The early afternoon sun spilled through the café windows, turning the wooden counter into shades of warm amber. The faint hiss of the espresso machine mixed with the soft sound of waves outside — a rhythm that had already become part of our days.
"Hayashi, stop spacing out," Fujimoto-senpai called out from behind the counter. "We've got two iced lattes and one croissant set, pronto."
"On it," I said, snapping back to reality.
Mika hummed beside me, balancing a tray with questionable confidence. "Senpai, I think I'm improving! I only dropped one spoon today!"
"That's not a benchmark," Fujimoto muttered dryly.
"Hey, progress is progress!" she chirped, flashing me a grin.
The bell above the door chimed softly.
"Welcome!" Mika called automatically, almost tripping on her own apron string in the process.
I looked up—
and paused.
Rika Aoyama stood by the entrance, sunlight glinting off her light brown hair. She wasn't in her usual white dress this time, but a soft beige cardigan over a pale blue top, carrying that same sketchbook close to her chest.
Her calm gaze swept across the café, then stopped—right at me.
"…Oh," she said quietly, her lips curling into a small, polite smile. "You're here again, Hayashi-san."
"Yeah," I said, trying to sound casual. "Guess I work here now."
Rika nodded gently. "It suits you," she said, before taking a seat by the terrace window—the same spot as last time.
Mika leaned closer and whispered, "Customer's cute. Do we give special treatment for cute ones?"
I sighed. "Just do your job."
"Oh-ho," she teased, grinning wide. "So she is special."
Ignoring her, I grabbed my notepad and headed to Rika's table. "Welcome back," I said, smiling slightly. "What can I get you today?"
Rika looked up, her expression softening. "Just iced tea again, please. And… maybe a slice of chiffon cake."
"Coming right up."
As I turned, I caught her eyes lingering briefly on my apron — maybe out of curiosity, maybe nostalgia.
For some reason, it felt like she wanted to say something but held it back.
When I came back with her order, she'd already started sketching, her pencil moving lightly over the page.
"This place really has good light," she murmured. "The kind that makes you want to draw forever."
I set down the tray. "You said that last time too."
"Did I?" she smiled faintly. "Then it must be true."
She took a sip of her drink, then glanced toward me. "How's work?"
"Messy," I said. "But not boring."
"That sounds like a compliment," she said with a soft laugh.
Before I could reply, a loud voice cut through the calm.
"Kaito-san!" Mika called from across the counter. "Can you help me carry this? It's heavy!"
I turned, seeing her holding a tray that looked way too light to be "heavy." Fujimoto was giving her the flattest stare imaginable.
"Handle it, Tachibana," Fujimoto said. "It's literally a plate."
"But—but teamwork is important!" Mika insisted.
I sighed. "I'll be right back," I said to Rika.
She smiled knowingly. "Of course."
As I helped Mika, she leaned in and whispered, "Sooo… who's she? You looked really comfortable talking to her."
"She's just a customer," I said quickly. "A regular."
"'Just a customer,' huh?" Mika said, eyes narrowing playfully. "Then why'd your voice go all gentle like that?"
"It didn't."
"It so did!"
I groaned. "You're imagining things."
She crossed her arms dramatically. "Hmph. I see how it is. Abandon your hardworking partner for a beautiful customer. Classic Hayashi Kaito move."
"You spilled sugar on table three yesterday."
"That's called artistic expression!"
I didn't even reply. I just stared at her until she laughed and gave in. "Okay, okay, fine, I'll behave."
But she didn't. Of course.
When I came back to Rika's table, Mika "happened" to follow me, pretending to clean the nearby table but very obviously listening.
Rika noticed. "Ah… you must be Hayashi-san's coworker?"
Mika froze for a moment, then spun around with her brightest grin. "Yup! Tachibana Mika, at your service! New part-timer and future café legend!"
Rika blinked, slightly startled by the energy. "That's… impressive confidence."
"Thank you!" Mika said proudly, puffing her chest. "And you are…?"
"Rika Aoyama," she said politely. "I was just passing by."
"Ohhh~" Mika leaned forward, smiling with a teasing glint. "So you and Kaito-san know each other?"
Rika hesitated for half a second, then smiled. "We met once before. At a convenience store, actually."
Mika gasped. "A convenience store?! How romantic!"
"It was over the last onigiri," I muttered.
"Even more romantic!" Mika clasped her hands dramatically. "Fate brought you together through hunger!"
Rika blinked, then laughed softly. "That's… one way to describe it."
I buried my face in my hands. "Mika, you're scaring the customers."
"Nonsense," she said. "She's smiling! Look!"
And, annoyingly, she was right. Rika was laughing — quietly, but genuinely.
"I can see why you're always lively here," Rika said kindly. "It's nice."
"Right? I make the café more colorful!" Mika said proudly.
"More chaotic," I corrected.
"Chaotically colorful," Mika countered.
Rika chuckled again, her eyes glinting with amusement. "You two get along well."
I froze. Mika blinked. "Eh? Get along?"
Rika smiled faintly. "You bicker like old friends."
Mika immediately blushed. "W-We don't! He's just mean!"
"I'm realistic," I said.
"See?!" she pointed at me, pouting.
Rika covered her mouth to hide her smile. "You really do make this place feel alive."
Mika paused, then scratched her cheek awkwardly. "Heh… well, that's the idea."
The café fell back into its soft rhythm. The waves outside shimmered under the sunlight, and for a brief moment, all three of us stood there — quiet, comfortable, connected in a strangely gentle way.
"Kaito-san, could you hand me that cup?"
Mika's voice broke the silence, her tone slightly higher than usual.
"Sure," I said, turning toward her. As I reached over, our hands brushed — just for a second.
Mika froze. Her cheeks turned pink, and she quickly pulled her hand away.
