Ryota woke up late, his hair all shakashaka—sticking out every which way like the day's been tussling with him already.
He blinked a few times, still heavy-eyed, and rubbed his face with the back of his hand.
The village was wrapped in that soft, blue-grey light before dawn, when even the sea felt quiet and slow.
He shuffled over to the window, bare feet cold on the wooden floor.
For a moment, everything was still—just the dark line of the northern sea stretching out far, far away.
Then, he heard it.
Mooon…
A low ferry horn floated over the water.
It only blew this early when the ferry between Okinawa Island and Iheya made its warm-up trip before starting the day proper. His tatto (dad) said, "Ferry's just checkin' engines, lil' Ryota, makin' sure all's good to go."
Ryota pressed his forehead to the glass, breath fogging the pane.
Far out, barely seen, a white-and-blue ferry slid past, its hull square like a big box, with orange pylons all 'round the deck—too bright for sleepy islands, the villagers always joked.
He didn't know what the ferry was called.
But its horn sounded like someone politely clearing their throat.
Mooon…
Ryota smiled a little, feeling the calm morning.
Somewhere beyond that stretch of sea was Izena Island—he'd never been, but on clear days, he could see it. His tatto once pointed at it and said, "Kids over there hear this same ferry horn, same as you."
He wondered what those kids were like.
He tugged on his sandals and shuffled out.
⸻
Marcus was still snorin' away in Ryota's guest futon, cozy as a bug.
Ryota stood just outside the futon room, rubbing his eyes. He wanted to be quiet, but curiosity got the better of him. Marcus's gruff breathing was loud in the small house.
"Marcus…" he whispered.
No answer. Just more snoring.
Ryota tiptoed back to the kitchen, where Mama was already making breakfast. The smell of miso soup and frying fish filled the air.
"Good mornin', Ryota," Mama said with a smile, glancing at the clock. "Late, ne? Ya shakashaka hair not help, huh?"
Ryota giggled, rubbing the wild mess. "Mama, Marcus san sleepin' hard. He no wake up?"
Mama shook her head, laughing softly. "Big man tired, come all the way from far place. Don't worry, he wake soon."
Ryota sat at the low table, eating quickly while thoughts danced in his head about the ferry, the islands, and the sky's quiet pulse from last night.
When Marcus finally stirred, stretching and yawning, Ryota bounded up with a grin. "Marcus! You come see hill with me?"
Marcus blinked blearily. "Hill? At this hour? I was plannin' to snooze all day."
"But I show you somethin' special."
Marcus sighed, but there was a flicker of something—interest?—in his eyes.
"Alright, kid. Lead the way. But if I catch any more sky nonsense, I'm blaming you."
⸻
Outside, the morning sun had warmed the village just enough to make the grass sparkle with dew.
Ryota ran ahead, his tiny legs swift and sure on the familiar path to the hill where the lone gajumaru tree stood.
Marcus followed behind, grumbling but careful to keep pace.
The path wound upward, bordered by sugarcane stalks swaying gently in the breeze.
Halfway up, Ryota paused, looking back at the village shrinking below them.
"The sea look like big blue bowl," he said softly.
Marcus squinted. "That's 'cause it's huge, genius."
Ryota giggled. "No! I mean, bowl with sky spoon."
Marcus laughed despite himself.
At the hilltop, the gajumaru's roots curled into the earth like stories written in stone.
Ryota plopped down under its branches, arms spread wide.
"See dat?" he asked, pointing toward the horizon.
Marcus followed his finger.
There it was—the distant silhouette of Iheya Island, faint and mysterious, just beyond the shimmer of sea and sky.
"The ferry's goin' there," Ryota said, eyes shining. "My tatto say kids dere hear same horn every mornin'."
Marcus studied the island. "Looks like a long way."
"Far but near," Ryota whispered. "Like sky talkin' secret."
The wind teased the leaves above, making the tree seem alive with whispers.
Marcus sat down heavily beside Ryota. "You really believe the sky talks?"
Ryota nodded, cheeks pink. "I do. Sky's old and wise. It pulse last night again."
Marcus glanced upward, watching the clear blue stretch.
"Maybe," he said quietly, "there's somethin' more than we see."
Ryota grinned. "See? Told ya."
They sat together as the ferry horn blew softly once more, its sound rolling over sea and sky like a gentle greeting.
The sky flickered faintly, just for a moment.
Marcus stiffened, eyes narrowing.
"You're not the only one who notices, huh?"
Ryota shook his head. "Sky watchin' us too."
Marcus let out a slow breath.
"Well, kid… I'm glad you dragged me up here."
Ryota beamed.
"Come back tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.
Marcus smirked. "We'll see."
The hill seemed to hold its breath with them—waiting, watching.
