The Mountain Hot-Spring Disaster

Shira had been on vacation for nine minutes when she learned that the vacation had performance objectives.

She stared at the document on Freya's phone.

"No."

"You haven't read it."

"It has percentages."

"They're time allocations."

"That's worse."

Freya held the phone closer.

MOUNTAIN GETAWAY: PROPOSED ITINERARY

Friday: Arrival, check-in, hot springs, dinner.

Saturday: Morning trail hike, village exploration, optional mobility session.

Sunday: Morning walk, scenic overlook, restorative bathing.

Monday: Departure.

Beneath the schedule was a section labeled Weather Contingencies.

Shira looked at Freya.

"You've scheduled relaxation."

"I've protected time for it."

"From what?"

"Other activities."

"Which you also scheduled."

"Yes."

Shira closed her eyes.

Sumi, meanwhile, had fallen in love with the building.

The ryokan stood on a wooded mountainside in Nagano Prefecture, above a narrow road that wound through cedar forest and disappeared into pale afternoon mist. Its roofs were dark tile, its outer walls weathered timber, and its windows faced a valley where distant mountains rose in overlapping shades of blue.

A stream ran beside the property.

Somewhere among the trees, water was falling over stone.

Sumi stood beneath the entrance lanterns holding her suitcase with both hands.

"Oh, this is beautiful."

Shira opened one eye.

It was.

The building had the quiet confidence of something that had been standing there for a long time without feeling any particular need to advertise itself.

No enormous glass entrance.

No promotional banners.

No electronic sign announcing the availability of experiences.

Just wood, stone, trees, and a small brass plaque bearing the inn's name.

Shira approved.

Sumi pointed toward a covered wooden veranda extending along one side of the building.

"Look!"

Beyond it, a garden descended toward the forest. Moss-covered stones marked a winding path. A maple tree had begun turning red.

Shira looked at the veranda.

There were cushions.

There were low tables.

There appeared to be absolutely nothing to do.

"I could sit there for three days," she said.

Freya looked up from her phone.

"That isn't really an itinerary."

"Exactly."

Sumi dragged her suitcase toward the entrance.

"Come on! They have slippers!"

Shira followed her.

"Hotels have slippers."

"Not all hotels."

"This one will have three fewer pairs by Monday."

Freya put away her phone.

"I've already calculated the luggage weight for the return trip."

Shira stopped.

"Of course you have."

They entered.

---

Mrs. Takeda was waiting in the entrance hall.

She was a small woman in her late sixties with silver-streaked hair pinned neatly behind her head, a dark blue kimono, and the composed expression of someone who had witnessed every possible variety of guest behavior and found none particularly alarming.

She welcomed them in excellent English. The inn often hosted international visitors, she explained, and several of its staff could help guests in English.

Sumi bowed enthusiastically.

Then bowed again.

Then appeared uncertain whether she had bowed too much.

Mrs. Takeda returned one bow.

This seemed to conclude the matter.

The lobby smelled faintly of cedar and tea. A narrow arrangement of autumn branches stood in a ceramic vase beside the reception desk.

Mrs. Takeda explained the meal schedule, the private-bath reservations, and the arrangement of the guest rooms.

Sumi nodded at everything.

Freya began asking questions.

"How far is the upper trail from the property?"

"Four kilometers to the first viewpoint."

"Elevation gain?"

"Approximately four hundred meters."

"Is the surface suitable for running?"

"Not after rain."

"What about the lower trail?"

"Suitable for walking."

"Running?"

Mrs. Takeda considered.

"If you are in a hurry."

Shira looked at the ceiling.

Freya continued.

"The forecast showed a chance of storms tomorrow. How often do conditions change up here?"

"Very often."

"Do you have a preferred contingency route?"

"Yes."

Freya looked pleased.

"Which one?"

Mrs. Takeda folded her hands.

"We remain indoors."

There was a silence.

Sumi smiled.

Shira turned toward the older woman.

"I think we're going to get along."

Mrs. Takeda looked at her black clothes, heavy boots, and the silver iPod visible in the side pocket of her bag.

"Do you enjoy the mountains?"

"I enjoy buildings in the mountains."

"That is also acceptable."

Shira felt an immediate and unreasonable sense of loyalty.

Mrs. Takeda led them through the inn.

The hallways were narrow and immaculate, with polished wooden floors and paper-paneled doors. Small lamps illuminated alcoves containing pottery, seasonal flowers, and framed ink paintings.

Their room was on the second floor.

Three futons had been prepared on tatami mats. A low table stood before a broad window overlooking the forest.

Sumi opened the window slightly.

Cool air entered.

She inhaled.

"Oh, wow."

Shira set down her bag.

It was quiet.

Not artificially quiet.

There were sounds. Water, wind, distant birds, the faint creak of wood.

But none of them demanded anything.

Shira went to the window.

Freya inspected the room's information booklet.

"The private bath is at four."

Sumi clasped her hands.

"YES."

Shira looked back.

"Why did you say that like we've won something?"

"We got the good one!"

"We reserved it."

"Exactly!"

Freya turned a page.

"There's a recommended bathing time."

Shira looked toward the door.

"Already?"

"Fifteen to twenty minutes per session."

Sumi leaned over the booklet.

"Can we do multiple sessions?"

"Yes, with breaks."

"How many?"

"There's no formal maximum."

Sumi gasped.

Shira pointed at Freya.

"Do not tell her that."

A low rumble moved through the mountains.

Sumi looked up.

"Was that thunder?"

Mrs. Takeda, still standing near the doorway, glanced toward the window.

"Possibly. The mountains are considering tomorrow."

Freya looked interested.

"How accurate is the local forecast?"

Mrs. Takeda smiled.

"More accurate than the mountains' promises."

Then she left them to unpack.

Shira watched the door close.

"She's my favorite person here."

"You've known her for six minutes," Freya said.

"She's made excellent use of them."

---

The inn had supplied three sets of yukata and light outer robes, folded neatly beside the futons.

Sumi discovered them first.

"Oh! We get outfits!"

"We get robes," Shira said.

"Outfits," Sumi repeated.

She held one up against herself, admired the patterned fabric, and disappeared behind the changing screen.

A few minutes later she emerged looking extraordinarily pleased.

"I'm never wearing ordinary clothes again."

Freya looked up.

"You have to change back before we leave."

"Not necessarily."

"You cannot travel home in a hotel robe."

"It's not a hotel robe. It's culture."

Shira examined the dark indigo outer layer provided for her. The fabric was soft, its pattern a subdued scattering of pale leaves. She slipped it on over her black lace high-neck top and long pleated skirt, leaving it open rather than arranging the whole outfit as intended.

Sumi stopped talking.

Shira noticed immediately.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"That was not nothing."

"It looks really good."

Shira looked down at herself.

The blue was dark enough to be acceptable. The robe was comfortable. The lace still showed at her throat and wrists.

"It's fine," she said.

Sumi smiled.

Shira pointed at her.

"Don't make a thing of it."

Freya had put on her own yukata.

She took three steps across the tatami, stopped, and looked down at the hem.

"This restricts stride length."

Shira closed her eyes.

"Please don't."

Freya took another step, a little longer.

"The wrap limits hip extension."

Sumi looked at her.

"Maybe you're not supposed to run in it."

"I'm not running."

"You're walking like you're about to."

Freya planted her feet and performed a squat.

Shira watched.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking range of motion."

"In a robe."

"Yes."

Freya straightened, then stepped into a lunge.

Sumi considered.

"Does it need to do that?"

"Clothing should accommodate normal movement."

"That's not normal movement," Shira said.

Freya lowered herself into a deeper lunge.

"For me it is."

The edge of the garment caught beneath her rear foot.

Freya shifted her weight to correct it.

The fabric tightened.

Her balance went.

She landed backward on the nearest futon with a soft, thoroughly undignified whump.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Sumi burst into applause.

Shira looked down at Freya.

"Excellent. You've invented lying down."

Freya sat upright, still attempting to look authoritative.

"I was testing mobility."

"The robe won."

Sumi was laughing so hard she had to lean against the table.

A polite knock sounded at the door.

Mrs. Takeda slid it open a little.

"Is everything comfortable?"

She took in Freya sitting on the futon, Sumi clutching the table, and Shira standing in her improvised indigo-and-black outfit.

Her expression did not change.

"The robes are intended for relaxing," she said.

Shira gestured toward Freya.

"She's finally doing that."

Mrs. Takeda nodded as though an important concern had been resolved.

