Cracks in the Mask

Chapter 9

I adjust the yukata nervously, the crisp fabric foreign against my skin. Unlike the well-worn ones at the public baths back home, this one is pristine, expensive. The thought makes me even more self-conscious.

Afternoon light filters through the paper screens, casting elongated shadows across the tatami floor. My fingers fidget with the hem of the yukata, smoothing the fabric over and over. Each passing minute stretches the shadows further, marking time in a way that unsettles me.

Louis occupies my thoughts no matter how hard I try to focus elsewhere. Is he wearing traditional clothes too? The image forms unbidden—his tall frame draped in navy or charcoal gray, the fabric loose but elegant. I press my hands to my burning cheeks. This is ridiculous. I’m reading too much into things, influenced by too many shoujo manga tropes.

A sharp knock at the door startles me. My heart leaps as I scramble to my feet, nearly tripping over the yukata’s hem.

"Y-yes?" My voice is embarrassingly squeaky.

The door slides open, revealing Alex, her black suit stark against the warm wood tones of the room. She gives me a casual nod, red ponytail swaying slightly. "The dining room's ready."

I hesitate by the bed, unsure whether to follow immediately. Her sharp green eyes scan my yukata, and I resist the urge to fidget. To my surprise, her expression softens slightly.

"You tied it perfectly."

"Oh! Um, thank you." The words slip out before I can stop them. "My grandmother used to run a small ryokan, so I grew up wearing these."

Alex doesn't respond immediately, just nods once before turning on her heel. I follow her through the wooden corridors, my footsteps small and tentative against the polished floors. The familiar scent of old wood and fresh rice fills the air, reminding me of home. But this place feels different—grander, more refined. I clutch my yukata tighter as we walk.

Finally, we step into the dining hall. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame a breathtaking view of mountains silhouetted against the deepening sunset. The peaks rise like ink brushstrokes against the sky, but I barely register them.

Louis sits at the low table in perfect seiza, clad in a deep blue yukata that suits him unfairly well. He looks like he belongs in another era, poised and unreadable as ever. The sight of him steals my breath for a moment.

I lower myself onto the cushion across from him, hands smoothing the yukata as I try to steady my nerves. "Hello," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze lifts, meeting mine with an unreadable expression. "Hey."

Alex moves efficiently, setting down dishes with practiced grace. Steam curls from bowls of miso soup, the scent mingling with the crisp evening air. My stomach growls softly—I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.

Louis breaks the silence first. "So you do the prayer thing before meals?"

I tilt my head. "You mean itadakimasu? It’s not really a prayer—more like expressing gratitude for the food and the people who prepared it."

He picks up his chopsticks with ease, his grip surprisingly natural. "You’re the first person to explain Japanese customs without making me feel like a foreigner."

The unexpected compliment sends warmth through my chest. I duck my head, trying to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks. Louis never says anything he doesn’t mean.

I sneak a glance at him as he eats, each movement precise and elegant. My heart skips, then races to catch up. This isn’t how I imagined a ‘hot springs episode’ would go. No accidental trips, no forced proximity—just quiet conversation, lingering glances, and the soft clink of porcelain.

The last grains of rice sit untouched in my bowl as Louis continues his quiet interrogation.

"So you’ve never thought about what you want to do after high school?" His voice is calm but insistent, like he’s genuinely curious.

I shift my chopsticks aimlessly. "Well... there are things I like, but..."

"Such as?"

"Manga." The word slips out before I can stop it. "But not just reading—I, um, sometimes write stories too."

His gaze sharpens, amusement flickering in his expression. "What kind of stories?"

My grip tightens on my chopsticks. "Just... silly things. Nothing important."

"Silly things are often the most revealing."

The room feels smaller, warmer. I swallow, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "I write about people finding their place in the world. About ordinary days becoming extraordinary adventures."

Louis studies me for a long moment, unreadable as ever. Then, slowly, he nods. "That’s not silly at all."

Alex clears away the dishes, and silence settles between us. Outside, the sky has darkened to deep indigo, and the lanterns flicker against the shoji screens. The weight of the evening lingers, filled with things unsaid.

Louis finally exhales, a subtle shift in his posture. "I approached this all wrong."

I blink. "What?"

His lips press together in thought. "I was trying to make you comfortable. But that’s exactly the problem."

A lump forms in my throat. He’s right. Every elegant detail of this place emphasizes how out of place I feel. Even now, wrapped in a beautiful yukata that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe, I feel like an impostor.

He studies me a moment longer before speaking again. "We’ll try something different."

The room is silent, but my heart pounds loud enough to fill it. I’m not sure if that’s a promise

He exhales, like he’s made a decision. "Let’s try something different, follow me."

My legs are stiff from sitting in seiza, but I manage to follow him to what appears to be a comfortable sitting room. A large TV dominates one wall, with plush couches arranged around it.

