It had been two months since I broke up with my boyfriend, Shinta. We’d been together since the second year of university. I understood that he had to devote time to making his career, but I wasn’t going to wait around for him. Too many canceled dates due to late work nights, ruined weekends away where he just couldn’t stop checking his phone and working. We’d be on the train going away for a few days and he would spend the entire time on his laptop. I complained to him about it, but he said that it was just ‘wasted time’ otherwise. He didn’t understand. It wasn’t wasted time if we were wasting it together.

I worked in communications for a small design firm, putting together portfolios for clients, writing releases for trade magazines, and fielding the odd media enquiry after one of our projects was nominated for an award somewhere. My company worked us hard as well, and to be honest, it was a lot more prestigious than the one Shinta worked for, but they also understood that employees needed a personal life. That was another thing that he didn’t understand; if he expected me to stay with him, I needed to be a bigger priority to him than his being on constant call to his boss.

The final bell on the disaster our relationship had become was when he showed up at my parent’s house at two in the morning, drunk out of his mind after hours of boozing with his work colleagues at his end of year party. I woke up to my father yelling for me to come down to the entryway. Shinta was leaning heavily against the wall, reeking so heavily of alcohol he was probably a fire hazard. He saw me standing in the doorway in my pajamas.

“Rumi! I’m sorry,” he slurred. “I realize I’ve been neglecting you. I’m so-sorry.” He got a sly look on his face “Why don’t we go upstairs and I’ll show you how much you mean to me, huh?”

“Shinta!” I hissed, mortified. “My father is standing right here!”

Dazed with drink, Shinta turned to my father, as if he’d forgotten who had answered his loud banging on the front door.

“Oh! Sorry, Rumi’s old man. I think your daughter is upset at me because I haven’t been giving it to her recently. Don’t worry. I’ll sort her ou–ou–ERRRR!” He sprayed vomit all over the floor of the entrance way and then collapsed, gagging, into a puke puddle of stale alcohol, ramen noodles and other unidentifiable items. I couldn’t bring myself to look at my father. I was sure he was going to call the police. “Oh dear ... I made a mess. Sorry about that–zzzzz...” Shinta folded over and passed out, gurgling loudly. I stared at my now-very-ex-boyfriend and the mess he had made in horror.

I flinched as I felt my father’s hand on my shoulder. I turned my head slowly to look at him. He had a small tired smile on his face.

“Rumi-chan,” he began. I shook my head.

“No, dad. It’s fine. It’s over. It was over a while ago, but I guess I didn’t make that clear enough.” I sighed, then immediately regretted it because it required me to take a breath of the overpowering stink of Shinta’s mess. “I’ll clean it up, and clean him up. Can I use one of the old blankets we put under the kotatsu? I’d leave him here, but I don’t want him to freeze to death.”

My father nodded.

“I’ll help you. Come on.”

After he came-to later that morning, Shinta had tried to apologize and make up with me, but after I showed him a photo of himself passed out in his own filth, he finally relented and left with his soiled clothes in a garbage bag.

That had been two months earlier. I was just getting off the train from work when I heard a voice calling out.

“Rumi! Rumi-chan! Long-time no see!”

It was Hina, a friend from my neighborhood. We had gone all the way from the same kindergarten to the same junior high school, even spending three years in the volleyball club together, before we went our separate ways for senior high school. I ended up getting into a design school and she went to a general studies high school.

“Hina-chan! Long-time no see! How are you?” We hugged. Hina gripped me tightly and I could smell the light citrus of her perfume. Hina was always so put together and elegant.

“Well, I’ve been better, honestly. Do you remember Hide Takeuchi from second year, junior high school?” I nodded. “We both ended up at Neyagawa high together and started going out in our final year. He just dumped me. By text message!”

“Oh no! That’s horrible!” I said, trying vainly to picture Takeuchi. I think he had a buzzcut and was on the baseball team? I couldn’t clearly recall his face though. “Were you guys really serious?”

“Serious enough that ... well, I mean. I let him, you know...,” she finished in a low conspiratorial voice. I wasn’t sure what she meant but I nodded anyway. Hina sighed. “I was seriously expecting an engagement ring from that no-good piece of shit. But then it all blows up. And right before our anniversary, no less.” She shook her head. “But enough about me. How about you, Rumi? I heard you were seeing some handsome dude in real estate? Good find! Guys in property always end up loaded.”

“Well,” I said, hesitantly, not wanting to seem like I was trying to one-up her own break up. “We–uh–kind of broke up a few weeks ago.”

