Page 6 of The Oni's Heart

And that, that was what unsettled me the most. That men like him even existed. That our worlds would collide—light and dark.

I threw the covers off, trying to cool my body down, staring out the window into the cityscape. I couldn’t let myself get caught up in this dream—thisthing—because it didn’t make sense. I couldn’t trust it. It wasn’t real.

I shook my head violently, forcing myself to focus as I turned over and pulled the sheets back over me. I had to shake it off. Nightmares have been a dime a dozen since my youth.

But his phantom touch wouldn’t leave me, and I hated myself for even letting it linger. Guilt, shame, disgust, and self-hate washed over me as my fingers traveled between my legs.

What would the monk think of me now? If he caught me in this position, punishing myself like this? The men who paraded through my mother’s motel stole my innocence from me. When she was passed out from her addictions, the only way to protect her was to let myself be used. They all knew my weakness. It wasn’t that hard to figure out when I would whimper, dissociating as their filthy hands crawled all over me while I kept my eyes on my mother’s limp body, making sure she was alright, making sure they kept their word.

Over the years, I learned to defend myself, learned the art of the blade, and much more. But I never showed my hand, not when I could count on my fists if I had to. By sixteen, I roamed the streets as my mother made her living. It was for both her sake and mine as I began to develop a hidden rage that couldn’t be quenched.

My mother and I got into plenty of spats when my anger would cost her customers.

I chuckled against the pillow at the memories. Look at me now. My fingers slipping between the apex of my legs as images of a stranger—a monk of all things—flit through my mind.

They say monks worked on their physical strength, agility, patience, and resilience most of their lives. It made sense. Everything about him felt as if it belonged to a life of discipline and rigor. There was a stillness in him that seemed carved from years of training, and his calmness had an intensity to it, like he could endure whatever the world threw at him without flinching.

But I couldn’t help but wonder…

Spreading my legs further, I dipped my finger inside, my arousal making it easy to enter. He had the posture of someone who had spent years sitting in meditation, muscles honed not through brute force but through stillness, precision, and control. I bet I could crack his carefully crafted facade. The thought made me hot, knowing how bad I could be if he wanted me to. Heck, I could show him things he never thought possible.

I wondered about the scars beneath his robes, if any. Every monk had their own story etched into their body—whether from the hardships of life or the discipline of their training. I panted against the pillow as my fingers moved faster, teasing me with just the right amount of friction while still holding my growing pleasure at bay. After all, there was no fun in falling off the cliff within a few minutes.

I was used to the torture. I learned to crave it.

How long would a woman with my skill be able to edge a monk? I licked my lips at the thought. Would he be stoic as I licked his scars, traveling downward toward the promised land? A moan slipped as my hips began to undulate with my strokes.

Would he be able to continue to hold himself still without a sound when I sucked down his hard cock, licking the underside and its pronounced veins?

“This is so wrong…” I whispered, my fingers moving faster as my other hand kneaded my aching breast.

There was something about him that made my curiosity flare. It was strange, wanting to imagine him beyond the robes, beyond the serene calm.Why?Why was I thinking about it at all?

And why was my body responding with so muchfirethe more I reminded myself that he was out of bounds?

I bet I could make him break his stoicism. I bet I could make him moan and beg for more as I sucked down his cock down to his balls and watched his eyes roll to the back of his head in surrender.

My muscles tensed as I fought back against the impending climax, wanting my self-imposed punishment to last a little while longer.

But I couldn’t stop it. That question lingered, trailing through my mind similar to an itch I couldn’t scratch. What would it feel like to make him lose control? To naughtily make him break his vows at the tip of my tongue? To watch his own guilt and shame hum through his veins as I drank every last drop he gave me?

“You’re dirty, Momoi. You’re such a slut,” I breathed as I began to tease and pinch my clit until my head became light right before I cried out in ecstasy through one of the biggest self-induced orgasms I ever had.

I shook my head, trying to push away the thoughts. I couldn’t understand it, and that made me want to run even faster.

Instead, I found myself bringing my arousal-coated fingers into my mouth, humming around it, wondering what it would be like to sit on his face to clean up the mess he left behind.

5

Behind the Mask

TATSUYA IKEDA

Imoved methodically through the temple grounds, the rhythmic sound of my broom sweeping across the stone floor a steady companion. The morning air was thick with the scent of incense and the faint chirp of birds from the trees surrounding the temple. The stillness was familiar, grounding—exactly what I needed to start the day. The temple was my refuge, a place where I could disappear into the silence and the endless cycles of chanting and worship. Every sweep, every prayer, every quiet moment felt like a small act of atonement, a way to stitch the pieces of myself together.

I sat in front of the altar, lotus position, bowing my head as I began my morning worship. My hands pressed together, fingers aligned in prayer, and I recited the mantras—soft, steady, each word a thread binding me to something greater. The vibrations of the chant reverberated through my body, each syllable connecting me to the present moment, to the teachings I had spent my life absorbing.

Over the years, I had steadily climbed to second rank as a Dai-sozu. It was a position I had earned through diligent work,discipline, and unwavering dedication, or at least that’s how I tried to see it. But the truth was, every step felt more akin to a test, and each advancement felt as much the same as a burden as an accomplishment.

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