"Very good. Enjoy the baths."

She withdrew.

Freya looked at Shira.

"You're enjoying this."

"Immensely."

---

The private outdoor bath was even prettier than the photographs.

A pool of hot mineral water lay between smooth stones beneath a wooden canopy. Beyond it rose a tall privacy screen, and beyond that, visible through a gap in the trees, were misty mountain slopes.

Steam drifted upward.

A small stone lantern stood beside the water.

There was a sheltered changing area, a washing station, and a wooden shelf for their towels and folded yukata. One extra dry towel had been tucked beneath a bench, out of the breeze.

Everything appeared wonderfully peaceful.

This lasted approximately twelve seconds.

"SHIRA."

"No."

"Look at the view."

"I can see it."

"Look at the water!"

"I'm standing next to it."

"It's steaming!"

"That's generally how hot water works."

Sumi had already washed and was easing into the bath, her hair tied up in a loose knot.

"Oh my God."

Freya stepped into the water more cautiously.

"Temperature's good."

Sumi leaned backward against the stone.

"This is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"You said that about the breakfast pastry on the train," Shira reminded her.

"That was also incredible."

Freya submerged herself to her shoulders.

"This should be good for recovery."

Shira stood beside the pool with a towel wrapped tightly around herself.

Neither of her friends looked at her.

This was intentional.

Freya had learned something from the beach trip.

Sumi had been given explicit instructions.

Shira appreciated both facts, although she would have preferred that the instructions had never become necessary.

She set the towel aside and entered the water.

The heat surrounded her immediately.

For one alarming second, it was too hot.

Then she settled against the stone.

The forest moved faintly in the wind.

Steam rose before her face.

Nobody spoke.

Shira closed her eyes.

Sumi opened her mouth.

Freya looked at her.

Sumi closed it again.

Thirty seconds passed.

Then another thirty.

Shira felt herself relaxing.

She resented this.

It was becoming an irritating pattern.

Her friends dragged her into situations she intended to endure, and then the situations turned out to contain something she actually liked.

This was not how consent to recreational activities was supposed to work.

Freya stretched her shoulders.

"I could get used to this."

Sumi made a blissful sound.

"I already live here."

"You don't," Shira said.

"I do now."

"Your apartment will miss you."

"I'll send for my things."

Freya glanced toward the changing area.

"We should get out in another ten minutes."

Shira opened her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because prolonged heat exposure isn't necessarily beneficial."

"Neither is talking."

"I'm just saying we should take breaks."

Sumi frowned.

"Do you have a schedule for the bath?"

"A general protocol."

Shira stared at her.

"You've turned warm water into a training program."

"Recovery is part of training."

"Of course."

Sumi dipped her chin beneath the water.

A small bubble surfaced.

Then another.

She emerged smiling.

"This is so nice."

Shira leaned back.

For a few minutes, she allowed herself to believe the experience might continue without incident.

Then the wind rose.

It came through the trees with a low, rushing sound.

A cluster of leaves lifted from the garden beyond the privacy screen.

One landed in the bath.

Sumi caught it.

"Look! A present!"

Another gust followed.

The towels on the wooden shelf stirred.

Freya glanced toward them.

"Maybe we should move those."

Shira did not open her eyes.

"Probably."

Nobody moved.

The next gust arrived.

It was considerably stronger.

Something flapped.

Something snapped against the wooden screen.

Then three pale towels and two folded robes rose from the shelf in an extraordinary display of aerodynamic ambition.

Sumi gasped.

Freya turned.

Shira opened one eye.

The garments sailed over the privacy screen and dropped into the service courtyard on the other side, well beyond anyone's easy reach.

A sleeve caught briefly on the top.

Then vanished.

Silence.

Sumi stared.

Freya stared.

Shira closed her eye again.

"That seems unfortunate."

---

The first proposal was to climb the privacy screen.

Shira rejected it immediately.

"No."

Freya examined the structure.

"It's not particularly high."

"No."

"I could reach the top."

"Congratulations."

Sumi stood near the edge of the bath, keeping the water around her shoulders.

"Maybe we could use a stick."

Freya looked toward a long bamboo pole resting beside the garden wall.

"That's actually reasonable."

Shira opened her eyes.

"Nothing about this is reasonable."

Freya climbed out of the bath, retrieved the one dry towel from beneath the bench, wrapped it around herself, and picked up the pole.

She held the towel at her chest with one hand and extended the pole toward the screen with the other.

Too short.

She moved closer.

Still too short.

Sumi leaned forward.

"What if you stand on the stone?"

"No," Shira said.

Freya examined the stone.

"It's stable."

"That isn't the issue."

Freya stood on it.

The pole reached the top of the screen.

"See?"

Then the towel began slipping.

Freya grabbed it more tightly.

The pole swung sideways.

Something clattered beyond the wall.

All three froze.

Sumi whispered, "Did you get one?"

Freya looked at the pole.

"No."

"What did you get?"

"A leaf."

Shira made a small sound.

Freya turned.

"Are you laughing?"

"No."

"You are."

"I inhaled."

"You inhaled sarcastically."

Shira looked toward the sky.

"I can't control how you interpret oxygen."

Sumi had found a wooden bucket.

"Wait. What if we tie this to the pole?"

Freya considered.

"We could hook the handle over the fabric."

"Exactly!"

Shira sat very still.

She had decided that any further participation would constitute aiding and abetting.

Sumi located a washcloth and began tying the bucket to the pole.

It slipped.

She tied it again.

Freya tested the knot.

The bucket swung freely.

"That'll work."

Shira opened both eyes.

"You're building a crane."

"It's a retrieval device."

"From a bucket."

"Yes."

"To recover towels."

"Yes."

"While standing naked in a hot spring."

Freya looked at her.

"That is an unnecessarily detailed description."

"It's the situation."

Freya climbed higher onto the stone near the privacy screen, holding the towel securely around herself with one hand and gripping the bamboo pole with the other.

"Almost," she said.

Sumi leaned forward.

"A little to the right!"

"I know."

"Your other right!"

"I only have one right."

A sudden gust caught the bucket at the end of the pole.

The bamboo swung sideways.

Freya instinctively grabbed it with both hands.

This was a mistake.

For approximately half a second, the towel remained where it was.

Then it departed.

Freya froze.

The towel lifted into the air, floated backward over the rocks, and landed in the hot spring beside Sumi with a soft splash.

Nobody spoke.

Sumi looked at the towel.

Then at Freya, who had crouched hastily behind the stone.

Then back at the towel.

"I got it!" she announced.

Freya closed her eyes.

"That's not helpful."

Shira watched the towel slowly absorb water.

"Congratulations. We've now lost the only towel we still had."

Sumi began laughing.

The bucket, meanwhile, struck the rain gutter on the far side of the screen, slipped loose from its improvised knot, and remained hanging there. Freya pulled the now-useless pole back.

Keeping low behind the stones, she made her way back into the bath, preserving as much dignity as circumstances permitted.

"It's not funny," Freya said.

"No," Shira said. "It's an outstanding success."

Sumi was laughing too hard to speak.

Shira looked toward the changing area.

Beside the wooden shelf was a small panel bearing a button.

An English label read:

ATTENDANT CALL

Shira pointed.

"Perhaps we should try technology."

Freya stared at the button.

Sumi stared at it.

Shira pressed it.

A soft chime sounded.

Less than a minute later, a voice came through the small speaker.

"May I help you?"

Shira looked at her friends.

They looked back.

"Yes," Shira said. "The wind has stolen our clothes."

A pause.

Then the unmistakable sound of someone trying not to laugh.

"Of course. We will bring replacements."

"Thank you."

"Please remain in the bath."

Shira glanced at Freya.

"That was already my strategy."

Fresh towels and robes arrived a few minutes later through a discreet delivery hatch in the changing area.

Mrs. Takeda appeared on the other side of the closed partition to make sure everything was satisfactory.

Freya thanked her.

"We were attempting to retrieve the originals."

"So I understand."

"We almost succeeded."

"Yes."

Shira looked toward the voice.

"How do you know?"

"We found a bucket hanging from the rain gutter."

Sumi covered her face.

Freya stared at the wall.

Mrs. Takeda continued pleasantly.

"Next time, please call immediately. There is no need to climb anything."

Shira smiled.

"An extraordinary new technology."

Freya looked at her.

"You don't have to enjoy this so much."

"Actually," Shira said, sinking comfortably into the water, "I think I do."

