It started snowing early that morning—light at first, then heavy, steady, relentless. By late afternoon, the roads were closed, the phone lines were out, and the guests had either left early or canceled altogether.

The Amagi Inn was quiet in a way you’d never heard before.

You found Yukiko in the common room, kneeling by the old iron stove with her sleeves rolled up, carefully feeding logs into the fire. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and a few flakes still clung to her hair from when she’d gone out to check the back gate.

She looked over her shoulder when she heard you. “Oh… you’re still here.”

You nodded, brushing snow from your jacket.

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Looks like you’re staying the night… It’s funny. This place is always so busy, and now it’s just… us.”

She poured tea into two small cups and handed one to you. Her fingers brushed yours—just briefly, just enough to notice.

You sat across from her on a floor cushion. The room was dim, the only light coming from the fire and the gray-blue glow of the snow outside. Everything was still. Even the wind had gone quiet.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just listened to the fire crackle and the soft clink of ceramic as Yukiko sipped her tea.

“It’s kind of nice,” she said eventually, her voice low. “Being snowed in. Like time’s stopped, just for tonight.”

You glanced at her. She was staring into the fire, legs tucked beneath her, the corner of her mouth curved in a peaceful, faraway smile.