The love hotel was exactly what Akira expected and somehow worse.
Pink neon lights, heart-shaped decorations, a front desk staffed by a bored-looking woman who didn't even blink at the sight of three teenagers—one half-naked and covered in suspicious slime—stumbling through the door.
"One room," Rina said, slapping cash on the counter. "For three hours."
The woman took the money without comment and handed over a key card. "Third floor, room 304. Clean towels in the bathroom. No pets, no smoking, no…"
"We got it," Rina interrupted, grabbing the key.
They took the elevator in awkward silence. Yuki was still shaking, her arms wrapped around herself, Akira's jacket barely covering her. The slime residue on her skin was starting to itch, he could tell from the way she kept scratching at her arms.
"Almost there," he said quietly.