And somewhere far off, the ferry steamed steadily toward Iheya Island, horn echoing the secrets of sky and sea.
The hill's quiet seemed to follow them as Ryota and Marcus made their way down the path. The sun climbed higher now, brushing the sugarcane leaves golden. The ferry's distant horn still echoed faintly, a polite murmur across the sea.
Marcus pushed his hands into his coat pockets and cast a sidelong glance at Ryota, who skipped ahead like a breeze himself.
"You sure this Rainescorp place is close?" Marcus grumbled. "I'm still not convinced you've got the sense to pick a good hiding spot, let alone a scientific outpost."
Ryota stopped, hands on his hips, looking up at Marcus with serious eyes. "It close. Papa say Rainescorp watch da Kutihano Current, and dat important 'cause current move sky's breath in ocean."
Marcus raised an eyebrow. "The kid's talkin' like he's already some kinda ocean wizard."
"Not wizard. Just watchin'. Sky talkin', remember?" Ryota's grin was stubborn as the island roots.
Marcus smirked but said nothing.
They stepped off the dirt path onto a narrow road paved with cracked concrete, a rare stretch of manmade order cutting through the wild green. A few hundred meters ahead, a squat building sat nestled between palm trees and low hills—a modern structure painted in white and blue, with "Rainescorp Ocean Analysis Outpost" stenciled in neat letters on the side.
As they approached, the low hum of equipment and murmured voices drifted toward them. The smell of salt and fresh electronics mixed oddly.
Ryota bounced on the balls of his feet, excited but a little nervous.
Marcus stopped outside the door, checking the little stack of folders under his arm. He rapped sharply on the metal frame.
A woman's voice called out from inside, sharp and clipped but not unkind.
"Oi! You two! You come here for a reason, or you just sightseeing?"
The door swung open, revealing a middle-aged woman with a no-nonsense bun and eyes sharp as a hawk's. Her Kansai accent rang out clear and commanding.
"Ya better have a good reason or scram," she said, folding her arms. "This ain't no playground."
Ryota swallowed but stepped forward bravely. "I'm Ryota. My tatto said Rainescorp watch da Kutihano Current 'cause it strange now."
Marcus coughed, stepping in beside Ryota. "Yeah, we're here to check on current data. I'm Marcus."
The woman gave Marcus a long, skeptical look.
"Marcus, huh? That name ring a bell," she said with a smirk. "I'm Hoshino. Senior analyst 'round here. If you're lookin' for data on that current, you better follow me. And kid—don't touch nothin'."
Before Ryota could protest, the door behind them clanged shut, sealing out the world.
Inside, the air was cooler and smelled faintly of ozone and salty wires. Screens lined the walls, showing swirling maps of ocean currents and temperature graphs. A few people sat at desks, focused, murmuring in sharp Kansai dialect, their eyes flicking up as the newcomers arrived.
One young woman glanced at Ryota with a faint smile but said nothing. Another man with a clipboard grunted approval when Marcus handed over some papers.
Suddenly, a voice with a very different rhythm cut through the room.
"Ah, Marcus-san, so nice of you to join us," said a man with a thick Sapporo accent, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin. His blond hair was cut short, and he looked almost out of place amidst the Kansai chatter.
"This current business—is more complicated than it looks, eh?" he said, folding his hands. "Reminds me of the qi cultivator from the mountain sect nearby. Quiet, strong, but always sensing changes others miss."
Ryota's eyes widened. "Qi cultivator?"
Marcus raised a brow, glancing sideways at the blond man.
"Yes," the man said with a slight chuckle. "Someone moves with the sea's breath, the sky's pulse. Not just scientists here."
The other researchers exchanged glances but said nothing, returning to their work.
Hoshino's voice broke the moment.
"Enough mystical talk. Current's shifting, temp's off, and we need clear heads, not ghost stories."
Marcus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I get it. But kid, you sure you wanna be pokin' around all this? It's not a playground."
Ryota frowned. "I'm not scared. Papa say sky and sea talk to each other. This current must be part of da sky's message."
Hoshino narrowed her eyes. "Well, message or not, we don't have time for kid's daydreams. Stay outta the way."
Ryota's small hands balled into fists. He misunderstood their strictness as harshness, as if they didn't believe in the sky's whispers.
Marcus caught Ryota's glance and softened his tone.
"Don't mind 'em, kid. They tough, but they serious. And sometimes, serious don't sound nice."
Ryota nodded but still looked disappointed.
The Sapporo man gave a quiet smile.
"In time, you'll see that sometimes the sky's words are spoken in silence—through currents, through data, through those who listen closely."
Ryota looked toward the screens again, curiosity flickering anew.
