Kageyama takes one final look around his apartment before slamming off the lights. He wouldn't be sorry if he never saw this place again. Hoisting his bag over his shoulder, he locks the door and hurries down the narrow stairs of his building.

His first stop is to Lawson, just around the corner, to withdraw cash and print Google Maps directions. Standing in the back of the tiny convenience store, more than a dozen people pass by in just a few minutes. He watches them warily, newly grateful for his surgical mask and pulled-up hoodie. The whispers are constant. He thinks he hears his name twice but isn't recognized and he slips away easily.

He moves from one crowded sidewalk to another, then into a packed subway, finally arriving at Tokyo Station. It's mobbed as always, making it harder to tell if he's just being paranoid or if everyone really is talking about him. Kageyama buys his ticket at the kiosk to avoid having to interact with anyone, but then upon checking his Maps printout, realizes he's got eight more hours of travel ahead and no food. Picturing a transaction with the snack lady, trying to order food in a cramped, silent bullet train, with people potentially recognizing his voice, sends ice through his veins.

Glancing around, he spots a Family Mart. It's little more than two cramped aisles packed with people, but he steels himself and heads over. The space is too small to allow browsing, so he stands in line and waits to pass by the small refrigerated shelf. He snatches two boxed lunches, six rice balls, and several drinks without checking any of their flavors. As he waits to reach the cashier, he hears his name again. This time it's unmistakable, coming from the women standing directly ahead of him.

"I still don't believe it," the one closer to him is whispering. "Not Kageyama Tobio. It must be a prank!"

Kageyama bows his head lower, feeling his anger rising. How incompetent are these cashiers, exactly? It shouldn't take this long just to check out a few fucking people with candy bars.

"I don't care if it's a prank," the other woman replies in a quiet voice, clearly struggling to contain her excitement. "I'm thrilled. Does that make me a horrible person?"

Yes, Kageyama wants to shout back at her. He grinds his teeth and longs for his earbuds, wishing he hadn't packed them away like an idiot. They're just in his bag, but there isn't enough space here to dig for them; there's barely enough space to turn around.

He escapes Family Mart just as a large train from Osaka arrives, dumping hundreds more people into the station. Kageyama hears the stampede of feet and suitcase wheels before he spots them and successfully escapes to the train platform in time. Here, there is finally some open space, if only because of the empty tracks and thick yellow lines warning: danger, do not cross.

At long last, Kageyama finds a small amount of peace aboard the bullet train. It's a smooth and tranquil three hours. He doesn't budge from his seat once, just keeps his head turned toward the window. He listens to classical music, tuning out the rest of the passengers as a constant blur of rice fields, mountains, and tunnels fly by.

The four hours of non-express train rides that follow, however, become increasingly rickety, lagging with each kilometer traveled. The view from the windows is beautiful, something straight from a Miyazaki movie, but also terrifying. It's as if the train is flying, nothing but a steep, thousand-meter drop-off into the trees below.

By the time Kageyama arrives at his destination, he's the lone passenger on the train. Those online reviewers were right to warn him to print directions; the station is equally deserted, no people or tourism signs to guide him in the right direction. All around him, it's just looming mountains, chirping birds, and dense forests. There are a few homes, but they're sparse, run-down looking, and the only two people he sees are both elderly.

He grins, feeling victorious. He heard stories of the countryside, of course, and those very stories led him here, but seeing it in person is something else. Further into his wandering, Kageyama is stopped by a pair of resting serow. They're weird creatures, about the size of deer but looking more like fluffy brown gazelles with giant poofy beards. Wildlife of any kind in Tokyo is a rarity, even squirrels, and these fuzzy goats don't seem remotely bothered by him. Kageyama reaches for his phone to snap a photo but pauses with his fingers barely grazing the sleek glass of the screen. He doesn't take the picture.

It's the middle of the afternoon and he walks for nearly an hour and never passes a single person under the age of fifty. He only spots one convenience store.

Finally, after nearly two hours of searching, he finds it: a small, ancient-looking wooden house. It's worn but clearly maintained with a lot of care; a small traditional-style garden peeks through the fence and several bonzai decorate the front stoop. A wooden plaque hangs above the entryway reading, in golden kanji: Tachibana Inn.

Kageyama stands there, suddenly anxious, wondering for the first time if perhaps he didn't travel far enough. But he's tired and hungry, his convenience store food long devoured.

"Pardon the intrusion," he calls.

