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cafeinthemoon · 1 year ago

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It's a Fire - Chapter IV

Chapter 4

Wordcount 4,3k

Title Difficult Task

Fandom Kimetsu no Yaiba / Demon Slayer

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3

Symbols ⭕ ➕ 🖤

Warnings: mentions of grief and loss; parent issues; feelings of abandonment and rejection; issues between employees and employer

Tagging @chiyokoemilia (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: This chapter took days to be finished, not only bc of its length, but mainly bc I was finding it a bit confusing. I wasn't sure of how I should portrait this "advance" in reader and Shinjuro's relationship, neither how much of reader and Senjuro's grief after the scene in the living room: sometimes I thought I just wrote enough, and other times I though it wasn't as emotional as it should be, so that what you're going to read is the best I could come up with.

Soon I'm going to return to work, so Idk how things will be, so I ask you a bit of patience and thank you in advance for supporting me :)

It wasn’t shame what you felt when you looked into your stepson’s eyes, neither it was fear or irritation for being caught in a place where you shouldn’t be: it was the concern that he might have observed your face for long enough to read your emotions with too precision for someone his age. And, in fact, you were tempted to show a passionate reaction, whether to confirm or to deny your feelings, just for the sake of getting that weight off your chest, but you tightened the reigns around your tongue and didn’t do any of this.

This is adults’ problem. He doesn’t need to share this load with us.

Senjuro looked around, as if waiting for someone to show up suddenly and, after making sure it wouldn’t happen, stepped into the room.

– So… you found out about the living room? – he questioned with the usual hesitation – It’s been a while since this place was visited. Except for the maid.

You still felt your eyes burning with the things you were seeing there, but you wouldn’t burst out in tears. You sighed and crossed your arms.

– Yes, I can see that – after an embarrassing silence, you forced a smile while observing the photographs – Now I understand why I had no permission to enter this room. I should’ve obeyed the rules.

– But you’d find out about this sooner or later, I guess – was the boy’s reply – And my father isn’t here, anyway. Not even he uses to come here anymore.

You swallowed.

– If that’s the case, we better leave before he returns to the house.

He agreed and you walked out at that moment, taking care not to mess up anything, thus creating proof of your passage there.

***

You were sitting on a wood bench somewhere in the garden, as you used to do during the breaks between one training session and another or when you decide to eat lunch there, which was that day’s case. It was a safe spot to relax, as well as to talk.

And you had too much to talk.

Still embarrassed, you took the responsibility of starting the conversation.

– I should never enter that room. No matter if I escaped without being caught, it was wrong. But it’s too late for regrets now, I guess.

You said those things with a calm that surprised even yourself. When you first spotted Senjuro in the doorway, you swore you wouldn’t be able to look at him again, and even worse it would be to face your husband once he got back, trying your best to hide what you did from him, but that wasn’t how you felt now. You were rather sad for what you discovered, and for the things such discovery implied.

Senjuro noticed this too, and he said that to you.

– You don’t seem so mad about the photographs, y/n. I thought you’d be offended that my father keeps them in an entire room instead of, like, a drawer.

You gave him a sad smile.

– Why would I be mad by this? I mean, I could imagine him keeping photographs and other memories in drawers like you say, and seeing the whole room full of them was… unexpected. Still, I’m no one to judge – you lowered your tone, as if the next thing you’d share with him was more of a delicate conclusion – Instead, seeing them got me thinking about your situation here.

The boy frowned.

– Situation? What do you mean?

You moved on your spot, as to shake off the discomfort of entering that strange territory.

– Well, I’ve been avoiding intrusions, but this time I can’t help it. Senjuro-san, your family... was beautiful with your mother and your elder brother there. I’ve felt that as soon as I’ve put my eyes on those photographs. Your father… – you felt your cheeks getting hot with what you were about to say, but you ignored the sensation – He’s a completely different person by their side, and yours. He looks really happy there. I could never imagine him like that, you know? I guess this is what surprised me most – you bit your lip – Because, when I found out I’d have to live with you, I had no idea of what I’d see here, and after the things I’ve experienced, seeing our life together as something positive was impossible. But, then, I’ve saw your family as it once was… And understood that the issue is deeper than it first looked. The loss you’ve both endured… that’s too much…

A leaf fell from the tree behind your bench. Senjuro held it on his right hand.

