The café was unusually quiet that afternoon.
Just the hum of the old coffee machine, a few lazy waves crashing outside, and Fujimoto-senpai's voice echoing in my ears every few minutes.
"Hayashi, you missed a spot."
I looked down. The counter was spotless. "You sure? I could see my reflection here."
"That's exactly the problem. You've been staring at it for five minutes."
Right. Busted.
Working part-time at this seaside café wasn't bad, honestly. The view was nice, the air smelled like roasted beans and sea salt, and customers rarely showed up before evening. But having *her* as my senpai was another story.
Fujimoto-senpai was sharp. The kind who could hear you sigh from the other side of the room. And yes, she had that "don't mess with me" aura that made you reconsider breathing too loud.
I was halfway through pretending to wipe a clean cup when the door bell rang.
"Ding—"
A girl's voice followed, bright and way too energetic for the atmosphere.
"Excuse me! I saw the job post outside—can I apply here?"
I turned my head.
Long hair. Energetic expression. Eyes sparkling like she was about to sell happiness itself.
Oh, no way.
Fujimoto blinked. "You're here for the part-time job?"
"Yup! Here's my resume!"
She reached into her bag… and immediately dropped the entire folder onto the floor. Papers scattered everywhere like confetti.
I sighed. "...Of course."
While she scrambled to pick them up, I crouched to help — and froze when I saw the name on the first page.
**Tachibana Mika.**
My brain short-circuited for a moment.
Wait, Tachibana? Don't tell me—
The girl looked up at me and smiled sheepishly. "Ah! We meet again!"
"...You've got to be kidding me."
"Ehh? Don't sound so disappointed!"
Fujimoto crossed her arms, clearly confused. "You two know each other?"
"Yeah," I muttered, standing up. "We met once. It was… unforgettable."
Mika puffed her cheeks. "That sounds sarcastic."
"It *is*."
Fujimoto gave me a sharp look. "Good. Then you can train her later."
"Wait, what? I didn't agree to—"
"Consider it practice," she cut me off. "Now, Tachibana-san, show me what you can do. Take that tray to table three."
Mika blinked. "Already? No interview or—"
"Consider this one."
The determination on Mika's face was almost impressive. Almost.
She took the tray, held it with both hands like it was some ancient relic, and began walking carefully across the café. Too carefully, if you asked me.
And then, of course—
Slip.
Her foot caught the edge of a damp spot on the floor. The tray tilted, the cup wobbled, and I swear I could hear slow-motion dramatic music in my head.
She somehow caught the cup midair — impressive reflex, actually — but the spoon inside didn't get the memo. It flew up, spun gracefully like a gymnast, and landed straight in my hair.
Fujimoto stared at us, deadpan. "...That's a first."
Mika froze, face red. "I-It's a performance test?"
"Yeah," I muttered, plucking the spoon from my hair. "And you failed it spectacularly."
"Hey! It's not my fault the floor's slippery!"
"Sure, blame gravity next."
Fujimoto smirked, trying to hold back a laugh. "You know what? I'll talk to the manager. We might need her after all."
"Huh? Really?" I said, blinking. "You're hiring her?"
"Why not?" she replied. "The café could use some noise. And someone to keep you from falling asleep standing."
I groaned. "Senpai, I'm begging you—"
Mika pumped her fist in victory. "Yes! I'll do my best, Hayashi-san!"
"Please don't."
The sunlight outside had turned gold, spilling across the counter. The café, once peaceful and quiet, suddenly felt… loud. Messy. Alive.
I glanced at Mika — now talking excitedly with Fujimoto about training schedules, like she hadn't just turned my day into a comedy sketch.
I sighed again. "So much for quiet days."
Fujimoto looked my way and smirked. "You'll thank me later, Hayashi. Trust me."
Yeah. Somehow, I doubted that.
But as the bell rang again and new customers walked in, I couldn't help but notice the faint smile on her face — the kind of smile that made me realize something had just changed here.
"Maybe tomorrow would be different.
And knowing my luck, it probably wouldn't be peaceful.
Turns out, I was right."
The golden sunlight slanted through the café windows, scattering a soft glow across the wooden tables. Outside, the sound of waves rolled lazily against the shore. It would've been the perfect afternoon—
if not for the walking disaster in front of me.
"Alright, Tachibana," Fujimoto-senpai said, tying her apron tighter. "Let's see what you've got. Try taking the customer's order at table two."
"Roger that!" Mika replied, full of confidence. Too much confidence.
She grabbed the order pad like she'd been born for this, then marched to table two with a bright smile that could rival the sun. The middle-aged couple there blinked, visibly taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm.
