If they wanted to get back to Tokyo, they didn’t have much time before the last train left the station. He wished Isuzu would let him support her so they could hurry up and catch it... but she wouldn’t. And then, even if they hurried, there was no way to know if they’d catch it at this point. On top of that, Isuzu was slowing down more and more.
Rain began to fall. It started as a drizzle, but before long, it turned to hard drops. The weather was still warm, but it was enough to make Seiya’s muscles clench up, and for his skin to raise goosebumps.
Dammit... he thought, and resisted the urge to cluck his tongue at her; it was obvious, even to him, that such an act would hurt Isuzu’s feelings, since she was the one who was slowing them down. That would be bad right now—really, really bad.
The rain was chilling Seiya to the bone, and if he was feeling that way, Isuzu was probably feeling even worse.
Around the time they arrived at the large suspension bridge built over the shores of Sanami Lake, Seiya reached a conclusion: it was too late to make the last train. He’d caught a glimpse of the Sanami Lake Station timetable when they’d first arrived, and though his memory was fuzzy, he recalled seeing one train to Tokyo at 11:00. That would have to be the last one. That train would be leaving in ten minutes. No matter how fast they went now, it would take at least thirty minutes to get to the station. There was no sign of taxis coming, either.
“Sento,” he said.
“...Yes?”
“We’re not going to make it. We should give up on the station.”
Isuzu stopped, staring. “Give up on the station?”
“Yeah,” he told her. “We’re not going to make the last train.”
“...Then what do you propose?” she asked.
“Stay the night.”
“Stay the night? Where?”
“Hmm... good question.” Rationally speaking, there weren’t many lodging houses that would take them in at a time like this, and since Sanami Lake’s tourist facilities were mainly designed for day trips, there weren’t many of those to choose from to begin with. Seiya thought he remembered seeing a family restaurant near the station, but it was probably the kind that closed up at two in the morning.
On top of that, the rain was growing worse. It was only September, yet he was freezing. He could probably deal with camping out somewhere, but that would be hard on Isuzu. He remembered her strange constitution; how she’d start to feel ill if she didn’t get a hot bath three times a day. It had probably been over ten hours since they’d met up that morning; there might be more to her discomfort now than just exhaustion.
Seiya stood in the rain, thinking over various options, and finally fixed his eyes on a resplendent building about 100 meters down the road. It looked a bit like a castle, with white and blue walls and extravagant lighting. The next thing he saw were neon signs reading “Stop-ins” and “Overnights.” The Hotel Alamo. It was the exact same name and logo as the love hotel next to AmaBri.
It’s a damned chain?! Surprised at first by the realization, Seiya considered the facts once again, and then said, “Let’s spend the night over there.”
“What?” Isuzu had probably noticed the love hotel as well, but regardless, she froze up at the proposal, her eyes going wide.
“Let’s stay the night and get some rest,” Seiya said patiently. “We don’t have a choice, right?”
“B-But...” she stammered.
“Ah... d-don’t worry. It’s a stopgap thing. We just need somewhere with a roof, that’s all. Nothing else to it.” Wait, what else would there be? He wasn’t even sure what he was talking about. “O-Of course, we don’t have to if you don’t want to! If we walk a little while longer, we might find a roofed porch, or...”
“Well...” Isuzu began, then averted her eyes and mumbled something. He couldn’t quite make out what it was. “......ay.”
“What was that?” he asked.
“All right,” Isuzu managed to choke out. “Let’s stay.”
Naturally, it was Seiya’s first time in a love hotel. His first challenge was finding the entrance: the fence seemed to go all the way around it, but there were a few breaks in it here and there. Each time he approached one, thinking he’d found the way in, it turned out to be an employee entrance or parking gate. He paced back and forth in front of the fence several times, with Isuzu following behind. He hated feeling this incompetent at something.
Then, when he finally found the automatic door and went inside, he found something new to confound him: The automatic check-in system. The wall was lined with pictures of rooms—though more precisely, they were pictures of beds. The word “Vacant” glowed above the lit-up photo panels, while the darkened panels... were probably in use.
It was easy to imagine the mechanism at play: If you pressed the button for a “Vacant” room, it would spit out the appropriate key card. About 20% of the rooms were vacant, and all the cheap rooms were already taken, leaving only expensive ones—those 15,000 yen per night and over. They had enough money on hand to pay it, but it was still a chunk of change; despite his position as acting manager, Seiya’s personal finances remained those of a high school student working part-time.
Speaking of high school students... were they even allowed to stay at love hotels? It seemed the system setup would keep them from having to interact with anyone, so it was probably all right, of course... even so, the rooms were pricey. He hadn’t been expecting to pay this much just to get a room for the night. He felt a little exploited.
“It’s pretty expensive...” he muttered.
“Yes, it is,” Isuzu agreed.
“Hey, you think we can charge this to—”
“Absolutely not,” she said with certainty.
“Ah... yeah. I guess not, huh?” There was no way he could show the receipt for this escapade to Ashe, their head of finances. She wasn’t a gossip, exactly, but she’d probably ask him to explain the charge, while glaring at him with a mix of curiosity and revulsion.
“We can’t charge it to the park,” Isuzu said. “We’ll need to pay it out-of-pocket. I’ll cover half.”
“No,” Seiya protested, “I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?”
“Well, at times like these... th-the man should pay,” he muttered.
“I thought we were just getting out of the rain,” Isuzu pointed out. “It’s not as if... we’re on a date.”
“That’s true. Yeah... you’re right.” Still, it felt a little humiliating. That’s right, he remembered. The first time he’d gone to AmaBri with Sento Isuzu, it had been under the guise of a date. He recalled love hotels coming up during the bus ride there, too... this situation was actually a hundred times more embarrassing than that.