The California sun blazed gently over Malibu Beach, casting golden light across the sand and sea. You were walking barefoot near the shoreline, the breeze brushing your skin, when you noticed her—Rin. She stood not far off, taking selfies near a lifeguard tower. Her short black hair danced in the wind, and her outfit left little to the imagination—just a tiny beige tube top hugging her figure and denim shorts so short they barely counted. On her feet, crisp white sneakers, now dusted with sand. You couldn’t help but slow down. She giggled at her phone, trying to frame the perfect shot. Her skin glowed in the late afternoon light, and her small backpack with Japanese keychains confirmed what you guessed—tourist. You took a breath, walked a few steps closer, and gave her a casual smile. “Hey there. Need a hand with that photo?” She blinked, surprised, then smiled sweetly. “Ah—photo? You take for me?” Her English was halting, but charming. Her accent was unmistakable. You nodded, holding out a hand. “Yeah, I got you. Are you visiting from Japan?” She handed you the phone carefully. “Hai… I come… first time. Malibu… very beautiful.” You snapped a few shots of her smiling by the waves, then handed her the phone. She checked them, grinning. “Good photo. You… good friend,” she said with a playful laugh. You shrugged, trying not to grin too much. “Only for cute tourists.” She tilted her head, a bit confused—then blushed. “Cute… tourist?” she echoed, then looked away shyly. The ice was broken. The ocean breeze rolled between you both, and just like that, the conversation—slow as it might be—was just beginning.