“Really?” she asked. I told her about the final evening of our relationship and she looked at me wide-eyed for a moment and then broke into a fit of the giggles. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in years and it made me think for a moment how cute she had been in school. All the boys had been infatuated with her. I can’t remember how many confessed to her right before we graduated, although she shot them all down. For some reason, even though her giggling made me think of her as a middle-school student, it didn’t seem awkward on her as an adult like such things sometimes did. It seemed kind of cute, even now. Hina took a breath. “I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “I don’t mean to seem rude but,” she giggled again, “I think that a break up by text message is not so bad after all,” she said. “At least compared to scooping up your boyfriend’s puke.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” I reminded her, sourly. She gave me a wry smile.

“Look at us,” she said, shaking her head. “A couple of gorgeous young women in the prime of our lives, and both dumped by no-good dirtbags literally at the same time.”

I smiled at her weakly. I couldn’t think of myself in the same league as her.

“I’m just not sure I have the energy to start again, honestly,” I said. “I mean, I know I’m supposed to find someone, right? But it feels like such a let down, if this is what I’m left with after a few years of putting up with him.”

“I know what you mean,” Hina said with a frown. “It’s so depressing to think we’ll have to go and start again.” She paused for a moment, and then brightened up. “Hey, Rumi. What are you doing next weekend?” I eyed her warily.

“Nothing,” I began slowly. “But if you’re putting together some kind of blind-date drinking party, that’s not really...”

“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. “I have a reservation for a really nice traditional hotel in Kinosaki. It was supposed to be an anniversary surprise, but the shit dumped me before I could tell him.” She glared at me. “I’m kind of glad I didn’t now. If he’d known, I wouldn’t put it past him to have strung me along until afterwards before breaking up.” She shook her head, as if to clear her mind. “I have a lovely premium weekend for two at a very nice ryokan in Kinosaki, train fares and meals included, and because I got a great deal with vouchers from my summer bonus at work last year, I can’t cancel without losing out. What do you say we go and use it?”

“Uh, really?” I was surprised. Hina and I had been close when we were at school together, but we had kind of drifted apart after that. And here she was asking me to go away for the weekend with her.

“I know, I know,” she said. “It’s not like we’re still best friends or anything like that, but we’ve got enough history for this not to be weird, right? And isn’t the idea of two newly-independent girls taking a trip together like something straight out of a television drama?”

I looked at her hesitantly.

“Come on, Rumi-chan,” she cajoled. “It’ll be fun. It’s a special all-you-can-eat-crab premier plan too. I’d be too embarrassed to go just by myself, but it won’t be a waste if you come with me. Please?” She put on a face I remembered well from our school days. I guess after breaking up with Shinta I was feeling low enough for something like that to convince me.

“Okay,” I relented. “I’ll go with you.”

“Yay!” she said, hopping up and down and hugging me. “I’m so excited! Girl’s trip!” she said, giggling again. I couldn’t help but laugh with her. Maybe this would be the perfect antidote to help me forget my frustrations over Shinta.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for anything?” I asked Hina as we settled into our seats on the limited express from Osaka. Hina shook her head, resolute. We were sitting next to each other in the reserved car, looking out the window as the train carried us away from the city.

“Nope,” she said. “If you hadn’t agreed to come, it would have been a total waste anyway. I owe you at least for that. Oh!” she said, suddenly as if she’d remembered. “Can’t start a weekend away without a little something,” she said with a sly smile as she reached into her carry bag. She pulled out two cans of chu-hai. “Here.” She handed me one.

“Nine percent alcohol?” I looked at my watch. “It’s not even nine-thirty yet.” Hina looked at me. “What?”

“Would you normally be drinking at nine in the morning?”

“No. If it was a workday, I’d be useless. And if it was a weekend ... well, you know I live with my parents.”

“Right,” she said. “But it’s not a workday, your folks aren’t here, and we’re about to have a fabulous weekend to help us get over those two useless shits.”

The journey from Osaka to Kinosaki was meant to be a simple escape, but for Hina and I, it quickly turned into a trip filled with giggles, unexpected revelations, and a progressively mounting tipsiness, courtesy of Hina’s stash of canned chu-hai.

As the scenic train carried us from Osaka towards the sea of Japan across Kyoto, Hina and I settled into our seats. With the rhythmic click-clack of the train wheels on the tracks and the soft buzz of conversations around us, Hina and I toasted our first can of chu-hai. It wasn’t long before we found ourselves reminiscing about junior high school, and sharing stories about what we’d been up to since then.

As the alcohol flowed and the train whisked us through the picturesque countryside towards Kinosaki, I couldn’t help but notice how adorable Hina looked. Her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and her laughter was infectious. Even I, who was usually quite reserved, felt bubbly and carefree.

“Remember that time in junior high when everyone had a crush on Mr. Tanaka, our history teacher?” I asked as we opened another can.

