Page 14 of The Oni's Heart

And then I saw her again.

Momoi.

She was standing by the water, just a few feet away, her back to me. The wind tugged at her long, dark hair, and she looked lost in thought, or maybe just lost in herself. I could almost hear her bitterness in her stance, in how she clenched her fists at her sides as if she was ready to fight the world all over again.

I should’ve turned around. Should’ve walked away and left her to her self-imposed misery. But something inside me—the same something that had dragged me to this point in my life, to the temple, to the monk’s path—pulled me toward her.

I couldn’t explain it. And I didn’t want to.

“Do you come here often?” I asked, my voice calm, neutral, the same tone I used for everyone. But even to me, it sounded empty. Forced.

She didn’t turn at first, but then slowly, she faced me, her eyes narrowing. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was sharp, like a blade drawn too quickly.

The words I wanted to say—the ones that would make her leave me alone—stuck in my throat. I was supposed to be above this. Above her. But I couldn’t stop myself from stepping closer.

“Just trying to find some peace,” I said, offering her a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. I had to pretend it was fine like it always was.

But Momoi didn’t buy it. She never did. Her eyes scanned me with that same skeptical look, as if she could see through every bit of me.

“Peace?” she scoffed, arms crossed. “You’re as full of shit as I thought.”

The words hit harder than I expected. A wave of frustration, of anger, simmered beneath my calm exterior. The old me, the one I buried for so long, stirred. I wanted to snap, to let her know I wasn’t some kind of joke. I wasn’t playing the part of the monk for fun.I wasn’t him anymore.

But I swallowed the impulse, clenching my fists to keep it down.Control. Calm. Calm.

I exhaled slowly, my voice betraying none of the turmoil that roiled inside. “You think I’m full of shit?” I asked, keeping the edge of my anger out of my words. “I’m just trying to talk to you, Momoi.”

Her eyes hardened even more, her lips curling into a sneer. “Talk to me? What, so I should just be grateful? Should I thank you for playing the white knight? For saving me from some random creep? I don’toweyou anything.”

The words came out like venom, sharp and jagged, and they pierced through me more than I wanted to admit. The frustration, the heat building in my chest—it wasn’t supposed to be like this.She didn’t get it. She was the one who refused to accept help, refused to even consider that I was trying to do somethinggoodfor her. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

“I’m not asking for anything,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I didn’t stop that man to get anything from you. I did it because it was the right thing.”

“Right?” she hissed, her face twisted with anger. “You think you’re therightthing? You think I’m just supposed to swallow whatever good intentions you throw my way, and be grateful?”

Her words kept cutting into me. The old, bitter anger from my past—my father, the abuse, the abandonment—rose like bile in my throat. Was this how I had felt when I was younger? Every act of kindness, every small favor, always felt as if it came with a price, with the expectation of something in return. Just like him.

I clenched my fists tighter. “I didn’t ask you to be grateful. I didn’t do it for some kind of thanks.” My voice grew colder, harder, unable to stop the words once they left my mouth. “But you don’t get to accuse me of something I didn’t do. I’m not asking for your gratitude. Not from you, not from anyone.”

She opened her mouth to snap back, but I could feel my anger growing more volatile, the familiar rage pushing against the walls I’d built around myself. She didn’t get it. No one did. She didn’t know what it was like. She didn’t know how it felt to grow up, never knowing when the next betrayal would come.

“I’m not asking for your thanks,” I repeated, my voice quieter but more forceful. “But don’t mistake me for someone else. I’m not him, or whoever it is you’re thinking about.”

Her glare was unrelenting, and the silence between us felt thick, charged with something I didn’t quite understand. I should’ve walked away. I should’ve stayed calm. But instead, I could feel the walls of control cracking, the anger seeping through.

“You don’t have to fight me on everything,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice. “I’m not asking for anything from you. I just?—”

“Enough.” Momoi cut me off, her voice sharp. “I don’t owe you anything, and I’m tired of people thinking they can do things for me and then act as if I owe them. That’s not how it works.”

The words stung, more than I cared to admit. It wasn’t the first time I’d been accused of wanting something in return for my actions. It wasn’t the first time I’d been reminded of howbroken people saw me. How broken I still was. I took a breath, but the air was too thick to fill my lungs.

“I didn’t say you owed me anything,” I said, my voice tight. “But you don’t get to make me out to be some kind of villain for trying to do something decent.”

She stood there for a moment, eyes cold and hard, daring me to say more. I didn’t. I couldn’t.

I couldn’t change her. And I couldn’t change what I was feeling either.

“I’m not here to fight,” I said quietly, forcing the words out as the monk’s teachings echoed in my mind.Control. Discipline. Inner peace.

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