Page 27 of The Oni's Heart

I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. It wasn’t just anger I needed to stir in her. I needed her to feeldisgusted. I needed her to push me away because I couldn’t stop myself from craving her.

“You’re right,” I spat, my voice low and cold, laced with bitterness. “You don’t need anyone. Not me, not anyone. You think you can handle this world on your own? Keep pretending you're untouchable. But you're not.”

Her body tensed, but she didn’t back down. Good. She was already angry. I could feel her pulse quickening, her fists clenching.

“Keep at it, monk. I knew the truth was going to reveal itself,” she growled, her eyes flashing with fury. “You think you can just come in here and lecture me like you’ve got the answers? You’re just asfucked upas the rest of us. But you hide behind that monk crap, don’t you? You think you’re better than everyone else, as if you’re above it all.”

I stepped closer, letting my words hit harder. “I don’t hide behind anything. I know exactly who I am.” I sneered. “But you? You pretend to be this tough person who doesn’t need anyone, but you can’t even see how much you’re falling apart. Youcan’tsee that you’re just afraid to let anyone close enough to help.”

Her chest heaved, and I could see the fight in her eyes, the rage a tempest about to break. “You don’t know the first thing about what it’s like to live in my skin. You can’t just come in here, act like you know me, and tell me what Ineed.”

Her voice was shaking with emotion, and I knew I had her where I wanted. The anger had taken over—just as I’d intended—and now it was only a matter of time before she’d walk away, too disgusted with me to stick around.

“You’re right,” I said, my voice turning colder, my words sharper. “I don’t know what it’s like to be you. But I do know one thing. You’ll never change. You’ll never let anyone in. You’ll keeppushing everyone away until you're left with nothing but that shell of yours.”

The words hit their mark. I saw the flicker of hurt in her eyes before she masked it with more rage. The storm in her had reached its peak, and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before she exploded.

"You're fucking pathetic," she snarled, her choice of words slapping me across the face. But it wasn’t just the words—it was the weight of everything I had pushed onto her.Iwas the one who had made her this angry. I was the one who had pushed her to this point, and now it was too late to stop it.

Her body shook with fury, her hands raised as if she might strike me. But before she could, she spun on her heel, storming away from me, each step a silent declaration that she had had enough of me. Enough of my judgment. Enough of me.

And in that moment, I felt the hollow echo of victory. I had done it. I had used the very thing I hated about myself to make her walk away. I had manipulated her, pushed her into a corner, made her feel as if she had no other choice but to leave.

But it didn’t feel like a victory at all.

It felt likefailure—like I had betrayed everything I stood for. And I hated myself for it. Hated that, even in my effort to push her away, I still craved her. I still wanted her.

The anger was still there, lingering beneath the surface. But there was something else now, something darker.Regret.

I had used my father’s manipulative tactics against her—made her feel small, unworthy, angry—so she would leave. So I wouldn’t have to face what I was becoming. But the moment she turned her back on me, I felt the walls I had so carefully built around myself begin to crumble.

I couldn’t run anymore.

But as I stood there, watching her walk away, I realized I had already lost.

16

The Weight of Regret

TATSUYA

The morning after felt like a waking nightmare. I hadn’t slept. Not really. Every time I closed my eyes, her face was there—her eyes full of fire, her mouth on mine, her body pressed against me in a way I hadn’t known I wanted. The kiss burned into my skin, a mark I couldn’t wipe away, no matter how hard I tried.

And the guilt? The guilt was suffocating.

I had promised myself I would never fall into this kind of mess. I had trained myself to keep my distance from the world, from temptation. I had vowed to be different from my father, from the demons that had haunted me for so long. I was supposed to be a monk, a man of discipline, of peace.

But the moment her lips touched mine, all of that—everything I had worked for—came crashing down.

I stood at the edge of the small temple garden, watching the early morning sun filter through the trees, its light too harsh, too clear. It made me feel exposed, raw, as if I was standing under the weight of all the choices I’d ever made.

I’d given in. I’d let her kiss me. And now, I couldn’t get her out of my head.

My hands shook as I clenched them into fists, my knuckles white with the pressure. I couldn’t stop the thoughts, the images, the sensation of her lips, of her presence, flooding my mind.

She had been drunk, out of control. She hadn’t meant it. She couldn’t have.

But I had kissed her back.

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