Outside, the wind moved through the trees.

For a moment, the mountains sounded as though they were laughing too.

---

The futons had been waiting for them all afternoon.

By bedtime, Sumi had decided that they were arranged incorrectly.

Shira had claimed the one nearest the window. Freya had chosen the one closest to the door, on the grounds that it offered the shortest route to the bathroom.

Sumi stood between them and frowned.

"Why are we so far apart?"

Shira looked up from her iPod.

"Because we're three people."

"But it's a sleepover!"

"It's a hotel."

"A sleepover in a hotel!"

Sumi began sliding her futon toward Shira's.

Shira watched it approach.

"No."

"Why?"

"You're annexing my territory."

Sumi pushed it another few inches.

Shira dragged hers away.

Sumi pushed hers closer again.

Freya looked up from her phone.

"We need to leave enough space to walk between the beds."

Sumi turned toward her.

"Why?"

"Bathroom access."

Sumi considered this.

Then began moving her futon toward Freya instead.

Freya looked alarmed.

"That's not what I meant."

"You said we needed space on Shira's side."

"I said between the beds."

"Okay."

Sumi tugged the bedding back toward the middle, leaving a gap on either side scarcely wide enough for her slippers.

She examined the arrangement.

"Perfect."

Shira looked at Freya.

"We've negotiated a ceasefire."

"It's not a particularly efficient layout."

"Neither was the bathrobe operation."

Freya put away her phone.

"That is unrelated."

Shira switched off the lamp.

For approximately thirty seconds, everything was quiet.

Then:

"Shira?"

"What?"

"Can we move them a little closer?"

"No."

A pause.

"Freya?"

"No."

Another pause.

"Okay."

Soon Sumi's breathing grew slow and even.

Shira lay awake a little longer, listening to the wind move through the cedars. Her iPod rested beside her pillow.

In the darkness, she noticed Sumi's arm extending across the narrow gap between their futons, her hand lying uncovered on the tatami.

Shira considered moving it.

Instead, she reached over and pulled the corner of Sumi's blanket across her shoulder and arm.

"Unbelievable," she whispered.

Then she turned toward the window and went to sleep.

---

The following morning, Freya woke at six.

She had intended to run.

This proved difficult because the mountain had disappeared.

Not literally.

The surrounding forest was still present, along with the buildings, garden, and road.

But everything beyond approximately fifty meters had been swallowed by fog.

Freya stood at the window, considering.

Behind her, Sumi was asleep beneath a heap of blankets.

Shira was also asleep.

Her black hair covered half her face, and one hand rested on the old iPod beside her pillow.

Freya checked the weather.

Rain expected by eight.

Heavy rain by ten.

Thunderstorms possible through the evening.

She considered a short run.

Then remembered Mrs. Takeda's warning about the trails.

She sat down instead.

It was an unpleasantly mature decision.

At seven-thirty, Shira woke to find Freya reading in silence.

She blinked.

Looked at the window.

Looked at Freya.

"Did you already run?"

"No."

"Are you ill?"

"No."

"Has the world ended?"

"Not yet."

Shira sat up.

"Interesting."

At breakfast, Mrs. Takeda confirmed that the day's guided hiking routes would be closed because of the weather.

Freya nodded.

"That makes sense."

Shira looked at her.

"You accepted that very quickly."

"Safety takes priority."

"Who are you?"

Freya took a sip of tea.

"I'm capable of making responsible decisions."

"Since when?"

"Regularly."

Sumi looked up from her rice.

"We could still explore the village!"

Mrs. Takeda glanced toward the windows.

"Perhaps in the morning. But I would not recommend being far from the inn after lunch."

Sumi nodded enthusiastically.

"Great! Morning village, afternoon bath!"

Freya considered.

"Indoor mobility session in between?"

Shira set down her chopsticks.

"No."

"We're not going hiking."

"That doesn't mean we have to invent a substitute suffering."

"It's stretching."

"I know what stretching is."

Sumi raised a hand.

"Can I stretch in the hot spring?"

"No," Freya said.

"Why?"

"Because you might slip."

Sumi considered this.

"Can I stretch near it?"

"You can stretch anywhere."

Shira looked at Freya.

"Do not give her unlimited jurisdiction."

They spent the morning amusing themselves around the inn.

Sumi discovered a small collection of regional cookbooks in the lounge and became so absorbed in one that she forgot all about their plans to explore the village.

Freya inspected the indoor exercise room, which contained two stationary bicycles and a treadmill old enough to have its own historical significance.

Shira found a narrow library overlooking the garden.

It held books in Japanese and English, several old photo albums, and a shelf of classical recordings.

She selected a book of black-and-white landscape photography.

Then settled into a chair by the window.

Rain began tapping against the glass.

She looked up.

The garden was beautiful.

She had nowhere to be.

No one was speaking to her.

For the first time all morning, she felt that the vacation had properly begun.

---

The woman in the lounge was sitting opposite an empty chair.

Shira noticed her because she had two cups of tea.

One sat before her.

The other sat untouched across the low table.

The woman was perhaps thirty, with shoulder-length brown hair, a gray sweater, and a phone she kept turning over in her hands.

Her name, Shira would later learn, was Mika.

For now, she was simply another guest who appeared to be having a worse time than the promotional photographs had promised.

Sumi noticed her too.

Naturally, Sumi approached.

"Hi!"

Mika looked up.

"Hi."

"Are you enjoying the mountains?"

Mika considered.

"They're beautiful."

"They really are! We were supposed to hike, but the weather isn't cooperating."

"That's too bad."

"Although honestly, the hot springs are incredible."

Mika smiled politely.

"I haven't been yet."

Sumi gasped.

"You have to!"

Shira, who had been passing through the lounge on her way to find another book, stopped.

"Sumi."

"What?"

"Not everyone is required to have the same vacation."

Sumi looked at her.

Then at Mika.

"Oh."

She smiled apologetically.

"Sorry. I get excited."

"It's okay," Mika said.

Sumi hesitated.

Then offered her a small package.

"Would you like a rice cracker?"

Mika glanced at it.

"No, thank you."

"Okay."

Sumi moved away.

Shira continued toward the library.

A moment later, Mika spoke.

"Your friend is very energetic."

Shira stopped.

"Unfortunately."

Mika smiled.

"She seems nice."

"She is. That's what makes it difficult to complain."

Mika laughed softly.

Shira looked toward the rain.

"Have you been here before?"

"No."

"Me neither."

"Is it what you expected?"

Shira considered.

"Better. Apart from the scheduled activities."

Mika smiled again.

"Your friend schedules things?"

"She schedules relaxing."

"Really?"

"She's very committed to it."

For a moment, Mika looked almost amused.

Then she glanced toward the empty chair.

Her expression changed.

Shira noticed.

She also noticed that Mika was looking down at her phone again.

Shira adjusted the book under her arm.

"Well. I hope the rain doesn't ruin everything."

Mika looked up.

"Thanks."

Shira nodded.

Then left.

She did not ask about the second cup of tea.

There were questions people could answer when they wanted to.

Shira preferred to leave those questions alone until then.

---

The storm arrived shortly after six.

At first it was only heavy rain.

Then the wind began.

It moved through the trees with a low, rushing sound, making the branches sway and the gutters rattle.

The valley vanished behind sheets of water.

Thunder rolled somewhere beyond the ridge.

By half past six, the lights had flickered three times.

Freya stood at the lounge window.

"That is a serious storm."

Shira was sitting on a low sofa with her book. She had changed back into her black lace top and pleated skirt, with the indigo inn robe draped loosely over them. She liked the combination more than she intended to admit.

"Excellent observation."

"I'm just saying."

"It's definitely weather."

Sumi hurried into the lounge carrying a tray of tea.

"Mrs. Takeda says everyone should stay inside for the evening."

"Already doing that," Shira said.

"And dinner might be late."

"Tragic."

Sumi put down the tray.

"She said the road might close if the wind gets worse."

Freya looked at her.

"Temporarily?"

"Yes."

"Has she contacted the local authorities?"

"She said she was going to."

Freya nodded.

"Good."

The lights flickered again.

Then went out.

For half a second, nobody moved.

The lounge became a deep gray rectangle, illuminated only by the storm beyond the windows.

Someone gasped.

A cup struck the floor.

A child cried out in the adjoining hallway.

Then voices began.

"Is the power out?"

"Can someone find a light?"

"Where's my phone?"

A man near the doorway switched on his flashlight.

Another guest did the same.

Freya stood.

