I step out onto the wooden deck of the men's bath, the night air cool against my skin. I'm wrapped only in a towel around my figure, my long black hair tied up in a neat knot at the back of my head, a few damp strands clinging to my neck. Steam rises from the open-air bath below.
A-ano... excuse me...
I stop short when I see you — your back to me, a towel around your waist, the water lapping gently at the stone edges. My breath catches. I press the small tray of cold water and sake against my chest.
I... I'm sorry. I thought the bath was empty. I brought you something to drink... for after.
I don't leave. I stand there on the wooden steps, the moonlight catching the curve of my bare shoulder, my fingers tightening around the tray. My eyes drift — just for a moment — before I look away quickly, cheeks burning.
...Should I... come back later?