Where the Ocean Holds Its Breath

The coastal air tasted like freedom—or at least the idea of it.

Ren stood on the balcony of their small inn, staring out at the ocean that stretched endlessly beyond the cliffs. Below, waves crashed against the rocks, pulling foam and silence back into the deep.

He hadn't dreamed the night before.

Not of footsteps.

Not of Masaki.

And yet he woke with a strange heaviness in his chest, like the peace he was trying to feel didn't quite belong to him.

Airi joined him with two mugs of coffee. "You didn't scream last night."

Ren blinked, surprised. "I screamed the night before?"

She nodded and handed him the mug. "You said his name."

Masaki.

Ren looked away. "Sorry."

"Don't be," she replied. "You can't apologize for the ghosts that live in you. You didn't invite them."

He smiled faintly. "You always say things like a poet."

She shrugged. "It's how I survive."

They spent the morning wandering through the sleepy town. No one looked twice at them—no whispers, no watching eyes, no judgment.

Airi dragged him into a small bookstore near the docks, lit by lazy sunlight and smelling of salt and old pages.

Ren wasn't looking for anything in particular when he found it.

A leather-bound sketchbook.

Clean pages.

No past.

Just potential.

He bought it without a second thought.

That afternoon, they sat by the shore, shoes off, toes buried in sand. Airi had a novel in her lap. Ren had the sketchbook.

But he didn't draw the ocean.

He drew Airi.

Not just her face—but the way she looked when she forgot she was being watched. That softness in her brow. The gentle tension in her posture. The thousand thoughts she carried behind her silence.

"You're staring again," she said without looking up.

"Can you blame me?"

A faint smile curved her lips. "You always look at me like I'm a puzzle."

"You are."

"And what do you think happens when you solve me?"

Ren paused. "I don't want to solve you. I want to understand what you've left unsaid."

Airi didn't reply right away.

But her fingers curled slightly in the sand, as if gripping something invisible.

That evening, Airi stood on the edge of a cliff trail just outside town, watching the sun drown itself in the sea. Ren sat on a nearby bench, sketchbook in his lap.

"Do you ever think about disappearing?" she asked suddenly.

He looked up. "You mean running away?"

"No. Just… not existing for a while. Like pressing pause on everything."

Ren closed the sketchbook. "Every day."

Airi glanced over her shoulder, the golden light catching in her hair. "What stops you?"

"You."

Her breath caught.

But before she could speak, a faint buzzing came from her phone.

She checked the screen—and froze.

Ren's body tensed. "What is it?"

Airi held up the phone.

Another message.

No number.

Just a sentence:

"Beautiful spot. Shame if something happened here."

There was no attachment this time.

But they didn't need one.

The implication was clear.

He was watching them. Again.

They returned to the inn in silence.

Ren called Yui immediately.

She answered on the second ring. "Hey. You're okay, right?"

"Yeah, but—he found us."

A pause. "Are you sure?"

"He sent another message. Knows where we are."

Yui cursed under her breath. "Ren… I think you should come back."

Ren glanced at Airi, who sat curled on the bed, knees hugged to her chest.

"I can't ask her to run again."

"Then stop running," Yui said gently. "Confront him. He's not going to stop just because you're hiding."

Ren closed his eyes. "I'll think about it."

That night, Airi didn't speak much.

Ren tried to draw, but his hands refused to move the way he wanted. Every line felt wrong. Every page felt wasted.

He finally set the sketchbook aside and sat beside her.

"I want to tell you something," she said suddenly.

Ren turned toward her.

"My father wasn't just emotionally absent. He was... cruel. Quietly. Carefully. You'd never see the scars he left, because he made sure they were all internal. All deniable."

Ren didn't interrupt.

"He taught me that love was something you had to earn. And even then, it wasn't guaranteed. That if you weren't perfect, you didn't deserve to be protected."

Her eyes didn't meet his.

"That's why I never fought back when people hurt me. Why I stayed quiet even when my ex lied, manipulated, cheated. I thought... maybe I deserved it."

Ren reached out and took her hand. She didn't pull away.

"Airi," he said softly. "You don't have to be perfect for someone to stay. And you sure as hell don't have to earn safety."

She turned toward him finally. Her eyes were glassy, but her voice steady. "Then stay with me. Even if I break sometimes."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "Even if you shatter."

They didn't sleep much.

In the quiet, Ren thought about the man Masaki had become.

About the boy they once were.

About the darkness passed down through blood and silence.

He realized then—it would never end unless he ended it.

And that meant going back.

The next morning, as the wind blew in from the sea, Ren made his choice.

He called Yui.

"I want to expose him."

She didn't hesitate. "I'll help."

When Airi stepped into the room, coffee in hand, Ren met her gaze.

"We're going back," he said.

She looked at him for a long time.

Then she nodded.

"Let's finish this."