They moved through the ticket gates as a pack, voices low but jittery. The summer heat wrapped around them like a thick blanket, sticking to skin and clothes. Ren could feel the dampness of his hair drying slowly under the unforgiving sun. The chatter around him was half-lost beneath the distant roar of jet engines slicing the blue above.
Military fighters, sharp and fast, screamed overhead in tight formation. The sound rattled the bones, too close, too low. Ren caught the others' glances, subtle but quick, like they all sensed something was off, even if no one said it.
Souta cracked a grin, nudging Ren's shoulder. "Guess the government's giving us a show. Bet they're practicing for something big."
Mio shook her head, biting a snack. "Feels more like a warning."
Ren glanced up, shading his eyes. The jets vanished as quickly as they'd appeared, leaving a hollow hum in the air. The sky, still impossibly blue, felt vast and fragile all at once.
Arata walked beside Ren, his gaze steady on the horizon. "It's the kind of blue you don't see often," he said softly. "Like it's holding its breath. Makes you wonder how long it can last."
Ren shrugged but didn't argue. The ferry waited just ahead, a hulking metal beast, bright against the glinting sea. Lines of passengers queued with bags and kids squirming. The air smelled salty, diesel sharp, and faintly like burnt rubber.
Noa bounced on her toes. "I swear, if the ferry smells like fish guts again, I'm never eating seafood here."
Rin smirked beside her. "You'd die in the wild before complaining about the smell."
The group edged closer to the gangway. Ren's fingers brushed the sketchbook Arata still carried, the graphite marks faint but familiar. He wondered what Arata was really thinking, if the quiet sketches held secrets none of them could say aloud.
A rumble shook the dock, subtle but steady. Ren's gaze flicked down the shoreline where a small tremor cracked the sand, thin and jagged. The sea didn't react yet, but it was like the earth itself was shifting under their feet.
"Did you feel that?" Mio whispered, half-excited, half-worried.
Ren nodded. "Yeah. Just a little. Like the world's settling."
Itsuki, scanning the ticket line, didn't miss the shift either. "Maybe just construction."
Souta laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Or maybe we're all riding on a sinking ship."
Ren caught Rin's eye. Her jaw tightened for a second, then she turned away. Whatever she thought, she wasn't about to say it here.
The ferry doors hissed open and the group filed inside. The cabin was cool but smelled faintly of engine oil and old plastic. Ren found a spot by a window, the sunlight hitting his face warm but not harsh.
Outside, the water stretched out, calm and glittering. Somewhere far off, a distant echo of sirens briefly pierced the lazy hum of the harbour.
Arata sat beside him, pencil in hand but still. "Blue summer," he murmured again, eyes on the shifting waves. "Like it's waiting for something to change."
Ren didn't answer. The blue sky outside seemed endless, but the quiet tremors beneath whispered a warning no one wanted to say.
The ferry sat heavy and still, docked like a giant beast waiting to lurch forward. The hum of engines was distant, almost lazy. The group shuffled through the narrow hallways, luggage bumping against walls and each other. Ren hung back, watching Rin walk ahead with her usual sharp steps, no wasted motion.
Souta grinned wide, elbowing Ren as they passed the cabins. "So, who's gonna share rooms? Boys together, girls together, right? Or... you wanna mix it up? Could be fun."
Mio snorted from behind, her voice sharp as a whip. "What, you wanna spy on us, Souta? Dream on."
"No way, man. We just figured, since we're all stuck here..." Souta shrugged, flashing a mischievous smile. "Could be interesting."
Rin stopped and shot back without missing a beat, "Interesting is watching you trip over your own feet."
"No, wait, wait," Noa jumped in, crossing her arms with a smirk. "You boys barely survive your own rooms. Don't think you can handle ours."
The girls exchanged looks, equal parts amused and warning. Souta raised his hands in surrender.
"Fine, fine. Boys to boys, girls to girls," Souta chuckled. "But don't say I didn't try."
The girls laughed, teasing still hanging in the air, then turned toward their door.
Ren grabbed his bag as Rin pushed open the girls' cabin door, and the boys followed their own path down the hall.
Inside the boys' room, Arata dropped his sketchbook on the narrow bed, running a hand through his messy hair. Itsuki tossed his backpack onto the floor, pulling out a folded map and spreading it on the small table.
Souta flopped onto his bed with a dramatic groan. "Man, this place smells like old paint and engine grease. Five stars."
Itsuki didn't look up from the map. "We're lucky the ferry didn't cancel. Heard the news earlier. Some strange movements in the north, earthquakes, weird atmospheric stuff."
Arata pulled a pencil from his bag, tapping it lightly on the table. "You ever think we're just small pieces in something way bigger? Like the world's not as stable as we thought?"
