The morning sunlight had barely warmed the shoji panels when the doorbell chimed—soft, melodic, unexpectedly delicate. Eadlyn glanced at his grandparents, who were busy unpacking groceries, and moved to answer it. He expected a deliveryman or a curious neighbor.
He did not expect her.
Standing at the threshold was a girl around his age, dressed in a crisp uniform skirt, her long dark hair brushing her shoulders. Her face held a balance of beauty and composure—an elegance carved not from vanity, but from discipline. She held a folded notice in one hand, posture straight, presence steady.
"Hello," she said, tone polite but naturally assured. "I'm Eiko Sayaka, your neighbor. This is a community notice for the Ichijo household."
Her voice carried no hesitation. It was calm, controlled, the kind people developed from years of responsibility. Eadlyn reached out to take the paper, and when their fingers brushed, a faint chill traveled up his arm—not romantic, not dramatic—instinctive. Something about her composure made him aware of himself in a way he hadn't felt before.
"I'm Eadlyn Greyson," he said, trying not to sound awkward. "Their grandson."
Sayaka's lips lifted into a small smile. "I see. In that case… welcome to the neighborhood."
She wasn't shy. She wasn't overly warm. She was balanced—just like the girl who had grown up with a sense of duty toward those around her. And yet, in that moment of formal politeness, there was the faintest shimmer of curiosity in her eyes.
"Call me Saya," she added lightly. "Eiko is too formal."
Her shift in tone surprised him. Around his friends in the UK, he had always been comfortable—sometimes too comfortable. But standing here, before someone who radiated maturity and effortless grace, he felt strangely… smaller. Not inferior—just aware that she was woven into this community in ways he wasn't yet.
Still, he smiled. "Then call me Eadlyn. Or Ead, if that's easier."
Saya chuckled—quiet, quick, but sincere. "Then Ead it is."
Before he could say anything else, she bowed gently and stepped back. "I'll see you around."
She walked away with the poised confidence of someone used to being relied upon. The breeze stirred her hair, the afternoon light softening the edges of her outline. Something about her lingered—not in the romantic sense, but in the way meeting an important person often feels ordinary until the meaning reveals itself later.
Back inside, he handed the notice to Sakura.
"Oh? Saya brought this?" Sakura's smile deepened. "That girl is a blessing. Always checking on us during rainy seasons, ensuring your grandfather takes his medicine on time, helping during festivals… she's practically family."
"That much?" he asked, surprised.
Reno nodded. "Her family has lived here for generations. Kind, hardworking people. You'll understand once you interact with her more."
Eadlyn processed that slowly. She wasn't just some pretty neighbor—she was already part of the house's rhythm, trusted and dependable. No wonder she carried herself with such quiet assurance.
He thought back to her eyes, her steady tone, her subtle maturity.
I've never felt overshadowed by someone my age, he admitted silently.
Not until now.
But instead of discouragement, the realization stirred something new. Admiration… and a desire to improve himself, to match the kind of steadiness she embodied.
As dinner simmered in the kitchen and the evening deepened, the scent of flowers drifted through the open window. From the house next door, a faint chime rang—wind against a bell.
And though he didn't know it yet, the gentle ring marked the beginning of a connection that would shape much more than his first summer in Japan.