Something bangs forward. He can hear heavy footsteps on the old wooden floors, then hands struggling with the clasp on the door. A young girl peers out, and Kageyama can't help but blink a few times to clear his vision. He sees a lot of weird hair colors in Tokyo—Harajuku fashion is all the rage—but he can't recall ever seeing someone with such bright orange hair or eyes. He suddenly understands the inn's citrus namesake.

"Sawamura-sama!" The young girl shouts, stepping forward and attempting to take Kageyama's bag, but he darts it away from her. It's larger than she is. "Welcome to our minshuku! We've been expecting you! I'm Hinata Natsu! I'm here to take your bag to your room!"

"That's okay," he mutters, holding the bag out of reach as she jumps for it. "Just show me."

"Okay," she sighs, with a huge air of exasperation, giving up. "If you insist! Follow me!"

Natsu leads him down a short hallway to the furthest room. The old wooden floors creek with each step. Nearly every window and door is open wide, allowing the mountain air to circulate, giving Kageyama the feeling he isn't truly indoors despite the dim lightning. Once they arrive, Natsu has to use her entire body to move the paper door across its old wooden slide and it takes two tries, but once she has it open, she scrambles back in front of Kageyama and bows.

"This is your room," she announces, still deep in the bow. "It's the nicest one! So, we hope you'll be comfortable. Please find me if you need anything!"

Kageyama nods and steps around her into the room. It's spacious for an inn of this type, at least six mats large, with two huge windows overlooking the mountains. He kneels down at the low, heated table and begins admiring the small details left out for him: the packets of matcha, the delicate sweet, and the tea cups which appear to be locally made.

The smell of pine was strong even standing outside, but in this room it seems to seep out from every floorboard and wooden beam. There's a thick purple quilt draped around the table and Kageyama tucks it over his lap and around his legs. It's late afternoon in the middle of a muggy Japanese summer, but at this high altitude, the air is almost chilly, crisp. The trapped warmth from beneath the table radiates up, though, so Kageyama never feels cold. Instead, his eyelids start to droop. He clicks on the electric kettle and lets out a deep breath, giving in to the feeling.

He almost falls asleep just like that when the kettle gives a loud click indicating the water has finished boiling. Drowsy, Kageyama pours himself a cup of matcha and alternates sips of the bitter liquid with small bites of the soft bean sweet left for him by his gracious hosts. He means to savor the treat more, to leave some for after dinner, but it's quite good, better than some of the most expensive shops in Tokyo, and he's almost finished it when he hears Natsu nervously trying to get his attention just outside the door.

"Sawamura-sama?" she calls.

"What?" he asks, trying not to sound annoyed. He's not. He's relaxing.

"Dinner will be ready at seven in the dining room," Natsu announces. "Um, also, as you're our only guest right now, the men's bath is available for your private use. Please feel free to use it anytime between five and eleven."

"Fine," Kageyama calls back.

The bath is nicer than he expects, but he's not too surprised, as Oita prefecture is one of Japan's many hot spring zones. There's an indoor and outdoor section, and Kageyama makes use of the outdoor one first. It's small, just large enough for perhaps two adults, rimmed with smooth stones of varying shades of black and gray. As afternoon fades into evening, the air finally turns frigid, but it's a relief. The chill keeps his head clear while the scalding water soothes his muscles. Kageyama is used to constant soreness; now, for once, he feels only a pleasant tingle.

The longer he soaks, though, the more difficult he finds it to just unwind and enjoy the sensations. His anxieties grow. It would only take one person recognizing him to destroy this entire fragile sanctuary. He still needs to answer his manager and reply to the countless worried texts from his mother.

Returning to his room, pink-skinned and refreshed, wrapped in the dark blue cotton robe he'd found lovingly folded on his towel, his respite ends. He's proud of himself, really, that he resisted this long, that he managed to relax for even a few hours.

But then he spies his phone on the table. He can't resist it anymore. He powers it on, nervously anticipating a myriad of text messages, emails, voice mails, and news stories. He resisted checking it since the bullet train ride. His stomach twists with sick dread.

No new messages.

That can't be right. He checks LINE, his e-mail, but then—oh yes, the countryside. There's no reception. Flooded with relief, he drops his phone back onto his bag. Once again, it seems like he made the right choice coming here.

