The days unfolded gently.
Eliot wasn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't this. Quiet mornings with birdsong instead of sirens, the scent of miso soup from the kitchen instead of cold hostel air. The town moved at its own pace, unhurried and deeply rooted in ritual. He felt like an outsider at first, but the longer he stayed, the more the silence stopped feeling empty and started feeling peaceful.
Roset had given him space. She didn't press him for stories or details of his time abroad. She simply invited him into her world, bit by bit, and let him explore it at his own pace.
Hino showed him the layout of the house, where they kept the extra tools, how the rainwater collection worked, and which chickens laid the best eggs. It was clear, without needing to be said, that Hino was giving him quiet respect, not as a guest, but as someone they hoped might stay.
And Lea—Lea had no hesitation at all.
She'd taken to him instantly, first offering him a dried flower from the garden, then later dragging him by the hand to help feed the chickens. She called him "Uncle Ellie," which made him laugh the first time she said it.
"You sure about this nickname?" he'd asked Roset with a raised brow.
"She decided," Roset said with a shrug and a smile. "It's already permanent."
Each day brought a little more routine. Eliot helped Hino with minor repairs around the property, then began volunteering to assist the local carpenter with deliveries and fence work. His old skills with numbers hadn't gone unnoticed. By the end of the week, three different households had asked him to "look over some finances" in exchange for tea, rice cakes, or fresh produce.
Evenings were quiet.
They shared dinner together on the floor around the low table, rice, grilled fish, vegetables from the garden, and sometimes something Western that Roset would make for nostalgia's sake. One night, it was roast potatoes and steamed carrots. Another, she made a simple stew she remembered from their mother's kitchen.
That meal had silenced them both for a few minutes.
Later, as the dishes were drying, Eliot found Roset standing on the porch, looking out into the garden.
He joined her.
"It's strange," he said.
She glanced at him. "What is?"
"This place… it's peaceful. But I still feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like something will take this away."
She nodded. "I felt that too. Every day for the first year."
"How did you stop?"
"I didn't," she said. "I just… stopped letting it make the decisions."
They stood in silence for a while.
Then she added, "You don't have to decide right away if you'll stay. Just… know that you can. That we want you to."
Eliot looked out at the mountains. "I'm not used to wanting things anymore."
Roset reached over and gently linked her pinky with his. "Then maybe start small."