Chapter 8: “The Accidental Honeymoon Suite”

There were two things Yui Nakamura knew for certain as she stepped off the train with her boyfriend and onto the sleepy mountain platform:

This trip was going to be relaxing.

Or it was going to kill her.

She hadn't decided which yet.

Haruki looked way too comfortable dragging their luggage behind him, whistling some anime opening under his breath. Meanwhile, Yui was clutching her phone like it contained the instructions to disarm a bomb.

A nice, normal trip, she reminded herself. Three days. Hot springs. Nature. No cooking disasters, no surprise shirtless mornings, no unsolicited spooning in bed.

They were going to be calm, mature adults.

Right after she stopped internally combusting every time Haruki adjusted his collar and revealed that stupid line of his neck.

The inn was straight out of a travel brochure—faded wooden beams, the smell of tatami mats, a koi pond out front, and the kind of peaceful mountain breeze that made you feel like maybe capitalism wasn’t real.

Yui approached the check-in desk with Haruki beside her, both smiling politely.

“Ah, the Sato couple!” the receptionist chirped. “You’re just in time for check-in. We’ve upgraded your room to our premium honeymoon suite—free of charge!”

Yui’s brain: “???!!???”

Haruki: smiling politely while screaming internally

“Oh no, actually, we—” Yui began.

“Congratulations on your marriage!” the woman added, beaming. “So young and already so in love—how lovely!”

Yui:

Not married. Not even close.
Still blush if he says “panties” out loud.
Haven’t even seen him shirtless intentionally.
What is happening.

Haruki, the absolute traitor, bowed his head. “T-Thank you very much.”

They shuffled away in silence, walking through the polished halls behind a staff member carrying their bags and joyfully humming the Wedding March under her breath.

Their room was, to be fair, beautiful.

Also completely unhinged.

There were rose petals on the coffee table. Two heart-shaped manju cakes on porcelain plates. A king-size futon—just one—spread neatly in the center of the room with embroidered cranes kissing stitched onto the blanket.

And then, of course, the private outdoor onsen bath in the back garden, with perfectly placed lanterns, smooth stones, and a view of the misty forest.

Yui dropped her bag and stared at the futon like it was a live animal.

Haruki stood stiffly at the threshold, trying not to look like he was sweating.

“Well,” he said, voice cracking slightly, “this is… definitely not the budget room.”

Yui turned slowly. “Did you bring holy water?”

Haruki shook his head solemnly. “Just extra socks and mild panic.”

They both laughed—nervous, high-pitched laughter that felt like trying to drown the awkward in sound.

The next hour was spent very carefully pretending nothing was weird.

Haruki unpacked with military focus. Yui inspected every single soap bottle like it held state secrets.

Then came the robes.

They were supposed to change into traditional yukata for dinner, like all the guests.

Yui emerged from the bathroom, adjusting her obi belt, feeling weirdly exposed even though technically she was fully dressed.

Haruki glanced up.

Paused.

And then short-circuited.

“Oh,” he said, a little too fast.

Yui blinked. “What?”

“You, uh. You look… good.”

GOOD? her brain screamed. Just GOOD? I have floral hairpins in, you absolute fool.

Haruki turned away so fast he nearly tripped over his folded pants. “I’ll just—go bathe. I mean wash. I mean leave the room now.”

She lay on the futon alone for a while, staring at the wooden ceiling and overthinking.

Are we supposed to bathe together? That’s a thing couples do in hot springs, right? But also—no. Absolutely not. My soul would evacuate my body like steam.
Why is the futon so big but still feel so small? Why are those cranes kissing? Are they judging me? Do birds believe in premarital handholding?

When Haruki came back from his bath, his hair was damp, cheeks pink from the heat, and he looked exactly like every anime love interest right before the girl yells “D-Don’t look at me like that!”

Yui turned around and stared at the wall.

Later that night, after dinner and a tense hour of trying not to fall into each other on the futon, Haruki peeked out into the garden.

“The outdoor bath’s still warm,” he said. “Want to—go out? Just for a bit?”

Yui hesitated.

Then nodded.

They stepped into the misty garden with towels wrapped securely around them—her in a one-piece, him in swim trunks. (Bless this inn for including “modesty-friendly” options.)

Steam curled into the night air as they slid into the water.

They sat back-to-back, knees pulled up, the silence between them not heavy—but shy. Charged.

Stars flickered overhead. The breeze was soft.

Haruki exhaled. “I keep thinking about how weird this all is. But also kind of… perfect?”

Yui nodded slowly. “It’s like the universe is pushing us closer and watching to see if we break.”

He chuckled. “Joke’s on the universe. I break daily anyway.”

She laughed quietly, her back gently touching his now. “Hey, Haruki?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

He smiled. “Always.”

And they sat like that, nervous and flushed, but not pulling away.

Because sometimes awkward was just the warm-up act for something beautiful.