– I understand what you’re trying to say. I was too little when my mother passed away, so I barely remember her except through the photographs and the things my father and my brother told me. I only remember what happened to my father when he lost her. My brother would speak more about this if he was here because he felt that too, even more after he became a Hashira – the leaf twirled between his fingers while he spoke – Slowly, that enthusiastic, gentle man who raised us turned into a bitter stranger. He started to drink. He spent most of his time in his room, and when he left it, he barely looked at us. Everything he held dear lost its value to him. It was strange, like watching someone you love dying in front of you, while another person takes their place. It was like losing him soon after losing my mother…

Senjuro’s voice cracked a bit in those last words. When you raised your eyes to him, you noticed him sobbing. You didn’t think twice: approaching the boy, you just passed your arms around him, as to assure his right to cry. You looked around, at the weather, and realized the blur in your sight: you were crying yourself too.

You did your best to put yourself together, and waited until your stepson was able to do the same.

– When my mother died, my father changed too – you adjusted yourself in your spot – He never had a problem with drinking or anything like this, but he wasn’t the same man who raised me. He started to isolate himself and making senseless decisions concerning our house, our business and everything else. Half of our staff left us, and even the people of our village noticed we were having problems. Our situation became worse when the stories about Oni started spreading among the common folk, and my father, not knowing how to deal with the financial problems and too proud to seek for help, was about to go insane – you swallowed – I’ve tried to help him, I’ve tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t let me. He thought it was easier to send me away and stay there, rotting inside that house while demons devastated our lands at night – you felt your lower lip starting to tremble and continued to speak, to avoid a stronger reaction – He abandoned himself, abandoned our people…

At that point you gave up and fell silent, but Senjuro finished the thought for you.

– ...And abandoned you – he glanced at you – No wonder you burned his letter without opening it.

Your heart ached with the memory, but it wasn’t remorse what you felt.

– This is something I don’t regret. As much as I don’t regret defending you from Rengoku-sama. I mean, now I can see that life showed no mercy on him, but treating you like that was terrible and unfair, and the same can be said about my father. Their suffering makes us comprehend them, but it doesn’t excuse their mistakes.

– And what do you think we must do, y/n?

You opened your mouth, but closed it again to think of a sensible response.

It’s strange to tell someone what to do. Is this what’s expected from parents? What a duty to fulfill...

– In your father’s case, I believe we can stay as we are – you spoke slowly – Since we know he’s been enduring so much, we won’t do anything to increase his load. At the same time, we can’t let him cross boundaries and treat us as he wants.

Senjuro seemed to approve the idea, but he still had concerns.

– It makes sense. I’ve been doing this since I can remember, but I still feel guilty. When I see my father in that state, I think I should be doing something for him – he sighed – Sometimes, I think this is what he expects from me, and that’s why he acts so harshly.

That was your time to be concerned. You’ve already noticed that, due to his easygoing nature, Senjuro had a tendency of taking heavy burdens to himself, but you wouldn’t sit and watch him giving in to this inclination and becoming an adult before his natural time just because the real adult was unable to act like one.

– But you already do what you can for him, Senjuro-san. You’re a good and respectful son. You keep your things organized and clean, and don’t mind doing hard work. It doesn’t matter if your father says that out loud or keeps it to himself, I’m sure he knows that.

– Do you think so? – his doubt was genuine; it was clear that he never tried to see things from such perspective.

– Yes – you replied with all the possible firmness – You can continue to act with kindness, but it’s not your duty to fix him. Honestly, even I don’t know if there’s something I can do for Rengoku-sama besides staying out of his way. Yet being too hard on ourselves because of this won’t help us at all.

Senjuro thought of that for a moment.

– It also means that you don’t know what you have to do to help your father?

You moved your head slowly in agreement.

– Yes. It does.

– But don’t you think you can find a way if you talk to him?

You looked away. You clearly weren’t expecting that. Still, you didn’t avoid the question.

– I don’t know. I really don’t know.

***

You could say you’ve worked hard to act according to your own words in the days that followed that conversation. You created a routine that included waking up early and taking time to organize your surroundings just like you used to do in your father’s house, then leaving to the kitchen to prepare breakfast (that was a task that Senjuro took to himself since the cook decided to quit, so having you there to take care of this spared him time and avoided more of his father’s scolding for minor mistakes and waste of ingredients); after that, you would leave with your stepson to your usual training session, and then you took separate ways in your daily activities: while he stood with tasks outside the house, you took the responsibility of cleaning and organizing the interior, thus giving the servants the chance of going back home while the sun was still high in the sky instead of being forced to spend the night there, away from their families; finally, while Senjuro returned to his room to study, you would go to your own to bathe and relax.

