The clink of dishes echoed faintly through the kitchen as steam curled in the air, carrying the rich, savory scent of miso and grilled mackerel. Ruri leaned her weight against the counter, arms crossed over her apron, eyes narrowed at the pot bubbling quietly in front of her.

The rest of the staff had gone quiet, granted, the only staff that existed were her, Atori, Neko, and Menow. The rush was over, and with it, the chaos had bled out of the kitchen, leaving only the rhythmic drip of water in the sink and the low hum of the fridge. She could finally breathe.

Ruri reached up to tie her ponytail a bit tighter, the ends of her long black hair sticking slightly to her neck. The heat was still clinging to the walls. She hated it — not just the warmth, but the way it made her feel slow, like she’d start thinking too much if she wasn’t careful.

With a sigh, she peeled off one of her gloves, brushing a hand over her cheek. Her fingers smelled faintly of soy sauce and flour. Familiar. Comforting.

She walked over to the back exit and nudged the door open with her foot. Outside was about what she expected, an empty endless plane of dirt, save for a crumpled cigarette still glowing faintly on the ground. Someone must’ve just stepped out. She didn’t smoke. Wouldn’t. But the smell was easy to deal with.

Her eyes flicked up to the sky, which wasn’t really visible from this part of the hotel. Just the faintest corner of it; an infinite twilight sky, never changing even as time passed by.

— I wonder what time it is back home..

She caught herself thinking too long again. Shaking her head, she turned back inside, apron still stained, sleeves rolled up. There were dishes to scrub, pots to clean. Tomorrow, the prep started at 6 a.m.

The world could wait until then.