"Ah—s-sorry!"
"Huh? Oh, it's fine," I replied casually, placing the cup on the counter.
Rika, sitting by the window, watched us with a faint smile. The sunlight framed her like a soft halo, and for some reason, she looked… amused.
"You two seem close," she said teasingly, resting her chin on her hand.
"W-we're not!" Mika stammered, waving her hands in denial. "He's just—uh—clumsy! Right, Hayashi?"
"Eh? Am I?" I blinked. "I think I'm pretty normal."
Rika chuckled quietly. "I see… normal, huh?"
Mika puffed her cheeks, clearly embarrassed, and went back to wiping the counter — a little too vigorously this time. I couldn't help but notice how her ears were still red.
After a moment, the soft sound of waves returned, blending with the faint hum of the coffee machine. Rika glanced out the window, her expression gentle yet unreadable.
"Hey, Hayashi," she suddenly said, "you like the sea, right?"
"Yeah. It's calm. Makes me forget about everything for a while."
"Then maybe… you and Mika should watch the sunset together sometime," she suggested, her tone playful but her eyes hiding something deeper.
Mika nearly dropped the cup she was holding. "A-Aoyama-san!"
"What? I'm just saying," Rika replied, smiling.
I looked between the two of them, confused but oddly warm inside. "That doesn't sound bad," I said. "Sunsets are better when you're not alone."
Mika turned away, mumbling something I couldn't catch.
Outside, the sky had begun to turn gold again, as if echoing the same color that spread across Mika's face.
The evening breeze brushed softly against our faces as we made our way down the quiet street toward the station.
The lamps along the road flickered one by one, painting the sidewalk in gentle shades of amber and gold.
Mika hugged her bag close to her chest. "You really didn't have to walk me, you know."
"Yeah, and then Fujimoto-senpai would lecture me tomorrow for 'abandoning a lady in the dark'," I said flatly. "No thanks."
She laughed. "That… actually sounds like something she'd do."
"It is something she'd do," I said. "Last time I forgot to take out the trash, she made me write 'I will respect coffee beans' fifty times."
"Pfft—seriously?!"
"I wish I was joking."
Mika tried to hold back her laughter, but it slipped through anyway.
Her giggle blended with the distant sound of the waves — light and warm, like a melody sneaking into a quiet evening.
"Honestly," she said, looking at me with a grin, "you're not what I expected."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You act like you don't care, but you still help people anyway."
"I don't help, I just—avoid trouble," I corrected.
"Uh-huh. Sure." She poked her finger lightly at my arm. "You're totally the type who'd dive into the ocean if someone lost their hat."
"I'm not a lifeguard."
"But you would, right?"
I sighed. "Only if the hat was expensive."
She laughed again, shaking her head. "You're impossible."
The wind picked up for a moment, brushing through her hair. A strand got caught on her cheek, and without thinking, I reached out to brush it away.
"Ah—" she froze, eyes wide.
It was just a small gesture, but the way she blinked and looked away, her face suddenly turning bright pink, made it feel like I'd just committed a crime.
"...Sorry," I said quickly, pulling my hand back.
"N-no, it's fine!" she stammered. "I just—wasn't expecting that…"
Mika clutched her bag with both hands, walking just a step ahead of me.
She kept glancing at the ground as if it suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world.
After a few minutes of silence, I spoke up.
"You know, you don't have to walk like you're sneaking through enemy territory."
"Eh?" She turned, confused. "I-I'm not!"
"You're literally tiptoeing."
Her face puffed up slightly. "That's because your footsteps are too loud! It feels weird if I walk normally."
"So it's my fault now?"
"...Kind of," she muttered, looking away.
I sighed, half-smiling. "You're impossible."
We reached the intersection, the streetlight above us blinking lazily. Mika stopped, tapping her foot lightly against the pavement. "You know… Fujimoto-senpai teases a lot, but she's right about one thing."
I raised a brow. "Which one? The 'lovebirds' part?"
Her head snapped up, eyes wide. "N-no! I mean—she was right that you're… um… kind."
Her voice grew smaller with each word.
"Kind?" I repeated. "You've only known me for, what, two days?"
She turned her face away again. "Still counts."
For a second, neither of us said anything. The faint glow from the streetlight painted her hair with a soft gold hue, and the way she fidgeted with her sleeve almost made me laugh.
"You're easy to read, you know," I said.
"W-what's that supposed to mean?!"
"It means your face gives everything away."
"Then stop staring!"
"Can't help it," I said casually.
Her steps froze mid-motion. "W-what?"
I blinked, realizing too late how that sounded. "I mean—uh—it's dark, so I just—uh, making sure you don't trip again."
Mika's face turned crimson. "Y-you could've just said that first!"
"Yeah… probably."
She huffed, turning away, but the corners of her lips twitched up slightly.
We walked a little longer until the station came into view — quiet, only a few people waiting for the last evening trains.
"This is it," she said softly. "Thanks again for walking me."
"Don't mention it. Would've felt weird letting you go alone."
She smiled faintly, her eyes reflecting the warm station lights. "You're really bad at sounding cool, you know that?"
"I'm not trying to."
"Exactly," she said with a small laugh. "That's what makes it worse."
I chuckled. "Guess I'll take that as a compliment."
She looked at me for a moment — that same small, hesitant look she always had before saying something honest — then bowed slightly.
"Goodnight, Hayashi-san."
"Night, Mika."
The train arrived with a soft chime, and as the doors slid open, she stepped inside, turning one last time to wave.
For a moment, her smile lingered against the soft glow of the station lights — small, simple, and strangely warm.
When the train disappeared down the tracks, the night fell quiet again.
Only the sound of the sea in the distance, and the faint echo of her laugh that refused to fade away.