It was simple, and it worked for everyone… or so you told yourself every time you remembered that your husband wasn’t included in this perfect scheme. Thing was that, since the incident with the wood sword, he actively avoided you in the rooms and corridors, which didn’t make much to shake your moods – instead, you were relieved with this distance; however, after the day you found the photographs, you were the one mimicking such behavior, and your almost non existent relationship just turned into a sequence of unexpected, embarrassing encounters where opening your mouth to say “good morning” was harder than passing by each other and running away.

There was one day when, to answer the plead of a maid, you had to swallow this embarrassment and replace it with courage: while you were cleaning a room not so far from yours, she confided to you that her payment has been delayed, as well as the other servants’.

– I have some debts I need to pay, and I’ve been trying to gain some time with my creditors, but they’re getting impatient – she explained – In normal circumstances, I would’ve paid everything already, but now I’m really desperate, y/n-sama.

You frowned.

– I see. But how did everything turn out this way?

The girl approached you, as to reveal some shameful secret.

– I know it’s none of my concern, but I’ve seen things in this house, and the other servants, who have been here for longer than me, told me what they’ve saw – she whispered – Since the previous lady’s decease, problems concerning the house’s workers became common. The previous accountant left his position and no one was hired in his place, so the financial responsibility was on the young Senjuro. Of course, he’s an honest boy and did what he could to help, but he’s not a professional, and sometimes mistakes were made. The people who still work here haven’t left yet in consideration for him, and because they really need the jobs. It’s Takumi-san’s case. Last time he tried to reason with Rengoku-sama, he became furious and gave him two choices: to go back to work or to leave and never return – she shrugged – He decided to stay, but only if a solution appears. He’s one of our best workers. If he leaves, things will become even worse for us.

You had to stop for a moment to process the things you’ve just heard. You immediately remembered that young man who had a bottle of sake thrown at him in the corridor.

So, that was the cause of Shinjuro’s outburst. Unbelievable.

The situation at the Rengoku’s house was even worse than your father’s: the servants just gave up on their work and left, except for the few in desperate circumstances, and the whole responsibility over the finances has been tossed at a kid? That time, you couldn’t just ignore it.

– Listen, I… I’m really surprised with this situation, as much as I may seem – you told her, not hiding the shame even though it wasn’t your fault – Senjuro-san never told me anything about this, otherwise I would’ve already done something. I’m... really sorry for this. But now that I’m informed, what can I do to help you?

The maid hesitated. She knew the difficult of what she was going to ask.

– Please, y/n-sama, talk to Rengoku-sama in our name – she bowed her head – We know he has a… complex temper, but he seems to respect you. Maybe there’s a chance of him to listen to you.

Well, if the financial issues were surprising to you, the reasons behind the maid’s request were shocking. The servants thought Shinjuro respected you? That man who barely looked at your direction? What a situation you’ve gotten into… But you couldn’t make it even worse by bringing the maid’s – and the whole staff’s – expectations down by telling her that you were too insecure to speak to your husband about a domestic problem, so you did what in other circumstances you’d never consider possible.

– Don’t worry – you swallowed – I will speak to him as soon as possible.

After an effusive “Thank you”, she left to tell the others about your resolution.

The glow of relief and gratitude in the girl’s eyes soothed part of your anxiety, but solely because you knew you were doing the right thing – it had nothing to do with your task being easy. Truth was that you didn’t even know where you should start: should you look for Shinjuro in his room or to wait until you’d meet him in another part of the house? Was it better to bring the subject right in the beginning of the conversation, or should you warm up until the appropriate moment? And, of course, how was he going to react? That is, you saw what he did to the young man; there was nothing to assure you that he wouldn’t try anything like that toward you.

You finished your work and went out to deliberate. You walked around the house, in and out of the garden, trying to come up with a reasonable solution, but nothing occurred to you. That time you also weren’t going to talk to your stepson: Senjuro would be informed about the situation only after everything was solved, and the same would be in the case of the servants, to avoid a commotion.

I’m really alone in this.

As it used to happen when you were lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize where your wanderings were taking you to until you stopped and looked around… and recognized the front of Shinjuro’s porch. You froze in your spot, less because of this than because you almost bumped into him on the way.