Marcus put a hand on his shoulder.
"Come on, let's grab what we came for and get you back before you start believing you can talk to waves."
Ryota grinned. "I already do."
Outside, the wind rustled the palm fronds with a secretive whisper, as if agreeing.
The ocean currents shifted somewhere far below, carrying old stories and new secrets beneath the endless blue sky.
After finishing up at the Rainescorp outpost, Marcus and Ryota stepped back into the bright sunlight, the hum of computers and ocean data fading behind the outpost's heavy door. The salty breeze felt sharper here, mixing with the faint scents of grass and seaweed on the wind.
Marcus stretched, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, kid, enough science for one morning. Let's grab some lunch before you drag me off to any more sky-watching."
Ryota's eyes lit up. "Yes! Market got fresh fish and sweet mango. I hungry."
They headed down the cracked concrete road toward the village, where the afternoon market buzzed like a swarm of friendly bees. Stalls were shaded by brightly colored tarps, selling everything from sun-ripened fruits to freshly caught seafood, and the chatter of villagers filled the air with a comforting hum.
As they wandered between the stalls, Marcus eyed the piles of grilled fish and rice balls while Ryota's gaze darted from basket to basket—pineapples, bitter melons, and freshly picked shikwasa limes.
A woman behind a stall sliced bright orange papaya, humming quietly. Nearby, two old men haggled over fishing nets, their Kansai dialect thick but warm.
While they picked out lunch, Marcus and Ryota found a quiet bench under a leafy banyan tree and sat down with their food. The sun filtered through the leaves, dappling their plates with patches of light.
As they ate, voices drifted from a nearby stall where a group of fishermen spoke in low tones. Ryota's ears perked up immediately.
"Did you hear 'bout that baker NPC over in Sotolopis?" one fisherman said, voice low but urgent. "Came from eastern Iheya coast, right by the shore. He was talkin' with that famous fisherman Kael just a few days ago."
Ryota's fork paused halfway to his mouth. "Baker NPC?" he repeated softly, turning toward Marcus.
Marcus frowned. "Yeah, that's what I heard, too. The NPC's name was Ruichi. Fisherman Kael was sayin' somethin' 'bout how this baker only 'responded' in certain ways—like he ain't got no free will or somethin'."
Ryota blinked, catching a different word.
"Ryichi?" he whispered, the name rolling off his tongue, almost like his own. "Ruichi? Sounds same, no?"
Marcus shrugged. "I heard Ruichi. Maybe it's the same guy? But what kind of baker acts like that?"
Ryota chewed thoughtfully, his gaze distant.
"The name… Ryichi… sounds like me. Maybe… maybe he got same sky talk."
Marcus chuckled, nudging Ryota's shoulder.
"You think the sky's got a bakery now, kid? Maybe it's bakin' messages in the dough."
Ryota giggled but then looked serious again.
"The sea and sky talk to everythin', Marcus. Even NPCs maybe."
Marcus shook his head, but the smile didn't leave his face.
"Alright, sky whisperer, let's finish eatin' before you start makin' friends with bread."
They sat quietly for a moment longer, the sounds of the market weaving around them—vendors calling out their wares, children laughing, the steady crash of waves in the distance.
Neither Marcus nor Ryota knew exactly who this Ryichi—or Ruichi—was. But the name lingered like a puzzle piece slipping just out of reach.
And somewhere beyond the hills and shores, stories were weaving together—of fishermen, bakers, and sky-sent secrets waiting to be uncovered.
Ryota's eyes sparkled as the name "Ryichi" echoed in his mind. It wasn't just a name—it was a call, a puzzle piece that pulled at his heart. His small fists clenched with excitement.
"I gotta find him!" Ryota declared, jumping up from the bench. "Ryichi! He's on Iheya, yes? I go see!"
Marcus sighed, standing and dusting off his pants. "Kid, wait. You can't just—"
But Ryota was already running, bare feet pounding on the village stones as he darted toward the docks.
Marcus hurried after him, grumbling under his breath, "Daiyōbu ka… his folks gonna freak out when they find out."
Ryota reached the water's edge where his boat bobbed gently—an uneven but sturdy little craft he'd built nearly a year ago as a school project. It wasn't fancy—just a wooden hull patched with nails and paint—but to Ryota, it was a ship worthy of legend.
He clambered aboard with ease, tugging the small sail up.
"Marcus, come! We sail north—Kanoji city on Izena! We find Ryichi there!"
Marcus grabbed the side of the boat, trying to pull Ryota back.
"Wait, wait! You can't just take off like this, kid. Your parents—"
Ryota laughed, a bright, carefree sound that floated across the water.
"I do this all the time, Marcus-san! It's okay."