Souta shrugged, stretching. "Maybe. But I'd rather focus on not getting seasick."
Ren leaned against the wall, eyes drifting to the window. Outside, the water was still, reflecting that impossible blue sky. The tremor from before lingered in the back of his mind, a shadow he couldn't shake.
Itsuki looked up, voice low. "This trip was supposed to be a break, right? But feels like something's already... off."
Arata nodded, shading his eyes as he stared out at the horizon. "Blue summer's quiet. Too quiet."
Souta grinned again, lighter now. "Well, whatever comes, at least we're stuck with each other. No bailouts."
Ren smiled faintly. "Yeah. No bailouts."
The boys settled in, but the moment Ren dropped his bag on the floor, Souta grinned and nudged him. "So, Ren, you got the prime seat next to Rin on the bus. That means you're officially the group's boyfriend, right?"
Itsuki smirked, folding his map. "Yeah, Ren. When's the wedding? Should we bring gifts?"
Arata chuckled without looking up. "Better start practicing your 'I'm-not-jealous' face."
Ren's cheeks flared hotter than the summer sun outside. He shoved his hands deep in his hoodie pockets, avoiding their eyes. "You guys are idiots. I'm just trying to survive this trip."
Souta laughed, standing up and slapping Ren's shoulder. "Sure, man. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Ren grabbed his bag. "I'm gonna hit the bathroom." He didn't wait for a reply, escaping the teasing with a half-grin he couldn't hide.
Ren slipped away from the room, the laughter and chatter fading behind him as he found the stairwell. The cool concrete steps felt good under his hands, grounding him. He sat down, back against the wall, legs drawn up, cheeks still warm from the earlier teasing. The quiet was sharp, the hum of the ferry distant but steady.
His mind drifted back to the dream, the blackness pressing against his eyelids, the layered screams like they were folding inward on themselves, the metallic taste in the air that clung like rust. The voice, thin and far away, yelling to look up. The shapes bending wrong, people running with hollow thuds beneath their feet. The steady, clinical voice on the news, trying to stay calm as the world cracked around them.
"Unusual ground motion," the words repeating in his head like a warning.
His fingers curled around the edge of the step as the memory tugged at something deep, a pulse of panic beneath the surface.
"Hey."
Ren blinked. Rin was there, just behind him, quiet footsteps closing the space. She sat a step down, not too close but close enough that the silence between them felt less empty.
"It's been a while," she said softly.
"Yeah," Ren said, voice low. "Feels weird... being alone with you."
She shrugged, hands resting on her knees. "We're good at avoiding each other, huh?"
Ren laughed, but it caught in his throat. "Guess we are."
They stayed quiet for a moment, the ferry's distant engine the only sound. Ren glanced sideways. "I had that dream again. The one with the screams... the sky folding wrong."
Rin's eyes darkened, thoughtful. "You're not the only one. I saw something weird too. The clouds, like they were sliding sideways. Felt like the world wasn't right."
Ren nodded, swallowing the knot in his throat. "Yeah. And that voice... on the news. Calm but so… off. Like it knew something bad was coming but had to pretend it didn't."
Rin bit her lip, her usual sharpness softening. "Makes you wonder what we're all ignoring."
Ren let his gaze drop to his hands. "I'm scared. Don't want to admit it. But that dream—it wasn't just a dream."
She reached out, just a fingertip brushing his arm. "It's okay to be scared."
Ren looked up, meeting her eyes. For a moment, the weight lifted, shared between them like a quiet promise.
"Thanks," he said.
Rin gave the faintest smile. "Anytime."
The group had spilled into the ferry's small restaurant area, a cramped but lively space filled with the hum of conversation and clatter of trays. Plastic chairs and laminate tables crowded the room, the faint smell of fried food mixing with the salty air.
Souta plopped down first, eyes scanning the buffet line. "Free food's the best food," he declared, already reaching for a tray.
Mio grinned, juggling a paper cup and a plate piled high. "Seriously. I don't care where it comes from, as long as it's free."
Itsuki, always the pragmatist, rolled his eyes. "Don't say that after last time. Remember the mystery meat incident?"
Laughter broke out, the memory still fresh. "Yeah, and I'm pretty sure Noa's face was a warning sign," Souta added, nudging the group.
Noa, who had been quiet until then, suddenly perked up, eyes sharp as she scanned the room. "Speaking of warnings, look who finally decided to join us," she said, voice teasing but warm.
Ren and Rin stepped into the restaurant area just then, both flushed from their stairwell talk but trying not to show it.
"Hey, latecomers," Noa called, waving a chip towards them. "Don't worry, we didn't eat all the good stuff. Yet."
