Something like Peace

Day 13
Sayo’s feet rested there, tickled by the warm waters under the afternoon sun. She sat on the sand, her notebook open, but her thoughts kept running ahead of her.

2:14 p.m.

I returned the inn key. The lady had been surprisingly nice, and the breakfast food was good. Very cheap for a week's stay. Rika would like it here.
She stamped the page with a muddy shell, pressing it down with care and wiping away the excess. It wasn’t anything more than a token, a small act. Yet, something in the act of it felt more permanent than she realized.

The afternoon stretched lazily around her, the sun still warm on her skin, and she closed the notebook with a soft thud. She lingered there on the sand for a while, trying to hold on to the moment. Eventually, though, she stood, carried her sandals in one hand, and adjusted her bag with the other.

As she walked along the shoreline, the sounds of the waves seemed to mix with her thoughts, gentle and persistent, like they were trying to make her hear something.

The locals here were kind, she realized. More than kind—genuine, in the way only small-town people could be. How wonderful it would be if Rika were here with her, chatting with the locals, making sarcastic quips about how boring it all was... though, knowing Rika, she’d probably enjoy observing more than participating.

Sayo’s eyes darted toward the bakery she hadn’t visited yet, then toward the overpriced souvenir shop, then—
The hanging carriage.

She paused, looking up at it. The sight was strange but inviting. She decided.

I’ll ride it.

The ride was quiet, more tranquil than she expected. It wasn’t long, but the silence felt like a balm, a break from the constant noise in her head. The view was spectacular as they climbed higher and higher, the air cooler, the sea stretching endlessly in the distance below.

As they ascended, the sharp sounds of the shore became a soft hum. It wasn’t quite escape, but it felt like breathing in something new, something she hadn’t noticed before.

Fifteen minutes later, the carriage came to a slow stop.

The platform they reached overlooked the mountainside, the trees swaying lazily in the afternoon breeze. The silence here felt more at peace, not like the noisy rush of city life she’d left behind.

Sayo stayed standing for a moment, looking out at the view before she slowly wandered off the landing.

What would I be doing if I hadn’t left?
She felt the question hang in the air like a cloud, hazy and unresolved. She closed her eyes, remembering the apartment. The stress with Rika. The worry about everything being on the brink of breaking apart, things they couldn’t change, no matter how much they tried.

Would she still be stuck in that cycle of waiting for something to get better? Would Rika still be holding everything together, pretending like it was fine, knowing full well they both were drowning in the same uncertainty?

Sayo shook her head softly. Maybe this journey wasn’t about answers. Maybe it was about getting away from the noise. From the noise she carried within her. She passed by the trees and walked down the path. It split into two, one heading up and the other heading down the mountain. She saw the path converge once again in the distance. One led to a mountain village, a hand-painted sign: “Stargazing Point - Best view after 6 PM.” The paint had chipped, faded to soft white ghosts of what it once was.

Rika would’ve mocked it. “Wow, scientific,” she would’ve said, deadpan. Then she would’ve stayed anyway, standing next to her and waiting for the sun to go down, arms crossed, pretending not to enjoy it. There it was again, her mind always went back to Rika.

Sayo let the quiet wash over her, letting the mountain air remind her that, maybe, this was what she needed. A break. Just a pause from everything.

Rika would never let me do this.
She smiled bitterly to herself. It was true. If Rika were here, she’d drag her back to the city—back to the mess and the chaos. But here, Sayo was free to just be. No pressure.

She continued walking down the path that headed into the village. Maybe this is the new spot she would stay in. At least that's what she was thinking- until something knocked against her.

Sayo flinched, looking down. A boy—maybe seven or eight—stumbled back from crashing into her, a stick in his hand like a sword. He bowed, murmuring an apology, then looked up and waved the stick. “I’m gonna fight the moon!” he shouted. “It’s not gonna win!”

Sayo blinked.
The kid’s mom hurried after him, laughing. “He thinks he can stop it from falling. I let him believe it. Better than him being scared all the time, right?”

“Right,” Sayo murmured, but it caught in her throat.

The child stood at the edge of the lookout, holding his stick high. “See? I’m strong! The moon can’t beat me!”

Something about it cracked her open, just a little. She had no idea why. Maybe it was the absurdity. Maybe it was the courage. Maybe it was the way the mom looked like she was pretending too. The naive belief of humankind.

The boy's shout echoed faintly as they moved farther down the path. Sayo stayed still for a moment longer, her eyes drawn to the sky. The moon wasn’t visible yet, but she could feel it. Waiting. Watching. Still falling.

She wondered what Rika would say if she saw that kid yelling at the moon. Probably something like “bold strategy, kid,” and then maybe she’d stare at it for too long, quietly, like she understood it a little too well.

And for once, even that felt a bit kind of like peace.