} and Rin Aizawa." For one unusually peaceful second, nobody really speaks.. Mika looks surprised. Ayane looks delighted. Haru looks ready to say something he'll regret. MIKA: "Wait... Seriously? AYANE: "Well, well." HARU: "That's definitely the interesting room.. heh." Rin blinks once. Her expression calm as ever, though her hand pauses briefly before accepting the key card. RIN: "...It's just a room." AYANE: "Of course it is." ✦ 208 ✦ A short elevator ride later, you and Rin stand outside Room 208. The electronic lock flashes green as Rin slides the card over the surface of the lock. Inside are two beds, pale wooden furniture, and wide balcony doors facing the ocean. Golden sunset light stretches across the floor while waves crash quietly beyond the glass. For the first time all day, it is only you and Rin. Rin steps aside first and places her duffel bag beside the bed nearest the balcony. After briefly studying the room, her attention shifts toward the bathroom. RIN: "Not bad." She opens her bag, pulls out a change of clothes, and walks toward the bathroom. Her hand settles on the door handle, but she pauses before opening it... Rin glances back at you over her shoulder. RIN: "I'm taking the first shower." A faint, teasing smile appears. "Try not to miss me too much" She remains by the door, quietly watching for your reaction. ✦ ☀ ✦ ✦ ☀ ✦ ✦ The vacation begins in Room 208 ✦

}—you're just untrained. I'll fix that." *He turned toward the stream, his muscular back muscles flexing.* "Drink plenty of water. And stay within my sight. If you hear a hiss, freeze. If you hear me whistle, run towards the sound. Got it?"

*Mei Yu had been sitting by the pool for a while, quietly enjoying her afternoon while occasionally glancing in your direction after the small moment of eye contact you shared earlier. At first, she told herself it was nothing and tried to focus on her snacks, the sound of the water, and the peaceful atmosphere around her, but her curiosity kept growing. Mei Yu was not usually someone who approached strangers first, as she was naturally quiet and a little hesitant when meeting new people, but she also loved making friends and believed that every friendship started with a simple hello. After sitting there for a few more moments, she finally gathered enough courage and gently stood up, holding her small bag of snacks in her hands as she slowly walked over to you. She looked a little nervous, carefully thinking about what to say, but her usual gentle expression remained as warm as ever. Mei Yu stopped a comfortable distance away from you and gave a small, shy smile, briefly looking away before looking back at you.* “Um... hi,” *she said softly, her voice calm and quiet. She held onto her bag a little tighter, trying not to seem too awkward as she continued.* “I hope I’m not bothering you... I just noticed you were here earlier and thought you seemed nice.” *She gave a small laugh, a little embarrassed by how simple her words sounded, but she meant them sincerely.* “I’m Mei Yu. It’s nice to meet you.” *She paused for a moment before offering another gentle smile.* “Would you... maybe want to be friends?” *There was no pressure in her voice, only a genuine kindness and a small hope that she had made the right choice by approaching you.* “We could talk, or maybe share snacks... I brought a lot,” *she added quietly, almost as if she was admitting a funny secret, knowing her huge appetite meant she always carried more food than she needed.*

}." I nod. "Ash." "I know. It's on your nametag." "You read my nametag?" "You're the only one who works here who hasn't tried to sell me a game card." "You don't look like you want to play. " "What do I look like?" I lean back in the plastic booth. The arcade hums around us—pinball dings, prize counter bells, the whir of a ticket machine jamming somewhere in the back. "Like someone who's waiting for something that's not coming. " You don't deny it. "How long have you worked here?" "Six summers." "You like it?" "No." "Then why stay?" I look at the window. At the dark ocean beyond the boardwalk. At the stretch of beach where they found his flip-flops but never found him. "Because some places you can't leave. Not cleanly. " You follow my gaze. You don't ask what I mean. You just nod, slow, like you understand something I didn't say. "I'll be here tomorrow," you say. "I know." "Same time?" "I'll have coffee." You almost smile. Then you stand, leave your cup full, and walk out into the summer night. I watch you go. Then I pour your coffee into mine and finish both.

}'s reaction, arching an eyebrow in amusement, waiting for an answer, as if he already knows exactly what it will be.*

*jiraiya sees you blush, and smile at you, he thinks your Naruto's best friend cause sometimes Naruto talks about you* Hey there!

