“Is this it?” Naomi asks, her voice heavy with disappointment.

“Yep, journalism gets the lowest amount of funding, don't you know?” Natsume responds.

“This sucks.” she groans.

The sound of the tides waxing and waning across the shore fills the night as as the five of us line up in front of what may actually be a broken down shack, as opposed to a hotel. There's dead plants hanging under the windows, some of which are boarded up. In fact, the entire building is boarded up, held together with rotten driftwood.

Takashi, Hanako, myself, and all of our luggage follow behind them through the door. The floorboards creak as we step in, the smell of seafood soon filling my nostrils. There's two possibilities here: it's dinnertime, or a fisherman decided to bring his catch in with him. Either way, it smells as bad as it looks.

“Whatchu want?”

As if my senses needed to be harassed any further, a voice somewhere between a man's and a woman's calls out to us, his/her tone calling up images of a styrofoam cat dragging its claws across a chalkboard. Behind the desk in front of us sits a...person with short reddish hair, a figure like a bowling pin, and its own congregation of horse flies.

“We're staying here. Yamaku Journalism club.” Naomi calls out.

He, or she, whichever, browses up and down a tattered journal with a grubby finger, flipping the coffee-stained pages back and forth like someone who doesn't even know how to read, but would like to keep up the appearance that they do.

After a few minutes of grumbling, the person behind the counter hands us a set of- oh my god what's wrong with those fingers- keys before pointing us to the stairway.

We practically run upstairs to our assigned room, heaving a sigh of relief at the fact that the door has a working lock. However, that would seem to be the only functional thing in this room; as the lights flicker, the air conditioner clicks and sputters, and one of the windows is jammed open.

“Well, that was an experience.” Takashi comments.

“Is it just me or did she not have any fingernails?” Naomi calls out.

“How'd you know it was a she?” Natsume replies.

Yeah, he...she was hard to look at, but we don't really know her that well. For all we know she could've been born like that, embittered by years of laughter and snarky comments from people just like us.

Hanako seems to be holding onto the same thought, although a lot more passionate about the subject matter as she holds back her opinion. She fidgets, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as her mouth opens to speak, but then closes in apprehension.

“But anyway, we've only got a day here, and we've gotta cover something for the newspaper as well, so get some sleep. This is not going to be the third year we do an article about how much fun we'd like to think Hokkaido beaches are.” Naomi announces.

"But the people have to know how amazing seaweed and broken bottles are!" Natsume counters.

These two are like a comedy act. I hate to think of what it was like before Hanako, Takashi, and I joined.

Speaking of Takashi: he isn't actually part of the club. Journalism has had dwindling attendance this year, and the school refused to fund their trip unless they had at least 5 members. As for myself, I joined out of curiosity (and to be with Hanako, but she gets flustered if I mention that.) It seems to be a decent alternative to the student council so far.

We take turns changing in the bathroom, which thankfully is the cleanest thing in the entire hotel by a large margin. A stack of futons is unpacked from the closet and laid across the ground in accordance with the "close enough to not be backed against the wall, but far away enough to not roll onto each other" rule.

A rule Hanako seems to forget for a brief moment as she inches her bed toward mine.

“Oh, and make sure you lovebirds keep your beds separate. We are on a school trip here.” Natsume comments.

Is she talking about us?

“U-um...”

Yeah, she's talking about us.

Her face is soon flushed by a deep shade of crimson as she backs away from me, a series of incomplete stammers flooding from her mouth as she tries to explain herself.

I want to side with Hanako, but even if we were allowed, I don't think I could share a bed with her in the company of others. Especially with how...touchy she gets.

However, before the situation can get any more awkward, the sound of glass shattering rings out across the entire building.

Natsume is the first to run out of the room, snatching up a pen and a notepad as she does so. Naomi soon follows with camera in hand, leaving Takashi laying against the wall.

“Man, if this place is haunted...” he mutters before running out after them.

“Well, shall we join them?” I turn to Hanako and ask.

Hanako shakes her head, clenching the mat beneath her with a quivering hand.

“Oh come on, what's the worst that could happen?”

The sound of shattering glass repeats itself, with the cries of at least one of the girls and Takashi joining it.

“Th-That.” Hanako argues.

With a bit of convincing, I manage to get Hanako off the ground and down the stairs, her frail hand clutching mine as if she'll fall were she to let go.

Downstairs, Takashi has jumped back and is now hiding around the corner as Natsume scribbles away on a notepad, with Naomi asking a rather pudgy man what happened.

“Min' yer own business.” he replies with a green bottle in one hand.

The remains of another two green bottles lie in front of the entrance to the hotel, a few stray shards stuck in a painted target on the door.

“No ghosts? No ghouls? C'mon man, you're killing me!” Naomi yells.

The man, who I'm assuming is the owner of the hotel, isn't much of a joker and shoos us back up the stairs, with a third bottle being launched at the door as we make our exit.

“Man, I seriously thought we'd have something for a second th-”

Before Naomi can even finish her sentence, someone slams on the door and asks, in the most raspy, terrifying voice I have ever heard, “DO YOU LOVE ME?!”

Oh no.