You startled and covered your mouth to avoid a scream. You stepped back and stood there, staring at the man, who was also surprised to meet you so suddenly in a part of the building you weren’t often seen. But, just like it happened to you now, he seemed to anxious to inquire you.

Somehow you were the first to speak.

– Rengoku-sama… I…

You moved your lips, but no words were found to continue the sentence. Your eyes lowered to his hands, and it was with a sort of relief that you noticed the absence of a bottle. Did the sake finish and he was going to get more, or did he see you approaching and got rid of it before you saw it? You couldn’t tell, but at that moment you recalled your previous encounters with him and realized that, since the conflict at the garden, in each of them, he wasn’t drinking, yet sake was still being bought judging by the bottles you always saw piling up in the kitchen.

Is he avoiding to drink in my presence?

– You wanted to speak to me, y/n? – his voice brought you back to reality; your relief grew when you noticed the composed tone in it.

– Yes. Yes, I… – you hid your hands behind your back – There’s an issue I need to discuss with you.

Shinjuro showed no signs of being bothered by the word issue, unlike you were expecting. Instead, he seemed intrigued: you’ve been doing your things all by yourself since you were brought to his house, and now you wanted to talk to him about something? That was new.

– And what is it?

You breathed deep.

The time is now. What do I have to do?

You glanced behind him and saw his room’s door was open. That gave you an idea.

– Would you mind talking somewhere else? – you shrugged – A private place, maybe?

He didn’t make objections to this, indicating his room and inviting you to follow him.

***

As he sat with his legs crossed, you knelt in front of him, having the door, left open, at your right. Your hands were over your lap, as you waited to see what he was going to do.

By all means, Shinjuro was a practical man, so that fortunately he didn’t let this waiting to extend.

– So, what is it that you need to discuss with me? – he inquired – I suppose it must be too important, for you to seek for me so suddenly.

– In fact – you confirmed; and, taking a deep breath, – But it’s nothing related to myself, actually. It’s about the people who work in here.

You noticed a slight twist on his lips when he heard that, but you gave no time for him to react.

– I was told that the servants are facing struggles with the decreasing in the personnel, and that my stepson was left to take care of the matters despite this – you moved on your spot; your feet, folded under your legs, started causing you discomfort, but you ignored it – I won’t discuss this arrangement, but there are problems that need attention right now and, because I am your wife, I was asked to seek for a solution alongside you.

Unlike you imagined, Shinjuro listened to all of this in silence, and after you finished he kept quiet. No physical or verbal outbursts followed, but if he was measuring what he just heard or trying to control his irritation, you couldn’t tell, and that was worse: with the usual anger and bad moods you could deal with, whether by running away or facing him, but with the absence of them you didn’t know what to expect. You clenched your hands against each other.

Come on, say something. Even if it’s just to call me an intruder. Just odn’t let me without a response.

And, then, Shinjuro gave you a response… and though you didn’t know what you were waiting for, it was different from anything you could’ve expected.

– The servants’ payments are delayed. I know that – he started; no impatience was sensed in his tone, just a sort of boredom – Our accountant left, and no one was able to properly replace him. Senjuro found out about this and asked to do something, and I had no choice. He’s better with paper and ink than with a sword. Besides, having responsibilities would be good for him to grow up.

You made an inhuman effort not to gasp at his justifications. Did he really think leaving that work for a kid was a good idea? But you reminded yourself that you weren’t there to argue, but to fix the problem, so you let him continue.

– Of course, I knew it wouldn’t work forever, and if you came to talk about this, it’s because it needs to change – he sighed – But let me tell you that the payments aren’t delayed for no reason. Things have been difficult for us, and hiring someone to manage finances won’t be cheap. It’s something we can’t deal with it right now. So, what do you suggest? Should I hire a new accountant anyway?

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You understood that, if Shinjuro wasn’t even trying to hide those problems, they must have become really serious. You also knew that the services of accountants and administrators weren’t cheap, but that wasn’t a good reason to let everything to Senjuro.

I can’t believe I’m going to propose this…

Your husband asked a suggestion, and you ended up offering the only one you could think of.

– Let this task with me, Rengoku-sama – you bowed, leaning your hands on the floor but not touching it with your forehead – I used to do this sort of work while in my father’s house in the times we were on a budget and unable to hire someone for it. I didn’t continue to work on this when the crisis with the Oni started because I was sent here.

He thought of this for a moment… And the response he gave you brought out some unpleasantness, both in his words and the subject.