"Pick something to watch," he says, gesturing to an extensive streaming library.

My mind goes blank. This is worse than the dinner—at least then I didn't have to make choices. What if I pick something he hates? Something too childish? Too weird?

After agonizing deliberation, I select the safest option I can think of—that famous show about the stretchy pirate boy and his crew. Everyone likes that one, right?

"From the beginning?" I ask tentatively.

Louis shrugs, settling onto the couch. "Why not?"

As the familiar opening plays, I perch awkwardly on the opposite end of the couch. The adventures unfold on screen, and periodically Alex appears with snacks—chips, popcorn, candy. It feels surreal, watching this with Louis of all people.

As the episodes progress, I find myself relaxing. I can't help commenting on little details, explaining references, getting excited about foreshadowing I know will pay off later. To my surprise, Louis engages, though mostly to criticize.

"The art style is inconsistent," he notes during one episode.

"That's part of its charm!" I counter, surprising myself with my boldness. "It shows how the series evolved over time."

He raises an eyebrow but doesn't argue.

We make it through nearly twenty episodes before reaching that arc—the one about the lying boy and the sick rich girl. Louis's commentary grows more pointed.

"This is manipulative storytelling," he says, frowning at the screen. "It’s cheap emotional bait—"

His voice falters, just slightly. His usual sharp critique slows.

I turn to argue and freeze. Tears are streaming down his face. He doesn't seem to notice them, still frowning at the screen as if analyzing a business proposal. But they keep flowing, falling like rain.

When he finally notices my shocked expression, he touches his cheek. His eyes widen slightly as his fingers come away wet. Without a word, he stands and strides from the room.

I wait for him to return, but minutes stretch into an hour. When I try to go look for him, Alex appears in my path, her expression leaving no room for argument.

"Louis will be retiring for the night," she says firmly. "You should get some rest too."

Sleep proves impossible. I toss and turn, replaying the image of Louis crying over and over. The calculating, controlled Louis, brought to tears by an anime about a stretchy pirate boy? It doesn't make sense.

I oversleep horribly the next morning, panicking that I've ruined Louis's schedule. I rush to the main room only to find Alex alone.

"Louis is enjoying the hot springs," she informs me. "Would you like to join him?"

My face burns crimson at the thought. "N-no thank you!"

I'm picking at my breakfast when Louis appears, wearing nothing but a small towel. Water drips from his lean but muscled frame, and I quickly look down at my food. But instead of leaving, his footsteps approach. He sits across from me, and I feel my heart might explode.

"First," he says, his voice tight, "you will never tell anyone about last night."

"Of course not!" I say quickly. "But it's natural, that show affects everyone that way—"

His fingers dig into his sleeves before he shoves his chair back, standing abruptly. "I am not everyone''. "It does not have that effect on me. Nothing has that effect on me. What's wrong with this fucking Japanese cartoon?" He storms out, leaving me stunned.

Alex appears, solicitous as ever. "Is there anything you need?"

Before I can answer, Louis returns, fully dressed this time. "What would you like to do next?" he asks, as if nothing happened.

"I... don't know," I admit.

His eye twitches. "Are you not interested in any of this? The beautiful nature? The hot springs?"

"Oh! It's very nice," I say hastily. "It's just... I grew up in Yakushima. Most of the island is a natural park. I'm more impressed by urban views and skyscrapers, actually..."

He sighs. "Of course you are." There's a pause. "Nevertheless, we'll be having lunch in the forest outside."

"Okay, no problem. By that tree over there?"

"No," he says, a glint in his eye. "There's a spot at the top of the mountain. Alex will provide you with hiking gear. Meet outside in thirty minutes."

I stand there in horror. Hiking up a mountain? I always come dead last in PE. This can't be happening.

I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror, now wearing hiking pants and a moisture-wicking shirt that probably costs more than my entire manga collection. Alex had everything prepared in my size, of course. The gear feels foreign compared to my comfortable yukata from last night.

My reflection in the mirror looks ridiculous—like a lost city girl forced into survival training. Even my shoes feel too expensive for dirt.

"The forecast suggests a clear day," Alex says, adjusting my backpack straps with professional efficiency. She pulls out a small device. "This is a personal GPS tracker. Please keep it on you at all times."

"Is that... really necessary?"

Alex's expression doesn't change. "Absolutely."

Outside, Louis waits in hiking gear that somehow looks tailored despite being practical outdoor wear. He's checking something on his phone while Alex conducts what appears to be a final equipment inspection.

"We'll take the beginner trail," Louis says, but the way he and Alex exchange glances makes me nervous.

The first five minutes lull me into false confidence. Then the trail starts to tilt.

Louis moves effortlessly, as if gravity bends to his will, his pace steady and effortless. Alex keeps perfect step with him while somehow simultaneously appearing at my side every time I stumble—which is approximately every thirty seconds.

"Perhaps a walking stick?" She produces one from seemingly nowhere.