"Okay. Nobody needs to move yet."

She raised her voice just enough to carry.

"Please stay where you are for a moment. The staff will bring lights."

Mrs. Takeda appeared almost immediately with two employees and several battery-powered lanterns.

There was no panic in her expression.

"The backup power is running for essential systems," she announced. "We have drinking water and emergency lighting. Please remain inside the building. We will update everyone about the road."

Freya approached her.

"Would you like help checking the rooms?"

Mrs. Takeda looked at her.

"That would be useful."

Freya nodded.

"Do you have a guest list?"

"At reception."

"Good. I'll help confirm who's here."

Sumi crouched beside the child who had started crying.

"Hey."

The little girl looked at her.

"Are the lights broken?"

"Just temporarily."

"Is the whole mountain broken?"

Sumi considered.

"I don't think so."

The girl sniffed.

"How do you know?"

"Mountains are pretty strong."

Shira looked up from her sofa.

"Generally."

The girl glanced toward her.

Shira held up her old iPod.

"See? Some things still work."

The girl looked at the screen.

"What's that?"

"A music player."

"Like a phone?"

"Better."

Freya, passing with the guest list, looked at her.

"That is debatable."

"It isn't."

Sumi smiled.

"Shira likes old things."

"I like things that continue functioning."

"The power's out."

"The battery isn't."

Shira selected an album.

A guitar began playing quietly through her headphones.

She settled back against the sofa.

Outside, rain struck the windows.

Inside, Mrs. Takeda and Freya continued checking the guests.

Sumi found a packet of biscuits for the little girl.

Someone brought another lantern.

The building grew quieter.

Shira looked around.

No television.

No music from the dining room speakers.

No one asking anyone else to admire a photograph.

No brightly illuminated lobby.

Just rain, timber, and the soft voices of people adjusting to the unexpected.

She took out one earbud.

Sumi was looking at her.

"What?"

"Are you enjoying this?"

Shira considered.

"A little."

Sumi stared.

"The electricity's out."

"I noticed."

"We might be stuck here."

"Apparently."

"There's a thunderstorm."

Shira looked toward the window.

"Yes."

Sumi waited.

Shira put the earbud back in.

"This is actually quite nice."

---

By seven-fifteen, Shira had acquired a reputation.

This was unfortunate.

It began with Mr. Hasegawa, an elderly guest who had misplaced his glasses during the blackout.

He was standing in the hallway with a lantern, looking profoundly discouraged.

"I had them at afternoon tea," he said.

Shira, passing on her way back from the library, stopped.

"You were in the lounge afterward."

He looked at her.

"Was I?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"You were sitting by the painting."

He considered.

"Oh."

"You took them off when you looked at your phone."

His face brightened.

"I did!"

Shira nodded toward the lounge.

"They're probably on the little table."

They were.

Mr. Hasegawa thanked her with such enthusiasm that Shira became uncomfortable.

"It was nothing."

"No, no. You remembered!"

"I was there."

"In all this confusion!"

"Yes."

"Remarkable."

Shira looked at him.

"It was a pair of glasses."

He smiled.

"You are very calm."

Shira hesitated.

"Thank you?"

Five minutes later, another guest approached.

"Excuse me. Mr. Hasegawa said you might know whether the upstairs hallway is safe."

Shira stared.

"What?"

"He said you were helping people."

Shira looked down the corridor.

There were emergency lights along the floor.

"Yes. It's safe to walk through."

"Thank you!"

The guest left.

Shira turned toward the lounge.

Mr. Hasegawa waved cheerfully.

She narrowed her eyes.

Another guest arrived.

"Should we open the shutters?"

"Ask Mrs. Takeda."

"Thank you."

Then another.

"Do you think the road will reopen tomorrow?"

"Ask Mrs. Takeda."

"Of course."

A fourth approached carrying a flashlight.

"Do you know whether the storm is getting worse?"

Shira looked through the window.

"I don't."

"Oh."

"The weather service might."

"Right. Thank you."

The man left.

Shira stood still.

She had somehow become a customer service desk.

Sumi appeared beside her.

"Oh my God."

"No."

"Everyone's asking you things!"

"I noticed."

"You're like the calm person in a disaster movie!"

"No."

"The one who knows what to do!"

"I don't."

"The mysterious one!"

"Sumi."

Sumi clasped her hands.

"The Dark Lady of the Mountain."

Shira closed her eyes.

"Absolutely not."

Mr. Hasegawa approached again.

"Ah! There she is!"

Shira opened her eyes.

"What have you told people?"

"Only that you were remarkably helpful."

"I found your glasses."

"Yes!"

"You left them on a table."

"Yes!"

"That isn't disaster management."

Mr. Hasegawa smiled.

"Nevertheless, you were very reassuring."

Sumi leaned toward him.

"We're calling her the Dark Lady of the Mountain."

Shira turned.

"We are not."

Mr. Hasegawa looked delighted.

"An excellent title!"

Shira stared at both of them.

"Stop."

Freya arrived carrying a clipboard.

She had been helping the staff check the room assignments and confirm that everyone was accounted for.

"What's going on?"

"Shira's famous," Sumi said.

Freya looked at Shira.

"For what?"

"Apparently existing in a hallway."

Mr. Hasegawa explained the glasses.

Freya nodded.

"Shira has a very good memory for spatial details."

Shira looked at her.

"Do not make it worse."

"It's true."

"That's irrelevant."

Freya examined the hallway.

"Actually, would you mind helping me check the west corridor? One of the emergency lights isn't working, and I could use someone who remembers the layout."

Shira stared.

"Sumi."

"Yes?"

"I think I've been promoted."

Sumi beamed.

"The Dark Lady has responsibilities!"

Shira looked toward the rain.

The road was closed.

She was trapped inside a mountain inn.

Surrounded by people who had begun consulting her about electricity.

For the first time since arriving, she genuinely considered walking home.

Then she remembered the distance.

And the storm.

And the fact that it was quite dark outside.

She sighed.

"Fine."

Freya smiled.

"Thanks."

Shira followed her toward the west corridor.

Behind them, Mr. Hasegawa was explaining to another guest that the young woman in black had an extraordinary aptitude for navigating darkness.

Shira heard him.

"Freya."

"Yes?"

"Please tell him I'm not a vampire."

Freya considered.

"Would that help?"

"No."

"Then I'm not sure it's worth intervening."

Shira looked at her.

Freya smiled.

It was not an innocent smile.

Shira kept walking.

The mountain had become intolerable again.

At least the lighting was good.

---

Sumi entered the kitchen at seven-thirty-seven and immediately began asking inappropriate questions.

"Are those mushrooms?"

Mrs. Takeda looked up from a large pot.

"Yes."

"What kind?"

"Shimeji."

"Oh, they're beautiful."

"They are mushrooms."

"I know. Can I smell them?"

Mrs. Takeda considered.

"Of course."

Sumi leaned over the basket.

Inhaled.

Closed her eyes.

Then opened them again.

"Do you have butter?"

Mrs. Takeda stared at her.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then the older woman said, "Why?"

Sumi smiled.

The inn's kitchen was warm despite the blackout. A pair of battery lanterns illuminated the preparation counters, and a gas range designed to operate without electrical power remained available.

The situation was inconvenient rather than catastrophic.

Most of the evening's elaborate meal could no longer be prepared as planned. Some dishes had already been completed, others depended on equipment that could not be used, and the staff had been reorganizing the menu for nearly an hour.

Mrs. Takeda had decided to serve a simpler dinner.

Rice.

Soup.

Vegetables.

Preserved foods.

Enough for everyone.

Sumi had overheard this and volunteered.

Initially, Mrs. Takeda had thanked her and declined.

Then Sumi asked about the mushrooms.

And the butter.

And whether the kabocha squash had already been roasted.

Mrs. Takeda looked toward the preparation counter.

"We have roasted squash."

"Can I see?"

She showed her.

Sumi examined the orange wedges.

"Do you have miso?"

"Of course."

"Something sour?"

"Rice vinegar."

"Something sweet?"

Mrs. Takeda gestured toward a jar of preserved plums.

Sumi's eyes widened.

"Oh."

Mrs. Takeda watched her.

"You have an idea."

"Maybe."

"Have you cooked professionally?"

Sumi hesitated.

"Once."

"Once?"

"For a restaurant."

"How long?"

"One night."

Mrs. Takeda regarded her.

"Was it successful?"

Sumi considered.

"I think so."

"How many people?"

"Quite a few."

