(Sendai — Early Spring, 2052)
The snow had melted into memory.
Morning light slid through the shop windows, landing on stacked bowls and drying ladles.
The world outside was waking up; inside, it already had.
Kaiya stirred the first broth of the day.
Teo flipped the sign to OPEN, though no one ever came this early.
"You don't have to do that," she said.
"I know."
"You just like pretending you work here."
He glanced at the ladle in her hand. "And you like pretending you don't need help."
She huffed, half-smile, half-surrender.
"Fine. Employee of the month. Wash your hands."
Scene — "Morning Shift"
They moved around each other like they'd practiced.
Kaiya reached for the soy; Teo already had it.
He turned off the stove before it hissed; she didn't need to ask.
"Admit it," she said. "You love this chaos."
He tasted the broth. "It's organized."
"You're impossible."
"And you're loud."
"Loud keeps the silence honest," she said, and for a second, the air felt lighter than steam.
Scene — "The Broken Door"
The front door jammed again.
Kaiya kicked it; Teo sighed, knelt, and fixed the hinge in three quiet motions.
"You fix everything," she said. "That's suspicious behavior."
"I like things that stay together."
"Then you're in the wrong business," she said, waving at the cracked tiles and uneven shelves.
He looked around — at the stove's tiny flame, at her handwriting on the menu board, at her hair tied with the same elastic every day.
"No," he said softly. "I think I found the right one."
She didn't hear it — or pretended not to.
Scene — "Rain Test"
A sudden rain rolled over the docks, blurring the lights outside.
Customers vanished; the shop turned into a cave of warmth and sound.
Kaiya leaned against the counter. "Rain shift. No orders. Entertain me."
He raised an eyebrow. "I fix things, not people."
"Too late. I'm already your problem."
He smirked. "Noted."
They ended up playing a guessing game with leftover spices.
Kaiya lost badly, sneezed twice, blamed the universe.
Teo laughed until she threw a napkin at him.
Her laughter echoed after the rain stopped —
a sound that stuck to the walls longer than the steam.
Scene — "Quiet Choices"
Later, they sat on the floor behind the counter, lights dim.
Kaiya drew circles on the fogged glass with her finger.
"Ever think about leaving?" she asked.
"Where to?"
"Anywhere. People like you always have somewhere else to be."
He thought for a long moment.
"I used to," he said. "Now I just have somewhere to stay."
She turned to him. "Here?"
He met her eyes. "You make it easy."
She blinked, startled. "That sounds dangerously close to a compliment."
"Must be the rain."
She smiled, small and quiet, like someone pretending not to understand.
Scene — "Warm-Up"
That night, the heater failed again.
Kaiya cursed; Teo stacked two pots on the stove for extra heat.
The shop filled with slow, golden air.
They ate standing up, sharing one bowl between them, passing chopsticks without looking.
No music, no words — just the soft rhythm of two people too comfortable to explain why.
Outside, the rain turned to mist.
Inside, Teo looked around — at the clutter, the warmth, the single light Kaiya forgot to turn off every night.
Something settled in his chest, calm and complete.
He didn't say it out loud.
But he knew.
This was home.
Not the country. Not the city.
Her laugh. The broth. The silence that forgave him.
Kaiya caught him smiling. "What?"
"Nothing," he said. "Just… warm."
She grinned. "See? I told you. Soup fixes everything."
He nodded. "Almost everything."
Closing Image
They cleaned up slow, neither wanting to finish first.
The sign flipped to CLOSED, but neither reached for the lights.
Outside, dawn turned the harbor gold.
Kaiya leaned on the counter, watching him lock the door.
"You coming tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Someone has to ruin my soup again."
He smiled — the quiet kind that meant he'd already decided.
Outside, the city stretched awake.
Inside, Teo had already found where to stay.
[END OF ACT VI — "Warm-Up"]
(title fades)
NEXT → "Stay." — where home stops being a place.