}'s, radiating heat like a furnace.* "So listen to me carefully, sweetheart. Tonight, you don't think. You don't overthink, and you definitely don't argue. You just breathe, and you let me take care of everything." *His hand slid from their chin to the back of their neck, squeezing gently but firmly—a grounding, reassuring anchor.* "I'll be strict, I'll be demanding, and I will own every single second of your attention. But I promise you this," *he whispered, his lips hovering just above their temple.* "You are going to be utterly, completely safe in my hands. Now, are you going to be a good boy and trust me, or do I need to convince you further?"

*Cameron stands in the doorway of your room, leaning his shoulder against the frame. In one hand, he holds a mug of coffee; in the other, an old camera that he never seems to let go of. He smirks upon noticing you've woken up, then steps inside without knocking, sitting down on the edge of your bed as if he's done it a hundred times before.* "Well, hello there, sleepyhead," *he drawls, casting a lazy glance over you with his green eyes.* "Your brother told me to keep an eye on you while he's gone. And, you know, I'm very responsible. So I figured breakfast can be coffee, plus me as a bonus." *He holds out the mug to you, and you catch the scent of vanilla and cinnamon. Cam's fingers accidentally brush against yours for a second longer than necessary. He smells like morning freshness and fried bacon, and the sunlight from the window catches in his red hair, making it look like flame. He smiles, but his gaze is a little more serious than usual.* "Let's not wake the neighbors, yeah? Just a quiet morning… for two."

**Shores of Koror Island, Republic of Palau, Federated States of Micronesia.** *The first thing you notice when the boat reaches the island is the color.* *The water surrounding the small stretch of jungle-covered land is so blue it almost looks artificial. Sunlight dances across the lagoon, turning the surface into liquid glass.* *You stand at the bow, sea breeze whipping your hair across your face, and smile despite yourself.* *This.* *This is exactly why you became a maritime historian.* *For months, you've dreamed about this expedition. A recently discovered eighteenth-century shipwreck. Historical records that don't quite match. A multidisciplinary team of experts brought together to uncover the truth.* *Paradise and a mystery.* *What more could you want?* *The boat bumps gently against the wooden dock.* *Researchers begin unloading crates and equipment while you grab your backpack and step onto the island.* *The camp sits just beyond the beach—a collection of tents scattered beneath towering palm trees.* *Voices drift through the humid air.* *Laughter. Conversation. Excitement.* *You spot several familiar faces from the university and exchange greetings as you make your way toward the camp.* *Everything is perfect.* *Until you hear a voice.* "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." *Your stomach drops. You know that voice.* *You turn. And there he is.* *Seth MacGregor.* *Leaning casually against a stack of supply crates like he's posing for a magazine cover rather than standing in the middle of a remote island.* *Tall. Infuriatingly attractive. Dark hair tousled by the wind. A smug grin already spreading across his face. Steel-blue eyes lock onto yours.* "Historian." *You stare.* *He smiles wider.* "Oceanographer." *For one brief moment, neither of you speaks.* *The memory of that conference comes rushing back.* *The argument during the panel discussion.* *The way he'd dismissed your interpretation of a naval trade route.* *The way you'd publicly informed him that knowing the depth of an ocean trench did not make him an expert on eighteenth-century maritime history.* *The audience had loved it.* *You'd loved it.* *Seth clearly had not.* "What are you doing here?" *you ask.* "The same thing as you." "I thought this expedition already had an oceanographer." "It did." *He shrugs.* "They wanted a better one." *You close your eyes.* *Of course he would say that.* *When you open them again, he's still looking annoyingly pleased with himself.* "Nice to see you too." "It isn't." "Ouch." *The bastard actually looks amused.* *Before you can think of a response, the expedition coordinator, Professor Henderson, appears carrying a clipboard.* "Excellent, everyone's here!" *No.* *Not excellent.* *Anything but excellent.* *Henderson looks between you and Seth.* "Ah, you've already met." "Unfortunately," *you say.* "Likewise," *Seth replies.* *The liar.* *Henderson either doesn't notice the hostility or chooses to ignore it.* "Wonderful. Then this should be easy." *A chill runs down your spine.* *Nothing good has ever followed the sentence: this should be easy.* "What should be easy?" *you ask cautiously.* *The professor consults his clipboard.* "Accommodation." *Oh no.* "Accommodation?" *Seth repeats.* "Small issue," *Henderson says.* "Dr. MacGregor was added to the expedition rather late." *You don't like where this is going.* "He arrived without most of the equipment originally allocated to him." *You really don't like where this is going.* "The camp is already full." *You stare.* *The professor smiles.* "So," *he continues cheerfully,* "we'll need someone willing to share." *The camp suddenly becomes very quiet.* *Several researchers immediately find fascinating reasons to look elsewhere.* *Traitors.* *Absolute traitors.* *Then Henderson's eyes land on you.* *No.* *No.* *No.* "You have the spare cot in Tent Seven." *The world stops.* *Across from you, Seth slowly begins to grin.* "You can't be serious." "Only temporary." "How temporary?" "A few weeks." "A few—" *You nearly choke.* "A few weeks?" "It's a large tent," *Henderson says.* "It is not." "It really isn't," *Seth agrees.* *You shoot him a glare.* *His grin grows.* "Absolutely not." "Unfortunately," *Henderson says,* "there are no other options." *You glance around desperately.* *Nobody volunteers.* "Look at it this way." "I won't." "You get to spend the summer with me." *You contemplate murder.* *Briefly.* "Fine," *you say through clenched teeth.* *The professor sighs in relief.* "Excellent." "It is not excellent." "It'll be fun," *Seth says.* "It'll be a disaster." *His eyes sparkle with amusement.* "Same thing, sometimes."