Marcus's eyes narrowed as Ryota shoved off the dock, the boat scraping softly against the wood.
"Damn it," Marcus muttered, leaping aboard after him. "Alright, but if your folks come huntin', you're explainin' to me first."
Ryota grinned, eyes full of the thrill of adventure.
As they set sail, the boat creaked and dipped in the gentle swell. The village slipped behind them like a fading dream.
Marcus stood at the tiller, his gaze scanning the horizon where the sea met the sky.
He thought of Ryota's parents—their steady hands, worried eyes, and quiet strength. What would they say if they saw their little boy out here on his own? Probably nothing gentle.
But here was Ryota, full of life and reckless hope, chasing a name across the waves.
Marcus shook his head with a rueful smile.
"Kid's got guts," he muttered to himself. "And no idea how much trouble he's in for."
Ryota leaned forward, pointing eagerly.
"There! That's Izena! Halfway to Iheya. We get to Kanoji city soon!"
The boat crept north, slicing through the blue, the wind tugging at the sail.
Marcus felt the salt spray on his face and the warm sun on his back.
The journey had only just begun.
The little boat rocked gently as the wind picked up, tugging the sail and pushing them steadily north. Ryota sat near the bow, his small hands clutching the wooden rail, eyes wide with wonder as the water glittered beneath the bright sun.
Marcus stood behind the tiller, muttering under his breath in a low Kansai drawl, "What a stubborn little tyke… draggin' me out here without a clue. His parents are gonna kill me." He shook his head, eyes flicking between the sky and the sea.
Ryota's fingers twitched as the breeze grew stronger. A strange tingling tickled the back of his neck, spreading down his arms like soft sparks of static.
Without realizing it, he raised his palms toward the wind, and the gentle gust shifted, swelling stronger, pushing their boat faster through the waves.
"What the—?!" Ryota gasped, eyes snapping open wide as the sensation shot through him like a sudden shock. His heart hammered.
Marcus noticed immediately—the sudden shift in the breeze, the boat's quicker pace—and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Kid, what'd you just do?" Marcus asked quietly, stepping closer.
Ryota's face drained of color. "I—I dunno! The wind… it felt like… like it listened to me."
His small hands trembled as the strange warmth in his chest pulsed.
"Breathe, Ryota. Slow down. You're okay," Marcus said firmly, placing a steady hand on the boy's shoulder.
Ryota took shaky breaths, eyes darting around, panic rising like a tide.
"Magic?" Ryota whispered, voice barely steady. "I didn't mean… I didn't know…"
Marcus's face softened but held a flicker of intrigue.
"Looks like you got somethin' special, kid. Calm down, don't fight it. The wind's just… helpin'."
Ryota nodded slowly, still wide-eyed but calming as the breeze settled back into a steady rhythm.
Marcus gave a rare smile. "Guess this trip's gonna be more interestin' than I thought."
The boat rounded a small rocky island, its jagged cliffs rising sharp against the blue sky.
Beyond it, the port city of Kanoji came into view—a cluster of wooden houses nestled along the shore, with stone church spires reaching upward like fingers pointing to the heavens.
Ryota leaned forward, heart pounding with excitement.
"There it is! Kanoji! We almost there!"
Marcus adjusted the sail and steered toward the harbor, the city's silhouette growing clearer with every wave.
The journey was far from over—but the first step had been taken.
As their boat slipped into the quiet harbor, Ryota's eyes caught a small green sign standing beside a narrow cobblestone path running parallel to the docks. Painted on it were the words: Route 7 — Kanoji Shoreline Cartway.
Ryota's brow furrowed in thought. "That looks like a national road… kinda like Route 12 back home. We call it Keya Path. Mama says it's the main way through our village."
Marcus, steering the boat gently toward the pier, let out a rare chuckle.
"You got a sharp eye, kid. That there's exactly what it is. National road system, just like you said—no magic needed for that one."
Ryota smiled, unaware how right he was.
The city's wooden houses and stone spires grew closer as the sun dipped lower, and the next part of their journey was about to begin.
Author's Note — Hey There, Friends!
Hi everyone! Thanks so much for reading Ryota's story so far. I'm super excited to share this adventure with you, and I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am writing it!
If you have any thoughts, questions, or fun ideas about Ryota and his world, I'd love to hear from you. Your comments make this journey even more special!
Also — I think it would be really cool to see Ryota's adventures in a comic form someday. If you enjoy drawing or have ideas for fun scenes, feel free to share! Maybe one day, with a little magic and teamwork, Ryota could jump off the page in pictures.
Remember, Ryota's world is full of magic, friendship, and surprises, and there's plenty more to come. So buckle up, and thanks for being part of the adventure!
See you next chapter!
— Your friend, Jonathan