Page 28 of The Oni's Heart

I had wanted it. And that was something I couldn’t ignore.

Though most of my life had been devoted to this righteous path, life had forced upon me lessons no young man should ever learn. Some of my mother’s so-called friends had preyed on my innocence, drawing me into a world that would have sold me without hesitation the moment I became expendable.

The rustling of footsteps behind me broke my thoughts, and I turned to find her there—standing in the doorway of the temple, her eyes sharp as ever, unaffected.

“You look like shit,” she said, her voice laced with that same sarcastic bite I’d come to expect from her.

I didn’t know what to say. What could I say? She hadn’t even seemed to care the night before. And where was her rage now? Why was she here? For vengeance against my actions?

I opened my mouth, but no words came. I felt the weight of the guilt settle deeper, heavy in my chest. She had walked away from me that night after I pushed her to her limit.

Yet here she was now, acting as if nothing had happened.

“You don't look as if you care much about anything," I managed, my voice tight, though the words came out more bitter than I intended.

She shrugged, unconcerned. "Not much to care about," she said, pushing past me with a casual air. “I didn’t ask you to make it a big deal.”

I watched her move away, my insides twisting with frustration. She didn’t get it. She didn’t understand the chaos she had thrown me into with that single moment. She didn’t understand the turmoil she had sparked in me, the fire running wild inside—something I couldn’t control.

I wanted to call out to her to demand an explanation. But I didn’t. I was too afraid of what that would lead to. Too afraid of how she might look at me if I told her how badly I was falling apart.

I wasn’t supposed to feel this way. I wasn’t supposed to want her. I was supposed to be strong, to be above all of this.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you actually going to help me?” she called over her shoulder, snapping me out of my spiraling thoughts.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath. She made it seem so simple, so casual. As if everything about our interaction had been just another drink, just another meaningless moment.

I hated how much it hurt.

“I’m not your... what do you think I am?” My words felt weak as they slipped from my lips, filled with more frustration than I’d meant to show.

She turned, arching an eyebrow as she shot me a look. “I don’t know. What are you? A monk? A fixer? Make up your damn mind.”

I didn’t know what I was anymore. And that was the problem.

I wasn’t the man I wanted to be. I wasn’t the person I’d spent years shaping myself into.

And she... she didn’t care, not about any of it.

I clenched my jaw, turning away from her as I ran a hand over my shaved head, trying to regain some semblance of control. The guilt—thatweight—pressed down on me, suffocating me more than anything else ever had.

She had kissed me.

But I had kissed her back.

My mind screamed at me, told me to pull away, to stay distant. To remember who I was, what I was supposed to be. But every time I tried to push her out of my head, the memory of her warmth, her defiance, her wildness crept in again.

And I couldn’t shake it.

She was already moving down the path, her silhouette fading into the distance as if the tension between us had never existed. She didn’t even look back, as though she had already forgotten the chaos we’d just unleashed. But as if sensing my eyes burning holes into the back of her head, she casually raised her hand, a silent command.

I froze, instinctively hesitant, like an animal sensing a trap. The warning bells in my head screamed for me to stay back, to remain hidden in the shadows where no one could see me falter. I could already hear the voices, the whispers of judgment from the monks if they caught me leaving the temple. But she called again, louder this time, and I knew I couldn’t pretend I didn’t hear it.

"Are you coming or what?" she called, not even glancing over her shoulder as she kept walking.

My body tensed, every muscle screaming for me to run in the opposite direction, to retreat to the safety of the temple walls. I closed my eyes, a sharp breath escaping my lips as I tried to calm the storm inside me. The fury, the desire—familiar and unwelcome—threatened to overtake me. I had sworn to control this, never to let myself fall into the kind of hunger I felt now.

But I wanted her. And that truth gnawed at me, relentless, twisting my insides in ways I couldn’t fight.

---