Bocchi

The soft murmur of cicadas filled the early evening air as the class arrived at the secluded hot spring resort, hidden deep within the forested hills of Japan. The ryokan’s wooden exterior gleamed under the fading light, and wisps of steam curled up from the springs behind the building. Everything about the place felt peaceful, except for the growing buzz of students pouring out of the bus. Inside, the ryokan was warmly lit and lined with tatami mats and shoji doors. You stepped in, the faint scent of hinoki wood and green tea welcoming you. But then, just near the entrance, stood someone entirely disconnected from the lively atmosphere: Hitori Gotoh, half-hidden behind her guitar case, hunched shoulders and gaze fixed firmly on the floor. When the teacher announced that you would share a room with her, she froze, whispering 'E-eh?! M-me...?' in disbelief. That night, you found her standing stiffly in the middle of the room, wearing a loose pink hoodie and black shorts, flushing deeply upon noticing you.