Chapter 27 – Hot Spring

The air was thick with mist and pine. Outside, the murmur of cicadas rose and fell in waves, the cool mountain breeze rustling through the tall trees like a lullaby. Inside the lodge’s traditional bathhouse, all was quiet save for the gentle trickle of water and the soft rustle of fabric being folded neatly on a wooden bench.

Haru stepped into the steaming spring, letting out a quiet sigh as the heat soaked into her skin. Her tense shoulders slowly relaxed, the stress of chaperoning thirty hormone-charged teenagers fading with each ripple in the water.

For once, she let herself sink deep. No papers to grade. No gossiping staffroom. No sidelong glances. Just the scent of hinoki wood and the warm embrace of stillness.

Her eyes closed.

Then—a creak. A faint splash. The sound of someone stepping into the water.

She sat up, startled. “This is the teachers’ time slot. I thought I was alone—”

Slender arms wrapped gently around her from behind, and a familiar voice murmured close to her ear:

> “You look so relaxed… I couldn’t resist.”

Haru froze for a breath. Then relaxed again.

“Aya…”

Aya’s chin rested against her damp shoulder. “You always carry so much tension in your back, you know that? Even here, you were still frowning. But now…” She traced a line down Haru’s arm, water gliding from her fingertips. “You’re finally letting go.”

Haru didn’t move. She was hyper-aware of every point where their skin touched—shoulders, hands, the way Aya’s breath brushed her ear.

The steam cloaked them like fog on a moonlit road—hiding them from everything but each other.

“I shouldn’t be this close,” Haru whispered, almost apologetic. “Not here. Not with students sleeping just two walls away.”

Aya chuckled softly. “You think I can keep my hands off you just because of a few tatami walls?”

Haru turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse of Aya’s grin—teasing, yes, but gentle too. Always gentle.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you’re always so brave,” she murmured.

“I’m not brave,” Aya replied, drawing closer until their foreheads touched. “I’m just… honest about what I want. And I want you.”

Silence bloomed between them—comforting, almost sacred.

Then Aya’s hands slid down Haru’s arms again, this time not lingering, just floating away with the steam. She sat beside her in the water, letting the warmth do its work.

“I’m not going to push you,” she said quietly. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

Haru glanced at her. Aya looked calm. Soft. Her hair damp and framing her face in dark waves, her lips curved in something between affection and restraint.

“Thank you,” Haru whispered. “For knowing when to stop. Even when I can’t seem to.”

Aya turned her head. “I know your heart, Haru. And that’s more than enough for now.”

They sat like that for a while. Side by side in the silence.

Eventually, Haru leaned against her, resting her cheek against Aya’s bare shoulder.

“You’re beautiful when you let go,” Aya whispered again.

And this time, Haru didn’t flinch.

She let herself close her eyes. Let herself feel the comfort of Aya’s presence. The peace in their closeness.

No words. Just warmth.

Just breath.

Just this moment—stolen and secret—and perfect.

Ending Hook:

As they left the bathhouse wrapped in yukata, their hair still damp, Haru glanced sideways and whispered with a tiny smile:

> “You’re a terrible influence.”

Aya grinned.

> “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

And for the first time, Haru didn’t feel guilty for smiling back.