At exactly seven o'clock, Kageyama steps into the dining room. He's hungry, and so far everything about this place has exceeded his expectations. If the pattern holds, dinner is going to be extraordinary, and it is. As soon as he sits down, an elderly woman lays before him a tray of tempura, miso soup, sesame-spinach, fresh plums, steaming rice, and sashimi—oh, the sashimi. There are all the popular options—tuna, salmon, shrimp, and egg—but also his personal favorite, sea bream. That one will be especially difficult to savor.

"My grandson fished everything this morning," the old woman explains with pride.

It's a struggle not to scarf it all down immediately. Kageyama attempts to do math in his head, to figure out how long he could live here on his savings if he just retired tomorrow, but he's never been any good at academics.

"Do you want to eat with us?" Natsu asks. She's wandered over and is pointing to the only other table set with food. It has placements and glassware for four people but only food for two. "You look lonely."

"No," Kageyama replies through a mouthful of sweet potato tempura. "Thank you," he adds. In case she helped cook any of this, he doesn't want to risk offending her. The tempura is especially crisp; it even has a small kick as though they added a touch of wasabi powder.

"Natsu," the grandmother hisses, summoning her back. Kageyama can hear the grandmother scolding the girl but ignores it, just finishes his meal and retires to his room.

Kageyama is laying out his futon when his phone buzzes for the first time, glowing faintly in the dying light. He scowls, angry that it managed to find reception. The buzzing and dings continue as he tucks in the blankets and digs out a pillow from the closet. Finally, he picks up the offending electronic. The previews alone make his heart race, so he powers it off and throws it in the closet under some spare blankets. At a loss of what else to do with himself, he goes to bed early.

Kageyama wakes up much too early the next morning. He doesn't need to check his phone to know it can't be any later than 5am; the sun isn't yet up and the crickets are still active but starting to quiet. He went to bed too early, though, and his back is starting to ache from the futon, so he sits up with a stretch, deciding to run. He runs for miles, down a different path this time, and still only passes one grocery store and one convenience store the entire time. He only sees two people, both hunched over and wrinkled with advanced age. He spots many more serow, two foxes, endless rodents of varying sizes, and even one black bear.

Not until the very end of his run does Kageyama see anything of concern: out of the corner of his eye, an orange blur running in the opposite direction.

Later, Kageyama catches Natsu grinning at him long before he realizes he's staring. He hadn't meant to stare. The tray of traditional Japanese breakfast she placed before him was again unreasonably impressive. Breakfast has no reason to be special, but in addition to the expected rice and miso soup, Kageyama was given a too-generous portion of three whole roasted mackerel. He could see Natsu was only eating one half.

"You can sit with me if you want," she offers, patting the seat next to her.

He picks up his breakfast tray and sits down across from her. She's alone this morning, no grandmother to scold her.

"This is too much," Kageyama mumbles, trying not to sound too scary or ungrateful.

"Not at all," Natsu replies, waving his worries away with her hand. "You're our guest! And we saw you running this morning, and you're so tall. You must eat a lot, huh?"

Kageyama merely grunts in reply. She's not wrong. Still, he plucks one of the mackerel from his dish with the backs of his chopsticks and drops it onto her plate.

"No no," she scolds, returning the favor. She then lifts her entire breakfast tray and sets it on her lap, out of Kageyama's sight and well out of his reach. "I'm small; I don't need to eat that much!"

"I saw a raccoon dog this morning bigger than you," he grumbles back. He accepts his defeat easily though, dragging the fish through its sweet miso sauce. In this case, defeat means more delicious food, but he's still wary. He isn't sure this girl's exact age but she looks to be around twelve. He has fangirls that young and food offerings are often how they out themselves.

"You're funny," she laughs.

Kageyama eyes her, suspicious now, but he hasn't noticed any sign of recognition.

"You have a brother, right?" he finally asks.

"Yop! Shoyo!" She leans forward, and he suddenly wonders if she's just incredibly lonely. "Why do you ask? Did he do something to annoy you?"

"No," Kageyama answers, trying to think of how to word his next question. "Are there a lot of people his age around here?"

"No." She lets out a very dramatic sigh. "Everyone always moves as soon as they graduate."

Kageyama lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, relieved. Natsu gives him a look but doesn't pry.

"It's really bad here though," she adds after letting the moment of awkwardness pass. "My class only has four students! There was talk about shutting down the school, but my grandmother and brother went to city hall and screamed at the superintendent. Now it's definitely gonna stay open at least until I graduate."

Kageyama chews his rice and nods. So perhaps she is just lonely.

