Page 4 of The Oni's Heart

I should’ve been grateful for the quiet. Should’ve taken it for what it was—a break from everything I knew. But all I felt was restless.

My feet carried me without direction, each step leading me deeper into streets I hadn’t seen before. The city blurred around me—neon signs, flickering streetlights, the low hum of the nightlife—but none of it reached me. I walked, my mind half-focused, my thoughts a tangled mess of what-ifs and could-bes.

Somehow, I found myself in front of something unexpected. A tall stone gate, ornate and weathered by time, stood in front of me. The air here felt different—quieter, almost reverent. I looked up, my gaze tracing the intricate designs of a structure thatlooked as if it had been pulled right out of a history book. It felt out of place in this city, like a forgotten relic from another time.

A temple, or maybe a shrine? The architecture was beautiful, with wooden beams curving high above, each corner adorned with carvings that told stories I couldn’t read. The atmosphere was thick with an ancient stillness, and yet, something about it called to me.

I stood there for a moment, caught in the mix of confusion and curiosity.What the hell am I doing here?Something inside of me—some pull, some whisper—nudged me forward, urging me to go closer, to see what lay beyond the gates. But the nagging voice at the back of my head reminded me that I didn’t belong here. I didn’t know what I was walking into. I wasn’t the type of person who wandered into sacred places, especially not in the middle of the night.

But still, my feet moved. They seemed to know something my brain didn’t.

I crossed the threshold, entering the quiet space. The air felt colder, charged with an energy I couldn’t quite place. The path was lined with stone lanterns, their light faint but steady. I paused, unsure, my heart thumping louder now, as if to tell me to turn back. But I didn’t. There was something here, something drawing me in despite my better judgment.

I continued down the path, each step feeling heavier as if the ground beneath me was alive with something I couldn't understand. I glanced around, half-expecting someone to stop me, to tell me to leave, but there was no one. No one but me and the quiet, ancient stones.

The quiet started to feel oppressive, as if the weight of every mistake I’d ever made was pressing down on me. The temple, this place—I couldn’t escape the feeling that it was watching me, judging me for my past, for the things I’d done to survive. Every step I took seemed to echo back at me louder than before. Mychest tightened, and I felt a sudden wave of panic rise in my throat.

What am I doing here?I froze, the cold creeping into my bones. The temple was condemning me, wasn’t it? It knew what I had done, what kind of person I was. I wasn’t worthy of this peace, of whatever calm this place promised.

I turned, my feet moving faster now, my breath shallow as I walked back toward the gate. I needed to leave. I shouldn’t have come in the first place. I was a ghost, a shadow of what I should’ve been, not someone who belonged here, surrounded by this stillness.

And then I ran straight into a hard chest.

I stumbled back, catching my breath as I looked up into his calm, furrowed brow. His eyes met mine, wide with confusion, as if he hadn’t expected to find anyone in this sacred space at this hour.

The monk from the other night.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. I just stood there, heart racing, feeling exposed—similar to a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. His gaze softened, but there was something steady in it, something that made me feel… shame. It didn’t make any sense, but it was there, blatantly. How many more times was this man going to be witness to my failings as a human?

“You seem lost,” he said softly, his voice like the rustling of leaves in the wind.

I swallowed hard, wanting to throw a snarky retort to cover my embarrassment, but the words stuck in my throat. “I... I shouldn’t be here.”

His expression didn’t change, but he tilted his head, his presence oddly calming. “Why do you think that?” His voice held no judgment, just a quiet curiosity.

“I don’t belong here.” My words came out more sharply than I intended, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt that clung tome. “I... I’ve done things. Things I’m not proud of. This place—it’s judging me.”

The monk studied me for a long moment, as if weighing my words before giving a small, knowing nod.

“The temple doesn’t judge,” he said softly. “It only invites. It is we who judge ourselves.”

I felt a knot tighten in my chest, unsure if I wanted to hear more. I took a step back from him, wanting to shake off his warmth. I didn’t deserve it. I was the daughter of a prostitute and a Yakuza with no ambitions, no dreams but the hope of some sort of escape. Heck, at this point, I wasn’t even sure what I was escaping anymore.

“I’m not someone who deserves peace,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t deserve... any of this.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached into his robes and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper, offering it to me. “Everyone deserves peace, even if they don’t believe they do.”

I stared at the paper for a moment before taking it from his hand. My fingers brushed his for the briefest second, sending an unexpected jolt through me.

He gave me a small, serene smile and bowed, his movement graceful and deliberate. “Take it or leave it. But know that peace is always available if you choose to see it.”

I wanted to say something—apologize, explain, or ask how he could be so sure—but the words didn’t come. Instead, like a coward, I ran past him.

4

Cigarette Ash

MOMOI

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