– Leaving the money in your hands to manage? Y/n, I do believe your father let you work on this, but I can’t help finding it strange that, exactly when your lands were facing the worst crisis in a long time, he decided to send you away instead of keeping you there to take care of everything.

Still with your head bowed, you bit your lip.

Are you calling me an incompetent or what?

Shinjuro was aware of the delicate state in which your relationship with father was, so bringing it to the table right now had no intention but to test you: would you have the necessary stability to take such responsibility? As if he had any right to speak of stability… Well, in spite of that, he was the head of that house, thus having the final word in this matter, so if he decided to decline your offer, he would do it without thinking twice, and then your attempt to help the workers – as well as their trust in you – would drift away.

Alright, start whining and all this conversation will end up useless. I’ll swallow my inflamed ego, then.

You raised your head, ignored the provocation and sent it back to your husband.

– I agree. It’s really strange when you put it that way, Rengoku-sama… – your hands relaxed on your lap – As much as it’s strange that, despite the similar issues in you house which you’ve just addressed, you accepted me as an extra mouth to feed under your roof.

Not so strange when we remember the existence of my dowry, I mean.

If Shinjuro guessed this very thought or if he was not in the mood to continue that discussion, you’d never know, but that was precisely what he did: gave up on arguing and just left it up to you.

He stood up and walked to the porch, indicating that the conversation was over.

– Do as you wish, then. The old accountant’s office is on the other side of the house. It’s easier to access it if you walk around the porch. Senjuro knows exactly where it is. Ask him for help if you need it.

You stared at him for a moment. So everything was solved so easily? Or was it just you who were exaggerating the difficult of your task? It was impossible to know, and you wouldn’t stay there to find out: you just accepted the results and stood up, heading to the exit.

You passed by your husband and bowed again.

– Thank you for accepting my proposal, Rengoku-sama. I’ll do my best.

The only response you had from him was a nod, and you left to find the said office thinking of how strange was that man you married, how tricky it has been for you to understand him and what sort of things were waiting for you in that corner of the house.

#kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba shinjuro #kny shinjuro #shinjuro rengoku #rengoku shinjuro x reader #shinjuro x reader

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cafeinthemoon · 1 year ago

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Another update! It's so good to finally have a break from my obligations and dedicate time to my stories! I've missed this one sm 😭 Starting with this chapter, there will be significant changes in the plot, and that's why I've cut half the text of this one and changed its title (previous title was Gratitude), and I believe it's for the best lol

Portrait of a Monk - Chapter IV (UPDATED)

Chapter 4

Wordcount 2,2k

Title Familiar

Fandom Jujutsu Kaisen

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warning (s): implied religious fanaticism, manipulation, loss of the sense of reality

Tagging @darling-imobsessed @telvess @wasurenagusaa (if you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just send an ask or a message 😉)

N. A.: I decided to rewrite this story specially bc I wasn't satisfied with the purpose I've chose for the portrait itself, so this subject will be discussed in the next updated chapter. It means that this one will be cut by half and have its name changed. The time between the events was also cut from years to weeks, as the whole story happens when reader is an adult and not since her childhood as the story's previous version. Maybe some scenes and sentences disappear due to the alterations, but I hope you continue to enjoy this ff :)

So I've been trapped in the last paragraphs of this chapter and thought I would never overcome it, but finally it's here! Ugh

Something that I want to explain about these flashbacks/dreams is that reader will experience them more often and more intensely as time passes and Geto continues to interfere with his presence. There's a Jujutsu technique involved in this, as I said before, and many other subtleties are connected to it as well.

About the use of "my child" and "child": it's a condescending nickname used by Geto to refer, not only to her, but to all the people in that temple under his administration, as much as "father" is used by those people as an expression of respect and devotion towards him. Reader calls him father in this sense, and not because she sees him as a parental figure.

In the past

You left the company of the portrait before the first ray of sun entered the place and went back to your small room at the opposite wing of the temple. Fortunately for you, there were no people in the corridors yet, so that you wouldn’t be scolded or inquired about your activities…

Which didn’t mean you felt alone while crossing them.