"Welcome to—uh—Coffee Tide! May I… take your… food?"
"...Order?" the woman corrected kindly.
"Right! That one! Order!" Mika scribbled something down furiously on her pad. The sound of her pencil scratching was way too intense for what should've been a simple note. I couldn't help but peek from behind the counter.
She came back with a grin. "Done! They ordered a… um… 'caramel-cream-sea breeze something.'"
"...We don't serve that," I said.
"Huh? Really?" She tilted her head. "Then what did I write?"
I glanced at her note. It looked like a five-year-old's treasure map.
"You wrote 'calm sea with dreams'," I muttered flatly.
Mika gasped. "Oh no! It's like my hand was guided by poetry!"
"It's like your hand was guided by caffeine overdose."
Fujimoto-senpai sighed, pinching her temple. "Hayashi, you handle the drink. I'll teach her the menu before she names our specials after ocean metaphors."
"Got it," I replied, already preparing the coffee machine.
As I worked, I could hear Mika apologizing repeatedly, her voice bouncing between panic and laughter. Somehow, she didn't sound embarrassed—more like she found the whole thing fun.
And maybe… that wasn't such a bad thing.
After all, the café hadn't been this lively in weeks.
A few hours later, the sun began to set.
The crowd thinned, and the sea breeze grew cooler. I leaned against the counter, exhausted but oddly satisfied.
"Good work today," Fujimoto said, finishing her closing notes. "Even you, Aoyama."
"Ehehe, thanks! Though I think I made more mistakes than drinks…"
"That's accurate," I replied, wiping a cup.
"Hey! You're supposed to encourage me!"
I glanced at her — cheeks puffed, apron slightly crooked, eyes full of determination she clearly didn't earn yet.
"I am. You survived. That's encouraging."
She puffed her cheeks again. "Meanie."
Fujimoto chuckled quietly. "At least you didn't burn anything. That's progress."
"I almost did when the steam wand hissed," Mika confessed, looking pale.
I couldn't help it—I laughed. "You screamed like the milk frother was a snake."
"It was scary! It hissed at me!"
I smirked. "It hisses at everyone, you just took it personally."
For a second, our laughter mixed with the sound of the sea outside.
It was… weirdly peaceful. The kind of moment you'd forget to appreciate until it's gone.
Mika rested her chin on the counter, looking out at the sunset through the window.
The orange light danced across her eyes.
"You know," she said softly, "this view's beautiful. I didn't expect I'd get to see something like this while working."
I looked too. The horizon stretched endlessly, the sea glowing with soft gold and pink.
For once, I didn't have a sarcastic comeback.
"Yeah," I muttered. "Guess this place isn't so bad."
She smiled—genuine this time, not her usual goofy grin. "It kinda feels like the ocean's alive, doesn't it?"
"That's poetic," I said. "Are you sure you're not naming the sunset 'dreamy caramel breeze' too?"
She laughed. "No promises!"
After we cleaned up, Fujimoto waved goodbye and left us to lock up the café.
The lights inside dimmed to a cozy amber glow. Outside, the waves kept their steady rhythm.
Mika was humming something softly—an old festival tune, maybe.
I recognized it vaguely. The same one she'd sung back when she performed with the others.
Guess some things don't change.
"Hey," she suddenly said, breaking my thoughts. "Why'd you start working here, Hayashi-san?"
I blinked. "Why?"
"Just curious. You don't look like the type who enjoys customer service."
"Gee, thanks." I scratched my head. "I just… didn't wanna spend my break doing nothing. Thought I'd earn some pocket money."
"That's surprisingly responsible of you."
"Don't sound so surprised."
She smiled, resting her arms on the counter. "Well, I'm glad you did. Otherwise, I wouldn't have met you again."
Her tone wasn't teasing this time—it was simple, honest.
I felt my ears heat up slightly. "...You sure you're not just saying that because I made you coffee?"
"Maybe," she teased, eyes glinting. "But maybe not."
We stepped outside together once the café closed.
The wind carried the scent of salt and roasted beans, blending strangely well.
Mika stretched her arms. "Ahh~ that was fun! I'll get better tomorrow!"
"You can't get worse, that's for sure."
"Rude!"
She smacked my arm lightly, but she was smiling the whole time.
Her laughter echoed softly as we walked down the quiet boardwalk.
The sky was darkening, stars just starting to peek out.
The sound of the sea followed us — calm, gentle, endless.
Maybe Fujimoto was right.
Maybe the café did need someone like her.
Because somehow, the silence didn't feel lonely anymore.