Just then, footsteps echoed through the bathroom. My hand froze mid-reach for the mop bucket. I hadn’t heard the door open. Rarely did anyone come into the bathrooms while I was cleaning; everyone was usually preoccupied with their chores.
I strained my ears. The sound came again, faint and deliberate, out of sync with my movements. A cold shiver ran up my spine. I peeked around the shower entrance.
No one.
The sinks were empty. I crouched low, scanning under the stall doors for feet. Nothing.
It had to be my imagination. Or maybe the acoustics of this place were playing tricks on me.
Get it together, Akiko.
I shoved the cleaning supplies into the storage closet and washed my hands quickly. As I reached for the bathroom door, I pushed and slammed right into it.
It didn’t budge.
My pulse quickened as I threw my weight against the door. Nothing. There was no lock on it, yet it wouldn’t move. Panic bubbled in my chest.
“Hey!” I shouted, pounding on the door with both fists. “Hey! Is anyone there?”
I rammed my shoulder into it, then winced at the dull ache that spread down my arm. I ignored it and attacked the door once again. Suddenly, it flew open, and I crashed right into Iron Face.
I bounced off him like he was made of concrete and landed on my backside. His unyielding frame didn’t so much as sway, and his scowl would have curdled milk into cottage cheese.
“Sorry,” I stammered, scrambling to my feet. His eyes bore into me like a stabbing finger. “The door, it was stuck. I couldn’t get out.”
He said nothing, his expression unreadable as always. Emboldened by the moment alone with him, I ventured, “Speaking of stuck doors, I was wondering?—”
Iron Face brushed past me like I wasn’t there, his focus already on inspecting the bathroom. I stood awkwardly, waiting for some sign that I’d passed his inspection. Finally, he gave a curt nod, and I took that as my cue to leave.
Back in my room, I noticed the dead bolt was gone. Relief washed over me. Iron Face had listened. It wasn’t a perfect solution. My room could still be walked in on while I wasn’t there, but at least I couldn’t be locked in anymore. That small concession felt like a win in this place.
Kenji wasn’t in his room. I figured he was either finishing up his chores or at the library. I made a beeline there, excited to tell him about my breakthrough with Iron Face. But when I pushed open the door, I found Jiro instead.
“Sorry,” I blurted, instinctively apologizing. “I didn’t think anyone would be in here.”
Wait, why am I apologizing?
Jiro glanced up, his head tilted slightly to the side. His layered black hair fell over one eye until he flicked it back with a practiced motion. A slow, deliberate smile spread across his face.
Why is he smiling at me? I’m not smiling back.
I turned to leave but stopped myself.
Why should I leave? I have every right to be here.
I squared my shoulders, leveled my chin, and spun back around. “I changed my mind. I think I will stay.”
“You can stay,” he said casually.
Uh, I know. I wasn’t asking for your permission.
I sat opposite him and grabbed the nearest book, pretending to immerse myself. Only a foot or two separated us. I could hear his soft, measured breathing, a sound that used to soothe me. Now, it grated on my nerves.
We sat in tense silence, flipping pages like strangers in a doctor’s waiting room. Of course, I couldn’t resist sneaking peeks over the top of my book. His hair was longer now, constantly falling into his eyes. He raked his fingers through it in that same maddeningly attractive way he used to. His uniform stretched across his chest and shoulders, his biceps still as solid as I remembered. Suddenly the memory of those arms wrapped around me, holding me close, began to smother any ill will I held toward him.
Snap out of it, Akiko.
I caught a faint whiff of cologne. We weren’t allowed personal effects. Figured he’d find a way to break the rules.