Ren shot her a mock glare, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. Rin rolled her eyes, sliding into a seat beside him.
Mio offered a bag of snacks. "Come on, you two looked like you needed fuel."
Ren glanced at Rin, who shrugged. "Yeah, I'm starving."
As the group dug in, the noise and warmth of the ferry settled around them. Somewhere in the back of Ren's mind, that uneasy feeling lingered — the dream, the strange sky, the odd news reports but here, with friends and cheap food, it was easy to pretend normal was still real.
But the ocean outside stretched wide, endless and quiet, and the ferry hadn't moved yet.
The trays clattered as the group finished eating, the last of the fries disappearing into waiting hands. Ren wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, stretching his stiff shoulders. The chatter faded as they gathered their things, moving toward the ferry's upper deck.
Outside, the sun hung heavy in the sky. The railing was warm under their palms, the ocean sprawling endless and calm below.
Mio's face had gone pale, a slight sheen of sweat gathering at her hairline. She blinked rapidly, gripping the rail a little tighter.
Ren noticed first. "You okay?"
"Yeah… maybe…" Mio's voice wavered. "I'm feeling a bit off."
Before anyone could respond, a clear, calm voice came over the ship's PA system:
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are now beginning our departure from the port. Please remain inside the ferry and ensure all personal belongings are secured. For your safety, hold onto the railings while on deck, as the ship will soon begin to move. Crew members will be making rounds shortly to ensure seat belts and safety equipment are properly fastened.
Passengers prone to seasickness are advised to find a stable spot and avoid sudden movements. Should you require assistance, please approach any crew member or visit the medical room located on deck three.
Thank you for traveling with us today. We wish you a pleasant and safe journey."
As the announcement finished, the gentle hum of engines rose beneath their feet. The ferry began to pull away from the dock, a slow but unmistakable surge.
Mio's grip tightened, her knuckles whitening. "Okay, definitely seasick," she muttered, eyes half-closed.
Noa shot her a look. "You're not the only one feeling that way. Just breathe."
Souta laughed. "Welcome to the ocean, rookie."
Ren rubbed Mio's back gently. "Here, lean on me if you want."
The group settled closer to the railing, the horizon slowly drifting farther from shore as the ferry's engines thrummed steadily beneath them.
The ferry's engines thrummed steadily as the ship began to pull away from the dock. Ren glanced at Mio, who was leaning a little too heavily on him, her face pale and eyes squeezed shut. Rin stood a few steps away, arms crossed, jaw tight, but her expression gave nothing away. She stared out at the horizon instead, hands clenched quietly.
Arata, calm as ever, reached into his bag and pulled out a small pouch of ginger candies. "Here," he said to Mio, holding it out. "Good for nausea."
Mio accepted it with a tired smile. "Thanks, Arata."
Ren pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. "4:05," he said softly. "Right on schedule." His voice was quiet, almost like he was marking a moment in time.
The ferry gave a subtle shudder, the engines deepening their rumble as it slipped fully into open water.
"Noa, help me get her to the seats by the windows," Ren said gently.
Noa nodded and looped her arm through Mio's. Together, they guided her toward the row of seats overlooking the endless blue ocean. Ren pulled out a seat for Mio and helped her settle in, adjusting her bag and jacket.
Mio sighed with relief, staring out at the waves, the sunlight reflecting off the water.
Rin lingered nearby, silent, then finally moved to stand by the railing, eyes still fixed on the sea, the faintest shadow of something unreadable in her gaze.
Souta nudged Ren lightly. "Don't let her hog all the attention, man."
Ren gave a small, knowing smile but said nothing. The sea stretched wide and endless before them, carrying their quiet tensions along with the ship's steady course.
The sun hung low, casting a warm glow over the deck as the ferry sliced through the water. Ren stood near the railing, arms resting on the cold metal, the breeze tugging lightly at his shirt. Rin was just a step behind, her gaze drifting toward the distant shoreline. The space between them was small, quiet, filled with unspoken weight.
Without a word, Rin shifted closer, her shoulder brushing his for a fleeting second. Neither flinched. The moment passed like a breath, soft, almost accidental. Ren caught the faintest scent of sunscreen mixed with the salt air. His heart thudded, not loud enough to be obvious, but enough to stir the memory locked deep inside. Years ago, a childhood refusal that had marked a line between them, now softened by time yet still humming beneath the surface.
Rin looked away, cheeks a shade warmer, hands gripping the railing with a little more strength. Ren swallowed and turned his eyes back to the sea. The waves rolled on, endless and indifferent.
The ferry horned faintly as evening folded into night. The sky deepened from gold to navy, and the flicker of cabin lights blinked on across the deck. The group gathered their things, tired but restless, readying for the next stretch of their journey.