All over the way, since you closed the room’s door behind you, the memory of the monk followed you until you reached your own place, the image so vivid that you could swear you had his eyes on your back all the time. You laid on your own bed and tried to close your eyes, but the sensation would only increase. As you should expect, it would be with you during the rest of that day, and the ones that came after it. But what was that weight you felt in your chest whenever you saw the portrait in your memories? Was it fear? No, it couldn’t be that simple. Was it shame? No, what did you do to feel ashamed? It was something else, something you couldn’t explain with your limited vocabulary, but it was too real to be denied. Maybe it was the talent of the artist that has left you in awe, or it might have been the mystery behind their work: why did the elders leave it there with all those old, useless things? Did they forget about it? Well, how could someone even forget about something like that?

And who was that man, anyway? One of the elders in his youth, or maybe a monk who lived there long ago? Or was he just a symbol of the enlightened people, as the elders liked to call the ones who succeeded in fighting the curses, and no one in particular? No, he couldn’t be no one.

And without the ways to discover any satisfying information about it, your innocent mind wandered toward a fantastic obsession.

Of course, you wouldn’t see it that way, but the effects of this fixation were nonetheless felt in every possible aspect: you would fall asleep thinking about the portrait, and in the next morning, your first thought would be for it; you walked around the temple’s rooms taking care of your tasks with the sensation of his eyes on you, and behaved as if any wrong step or sentence could bring his disapproval over you. You would measure each word, each action to not let anyone know about your little fixation, and to your surprise, no one suspected the truth.

At night, you would sneak through the silent corridors and reach that lonely wing of the temple, only guided by the moonlight entering the gaps on the doors and by your own familiarity with the place, to lock yourself inside that room and rest on the portrait’s feet, sometimes admiring it, other times just standing there with your eyes closed. You always made sure you would not fall sleep there, assuming the risk of being discovered, but it was hard, even painful to leave that room: a tightness appeared in your throat every time you closed the door, and you would leave with a sadness deeper than the one you carried when you arrived.

***

Not only your work load grew twice in the temple since you recovered, but you were sent to study with the elders more often. They still haven’t talked about this to you, but you believed they were preparing you for important tasks outside the temple in the near future, something that certainly had connections with the cursed spirits: you’ve been learning more and more about them, their origins and the temple’s role towards them. You were told that cursed spirits were made of equally cursed energy, and that this energy was produced by humans, though not all of them were aware of this, and even less were able to optimize this energy. This was what you were supposed to do at the temple: to learn how to use this energy and deal with the creatures that were born from it. Usually, you would do it through your innate techniques, that is, abilities that you were born with and that you should develop in daily training sessions, aside physical exercises.

The elders would send you to the wild territories, as you used to call the groves under the temple’s rule, to find and exorcise the curses you found there: all the gates and walls were sealed against them, except for those places, under the purpose of preparing the students to unpredictable situations. Each person was allowed to use their knowledge and abilities as they pleased, as long as they didn’t harm each other; working in teams were recommended as well, but some of you would prefer to work alone.

That was your case, during these lessons and everything else.

You still used to visit the portrait’s room at night. It was true that you’ve spent less time in it than before, but your dedication to the figure of the monk remained the same, or has even deepened alongside your development. You would dream about him; in those dreams, he would wander through the secrets of life, the human heart and the birth of curses, and the future of humanity concerning the use of cursed energy. Any detail of the elders’ lessons that remained obscure to you would be clarified by him, and each doubt would be purged and replaced with a stronger conviction.

You also spent hours in the temple’s library, trying to find something about the artistic productions inside your community, the monks who lived there before you and what happened to them. Your researches haven’t brought meaningful results, but this only increased your curiosity and had you thinking deeply of your own position at the temple and among its people.

Whenever you talked or heard about the purpose in your lessons and activities, and even in some of your regular tasks, a name would often appear, almost always brought to the conversations by the elders – Geto Suguru. This name was never referred to in a light way, however: never the first name was pronounced without the surname alongside it, unless when one of its variations was used, but they would always wander around Geto–sama, Master Geto or even Our father, Geto.

You had a memory of being with him once when, after having crossed the wild territories all by yourself in a stormy night and survived the cursed spirits there, you were brought to the temple by this gentle stranger who lately was called Geto–sama by one of the elders, however you never looked directly at his face. Since that night, you haven’t seen him in any part of the temple, but this was justified by what you’ve heard the elders say about him having “many works to fulfill across the country, where other of his children lived, and he would spend time in their company, thus taking weeks to return to the first ones”. That was a shame, though: as far as you knew, there was no sign that Geto Suguru was going to return so soon to the temple, so you probably wouldn’t have the opportunity to thank him for taking care of you and accepting you among his children.

