Orange Hotel

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It was quiet when we stepped onto the deck—early enough that the sun hadn’t baked the tiles, late enough that the world felt like it had already started without us.

The water looked still. Blue-green. Glossy, like someone had polished it for a memory.

I slowed. Then it hit me.

A year ago. A pool like this. A day like this.

I’d said it to Shizuka—out loud. “I still love Kyoshi.”

The words had landed like something final. Like breaking glass.

I remember thinking: That’s it. I’ve said it. Now I can move on.

But here I was again. Water. Sunlight. And him.

I wasn’t sure what I felt now. Only that the ache was quieter. And heavier. Not gone. Just folded into something else.

Shizuka glanced over—maybe remembering. She didn’t say anything.

Kyoshi broke the silence. “Looks nice. You been here before?”

Ryoji didn’t answer. He just moved to one of the shaded chairs, silent as ever—like the question hadn’t touched him at all.

I slipped my sandals off and sat at the edge, feet in the water.

Kyoshi waded in first. Shizuka almost followed. They talked quietly about something—I didn’t really hear. I was staring into the ripples, trying not to think about how similar this felt.

The water. The sound. The closeness.

Except everything had shifted one degree to the left.

And I— I didn’t know what to do with that yet.

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So I just looked over at Ryoji, sitting in the shade, not watching me exactly, but not looking away either. A sentinel with tired eyes and an unreadable past.

He wasn’t trying to join. But he wasn’t trying to leave either. And somehow… that made it easier to breathe.

The surface of the water caught the light just right—like old summer days.

Kyoshi was already wading in, Shizuka testing the water with one foot. And me? I didn’t even think.

I grinned, peeled off my top layer, and bolted.

“Cannonball!”

I hit the water with a splash loud enough to make heads turn in another prefecture.

When I surfaced, Kyoshi was shaking water out of his hair. “Some things never change.”

Shizuka arched a brow. “You still announce it?”

“Ritual is important,” I said, pushing wet bangs out of my face.

She smirked. “You just like making a scene.”

I shrugged and floated backward, eyes half-shut, letting the water cradle me. “Maybe.”

And for a little while—it was easy. Not perfect. Not magical. But easy.

Kyoshi challenged me to a breath-holding contest. I cheated. Shizuka pretended to disapprove and joined in anyway. There were splashes, shrieks, someone slipped on the edge trying to do a dolphin kick.

It was dumb. And it was perfect.

I drifted on my back, watching clouds shuffle lazily overhead, and thought: this is how my summers felt like.

Then my gaze drifted toward the edge.

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Later, the three of us hung by the pool wall, arms on the edge, letting the sun warm our shoulders.

“I forgot how stupidly nice this is,” I said.

Kyoshi glanced over. “Stupidly?”

“You know. Being warm. Floating. Not thinking about rent.”

Shizuka smiled faintly. “Not bad, for something that smells like chlorine and sunscreen.”

I nudged her with my elbow. “Still the poet, I see.”

Kyoshi let out a breath. “This kind of feels like… a vacation.”

“Don’t jinx it,” I warned. “Last time I said that, I sprained my ankle trying to shoo away a cat.”

They both laughed.

For a second, I looked between them—Kyoshi, Shizuka. The three of us. Together, yet not tangled. I didn’t feel stuck. I didn’t feel behind.

I just felt… okay.

Kyoshi chuckled. “We used to be louder.”

“And dumber,” I added. “Don’t forget dumber.”

Shizuka gave me that look—half a smile, half something distant. “Some things don’t need forgetting.”

I floated in the silence that followed, something in my chest shifting—not pain. Not exactly. Just space.

When I finally climbed out of the water, towel slung around my neck, I looked over.

Ryoji was still there.

Not watching. Just there.

A quiet shape holding the line between past and present.

Our eyes met briefly. I gave a nod. He returned it.

That was all.

But somehow, it made the air easier to stand in.

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