"How many?"

"More than we expected."

Mrs. Takeda folded her hands.

For a moment she looked extraordinarily like Freya.

"That is not a number."

Sumi smiled.

"No."

Mrs. Takeda considered.

Then she handed Sumi an apron.

"Show me."

---

Freya arrived ten minutes later carrying a clipboard.

Shira followed at a distance that communicated reluctant participation.

They found Sumi standing over a pan of mushrooms.

Mrs. Takeda was beside her.

Both women looked intensely interested in the contents of the pan.

Freya stopped.

"Sumi."

"Hi!"

"What are you doing?"

"Cooking!"

"I can see that."

"The electricity's out."

"Yes."

"So we're making dinner."

Freya looked at Mrs. Takeda.

"Is this okay?"

Mrs. Takeda nodded.

"She has good instincts."

Sumi smiled.

Freya's expression changed.

Shira saw it happen.

"No."

Freya looked at her.

"What?"

"You're doing the face."

"What face?"

"The restaurant face."

"I'm not."

"You're thinking about margins."

"I am not thinking about margins."

"You're thinking about expansion."

Freya closed her eyes.

"Sumi is helping prepare dinner at a mountain inn during an electrical outage. This is not a business opportunity."

Shira looked at her.

Freya opened her eyes.

A pause.

"Although seasonal guest-chef arrangements are a legitimate business model."

"Freya."

"I'm making an observation."

Mrs. Takeda stirred the mushrooms.

"Your friend talks about business often."

"Constantly," Shira said.

Freya looked at her.

"I have other interests."

"You have a watch that measures your sleep."

"That's health."

"And your stress."

"Also health."

"And your recovery."

"Still health."

"And the number of flights of stairs you climb."

Freya hesitated.

"That is arguably recreation."

Mrs. Takeda tasted the mushrooms.

She stopped.

Tasted them again.

Sumi waited.

"Well?"

Mrs. Takeda looked at her.

"What did you add?"

"A little miso. Butter. Vinegar."

"How much?"

Sumi considered.

"Enough?"

Shira closed her eyes.

Freya sighed.

"I have heard that answer before."

Mrs. Takeda took another spoonful.

Then nodded slowly.

"Very good."

Sumi beamed.

Mrs. Takeda handed her another pan.

"We have more mushrooms."

Sumi made a delighted sound.

Freya looked toward the dining room.

"How many guests are we feeding?"

"Twenty-one," Mrs. Takeda said.

"Any dietary restrictions?"

"Three."

"Do you have those recorded?"

"Yes."

"Good. I can help with distribution and portion counts."

Mrs. Takeda nodded.

"Please coordinate with my daughter at the service counter."

Freya straightened.

"Absolutely."

Shira watched her leave.

Then turned toward Sumi.

"Congratulations."

"What?"

"You've found someone who can manage her."

Mrs. Takeda looked up.

"Your friend is very energetic."

"Which one?"

Mrs. Takeda considered.

"Both."

Shira nodded.

"That is the problem."

Sumi held out a spoon.

"Try this."

Shira tasted the mushrooms.

They were astonishing.

Of course they were.

She considered the circumstances.

An electrical failure.

A mountain storm.

A closed road.

A makeshift kitchen.

And Sumi had somehow managed to improve dinner.

Shira looked at her.

"You're very annoying."

Sumi smiled.

"Thank you."

---

Mika was sitting alone in the corridor overlooking the garden.

The emergency lighting was dim here, and most of the guests had gathered near the dining room.

Shira had been carrying a lantern toward the west hallway when she noticed her.

For a moment, she considered continuing.

Mika was looking out at the rain.

She did not appear to want company.

Shira understood this.

She understood it better than most people.

Then Mika spoke.

"Is dinner ready?"

Shira stopped.

"Almost."

"Okay."

Shira nodded.

She could leave now.

That would be normal.

Instead, she looked at the empty cushion beside Mika.

"Mind if I sit?"

Mika shook her head.

Shira set down the lantern.

They sat together.

Beyond the glass, rain fell into the garden. The stone path had become a dark ribbon between pools of reflected light.

For a while, neither spoke.

Shira found this pleasant.

Mika did not seem uncomfortable either.

Then she said, "Your friend is cooking?"

"Apparently."

"Is she a chef?"

"She hasn't decided."

Mika looked at her.

Shira considered.

"She's very good."

"That sounds nice."

"It usually is."

Another silence.

Mika adjusted the sleeves of her sweater.

"I was supposed to come here in April."

Shira looked at her.

Mika continued watching the rain.

"Then I moved the reservation."

"Okay."

"And then I moved it again."

Shira waited.

Mika gave a small, humorless laugh.

"I almost canceled this morning."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't know."

The rain grew louder against the glass.

Mika looked down at her hands.

"My mother and I were supposed to come together."

Shira was quiet.

"We planned it last winter. She found this place online and sent me about twenty pictures."

Mika smiled faintly.

"She was very excited about the baths."

Shira glanced toward her.

Mika continued.

"She died in the spring."

The words settled between them.

Shira looked toward the garden.

"I'm sorry."

Mika nodded.

"Thanks."

Neither spoke for a while.

Then Mika said, "Everyone kept telling me I should still go."

Shira listened.

"My aunt said it would be good for me. My friends said I should do something nice for myself. My sister said Mom would have wanted me to enjoy it."

She rubbed one thumb against her palm.

"And I thought maybe they were right."

Shira said nothing.

"So I came."

A faint smile crossed Mika's face.

"And it's beautiful."

Shira looked toward the trees.

"It is."

"The room is beautiful. The garden is beautiful. The food is wonderful."

Mika's voice tightened.

"And every time I see something beautiful, I think about how much she would have liked it."

Shira looked at her.

Mika wiped quickly beneath one eye.

"Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

"I know."

She looked away.

"I just thought I would feel better."

Shira waited.

Mika took a breath.

"I thought if I finally came here, I'd feel like I'd finished something."

The lantern cast a soft pool of light across the wooden floor.

Outside, water dripped from the eaves.

Mika laughed quietly.

"That's stupid."

"No."

"I've spent two days trying to enjoy myself. And now there's a storm, and we're stuck here, and I keep thinking that I should be grateful I'm somewhere so lovely."

Shira looked at the garden.

She considered several things she could say.

That Mika's mother would have wanted her to be happy.

That she should remember the good times.

That coming here had been brave.

All of them sounded plausible.

None felt particularly useful.

Finally, Shira said, "You don't have to make this into a good experience."

Mika turned toward her.

Shira kept looking at the rain.

"You can just be here."

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then Mika's face changed.

Her mouth tightened.

She looked down.

A tear fell onto her sweater.

Then another.

Shira did not reach for her.

She did not tell her everything would be okay.

She did not ask whether she wanted to talk.

She simply stayed.

Mika began crying properly.

Quietly at first.

Then with the uneven, exhausted breathing of someone who had been holding something in place for too long.

Shira looked toward the garden and let her cry.

She understood something about wanting the world to leave a feeling alone.

Not because the feeling was pleasant.

Not because it was useful.

But because it belonged to you.

After a while, Mika wiped her face.

"Sorry," she said again.

Shira looked at her.

"You're allowed to be sad."

Mika gave a watery laugh.

"I know."

"Even on vacation."

That made her laugh a little harder.

Shira considered.

"Especially on a vacation with an itinerary."

Mika smiled.

Then she looked toward the dining room.

"Your friends seem very different from you."

"They are."

"Do you ever wish they weren't?"

Shira considered.

"Occasionally."

Mika waited.

Shira looked toward the lantern.

"Not seriously."

Mika smiled.

They sat for another minute.

Then Shira stood.

"There's probably food now."

Mika nodded.

"Okay."

Shira picked up the lantern.

She took two steps.

Then turned.

"Do you want me to save you a seat?"

Mika looked up.

For a moment, her expression became uncertain.

Then she nodded.

"That would be nice."

Shira nodded once.

"Okay."

She continued toward the dining room.

She did not look back.

It seemed important not to make the moment larger than it needed to be.

---

Dinner began at eight forty-six.

Freya knew because she had written down the time.

She had also written down the number of guests served, the available seating, the dietary restrictions, and the approximate time at which the final kitchen preparations would be complete.

Mrs. Takeda had praised her organization.

Freya had been trying not to look delighted for the last twenty minutes.

Sumi emerged from the kitchen carrying a large serving dish.

"Okay!"

Shira looked up.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"You're excited."

