The smell of baking bread drifted from the market stalls as Kenji and Sora walked down the narrow path toward Minato's central square. The morning sun shimmered off the ocean, and gulls swooped lazily overhead, squawking at one another.
Kenji felt the weight of the four copper coins in his pocket as though they were gold bars. Four copper… it's not much. But it's ours. He could already see the way Sora's eyes sparkled whenever the coins clinked.
"Papa Kenji," Sora tugged on his sleeve. "Do you think we can really buy bread today? Real bread? The soft kind?"
Kenji chuckled, rubbing the boy's messy hair. "Aye. Bread, and maybe even a small bit of dried fish, if we bargain right."
They approached a squat stone building where the warm scent of baked goods poured out into the street. A baker's wife stood behind the counter, her hands dusted with flour. She glanced up, saw Kenji, and raised an eyebrow.
"Well, if it isn't the new fisherman. You've actually got money this time?" she asked, half amused, half doubtful.
Kenji forced a smile. "I do." He placed the four copper coins onto the counter, careful not to show how much effort it had taken to earn them. "Two loaves, please."
The woman picked up the coins, tested them between her fingers as if checking for counterfeits, then nodded. She slid two small loaves across the counter. They weren't much—round, browned on top, a little rough—but to Kenji, they looked like a feast.
Sora's eyes went wide. "It's so warm!" he whispered, hugging the bread to his chest like treasure.
Kenji's heart softened. This alone makes it worth it.
They sat on the edge of the docks, legs dangling above the water, as they shared the bread. Seagulls circled, hoping for scraps.
Kenji tore a piece off and handed it to Sora. "Eat slowly. Make it last."
Sora nodded, nibbling at the crust. But before long, his cheeks bulged like a chipmunk's, crumbs sticking to his face.
Kenji laughed. "Slowly, I said. You'll choke."
"Mmmph! It's too good!" Sora managed between bites.
For the first time since waking in this world, Kenji felt full—not in his stomach, but in his chest. This boy, this bread, this moment… It wasn't wealth, but it was happiness.
After the meal, they turned back toward the shore. Kenji wanted to try fishing again—one day's catch wouldn't be enough.
"Papa Kenji," Sora said as they walked, "can I help this time? I want to fish too."
Kenji hesitated. "Fishing isn't a game, Sora. The sea is dangerous."
"I'll be careful! I promise!" The boy's eyes shone with determination. He hugged his little clay pot—the same one he'd used for crabs. "Besides, I already caught crabs before. That's like fishing, right?"
Kenji sighed. "Alright. But you stay close to me. Understand?"
"Mm-hmm!"
They settled by the rocks near the shallows. Kenji cast his line, focusing on the waves. Beside him, Sora crouched with his pot half-submerged in the tide pools, waiting.
Minutes stretched into an hour. Kenji managed two small sardines, barely enough to matter. He sighed, frustration gnawing at him. At this rate, we'll never—
"Papa Kenji! Look!"
Kenji turned—and nearly dropped his rod. Sora's little clay pot wriggled with movement. Not one, not two, but five crabs scuttled inside, their claws clicking against the clay.
"Five?!" Kenji blinked. "How did you—?"
"I just put it in the water and waited," Sora said innocently. "They came by themselves."
Kenji stared. His own traps had never filled so quickly. "That's… lucky," he muttered, though a strange shiver ran down his spine.
As the day went on, Kenji caught a few more sardines, but nothing remarkable. Meanwhile, every time Sora checked his pot, there were more crabs. By noon, they had a dozen.
The fishmonger at the market raised an eyebrow when Kenji returned with the day's catch. "Two sardines and a whole pot of crabs? Hmph. Maybe you've got more skill than I thought."
Kenji didn't correct him. He handed over the goods, and the fishmonger paid them eight copper—two for the sardines, six for the crabs.
Kenji's heart thumped. Eight copper. Plus the four from yesterday… that's twelve in total. Enough for bait, food, and even a little saved.
Sora grinned proudly. "See, Papa Kenji? I helped!"
Kenji ruffled his hair, trying to ignore the gnawing question in his mind. Helped… or something more?
That evening, they returned home with a basket of bread, a bit of salted fish, and even a treat: a single sweet bun, bought for one copper. Sora squealed with joy, biting into it while crumbs dusted his chin.
Kenji sat back against the wall of their small shack, watching the boy. The coins jingled lightly in his pocket, and for the first time since arriving in this world, he felt hope.
It's not much. But it's a start. Tomorrow, we'll try again. And the day after that. I'll keep fishing. I'll keep providing. No matter what.
Sora curled up against him, yawning. "Papa Kenji… do you think the sea likes me?"
Kenji blinked. "…What makes you say that?"
"Because… the crabs came to me. And the waves don't feel scary when I'm there." His voice was soft, drifting toward sleep.
Kenji held him close. "…Maybe it does, Sora. Maybe it does."