the more difficult, and the grains clung stubbornly to his skin, adding to the struggle.

“Okay on three,” Jurin huffed, her voice strained. “One, two, THREE!”

The two girls mustered the last of their strength and carefully lifted the man onto the sofa inside the shop before collapsing on the floor from exhaustion.

"Finally!” Chisa groaned between pants. “I deserve to be compensated for all this labour.”

“I deserve to be compensated for hearing you whine and complain all the way back here,” Jurin shot back.

Chisa rolled her eyes. "Now what?"

Jurin chewed on her lower lip, eyeing the unconscious man as a wave of uncertainty washed over her. They had a naked stranger lying on the couch and had no idea what to do with him. They didn’t even know who he was or what led him to the state he was in when they found him.

"I don’t know," she admitted, running a frustrated hand through her now-rumpled hair. "Maybe we’ll get answers when he wakes up.”

"Good luck with that, sis. ‘Cause dude looks dead as a rock. Unless you’re planning to give him the Snow White and Sleeping Beauty treatment,” Chisa said, observing his unconscious body.

Jurin shot her a withering glare. "Okay first off, ew. Second, you’re a heathen. And third, this is a real problem—not some whimsical Disney story."

"Then what’s your brilliant idea?" Chisa shot back.

Jurin opened her mouth, and on cue, a groan caught their attention.

Both girls snapped their attention to the man, who was beginning to stir. He groaned again, his eyelids flickering, as if trying to open.

Jurin was on her knees in an instant, crawling closer to the man. She watched silently as his eyes flickered open, those same silvery inhuman irises meeting hers once again. He blinked blearily, looking disoriented and confused.

"Hey... uh, are you okay?" Jurin asked, feeling foolish as soon as the words left her mouth. Of course, he wasn’t okay—he had been pulled from the sea, and he still wasn’t speaking. The man’s gaze darted between her and Chisa, his confusion evident.

He spoke in the hissing and clicking tongue he had uttered when they first found him.

Back to square one, Jurin grimaced.

"Doesn’t seem like he knows any language besides whatever the fuck that is," Chisa observed.

"Wow, Chisa! What an amazing discovery," Jurin replied dryly. Chisa flipped her off, earning a withering glare from her before turning her attention back to the man.

His gaze flickered—something shifting behind those silver eyes. Before she could react—he grabbed her face and pressed his lips to hers.

Chisa gasped. Jurin’s mind momentarily ceased all function.