"Thanks," I wheeze, using it more like a crutch than a hiking aid.

Twenty minutes in, I'm dying. Louis and Alex look like they're taking a casual stroll through a park. They haven't even broken a sweat.

"Would you like an electrolyte supplement?" Alex appears with a sports drink.

"Would you like to stop pretending this is fun?" I mutter, but accept the drink.

Louis glances back, looking annoyingly perfect despite the elevation. "The view is worth it."

"Easy for you to say," I gasp. "You're part mountain cat!"

I swear I see his lips twitch.

The trail gets steeper. I stumble on some loose rocks, and Alex materializes to steady me while simultaneously adjusting my backpack straps and offering a granola bar.

"How do you DO that?" I ask, amazed.

She just smiles mysteriously.

Louis maintains his impossibly graceful pace ahead of us, occasionally pausing at "scenic viewpoints" that I suspect are really just chances for me to remember how breathing works.

"The elevation change is affecting you," he observes during one such break.

"What gave it away?" I wheeze. "The way I'm dying, or the way I'm dying dramatically?"

This time I definitely see him suppress a smile.

The path gets worse. Roots and rocks seem to appear out of nowhere, conspiring to trip me. Alex prevents at least seven spectacular falls, while Louis navigates the terrain like he's walking on a sidewalk.

The moment I think I might actually survive this, disaster strikes. My foot catches on yet another root, and I stumble forward with a squeak. Alex moves to catch me, but this time something's different. There's a mechanical whir, followed by a sharp crack.

"Alex!" Louis's voice cuts through the mountain air with an urgency I've never heard before. He's already running back down the path toward us, his usual composure completely shattered.

Alex tries to maintain her professional demeanor despite her grimace. "It's nothing, sir. Just a minor malfunction—"

"Wait—" "Wait—" Alex protests, but Louis ignores her, kneeling to examine her right leg. Without hesitation, he pulls out a knife and cuts through her hiking pants from ankle to knee. I gasp.

Where flesh should be, there's a sleek, high-tech prosthetic limb. Or at least, it was sleek before whatever just happened to it. Now there's visible damage to some of the components, and Alex winces as Louis examines it.

"The auxiliary motor’s down," he mutters, tension coiled in his voice. "How bad does it hurt?" His voice is tight. "Your biological connection point is bruised too."

"I can manage," Alex insists, but Louis is already moving.

In one fluid motion, he throws his backpack aside and lifts Alex onto his shoulder. She protests, face flushed with embarrassment. "Sir, this is highly inappropriate—"

"Shizuka." His voice brooks no argument. "The prosthetic."

I hurry to pick up the damaged limb, nearly buckling under its unexpected weight. Louis doesn't wait for my response, already starting back down the mountain with Alex.

The descent is rough. I struggle with the heavy prosthetic, my chest tight with guilt. Alex got hurt because of me. Because she was trying to help me. Again.

Back at the onsen, Louis immediately retrieves a first aid kit. Alex sits awkwardly on a cushion, looking uncharacteristically shy as Louis tends to her injury. I've never seen her anything less than completely composed before.

"Gauze," Louis says, and I scramble to hand it to him. "Antiseptic." I pass that too. I become his earnest assistant, grateful to help in any way I can.

Once Alex's leg is properly wrapped, Louis lets out a long breath. Despite Alex's continued protests about being fine, he insists on helping her to her room.

"Sir, I should be the one taking care of you—"

"Rest," he orders, his tone gentle but firm. "That's an order."

I wait in the main room, muddy and miserable, certain I'm about to be told to pack my bags. This whole disaster is my fault. But when Louis returns, he does something completely unexpected.

He hesitates—just for a second—before his hand settles lightly on my head.

"You handled yourself well," he murmurs, as if testing the words. "It doesn't really matter what one does in their personal time or life. The real person is who you are in times of need, and you did well. I'm proud of you."

My heart explodes into a thousand sparkly manga effects. Heat rushes to my face, and joy bubbles up uncontrollably in my chest. Louis... is proud of me?

"Go rest in your room," he says. "I'll call you when lunch is ready."

I float back to my room in a daze. The moment my door closes, I dive face-first into my pillow, squealing softly. Louis's praise replays in my mind over and over.

But then I remember his tears from last night, and now this fierce protectiveness of Alex... There's so much more to Louis than his cool exterior suggests. My heart pounds as I make a silent promise to myself.

I'm going to figure you out, Louis. Somehow, I'm going to help you open up to me.

Rolling onto my back, I stare at the ceiling, my mind spinning with questions. What happened to Alex? Why does Louis keep everything locked so tightly away? And why does my heart race every time he shows these glimpses of his true self?

This isn't just curiosity anymore. I want to know everything—his pain, his secrets, his real smile.

I press my hands to my burning cheeks. Oh no. "I'm in serious trouble, aren't I?"