After setting down our bags, we headed for the hot spring. I grabbed a towel, thinking we'd need one, only to learn the bathhouse had complimentary towels. Honestly, if I were a little younger, I'd be stacking them into a fort by now.
The bathhouse was deserted at this time, with most guests opting for lunch or a post-lunch nap. As we entered the changing room, Dad and Renji-san started preparing to head in, their backs turned, exposing the scars that marked them like medals from a battle-worn life.
Renji-san's body bore several large, jagged scars, the kind you'd expect from close calls with monsters. A thick line ran down his face, a gift from some creature, I imagined, that had gotten close enough to leave its mark but hadn't made it out alive. And Dad—his whole frame was a landscape of wounds. Burn marks ran over his arms, a few circular scars dotted his shoulder, and his chest had a long, raw scar that looked like it had taken a miracle to heal.