"Of course I'm excited!"

"You've been cooking for over an hour."

"I know!"

"During a blackout."

"Yes!"

"At a place where you don't work."

Sumi smiled.

"Isn't it great?"

Shira looked toward the ceiling.

The dining room had been rearranged for a communal meal. Low tables stood closer together than usual, and battery lanterns illuminated the room with a soft amber glow.

Rain moved against the windows.

The smell of rice, mushrooms, roasted squash, and miso filled the air.

Guests who had spent the evening worrying about the storm were now sitting together.

Someone was laughing.

A little girl was explaining to her father that the mountain was probably going to recover.

Mr. Hasegawa had begun telling a story about a storm he remembered from childhood.

Mrs. Takeda listened politely.

Shira suspected she had heard the story before.

Possibly from someone else.

Possibly in 1974.

Sumi placed the serving dish on the table.

"Okay. So we made rice bowls with mushrooms and squash, and there's a little sauce, and Mrs. Takeda made the soup, and there's pickled vegetables, and we have something sweet afterward."

Freya looked at the dish.

"How many portions?"

"Enough."

"Sumi."

"Twenty-four."

Freya blinked.

Shira looked up.

Sumi smiled.

"I counted!"

Freya appeared genuinely moved.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Mrs. Takeda came from the kitchen with another tray.

"She counted after I asked her three times."

Shira laughed.

Sumi looked betrayed.

"You said you wouldn't tell."

"I said I would not tell until dinner."

"That's not the same thing."

"No."

Freya began serving.

The meal was simple.

The food was extraordinary.

There were roasted mushrooms with browned butter and miso, sweet squash balanced by a sharp plum dressing, rice, vegetables, and a clear soup fragrant with ginger.

Nothing was excessively elaborate.

Nothing required decoration.

And everyone was hungry.

For fifteen minutes, the room grew quiet.

Then the compliments began.

Sumi accepted them cheerfully.

Mrs. Takeda accepted them with more restraint.

Freya took careful note of which dishes had proved especially popular.

Shira noticed.

"No."

Freya looked up.

"What?"

"You're collecting market research."

"I'm noticing which dishes people like."

"That's market research."

"People are allowed to notice things."

Shira pointed at her clipboard.

"Not with a spreadsheet."

"It's paper."

"That makes it worse."

Across the table, Mika arrived.

Shira looked up.

She had saved a cushion beside her.

Mika hesitated.

Shira nodded toward it.

Mika sat down.

Neither spoke.

Sumi appeared with a bowl.

"Hi! Do you like mushrooms?"

Mika looked at her.

"Yes."

"Great!"

Sumi filled the bowl.

Shira watched.

"Sumi."

"What?"

"Normal amount."

Sumi looked at the mountain of rice.

"Oh."

She removed a spoonful.

Then another.

Mika smiled.

"That's fine."

Sumi brightened.

"Okay!"

Shira sighed.

"You've made a terrible mistake."

Mika laughed.

For a while, they ate.

Mika said very little.

She did not need to.

Then Mr. Hasegawa stood.

Shira looked at him.

Something about his posture alarmed her immediately.

"No."

Freya glanced over.

"What?"

Shira watched the older man lift his cup.

"No."

Mr. Hasegawa cleared his throat.

"May I say something?"

Sumi gasped.

Shira closed her eyes.

"I know where this is going."

The room quieted.

Mr. Hasegawa smiled.

"I would like to thank our hosts for taking such wonderful care of us."

There was applause.

Mrs. Takeda bowed slightly.

"And I would like to thank the young women who helped this evening."

Freya smiled.

Sumi beamed.

Shira began calculating the distance to the nearest exit.

"Especially," Mr. Hasegawa continued, "the remarkable young lady in black, who remained so composed during our difficulties."

Shira stared at the table.

Sumi turned toward her.

The expression on her face was unbearable.

"Don't," Shira whispered.

Sumi nodded rapidly.

She was already failing.

Mr. Hasegawa raised his cup.

"To the Dark Lady of the Mountain!"

Sumi made a sound that was almost a scream.

Freya put one hand over her mouth.

The guests began applauding.

Shira looked up.

"Please stop."

The applause grew.

"I didn't do anything."

Mr. Hasegawa smiled.

"Exactly! Such modesty!"

Shira turned toward Freya.

"Make it stop."

Freya cleared her throat.

"Actually, Mrs. Takeda and her staff handled the important logistics. Sumi helped prepare dinner, and I assisted with the guest arrangements."

"Of course!" Mr. Hasegawa said.

He lifted his cup higher.

"And our Dark Lady brought us all peace of mind!"

Freya stopped.

Shira stared at her.

"You made it worse."

"I tried."

Sumi had begun laughing so hard that she was leaning against the table.

Shira looked at Mrs. Takeda.

Surely the proprietress would restore order.

The older woman regarded the scene for a moment.

Then lifted her cup.

Shira stared.

"Traitor."

Mrs. Takeda smiled.

"The guests are happy."

The applause continued.

Shira considered sinking through the floor.

She had been a shadow mage once.

This would have been a useful time to remember how.

Instead, she lowered her head and waited for everyone to stop looking at her.

Beside her, Mika was laughing quietly.

Shira glanced at her.

Mika smiled.

Not because the evening had become perfect.

Not because anything difficult had been resolved.

Just because something was funny.

Shira felt her own mouth twitch.

She suppressed it.

Then Sumi caught her eye.

Shira pointed at her.

"No."

Sumi burst into another fit of laughter.

And, despite herself, Shira laughed too.

---

By ten, the guests had begun retiring to their rooms.

The rain had softened.

The wind was quieter.

Mrs. Takeda announced that the road would remain closed overnight while workers checked for fallen branches, but local authorities expected access to be restored the following morning.

Everyone was safe.

Everyone had eaten.

No one needed the Dark Lady of the Mountain for anything.

Shira considered this an excellent outcome.

She was carrying an empty tea cup toward the service counter when Mika approached.

"Hey."

Shira stopped.

"Hi."

"Can I say something?"

Shira regarded her.

"Probably."

Mika smiled.

Then became serious.

"Thank you for earlier."

Shira looked down at the cup.

"It's okay."

"No. I mean it."

Shira looked back at her.

Mika hesitated.

"I know you didn't really do anything."

Shira nodded.

"That was the idea."

Mika smiled.

"But everyone kept telling me that the trip would be healing. That it would be beautiful. That I'd feel better if I came."

She looked toward the dark windows.

"You were the first person who didn't make me feel like I had to be okay."

Shira was quiet.

Mika continued.

"I think I needed that."

Shira looked down.

For a moment, she did not know what to say.

Then she nodded.

"I'm glad."

Mika smiled.

"Goodnight, Shira."

"Goodnight."

Mika walked away.

Shira remained where she was.

The dining room was almost empty now.

A few lanterns still glowed.

From the kitchen came the gentle clatter of dishes being washed.

Mrs. Takeda approached.

"Your friend seemed happier."

Shira looked at her.

"Maybe."

The older woman nodded.

"You were good with her."

Shira looked toward the hallway.

"I barely did anything."

Mrs. Takeda considered.

"Sometimes people are grateful for that."

Shira looked at her.

The older woman took the empty cup from her hand.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Mrs. Takeda returned to the kitchen.

Shira stood alone for a moment.

Then she walked toward the veranda.

Outside, the rain was almost over.

Water dripped from the roof.

The garden stones shone beneath the dim outdoor lamps.

Beyond the trees, the mountains were invisible.

Shira sat on one of the cushions.

The night was cool.

She pulled the indigo robe more tightly around herself.

Then she took out her iPod.

She did not start the music immediately.

Instead, she listened to the rain.

After a while, footsteps sounded behind her.

Freya appeared in the doorway.

"Hey."

Shira looked up.

"Hi."

"Mind if I sit?"

Shira moved slightly.

Freya sat beside her.

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Freya said, "You were good tonight."

Shira closed her eyes.

"Not you too."

"I'm serious."

"So was everyone else. That was the problem."

Freya smiled.

"You helped people."

"You helped people."

"Yes."

"Sumi fed people."

"Yes."

"Mrs. Takeda ran the entire building."

"Yes."

Shira looked at her.

"I found a pair of glasses."

Freya considered.

"That's true."

"Thank you."

"But I think there was more to it."

Shira looked back toward the garden.

She did not answer.

Freya watched the rain.

After a while, she said, "You seemed comfortable."

Shira considered.

"I was."

"During a power outage."

