Chapter 26 – Off to the Mountains

Haru adjusted her glasses for the hundredth time, mentally reviewing the checklist in her clipboard as the school bus rumbled up the winding road into the mountains.

Tents. Check. First-aid kit. Check. Flashlights. Extra snacks. Mosquito repellent. Check, check, and double check.

What she couldn’t check off, however, was the persistent flutter in her stomach.

“Sensei, are you okay?” one of the second-year girls leaned over the aisle with a cheeky grin. “You’ve been scribbling on that paper for ten minutes. Are you writing love letters?”

Several students snickered, and Haru flushed.

“Don’t tease your teacher,” Aya’s voice cut in from behind, calm but amused. “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if she wrote beautiful letters.”

Haru twisted in her seat to glare at her fellow chaperone, only to find Aya resting her chin on her hand, eyes twinkling.

Of course. It was always a game to Aya.

---

The trip was technically educational—nature study, group bonding, hiking—but everyone knew it was really just a disguised excuse for fresh air and forest selfies.

When they arrived, the students spilled out of the buses like puppies, chasing each other through the grass, posing against trees for their Stories, and shrieking when bugs got too close.

Haru helped unload supplies, trying her best not to look at Aya, who was tying her hair into a messy ponytail as she gave orders to the group leaders.

Focus, Haru.

Professional mode.

But that resolve cracked quickly.

“Takemine-sensei!” one student called as they looked at the tent assignment sheet. “Are you and Miss Kurozawa sharing?”

The whole group erupted in laughter.

“We are not—” Haru began, flustered.

Aya simply grinned. “Well, you never know. Maybe she snores.”

“I do not!”

“Oh? I’ll find out soon enough.”

More laughter.

Haru wanted to disappear.

---

After a full day of camp games and awkward tree identification, the group moved to the nearby inn-style lodge for the evening.

Haru sighed in relief when she finally kicked off her hiking boots and stepped into the polished wood floors of the entryway.

The lodge had traditional tatami-mat rooms with sliding doors, futons, and a public bath area. The air smelled faintly of cedar and green tea.

She went to check the assignment board for the teachers’ rooms and stopped cold.

Room 204: Haru Takamine / Aya Kurozawa .

Her stomach dropped.

“Everything okay?” Aya appeared behind her, her voice close and low.

“You requested this, didn’t you?” Haru hissed.

Aya held up her hands innocently. “It’s just a coincidence. Or maybe fate.”

Haru groaned and leaned her forehead against the board. Survive this night. Just survive it.

---

The bathhouse was steamy and serene. The students had already gone in groups, and the teachers had their time slot next.

Haru wrapped herself in a modest towel and sat on a stool by the mirrors, gently washing her arms. Her skin was flushed from the hot water and embarrassment alike.

She’d been doing so well, keeping her distance. Being careful.

Then Aya walked in.

Wrapped in a towel, her short hair damp, eyes soft from the steam.

“Hey,” she said quietly, voice echoing against the tiles.

“Hey,” Haru murmured.

Aya knelt beside her and took the shampoo bottle from her hand. “Let me.”

“Wha—”

“I’ve always wanted to wash your hair.”

Before Haru could protest, Aya’s fingers were in her hair, gentle and slow.

Haru closed her eyes. The warmth of the bath, the soft lather, the rhythmic massage of Aya’s hands—it was too much. Too intimate.

Aya leaned close, breath near her ear. “You always smell like peaches, you know that?”

Haru’s heart hammered in her chest.

“This is wildly inappropriate,” she whispered.

Aya chuckled. “We’re alone. For once.”

---

Later, in Room 204, the awkward silence hung heavy as they spread out the futons.

Aya yawned and flopped down onto hers, arms behind her head.

“Cozy,” she muttered.

Haru stayed frozen by the door, towel now replaced by pajamas far too thin for comfort.

“Do you want me to sleep in the hallway?” she asked dryly.

Aya sat up, frowning. “Of course not.”

“…Then stop looking at me like that.”

Aya tilted her head. “Like what?”

“Like you want to eat me alive.”

“I’m just appreciating the view.”

Haru turned red.

“Can you—just—go to sleep?”

Aya rolled over, fluffing her pillow. “Fine. But for the record, this is your fault.”

“My fault?!”

“You’re the one who made me fall for a clumsy, rule-obsessed, overly responsible cutie who blushes when someone touches her hand.”

Haru’s mouth went dry.

Aya peeked at her from under the covers. “Sweet dreams, Haru.”

Haru stood there in stunned silence.

Then turned off the light.

As she lay down beside Aya, a few feet of tatami between them, she whispered into the dark:

“…Sweet dreams, Aya.”

--

Haru stared at the ceiling, heart racing.

“How am I supposed to survive living with her now?”