The morning air smelled of salt and promise. The waves rolled gently against the shore, glittering in the early sun. Sora ran ahead barefoot, splashing into the foam, his laughter carrying across the beach.
"Papa Kenji!" he called, waving his arms. "The sea is calm today! It feels happy again!"
Kenji followed at a steadier pace, the new net slung across his shoulder. His eyes softened. "The sea doesn't always stay calm, Sora. That's why we must learn to respect it."
Sora turned, grinning. "Then teach me today! Let me help cast the net. Please?"
Kenji hesitated. The boy was small, his arms thin, but his eyes held determination. The same fire Kenji once carried when facing down the cold judgments of his family.
"All right," Kenji said finally. "But you'll follow my lead exactly. Fishing isn't just strength—it's timing. Balance. Trust."
Sora bounced on his toes. "Yes, Papa Kenji! I'll do it right!"
Sora's First Cast
They waded waist-deep into the surf, the new net coiled and heavy in Kenji's hands. He crouched, lowering himself to Sora's eye level.
"Here," Kenji said, guiding Sora's small hands to the rope. "Hold it steady. The weights will pull it down, so don't let go too soon."
Sora nodded furiously. "Got it!"
Kenji breathed deeply, then swept the net outward. Sora tugged alongside him, the boy's face scrunched with effort. The net opened, slower than usual, but wide enough.
The rope quivered.
"Something's in!" Sora cried.
Kenji grinned. "Good. Now—pull!"
Together they hauled. The net dragged heavily, the waves resisting, but Kenji let Sora lead, guiding him subtly. When they reached shore, the catch revealed itself: a writhing pile of mackerel and sardines, glistening like spilled jewels.
Sora's jaw dropped. "I did it! We did it!"
Kenji laughed heartily, clapping him on the back. "Your first cast, Sora—and already a haul. The sea truly smiles on you."
Sora puffed out his chest. "That's because it likes me! I told you, Papa Kenji. I'm blessed by the sea!"
Kenji chuckled softly, though deep inside, he wondered. The boy's instincts were uncanny—he seemed to sense when and where the fish would come. Perhaps… perhaps there was truth in it.
Trouble on the Docks
By the time they reached the market, word had already spread of yesterday's catch. Villagers eyed them with curiosity, some with respect, others with envy.
But Riku was waiting at the docks, his arms crossed, his smirk cold.
"Well, well," Riku sneered. "The Empty Bucket and his stray boy, pretending to be fishermen."
Sora stepped forward, fists clenched. "We're not pretending! We caught all these ourselves!"
Riku laughed cruelly. "A brat with fish guts on his hands doesn't make a fisherman. You think the sea blesses you? The sea devours fools."
Kenji's eyes narrowed. "Say what you like, Riku. My net is full. My son learns. That's more than you can boast today."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. A few even chuckled, casting amused glances at Riku's empty baskets. His smirk faltered, his face hardening.
"This village is small, Kenji," Riku muttered darkly. "Don't forget—what the sea gives, it can take away."
Kenji said nothing more, only tightened his grip on the net. But he felt the threat in Riku's words linger like a shadow.
Darkening Skies
That afternoon, the sky shifted. Clouds gathered on the horizon, heavy and dark, curling like fists. The sea, calm in the morning, grew restless, waves crashing harder against the shore.
Sora tugged at Kenji's sleeve. "Papa Kenji… the sea feels different again. Angry this time."
Kenji frowned at the horizon. His instincts screamed caution. "We'll make one more cast close to shore, then head back. No deeper."
They waded in, the wind tugging at their clothes. Kenji cast the net swiftly, keeping one eye on the shifting clouds. The pull was strong, heavier than usual—fish trapped in a frenzy, perhaps sensing the storm.
But as they hauled, a sudden snap echoed. The rope slackened.
Kenji's eyes widened. One of the knots had been cut—cleanly, deliberately. Sabotage.
"Riku…" Kenji hissed under his breath.
The net drifted dangerously with the current. Sora gasped. "Papa Kenji, it's getting away!"
Kenji surged forward, gripping the frayed rope with both hands. Muscles burning, he dragged the net back inch by inch, the waves crashing against him.
"Stay on the shore, Sora!" he shouted.
But the boy didn't move. Instead, Sora plunged knee-deep into the surf, gripping the rope alongside him. "I won't leave you! We'll pull together!"
The storm wind howled, the waves rising. For a moment, it seemed the sea itself would swallow them. Then, with a final heave, the net broke free of the current and slid onto the shore.
The catch spilled out—mackerel, sardines, and even two fat sea bream, their scales gleaming like molten silver.
Sora collapsed onto the sand, panting. "We… we did it, Papa Kenji!"
Kenji dropped beside him, chest heaving. He pulled the boy close, his voice rough. "Foolish child… you should've stayed back."
"But…" Sora whispered, smiling weakly. "The sea wanted me to help. I could feel it."
Kenji held him tighter, heart pounding. Blessed by the sea, the boy had said. Perhaps it was true. Or perhaps it was just stubborn courage. Either way, Kenji silently thanked whatever spirit watched over them.
After the Storm
By the time they reached the market, the storm broke fully, rain slashing down in sheets. Villagers scrambled to cover their stalls, shouting over the thunder.
Kenji strode through the chaos, net bulging despite the storm. The fishmonger blinked at the sight.
"You fished in this weather? You're mad!"
Kenji set the baskets down firmly. "Mad or not, the fish are fresh. Forty copper for the lot."
The fishmonger hesitated, then nodded quickly, coins clattering into Kenji's pouch.
📜 Kenji's Earnings (Updated)
Starting balance: 84 copper
Day 10 sales: +40 copper
= 124 copper total
Despite the storm, despite sabotage, they had grown richer still.
Quiet Resolve
That night, huddled in their shack as rain hammered the roof, Sora curled against Kenji, clutching the blanket. His voice was small but steady.
"Papa Kenji… even if the storms come, even if Riku is mean… we can still fish, right? Because the sea likes us."
Kenji stroked his hair, staring into the flickering firelight. "Yes, Sora. The sea is dangerous, but it's also generous. As long as we respect it—and each other—we'll endure."
He glanced at the pouch heavy with coins. Slowly, steadily, they were building something. Not just wealth, but trust. A bond strong enough to withstand even storms.
Kenji whispered into the night, a vow carried only by the crackle of the fire: "One day, Sora… we'll have a boat. And when we sail beyond this shore, nothing—not storms, not envy, not even the sea itself—will take you from me."
Sora murmured sleepily, "Then I'll be your first mate, Papa Kenji. Forever."
And for the first time since his exile, Kenji allowed himself to believe in a future not defined by loss, but by hope.