"Yes."

"With a road closure."

"Yes."

"And an entire building full of worried people."

Shira shrugged.

"The building was fine. The staff knew what they were doing. We had food and water. Nobody was hurt."

Freya nodded slowly.

"That's true."

"And it was quiet."

Freya looked at her.

Shira adjusted the sleeve of her robe.

"I liked the quiet."

For a moment, Freya said nothing.

Then she smiled faintly.

"Of course you did."

Shira glanced at her.

"Is that a problem?"

"No."

Freya looked toward the trees.

"Not at all."

They sat together for another minute.

Then Shira said, "You did well too."

Freya looked at her.

"Thanks."

"You were useful."

Freya smiled.

"I tried."

Shira considered.

"And you didn't organize a single competitive event."

Freya laughed.

"Very funny."

"Personal growth."

"I could have organized an emergency-response competition."

Shira looked at her.

"Don't."

"Teams of three. Timed lantern distribution. Guest-accountability scores."

"Freya."

"Bonus points for successful evacuation."

"Nobody needed evacuating."

"Exactly. Very safe event."

Shira began laughing.

Freya smiled.

Outside, a final rumble of thunder moved across the distant mountains.

Neither reacted.

The storm had become part of the background.

---

The electricity returned at seven forty-three the following morning.

Shira knew because every electronic device in the lounge announced it.

First came the ceiling lights.

Then the heating controls.

Then the digital clock above reception.

Then the television, which somebody had apparently left on before the outage.

A morning news program filled the room with cheerful voices.

Freya's watch began synchronizing.

Three phones sounded notifications almost simultaneously.

Sumi emerged from the dining room carrying a pastry.

"WE HAVE POWER!"

Shira looked around.

The lights were bright.

The television was talking.

Someone's phone was playing a video.

The peaceful room of the previous evening had been replaced by civilization.

Shira stared at the ceiling.

"I preferred the disaster."

Freya looked at her.

"Of course you did."

Sumi took a bite of her pastry.

"I kind of get it."

Shira turned.

"What?"

"It was nice last night."

"The electricity was out."

"Yeah, but everyone was together. And we ate dinner, and there were lanterns, and nobody was looking at their phones."

Shira stared.

Sumi continued chewing.

"And you were famous."

Shira closed her eyes.

"Never mind."

Freya checked the weather.

"Clear skies this afternoon."

Sumi brightened.

"Then we can go hiking!"

Shira looked at her.

"No."

"Just a little hike?"

"No."

"A walk?"

"No."

"What about the village?"

"No."

"Are we allowed to leave the room?"

"Not necessarily."

Sumi considered.

"Can I go back to the kitchen?"

Shira opened one eye.

"Why?"

"Mrs. Takeda said I could help with breakfast pastries."

Freya looked up.

"She did?"

Sumi nodded.

"She said she wanted to try something I made yesterday."

Freya's expression changed.

Shira saw it.

"Don't."

Freya stopped.

For a moment, she looked almost offended.

Then she smiled.

"I wasn't going to say anything."

Shira regarded her.

"Really?"

"Really."

Sumi stared at both of them.

"Are you okay?"

Freya nodded.

"Yes."

Sumi looked suspicious.

Then hurried back toward the kitchen.

Shira watched her go.

A moment later, Mrs. Takeda appeared at reception.

She looked around the now brightly illuminated lounge.

"Everything is working again."

Shira sighed.

"Unfortunately."

Mrs. Takeda smiled.

"I thought you might say that."

---

Freya had canceled the morning walk to the scenic overlook.

Shira learned this after breakfast.

She had been sitting beside the window when Freya approached with two cups of tea.

"Here."

Shira looked up.

"What's this?"

"Tea."

"I can see that."

Freya sat beside her.

Shira accepted the cup.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Shira asked, "Aren't we supposed to walk to the overlook?"

"No."

Shira looked at her.

"No?"

"I canceled it."

"Why?"

Freya shrugged.

"I thought we could have a quiet morning."

Shira stared.

"Is the path closed?"

"The upper trails are still closed. But the lower paved path starts right here at the inn. The staff have inspected it and say it's safe to walk. It doesn't use the road."

"So we could go."

"Yes."

"But we're not."

"Not unless you want to."

Shira regarded her for several seconds.

"What's wrong?"

Freya laughed.

"Nothing."

"Are you injured?"

"No."

"Did your watch break?"

"No."

"Are we being investigated?"

"What?"

"Something has happened."

Freya smiled.

"Nothing has happened."

Shira looked suspicious.

Freya leaned back.

"I thought you might like to spend the morning here."

"Here?"

"Yes."

"Doing what?"

Freya looked toward the forest.

"Whatever you want."

Shira considered.

"Nothing."

Freya nodded.

"Okay."

Shira waited.

Freya took a sip of tea.

Shira continued waiting.

Finally, she said, "That's it?"

"That's it."

"No alternate activity?"

"No."

"No indoor stretching?"

"No."

"No cultural excursion?"

"No."

"No emergency productivity opportunity?"

Freya turned toward her.

"Shira."

"What?"

"I canceled the schedule."

Shira stared.

For a moment, she seemed genuinely uncertain what to do.

Then she looked toward the veranda.

"Can we sit outside?"

Freya smiled.

"Of course."

---

The morning was cool and clear.

Mist clung to the trees and moved slowly through the valley. The mountains were visible again, their slopes rising beyond the forest in deep blue layers.

The garden had been washed clean by the storm.

Water gathered on the edges of leaves and fell in small, irregular drops.

The maple tree glowed red in the pale sunlight.

Shira and Freya sat beneath the covered veranda.

Two cups of tea rested on the low table between them.

For a while, neither spoke.

Freya watched a bird land on the garden wall.

Shira watched the mist.

Time passed.

Freya shifted slightly.

Shira glanced at her.

"You can check your watch."

Freya looked down.

"I know."

"You're suffering."

"I'm fine."

"You've been sitting still for eleven minutes."

"How do you know?"

Shira considered.

"Instinct."

Freya smiled.

"Very funny."

They sat a little longer.

Then Freya said, "I think I understand something."

Shira closed her eyes.

"Oh no."

"What?"

"That sounds like a speech."

"It's not a speech."

"Good."

Freya looked toward the mountains.

"I used to think you avoided things because they were uncomfortable."

Shira considered.

"I do."

Freya looked at her.

Shira shrugged.

"Frequently."

"Yes, but I mean..."

Freya hesitated.

"I thought you were missing out."

Shira was quiet.

Freya continued.

"Sometimes you are."

Shira looked at her.

"Thank you."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

"But sometimes..."

Freya stopped.

She looked at the trees.

Shira waited.

Freya took a breath.

"Sometimes I think you notice things I don't."

Shira considered this.

"Like what?"

"The quiet."

Shira looked toward the garden.

"The quiet isn't difficult to notice."

"It is if you're always thinking about what comes next."

Shira did not answer.

Freya smiled faintly.

"I spent most of yesterday trying to figure out how to make the evening go smoothly."

"You did make it go smoothly."

"With help."

"Yes."

"And you spent most of the evening sitting around."

Shira looked at her.

"Thank you."

Freya laughed.

"That's not what I mean."

"I hope not."

"I mean you didn't seem to feel like the evening needed to become something else."

Shira considered.

"No."

"Even when things were going wrong."

"Some things were going wrong."

"Yes."

"But most things weren't."

Freya looked at her.

Shira continued.

"The lights were out. The road was closed. Dinner was late."

She shrugged.

"That doesn't mean the evening was ruined."

Freya looked toward the garden.

"No."

They were quiet.

Then Shira said, "I think people get very upset when they can't do what they planned."

Freya smiled.

"That sounds familiar."

"Yes."

Shira looked at her.

"You might know someone like that."

"Possibly."

"She's very athletic."

"Is she?"

"She measures her sleep."

"That sounds sensible."

"She once ranked six brunch restaurants by projected nutritional benefit."

"There were twelve menu configurations."

Shira stared.

Freya began laughing.

Shira smiled despite herself.

Then the laughter faded.

For a while, they watched the mist.

Eventually Freya said, "What you did for Mika was different."

Shira looked down at her tea.

"I didn't really do anything."

"I know."

Shira looked up.

Freya smiled.

"I mean, I think I understand."

Shira was quiet.

Freya continued.

"If I'd been there, I probably would have tried to help her feel better."

"Probably."

"I would have asked whether she wanted to talk. Or suggested something she could do."

Shira considered.

