ROUTE 1 - HAKONE (steam mix)

Past the end of the Seisho, my course turned into the mountains.

The start of the climb on Route 1. The smell of the tide fades, and the smell of trees grows thick. In the seat at my back, the memory of clear still lingers, cold. I laughed seriously and re-gripped the wheel.

The townscape of Odawara slowly breaks off. When I ease off the throttle for a single breath, the scenery stretches vertical. Miyanoshita, Kowakudani. The letters on the signs beat time, and beyond the guardrail a thin white rises. The hint of sulfur grazing my nose. I want a hot spring. Right now. That exit on the Seisho earlier—I really never thought oversteer would come out there. For one beat the world's center of gravity slid sideways, and it felt like the wind got into the core of me. My body temperature dropped a little in that instant and stayed there. The hem of my skirt, too, is chillingly heavy. I looked straight ahead. It's pathetic, but the sense of release in my lower belly was more pleasant than anything I'd ever felt. And that, again, is frustrating. Which is exactly why I want the bath.

The higher the altitude, the thicker the mist gets. My breath comes out white. The body of the car growls low, pushing the morning up one gear at a time. My heartbeat, a metronome. I match that beat and clear one hairpin, then another. Before Owakudani, the white became not a wall but a stage curtain. The road surface is dry, yet only my field of view runs hot.

In my ears, a small popping. Ba-ba-bat—a dry skid. Deep in my nose, the smell of sweet, slightly scorched rubber. Not sulfur. I fall silent for one beat and clear the next corner.

In front of a villa gate. In the middle of the morning white, a yellow sports car was drawing circles. Black rings float over the private road, one after another, and white smoke slowly unravels in the wind. Leaning half out of the cabin next door, my partner put my morning into words first.

"You're late. Huh? Why's your skirt wet?"

I think it over seriously. Mist, or clear, or clear mist. I also recall last night's half-turn of the bottle. And I answer properly.

"The only thing wet is the cabin I peed in."

My partner blinked for a second, then burst out laughing. The laughter pushes back the white, and the blue of the sky spreads, little by little. I open my phone and search for a hot spring with my thumb. Hakone Yuryo opens at 10. Tenzan Tojikyo opens at 9. But—what caught my eye was the morning bath at Tenseien (Hakone-Yumoto), 5 to 9 (last entry 8). It's 7:18 now. I can make it. I want to make it. I want my temperature back.

"Let's go to a hot spring." When I say it, my partner narrows her eyes like a cat and nods. "Got it. Then no more white smoke. I'll lead." The yellow tail spins to face the other way and leaps out in front of me.

When the white thins, the world falls back into formation. Clearing the last slope, the surface of Lake Ashinoko flashes for an instant, like a blade. I draw a deep breath and ease the engine down a little. My body is still cold. But a line toward the bath has been drawn, straight through my chest. "You'll make it," I tell myself, and as if to let my partner hear it too, I give a small laugh. The lake wind carries off the last trace of white and strokes my cheek. I re-grip the wheel and fix the route to Yumoto with my fingertip. The throttle answers back in a warmer sound than usual.

—From the sea to the clouds. Laughing at the truth of the white, this time toward the bath.