Steam curled through the cedar-lined changing room, softening the clink of lockers and low laughter as towels rustled and the heat clung to skin. Takeshi moved quietly among the crowd, tall even by skier standards, his presence folding into the calm with practiced ease. Where others filled the space with chatter, he only nodded once to Sasha, then tugged his shirt free.
In the fogged mirror, his reflection flickered: a lean frame drawn long by altitude and ice, faint bruises tracing across one side from gate crashes and tumbles that still lingered in muscle memory. He barely looked at himself. The snow had shaped him, but it wasn't a thing he admired. It was something he wore — like scars.
Outside, the onsen waited — traditional and nearly hidden behind low stone walls and cedar fencing, cradled at the base of the campus hillside near the ski dome. Steam spiraled into the dusk sky, lit by warm lantern glow and the scent of wet rock and pine.
The boys' side was already humming with low voices when Takeshi stepped in. The mineral heat hit his skin like a sigh. Around him, students lounged across smooth rocks or half-submerged along the pool's edge. The space was large, but quiet — open-air, its mist rising into branches still touched with early summer green.
He slipped into the water slowly. Heat licked up his spine, pulling tension from his ribs. His knees bent beneath the surface, arms resting lightly on the stone rim. Every part of him ached from the weekend's training, but in this moment, it didn't feel like weakness. It felt earned.
Somewhere across the water, Riku made a splash exaggerated enough to draw a distant groan.
"Seriously?" someone muttered.
"Let me live!" Riku shot back.
Takeshi let the smile creep in slowly.
Ren, already in and silent as ever, sat not far from the opposite edge. His eyes were closed, towel folded neatly beside him, chest rising and falling like he was timing his breath with the slow steam.
"Didn't think you'd actually show up," Sasha said as he settled nearby, water sliding off his shoulders. "I thought you'd disappear into the ski dome and sulk."
"I considered it," Takeshi murmured. "The heat won."
"You're allowed to relax, you know. Even ice demons need time off."
Takeshi arched a brow. "I thought Riku was the demon."
Sasha grinned. "No, he's the chaos gremlin. Different genus."
Laughter drifted over the partition — voices from the girls' side. Hana's unmistakable bark rang out.
"Ayumi, stop sketching me!"
"It's not you if I don't label it," came the dry reply.
"Wait, did you bring that waterproof book again?"
More splashing. More yelling. Someone shrieked with laughter.
Takeshi let his head tip back against the stone. The stars were just starting to bloom beyond the rising steam, faint behind the halo of the lantern light. He closed his eyes.
The slope, the weight, the fear — they weren't gone. But they weren't here, either.
Daichi sat with a couple of his crew toward the far end, quieter than usual. Maybe even he could read the atmosphere.
Beside Takeshi, Riku reappeared, floating lazily. "You thinking again?"
"yeah."
"Dangerous habit. You should try just enjoying this."
Takeshi lifted an eyebrow. "I'm trying."
"Good. Because I'm making you race me next weekend. Loser buys melon pan."
"That's not how races work."
"It is if I'm winning."
He drifted away again, kicking ripples through the reflection of lanterns.
On the other side of the fence, Hana's voice rose again. "Ayumi! That's my towel!"
"Not anymore."
Ren opened one eye, then closed it again.
Takeshi turned his head toward the sky, the scent of cedar thick and grounding. Beneath the surface, his body still bore every bruise. But here, in the heat and the noise, they mattered less.
No slopes to conquer. No ghosts to outpace. Just water and silence and friends who didn't demand anything but his presence.
He stayed there, soaking in stillness.
For tonight, that was enough. It was all he wanted.