Hina burst into laughter, “Oh my God, how could I forget? The girls who sat up front thought they were so lucky, being near him.”

“I was almost at the back, so he hardly looked my way,” I frowned. Hina gave me a wicked smile.

“He always used to look at me.”

“He did not!”

“Did too. Of course,” she lowered her voice, “I gave him some incentive.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Seriously? You never flashed a teacher?”

“What?!”

Hina giggled, slightly drunk, and slid down in her seat.

“A little of this,” she said, spreading her thighs and hitching her skirt up, giving me a glimpse of light blue lace. “And some days, I would take my underwear off in the break before.

“Seriously?!” I hissed. I felt my cheeks burning at the thought.

“Yeah,” she giggled. “But he never took the bait. I heard he was ‘tutoring’ someone in the class above us.” She sighed. “I used to dream about him, you know.” She looked at me conspiratorially. “When I used to...”

I stared at her. She stared back at me. Did she really mean what I thought she meant?

“Uh ... when you ... ummm ... were alone?” I ventured.

“Yeah,” she said with a wistful smile. “Remember the track and field carnival when he wore that singlet?”

“Oh yes,” I sighed, remembering. “If only his shorts were as tight as that shirt.” We stared at each other for a moment, then broke into a fit of the giggles.

As the third can of chu-hai popped open, our inhibitions faded further away. She started a game of ‘truth or dare.’ I confessed about my relationship with Shinta, the only boyfriend I had ever had.

Hina gently teased, her voice warm with affection, “Rumi, you’ve always been so serious. Only one boyfriend? You need to live a little!”

I blushed, my cheeks burning. “Well, I guess I was more focused on studies and then my career.”

“You’re so pretty though,” said Hina. “A shame you felt like you were locked in so early, without experiencing life.” She patted my thigh absently as she looked out the window, but her touch felt strangely electric. As we opened another drink, our tipsiness reached its peak. We couldn’t contain our giggles, and even the simplest of jokes sent us into fits of laughter we tried in vain to stifle. I found myself captivated by Hina’s lips—the way they curved when she smiled and how they glistened in the soft train cabin lighting.

Despite each of us reminding the other to be quiet, our laughter still ended up drawing slightly annoyed glances from some other passengers. The alcohol had made me carefree, however, and I can’t imagine that Hina ever felt embarrassed about anything. Occasionally, her hand would brush against mine or my thigh.

Time seemed to warp and twist around us as we shared half-whispered stories and secrets, renewing our adolescent friendship.

Finally, the train arrived at Kinosaki station. Hina and I stumbled out onto the platform in the mid-afternoon sun of late winter, helping each other with our little suitcases, weaving slightly as we walked down the platform.

“How far do we have to walk? Is there a shuttle bus or something?” I asked.

“No shuttle bus. But it’s not far,” said Hina. “We head out of the station and turn right. Then it’s along the main street.” We exited the station and headed towards the main street. Kinosaki was a hot spring town, with a small river running down the center of the street, with the occasional picturesque bridge crossing.

We found our accommodation and checked in, while a few men in their sixties played chess and chain smoked in the foyer lounge. The older lady behind the desk handed Hina the room key, and both of us a plastic coated lanyard with a QR code on it.

“This will get you into any of the seven hot springs here in Kinosaki,” she explained. “Your booking has you dining privately in your room this evening. What time would you like dinner served?”

“Oh,” said Hina, glancing at me. “Maybe seven?” I nodded. I was still slightly buzzed from drinking on the train.

“Ahh, our latest is six-thirty,” said the receptionist, bowing slightly.

“Okay. Six-thirty is fine,” said Hina.

“You’ve also booked a reserved bath here with us. Do you have a preference for time? The latest entry is eight.”

“Oh, eight then?” said Hina, without looking at me.

“Certainly. Enjoy your stay.” At this she had bowed and nodded at another staff member who had shown us to our room.

I had been to hot springs before with my parents, but this was a little different. Because the different inns were crammed next to each other alongside the main street with the river, there wasn’t much of a view. Therefore the window was just enough to let in some of the diminishing natural light over the hills in the distance past the roofs of other buildings. Our room attendant had introduced herself and explained the room and inn to us. A little embarrassingly for me, Hina had told her we were looking forward to a ‘damn the bastards’ girls’ weekend. Our attendant had laughed and wished us an enjoyable stay before pouring us tea and leaving with a local sweet cake each.

“We have a few hours before dinner,” said Hina. “Shall we change and go out to one of the onsen?” I nodded, sipping my tea. “Let’s get changed then.”

Although we were both women, and we used to change after swimming together in junior high school, that was more than five years ago. While it’s not odd to get undressed with others when visiting a hot spring or public bath, it’s still a little intimate to get changed with just one other person in a private room.