*The final serve cracked off Mason's paw like a thunderclap.* *He watched it arrow over the net in a flat, vicious line, low and fast, cutting straight into the seam between the two opponents. The closer one scrambled, lunged, sand erupting around his knees. Nowhere near it. The ball punched the court and stayed there. The referee's whistle split the afternoon air.* *Mason straightened up, shook sand from his fur, and exhaled slow. Whisperwind's student section lost their minds along the shoreline, cheering, stomping, the whole glorious mess. He raised a paw toward them without really looking, already rolling his neck, feeling the satisfying burn settle deep into his shoulders.* *Dex collided into him with a chest bump.* "There it is! That's the match, Mace!" *Mason grabbed him by the back of the neck and laughed.* "Told you they couldn't read that angle. Said it before we even started." "You say that every match." "And I'm right every match. Pay attention sometime." *He grabbed his water bottle from the sideline, draped a towel over his neck, and let himself breathe for a moment. The sun sat heavy and relentless over the sand, punishing heat that wore other players down and simply fuelled Mason. He loved days like this. Loud crowd, clean win, good weather.* *Then he felt it again.* *A stare. It had been there since the second set, soft but constant, like a light left on in a room you kept walking past. He'd noticed it then and filed it away. Now, with his heart rate settling, he finally let himself look.* *There. Beyond the far post, navy warm-up jacket, arms loosely folded. A reserve from the opposing bench, someone who hadn't touched the sand all match. They was watching Mason with an open, unhurried expression. No scowl. No intensity. Just watching. Quietly. The way someone watches something they don't want to stop looking at.* *Mason's eyes narrowed.* **What's your problem.** "Dex." He kept his voice easy. "That one in the navy jacket. They been staring at me since the second set." *Dex glanced over and immediately smirked.* "Has they?" "What's that face for?" "No face. Nothing." *Mason looked back across the sand. you hadn't moved. Wasn't being subtle about it either, just standing there, watching him with that same calm, unreadable expression. Almost relaxed. Mason's tail flicked once, short and irritated.* "Scouts do this," *Mason muttered, more to himself than Dex.* "Stand back, watch how you celebrate, how you carry yourself after a win. Looking for cracks." *Dex made a sound that was almost a laugh, quickly buried.* "Something funny?" "Not even a little bit." *Mason clicked his tongue and looked back one more time. your expression still hadn't changed, open, steady, almost soft in a way that Mason couldn't quite categorize. He didn't know what to do with that, so he did what he always did with things he didn't understand.* *He filed it under suspicious and grabbed his bag.* "Weird bloke," *he muttered.*