And the most agonizing part of it was that you knew the many questions you had concerning your own work, the curses and the portrait could only be answered by him.

***

You carried the pile of white sheets in both arms to the last room of the corridor, left it inside an arc, then rolled the futon and organized the things upon the furniture. You’ve been awake since six and were getting tired now: though it was a Sunday, you still had work to do, most of it including the preparations for the week. Besides, it was almost your lunch time and you were eager to finish this task, so that you wouldn’t have to go back to that part of the temple so soon.

When everything was ready, you stood up to leave. With a sigh, you slid the door to the side and walked away from it. Since the owners of those rooms were occupied with their own morning tasks, they wouldn’t be back right now, which was a relief: you always preferred to work alone, with almost no possibilities of being interrupted by unexpected requests or small talk that would only delay you.

Right now, you were alone at that wing, and by the silence on that corridor and the ones near it, you couldn’t say that someone was about to come...

That was why you gasped when, from the middle of the corridor, you saw someone passing on the opposite side, on the parallel hall.

The stranger walked slowly, his feet in white socks not making any sound upon the wooden floor, the traditional clothing of the elders floating around him, as well as his long, black hair, half tied, falling on thick strands behind his back. He wasn’t one of the elders, or at least none of the ones you knew; so why was he dressed like them, and what was he doing there?

You took one step toward him, but the moment you looked at his face, your mouth got dry and your feet were frozen on your spot, the rest of your body shaking with the sight – you recognized the man of the portrait. Imposing, out worldly as you remembered him, and not a single day aged, indicating that the portrait wasn’t as old as you always supposed.

He stopped and looked at your direction. With that, a sensation, a sort of pressure, was established between you and him, ceasing any intention from your part of running away. Did you just enter a dream or were you becoming insane at last?

Before you could decide for one of those alternatives, he turned to your corridor and took a step toward you. You clenched your fists in anxiety, your nails buried in your palms, waiting...

But the monk just smiled.

From your spot you heard his voice talking to you, and to your ears it sounded as soft as a spring breeze.

– Good morning. Among all my children, you are the first one I see today – he raised his hand and beckoned you – Come closer, my dear. Let me greet you properly.

You had no other choice but to obey: one couldn’t just not do as he said.

You didn’t recall when you started walking; when you noticed, you were already stopping in front of him, the living, breathing version of the image you’ve been dreaming about for so long. Despite your familiarity with each detail of the portrait, some differences didn’t go unnoticed by your observant eyes once you were near him: first, he was taller than you expected, so that you barely reached his shoulders; second, despite his serene manners and peaceful expression, it didn’t escape you the sharpness in his small eyes, examining you inside out in a way a lifeless portrait could never do, making you bow your head.

The man giggled and came closer to you, putting his fingers under your chin and raising it in a gentle, encouraging gesture.

– Judging by your reaction, I can tell this is the first time you see me. But there is nothing to be afraid of.

Those words, and the assuring tone in which they were said, soothed your mind and released your tongue.

– Actually, it is not!

He raised an eyebrow.

– What do you mean, dear?

You bit your lip.

– I am referring to what you just said, my Lord. That this is the first time I see you. Actually, your face is familiar to me.

– Is that so? – he seemed more and more curious – How?

– There is a portrait of yours in this temple – you explained – It's kept inside a room at another wing of the building. It has been there for a long time, and I happened to find it.

A new glow appeared in his eyes when he heard that.

– A portrait, you say? – he spoke more to himself than to you; then, turning back to you, – Can you show it to me?

You swallowed, then nodded.

– Of course, my Lord.

The monk smiled and offered his hand in response. You hesitated with the sudden invitation, but didn’t refuse it and put your hand on his palm. His fingers closed around yours, warm and soft as a childish memory... A memory you did have: you thought of the stormy night when that gentle stranger brought you to the temple and took care of you. A stranger that called all of its people his children, just like the monk was doing now. You remembered they calling that stranger a name – a name the elders used with deep respect.

You looked back at the man.

– Geto-sama...

He was already observing you with the smile you used to find in his beloved portrait.

– You already guessed, didn’t you? – he questioned, and for a moment you remembered the way he spoke to you in that stormy night – Now, let’s see this portrait you talked about. It must be important to you.

Important to you? How could you explain that is was more than important? Well, you didn’t have time for these deliberations now. You had to lead him to the portrait.

And that was what you did.

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