We took the yukata out of the cupboard and started to undress. Instinctively we turned slightly away from each other, enough to ensure privacy but not enough to be weird – like we felt we had to hide from each other

“Ahh,” sighed Hina. From the corner of my eye I could see her slipping off her bra. “I know we’re expected to wear these, but it’s so nice taking it off. Righi, Rumi-chan?”

I glanced at her, and immediately couldn’t ignore the differences between us. While I remained the same height as I had been since junior high school, Hina had grown taller and really filled out. It was as if time had stood still for me while Hina had continued to blossom into a truly attractive young woman. I folded the camisole I had just slipped off and murmured my assent. I rarely wore a proper bra since I didn’t really have much to hold up.

I quickly slipped the yukata on, still wearing my panties. After tying the thin sash around my waist, I put my neatly folded clothes next to my little suitcase, making sure to put my underwear in the middle, away from clear view.

“All good,” asked Hina. I nodded. We put on the thicker haori half-coats over our yukata, took the little drawstring bags that held our small bathing towels and left our room, trading our indoor slippers for some wooden sandals in the foyer of our inn. The sun was quite low in the sky now and the lanterns along the street were coming on. We could feel the evening chill setting in.

“What about this one?” I asked, gesturing to the bathhouse across the little arched bridge.

“Sure! Seems nice,” grinned Hina. “And close,” she added with a slight shiver. We went to the front, scanned the QR codes from our passes and were directed to the change room. Standing side by side, we took off our yukata and haori and folded them into baskets on the shelf. I was a little surprised to see that Hina wasn’t wearing any underwear with her yukata, but didn’t say anything. We took our towels and went out to the bath, shivering against the sudden cold of the outdoor air against our naked skin.

Nestled amidst lush greenery, was a traditional open-air bath. There was a quaint wooden wall separating the women’s side from the men’s side, and the whole area was softly lit by lanterns. We rinsed off with water from the shower area, and slipped into the steaming water. I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful Hina was. She had always been pretty, but since we’d been at school she had grown into a striking woman. Her radiant alabaster skin seemed to glow under the lantern light, and I had to keep my eyes off her perfectly shaped, almost spherical breasts that sat firm on her chest just above the water. As we chatted and joked in the bath her laughter was infectious, but I couldn’t help feeling like the ugly duckling next to her.

Hina noticed my hesitancy and gave me an encouraging smile. “Rumi-chan, don’t be so serious! We’re here to relax and enjoy ourselves.”

I gave her a weak smile, resolving to ignore my own insecurities.

“You’re right, Hina. Let’s make the most of it.”

The bath was an oasis of tranquility. Misty steam rose from the hot spring waters, blending with the cooling evening air. The water was luxuriously warm, caressing our tired bodies and soothing our souls. We settled into the serene environment, leaning against the smooth stones of the bath. We shared stories and laughter, just as we had on the train journey to Kinosaki. The steam swirled around us, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere.

After a while, we agreed that it was time to get out. The real hazard of visiting a hot spring is spending too much time in the waters, no matter how good they feel. We rinsed the sulfur-smelling water off ourselves, dried off and donned our yukata again. This time, however, I didn’t put my panties back on.

We strolled the main street of Kinosaki, stopping into some souvenir shops, and visiting a retro arcade where we tried our hand at a nineteen-fifties style sideshow game. Both of us lost magnificently, but commiserated over a frosty beer from a tiny standing bar two doors down. We made our way back to our inn in time for dinner. We had just returned to our room when there was a knock at the door from our room attendant, signaling that our meal was about to be brought in.

“Oh! This looks amazing!” I couldn’t help but gush. Immediately I felt like a yokel tourist, and glanced at Hina, embarrassed. But she was as enamored as me.

“You’re right, Rumi-chan! It looks so delicious!” she agreed, her eyes shining.

Our room attendant smiled, explaining each item to us; there was snow crab legs, a crab salad, and small crab hotpot along with oysters, and medium-rare Tajima beef along with soup, pickled mountain vegetables, a savory egg custard, and steamed rice.

“Would you like any alcohol?” our attendant asked, after she had explained our menu. I looked at Hina. She looked at me for a moment, then turned to the attendant.

“Could we get a flask of warmed sake each? One of the big ones. And a bottle of shochu, with ice and water, please?”

“Certainly,” our attendant said. She returned shortly with the drinks. “You have the reserved bath at eight, so you might want to go easy on some of this until you come back from the bath.” We thanked her for the advice, and she bowed out, leaving us to enjoy the meal.

We toasted each other with sake and started eating. It was delicious.

“You know,” said Hina. “Oysters are supposed to be an aphrodisiac.”

“Really?” I looked at the slices on the small dish in front of me.