No one told me water counts as a workspace.
I tried to find the schedule board this morning.
There wasn’t one. Just a conch shell taped to a palm tree that said “Do your best~!” in glitter pen.
I’m pretty sure Koko put it there.
Also, my uniform hasn’t reverted.
Still the same cursed bikini.
Still perfectly clean. Still labeled “Property of The House.”
"I have sand in my dignity."
I went looking for Nozomi today.
Not because I was assigned to her, but because she never came back from the ocean yesterday.
You’d think that’d concern someone.
It didn’t.
Amaranth said, “Oh, she’ll surface eventually.”
Then went back to drawing halos in the sand with a stick like a child left unsupervised in a theology class.
I found Nozomi about twenty feet out, just… floating.
Face-up. Eyes open. Arms crossed like she was sunbathing in a casket.
She didn’t react when I called her name.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe?
I tried to ask if she was okay.
She lifted one hand, handed me a soggy postcard, and went back to drifting.
POSTCARD: ENMA
Day 1:
I stood in the ocean yesterday.
It was quiet.
I think I liked it.
Himeko hasn’t moved since we got here.
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She’s sitting by the shore, waiting.
She never says for what.
She never blinks, either.
I think she is waiting for something...
Enma’s still fighting seagulls.
She claims they’re spies.
Today she built a catapult.
I don’t know where she got the parts,
but she looks happier now.
Koko keeps waving me over to build sandcastles.
I nodded politely and joined her.
Amaranth asked if I was okay.
I said yes...
She looked disappointed.
Xyntra dug a hole and hasn’t come out yet.
I asked if she needed help.
She said,
“No, but thanks for asking.”
Miren’s jellyfish started following her.
She’s pretending it’s a new friend.
It might be...
Or maybe she’s the pet now.
The sun is still up.
It hasn’t moved since yesterday.
Maybe it’s waiting, too.
I think I’ll go back into the water now.
It felt real in there.
Don’t worry about sending help.
I’m fine.
Send silence.
The message was handwritten. Sort of.
More like half-written, half-washed away — like she got bored mid-sentence and let the tide finish it.
She wrote something else about how quiet the sea is.
How nice it is that no one asks anything out here.
Then:
“The water doesn’t need me to matter. That’s why I like it.”
I’ve never related to a haunting sentence from a waterlogged postcard more in my life.
I offered to help her back to shore.
She said:
“That sounds like a lot of effort.”
So I just… sat on the rocks for a bit.
Watched her float.
The waves were really calm.
Like they knew not to disturb her.
End of Log.
Xyntra keeps drawing sigils in the sand and daring them to hatch.
I haven’t been assigned a chore in two days.
It’s starting to make me nervous.