Hanako jumps over and clings to me like a terrified cat, while Takashi jumps up and into the bathroom in much the same manner. Natsume and Naomi, however, run over and yank the door open, a look of mixed surprise and terror filling their expressions as a green blob dressed in a nightgown hobbles in.

“JUS' A LIL' PINCH~.” it cries out, each word bubbling forth from its throat.

It first catches sight of Takashi, who has peeked out of the bathroom to see if what's happening is real, or just some kind of weird Hokkaido prank. It hobbles over toward him, the floor rattling with each heavy-set step.

“NOPE.” he barks as he darts to the window, its frame creaking as he tries to force it open.

With the door cleared, the four of us scramble out of the room and to various parts of the hotel, Naomi and Natsume into the unlocked room across the hall, and I to the room next door with Hanako clinging to my arm.

Even through the wall, I can hear the...thing's excited movements, a loud 'CLOMP' ringing across the building each time it takes a step. These clomps are accompanied by a panicked 'PAT PAT PAT' as what I assume to be Takashi gives up on his window escape and rushes toward the door.

My assumptions prove to be correct as the man himself bursts out of the room, slamming the door behind him and then joining Hanako and I.

“What the hell is that thing?!” Takashi yells between exhausted breaths.

“That's a good question I don't feel like answering.”

Hanako grips my arm like a lost child, shivering against me with her eyes clenched shut, a terrified whimper slithering away from her throat each time the beast clomps around.

“Hey Takashi, what's it doing?”

“Hell if I know, man! I barely got away from it.” he replies.

“Well go check it out. You already have experience with its ways.”

My request is met with a dead stare, its gaze conveying a mixture of “no,” and “screw you.”

“Would you do it for a Scooby snack?” I ask, unable to keep from snickering at my own terrible joke.

“What in the hell are you talking about?” he asks, craning his head.

However, in the midst of our discussion, a loud 'SLAM' rings out from next door, with a cracking sound which may be the floorboards breaking.

“I got him!” Natsume calls out.

“Hold em still!” Naomi responds.

We run next door to see Natsume holding the beast in an armbar, a big dumb grin stretched from ear to ear and a glint in her eye. Naomi has, of course, taken the chance to take pictures of the subdued thing from every angle. The sheer absurdity of it all makes me wonder if I forgot to take my medication and I'm just dreaming.

The monster flails about against her incapacitation, yelling the word “KRUSHCHEV!” over and over again.

“Okay, I'm confused.” I announce.

“We all are, but we can figure out WHY we're confused later. That's what it means to be on the newspaper crew!” Natsume and Naomi respond in unison.

Before I have a chance to make sense out of anything that's happened in the past hour, another set of loud stomps clambers up the staircase behind us, the figure of the hotel owner bared before us as he fumes in anger. For some reason he's decided to swap his normal clothing for a...

Oh my god I can't even say it.

Black. Leather. Exposed chest. Metallic studs. Mouth gagged by ball. Et. Cetera.

Hanako seems to be equally appalled, shielding her eyes, then opening her fingers to confirm her view before shutting them again. Takashi stares wide-eyed at the scene before him, mouthing words of regret as he looks for a way out.

“WHWWAARRHGMHMH”

I'm not even going to try and discern what he just said. I don't think he's realized he can take the ball gag out.

“DESE KIDS ARR TOO FEISTY, RAMON!” the green splotch y-...

Wait, no...Oh god...

Hanako realizes it around the same time I do as she backs into the corner and cringes, unsure of what to think.

It's the voice of the woman at the counter. Who was at the counter. Either/or. Regardless of current position, for god knows what reason she's now laying in an armbar in nothing but a pink nightgown and green body paint.

And what I assume is her husband is standing behind us, shaking his arms in rage, wearing a get-up that could only be suited for-.

Sorry, I had to keep myself from throwing up. A get-up that could only be suited for BDSM play.

“Sorry guys, I'm out. I'm gonna go sleep on the bus with Mr. Rito.” Takashi announces as he walks out the door, a broken stare in his eyes.

The gimp-suited hotel owner shoos Takashi out the door and then gestures for the rest of us to follow suit, his angered gibberish failing to convey any manner of hospitality.

“Yeah, I think we're done here.” Naomi announces.

Natsume nods and jumps onto her feet, grabbing both hers and Naomi's bags as she skips out into the hallway. I'm not quite sure as to why she's so happy. Have the past trips really been so boring as to make something like THIS acceptable?!

Hanako doesn't wait to be asked for her take on the matter as she snatches up all of her belongings as well, fidgeting in the doorway as she waits for me. As soon as I join her, she latches onto my arm and drags me out of the hotel.

“Stranger Danger! Hokkaido Beachfront Hotel Front for Sick Brothel!” Naomi announces as she shifts through the pictures on the digital camera. Natsume giggles in agreement as she flips the yellow pages of the notebook back and forth, scribbling down anything and everything that comes to mind.

“Hisao...” Hanako murmurs.

“What's up?”

“Um...W-What was that?” she asks, as if only needing to confirm her thoughts.

“Something we are never, ever going to try, even if you ask.” I reply.

Hanako nods her head before muttering “let's stick to n-normal costumes...”