"Do you like your breakfast?" Natsu asks.

"It's fine," Kageyama grunts. It's, of course, excellent.

"My mom makes most of the food," she explains, seemingly unbothered by his terseness. "I help too, though! I even fried the tempura last night. It was good, right?"

"It was fine," Kageyama again massively underestimates. He literally had dreams about the tempura.

They finish their breakfasts mostly in silence, with Natsu occasionally needling Kageyama with questions, mostly about how he's enjoying his stay. Kageyama wonders if she's meant to inherit the minshuku. His anxieties also subside; it seems the extra food really was just her trying to be a good host.

The minute Kageyama sets down his chopsticks, she does the same, hopping up from her chair.

"Hey," she says. "Do you want to pick tangerines with me?"

"Fine."

Kageyama quickly realizes that he was invited under false pretenses. Natsu has already picked away the low-hanging fruits and needs help reaching the taller branches. She doesn't trust the rickety old ladder and convinces Kageyama to let her sit on his shoulders instead. Together, they fill three baskets.

"Grandma and I are going to make daifuku with them," she explains, running her hands over the fruit piled high in one of the baskets. "I'll make sure you get some for all your help!"

"Thanks," Kageyama replies. He's more excited about this than he dares admit, especially if this girl and her grandmother had anything to do with the sweet from the day before.

"Hey, Sawamura-san?" Natsu asks.

"Tobio," Kageyama corrects, starting to feel badly for giving a fake last name.

"Okay!" she agrees. "Hey, Tobio?"

"Yes?"

"You're from Tokyo, right?" she asks.

"Yes," Kageyama replies. He worries about the direction of this conversation.

"Why did you come all the way out here?"

"Tokyo's too crowded," he deflects.

"How long are you planning to stay?"

"I don't know." He only booked for the week. He's definitely extending that.

"Hmm," Natsu ponders, stroking her chin as though deep in thought. "Well, I like you, Tobio! I'm really glad you're here!"

Tobio thinks about this. He likes this girl's company too.

"Oi," someone shouts, an angry voice getting closer. "Don't hit on underage girls! She's only fifteen, you creep!"

"Sho!" Natsu yells back, stepping in front of Kageyama, as if she could somehow protect him with her tiny body. "Don't be stupid! Not every guy is hitting on me all the time!"

"You know nothing about men, Natsu," Shoyo insists, stomping over to give Kageyama a good stare-down.

Kageyama stares back, recognizing him as the orange blur from earlier. He's not intimidated at all. Shoyo falters for a second but quickly regains himself. Kageyama is impressed; he has made lesser men cry with his glare.

"What do you want with my sister, creep?" Shoyo asks, teeth grit.

"Her sweets," Kageyama answers, smirking.

Shoyo starts sputtering, looking horrified, and turns to Natsu as if to say I told you so, but Natsu just laughs.

"He means daifuku, Sho, calm down," Natsu insists, giving her brother a firm shoulder pat. "We were picking fruit. For sweets. God, you're such a spaz."

After a few additional threats are issued, Shoyo seems convinced that Natsu is safe for the time being. It helps that Natsu bribes him with a handful of tangerines, although Kageyama finds it oddly suspicious when he backs down so quickly. Shoyo is right; men are creepy, and somehow the fact that his sister looks even younger than her age only makes it worse.

"Hey, if you ever want to hang out with people old enough to drink," Shoyo says, stopping on his way back inside. "Just let me know!"

"I don't drink," Kageyama answers.

"Karaoke then?" Shoyo suggests. "They have tea, I think?"

"I don't sing."

"There isn't much else to do in the countryside, man," Shoyo replies, laughing. "I'm not sure how else you expect to kill your time."

"Just be the two of us?" Kageyama asks after a long pause. He knows he's going to get bored, but enough to risk subjecting himself to this guy? Drunk and with a microphone no less?

"No, I'd invite everyone!" Shoyo corrects, enthusiastic now, and clearly already figuring out plans in his head.

"Your sister said all your friends left?" Kageyama asks, perhaps tactlessly.

"She's just being dramatic," Shoyo explains. "Not everyone leaves, just—" a flash of unmistakable sadness flashes across his face. "—almost everyone."

A/N: Thank you for reading!

I often wonder if anyone is reading, so comments and kudos mean a lot to me. Won't you consider leaving some?

Finally, as I am actively trying to improve, honest feedback is greatly appreciated. Just please don't be cruel. Thank you!

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