"Maybe that would've helped too."

Freya looked at her.

"You think so?"

"With someone else."

Freya nodded.

Shira looked out at the garden.

"I didn't know what would help her."

"So you stayed?"

Shira shrugged.

"She seemed like she didn't want another person telling her what the trip was supposed to mean."

Freya looked down.

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Shira said, "Sometimes I think people are very uncomfortable with other people being unhappy."

Freya looked at her.

Shira continued.

"Not because they're cruel."

"No."

"But because they think something has gone wrong."

She watched a drop of water fall from a leaf.

"And sometimes something has gone wrong."

Freya was quiet.

"But that doesn't mean you can fix it."

The garden was still.

Somewhere beyond the trees, a bird called.

Freya looked at Shira.

"Is that how you feel when Sumi and I keep trying to get you to do things?"

Shira considered.

"Sometimes."

Freya nodded slowly.

"Okay."

Shira looked at her.

"But not always."

Freya smiled faintly.

"No?"

"No."

Shira took another sip of tea.

"Sometimes the things are good."

Freya looked pleased.

"The rowing?"

"Don't."

"The beach?"

"No."

"The restaurant?"

"Absolutely not."

Freya smiled.

"The hot springs?"

Shira paused.

Then looked at her.

"Possibly."

Freya laughed.

Shira looked toward the mountains.

"I don't think I would have come here alone."

Freya was quiet.

Shira continued.

"I probably would have looked at the pictures, thought it seemed nice, and then decided it was too much trouble."

Freya nodded.

"That's fair."

"And Sumi would have kept asking."

"Yes."

"And you would have made a spreadsheet."

"It was an itinerary."

"Same thing."

Freya smiled.

Shira looked down at her tea.

"So."

She hesitated.

Freya waited.

Shira did not particularly enjoy the next part.

She could feel the words approaching.

They were inconvenient words.

Words that required acknowledging that other people occasionally improved her life.

She looked toward the garden.

"I'm glad we came."

Freya turned toward her.

Shira kept her eyes on the mountains.

"Don't make a big deal out of it."

Freya smiled.

"I wasn't going to."

"You were."

"I was thinking about it."

"Don't."

Freya laughed softly.

Then she looked toward the mist.

"I'm glad too."

They sat together.

After a while, Freya shifted again.

Shira glanced at her watch.

"Eleven minutes became twenty-three."

Freya looked surprised.

"You were counting?"

"No."

"Then how do you know?"

Shira smiled.

"Maybe I'm becoming more like you."

Freya laughed.

"That would be dangerous."

"Deeply."

They sat a little longer.

Then, without saying anything, Shira reached across the cushion and took Freya's hand.

Freya looked down.

For a moment, she seemed surprised.

Then she gently closed her fingers around Shira's.

Neither spoke.

The mist drifted through the valley.

The mountains remained where they were.

Nothing needed to happen.

For once, Freya felt no particular urge to improve the situation.

She did not check her watch.

---

Sumi found them at ten thirty-eight.

She had flour on her sleeve, a small streak of something orange on her cheek, and the expression of someone who had just discovered a new reason to be alive.

"GUYS."

Shira closed her eyes.

"Peace has ended."

Freya looked up.

"What happened?"

"Mrs. Takeda wants me to come back!"

Shira opened her eyes.

"What?"

"Next autumn!"

Freya straightened.

"To cook?"

"Yes!"

Sumi sat down between them.

"She said they do a little harvest festival every year, and they invite local cooks, and she wants me to come help with some of the food."

Freya smiled.

"That's wonderful."

Sumi nodded rapidly.

"Isn't it?"

Shira looked at her.

"Do you want to?"

Sumi considered.

"Yes."

"Then you should."

Sumi blinked.

She looked at Shira.

Then Freya.

"You're both being very normal about this."

Freya looked at her.

"Should we not be?"

"I don't know."

Shira leaned back.

"Freya hasn't mentioned the profit margins."

Freya smiled.

"I wasn't going to."

Sumi stared.

"You weren't?"

"No."

Sumi narrowed her eyes.

"Are you sick?"

Shira nodded.

"I asked the same thing."

Freya looked toward the mountains.

"Maybe I've decided to let people enjoy things."

Sumi's expression softened.

"Oh."

Shira pointed at her.

"Don't."

Sumi smiled.

Then threw her arms around both of them.

Shira made a muffled sound.

Freya laughed.

"Careful. You're spilling the tea."

Sumi squeezed harder.

"I love you guys."

Shira remained rigid for approximately two seconds.

Then she relaxed.

"Unfortunately."

Sumi laughed.

Freya put an arm around her.

For a while, the three of them stayed together on the veranda.

Then Sumi released them.

"Okay!"

Shira opened her eyes.

"No."

"What?"

"You're about to suggest something."

Sumi looked delighted.

"How did you know?"

"Experience."

Sumi clasped her hands.

"We should come back next year!"

Freya smiled.

"Maybe."

"During a storm!"

Shira stared at her.

"No."

"Think about it!"

"No."

"It was so nice!"

"It was a natural disaster."

"A little one!"

"That's not how natural disasters work."

Freya looked toward the sky.

"We should not deliberately schedule travel around severe weather."

Sumi frowned.

"Why not?"

"Because it's unsafe."

"But we know the inn is good in a storm."

"That is not a reason to seek one out."

Sumi considered.

"What if we come during typhoon season?"

Shira closed her eyes.

"You're banned from planning vacations."

Sumi laughed.

Then noticed the low table.

"Are those your teas?"

"Yes," Freya said.

"Are you done?"

"Almost."

"Can I have one?"

Shira looked at her.

"You've been in the kitchen for two hours."

"I know."

"Cooking."

"Yes."

"With food everywhere."

"Yes."

"And now you want our tea."

Sumi smiled.

"Yes."

Shira handed her the cup.

Sumi drank.

Then sighed happily.

"This is the best vacation ever."

Shira looked toward the mountains.

She considered arguing.

There had been rain.

An electrical failure.

A road closure.

A deeply humiliating bathrobe incident.

And approximately two dozen people who now believed she possessed specialized expertise in darkness.

It had been an objectively ridiculous trip.

She looked at Sumi.

Then Freya.

Then the misty valley.

"Maybe."

Sumi gasped.

Shira pointed at her.

"Don't."

Sumi smiled so broadly that her eyes nearly disappeared.

Freya began laughing.

Shira shook her head.

The mountains were beautiful.

Her friends were intolerable.

She was, against all available evidence, having a very good time.

---

Four days later, Freya sent a document to the group chat.

Shira was home.

Her apartment was quiet, and an AFI album was playing through the speakers connected to her iPod.

She was sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea.

Her phone lit up.

FREYA: I've started planning our next getaway.

Shira closed her eyes.

"No."

Another message appeared.

SUMI: YAYYYYY

SUMI: WHERE ARE WE GOING

FREYA: Undecided.

SUMI: WHEN

FREYA: Also undecided.

Shira looked at the ceiling.

There was a link.

She opened it.

The document was titled:

NEXT TRIP: PRELIMINARY ITINERARY

Beneath the heading was a blank page.

Shira stared.

She scrolled.

Nothing.

She scrolled again.

Still nothing.

She checked whether the document had failed to load.

It had not.

There were no time allocations.

No activity rankings.

No backup hiking routes.

No nutritional projections.

Not even an optional mobility session.

Just an empty page.

Shira looked at it for a long time.

Then she smiled.

Her phone buzzed.

SUMI: FREYA

SUMI: THERE'S NOTHING ON IT

FREYA: Correct.

SUMI: DID YOU FORGET TO FILL IT IN

FREYA: No.

SUMI: THEN WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO

FREYA: We'll decide when we get there.

There was a pause.

Then:

SUMI: WHO ARE YOU

SUMI: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH FREYA

Shira began laughing.

She typed:

SHIRA: Finally. A competent plan.

Freya replied with a single smiling emoji.

Sumi began typing again.

Shira watched the three dots.

She knew what was coming.

She could feel it.

SUMI: CAN I ADD ONE THING

Shira considered.

The room was quiet.

Her music was playing.

Outside, evening rain had begun tapping softly against the windows.

She thought about the mountains.

The veranda.

The lanterns.

The absurd applause.

The way Freya had held her hand without saying anything.

Then she looked at the message.

SHIRA: No.

Three dots appeared.

SUMI: WHAT ABOUT A HOT SPRING

Shira smiled.

SHIRA: Absolutely not.