At 9:30 pm, they spilled off the ferry into the near-empty terminal. The air was cooler now, carrying the faint smell of the ocean mixed with diesel and late-night snacks from a distant vendor.
The late bus awaited, engine idling softly. Ren slung his backpack over one shoulder and glanced around at the others, faces soft with the day's weariness. The four-hour ride ahead felt long, but the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. Just the quiet hum of shared stories yet to be told.
The bus doors hissed open, and the group shuffled onboard like they were moving through molasses. Heavy eyes, slow steps, none of them had much energy left. Ren dragged his feet toward the back, shoulders slumped, already imagining the hours of awkward, cramped sleep ahead.
"No way I'm actually gonna sleep," Souta groaned, dropping his bag beside a seat. "This thing feels like it was designed to torture teenagers."
Mio flopped down next to him, rubbing her temple. "And we've got four more hours of this ride. Perfect."
Noa stretched with a sigh. "I'm not made for buses after a day in the sun. My knees already hate me."
Itsuki muttered something about regretting his choice to wear jeans, and Arata just leaned his head back, eyes half-lidded like the bus was already rocking him to sleep.
Rin came last, the group subtly nudging her toward the seats near Ren. "You two should sit together, makes the ride less miserable, right?" Noa said, shooting a grin at Ren.
Ren shrugged, not bothered either way. "I don't mind."
Rin's lips tightened briefly. "I'll probably make you uncomfortable." Her voice was low but steady, no teasing, just honest.
The bus seats filled quickly, and with the last few spots gone, Rin ended up beside Ren anyway. She settled in, posture straight but relaxed, eyes already scanning the dimmed windows as they reflected the slow crawl of highway lights.
Ren's head tilted back against the seat, eyelids drooping. Rin watched him, something like a quiet resolve in her gaze, not soft, not pleading—just... steady. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the weight of the day settling around them.
Someone started talking about the snorkeling spots in Okinawa, the bright coral reefs and endless blue waves, sparking a ripple of tired smiles and murmurs of excitement.
Mio laughed softly, "We're gonna make the most of this trip, even if we're all zombies on this bus."
Souta nodded. "Next stop, sunrise and whatever adventure comes with it."
Rin glanced at Ren again, the corner of her mouth twitching almost imperceptibly. No one else noticed.
By the time the bus rolled into its third hour, the conversations had thinned out into half-muttered jokes and yawns. The hum of the road became the soundtrack, punctuated by the occasional creak of the suspension when the driver hit a bump.
Souta broke the quiet first, holding up two canned coffees he'd pulled from his backpack like they were contraband. "Alright, listen up. I saw this online, slam a coffee, crash for twenty minutes, wake up feeling like you got eight hours."
Noa gave him a side-eye. "Or you just wake up with a headache."
"Shut up and trust the process." Souta passed cans around. A couple people took them out of curiosity, others because it was something to do. Ren ended up with one, Rin too. They all tilted their heads back in unison, the bitter hit waking their taste buds before their brains.
Phones lit up the rows for a few minutes, then dimmed as everyone leaned into the crash phase. The bus went quiet except for the low rumble of the engine and an old ballad playing from the driver's radio.
Exactly twenty minutes later, the groggy silence cracked. Souta sat up, eyes wide. "Oh my god. It works. I'm awake-awake."
Noa blinked like a lizard in sunlight. "Okay… this is freaky. My brain's doing push-ups."
Ren rubbed his face, grinning. "Yeah, I could run laps right now. Not gonna, but I could."
The row behind them stirred too, voices picking back up.
Arata, scrolling through his phone, suddenly stopped. "Uh… not to kill the vibe, but—" He turned the screen toward them. The headline was plain, no clickbait: Series of Earthquakes Recorded Across Japan in Last 12 Hours.
Mio frowned. "Where?"
"Everywhere," Arata said, scanning. "Small ones, mostly. But… more than a hundred. They're calling it 'unusual seismic activity.'" He tapped the article. "And here, scientists saying the plates are moving faster than recorded before. No one's saying why."
Rin leaned forward. "We felt one yesterday morning, remember? The tiny one."
Arata nodded. "Yeah. But this…" He shrugged. "It's not normal. Feels like… something's winding up."
Souta tried to laugh it off. "Cool, so we're living in a disaster movie. Where's my hero arc?"
Noa tossed a snack wrapper at him. "You'd be the first to get eaten by… whatever."
But Ren didn't join in on the jokes this time. His eyes stayed on the dark window, where the first light of dawn was just bleeding into the horizon. For a second, it reminded him of the dream, how the sky had looked wrong.
The bus hummed on, pulling them into morning with too much caffeine in their veins and something heavier hanging in the air.