Okamura

On a mountain around 80 kilometers from Tokyo, hidden deep within the forest, stood an ancient temple. Its location was concealed, imperceptible to human eyes. The temple’s wooden structure was black, adorned with gold symbols etched across its surface. Behind it lay a tranquil yard with a small pond, home to two red koi.

Inside the dimly lit chamber, Yoshio stood with clenched fists. He performed several breathing exercises to steady himself before pacing the temple, pausing in front of the pond for several minutes. Only then did he return to the room, sitting on the floor, perplexed. He couldn’t fathom how he’d gotten himself into this mess—entangled with a woman, no less, after swearing off any such entanglements. But there was something odd about her. That pink aura of hers, for instance, and the constant presence of creeps following her, leaving her bizarre messages. He touched the center of his forehead, deep in thought.

A soft knock broke his concentration.

“Master, I have prepared a bath for you, if you’re willing,” came a quiet voice from behind the door.

Yoshio stood up, glancing at his hands. “Come in, Makio. You don’t need to play the servant. I’ve told you a hundred times to drop the formalities.”

His tone was mildly irritated, but he sighed as if exhausted. As he removed his outer layer of clothes, Makio hurried forward to help, moving in silence. Yoshio’s thin, tall frame stood out beneath the simple white linen robe, his skin pale and his face long and serene. His large black eyes shone, a stark contrast to his straight, prominent nose, which somehow didn’t detract from his striking appearance. If he paid more attention to people, he’d notice how many turned to whisper as he passed by, admiring the handsome young man. Yet, as always, his expression remained calm and detached.

“Master, I will assist you. How was your day?” Makio asked, still clinging to his formal tone.

Yoshio raised an eyebrow but said nothing, simply side-eyeing him as they entered the bathing room. He stood behind a screen, beginning to undress while glancing at Makio’s stiff posture.

“Don’t ask,” he finally replied. “It was an irritating day, and I have to go back tomorrow. It seems this one girl is in some kind of trouble. Also…” He paused, then shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. But I may need you to find someone for me.”

“As you command, Master. Please rest now,” Makio bowed and left the room.

Yoshio stepped into the bath, the water perfectly warm. He let out a long sigh, allowing himself to relax. Tonight, he would take his time.

Meanwhile, Makio walked through the dark corridors toward his room, turning right at the end. Sliding open the wooden door, he was greeted by the soft glow of a small lantern. His bed, though out of place in the traditional setting, had been a thoughtful gift from Yoshio after Makio expressed a preference for it.

Underneath the bed, Makio pulled out his latest indulgence—a manga volume he had eagerly awaited. The story, a tragic romance between a general and a prince, was nearing its conclusion. His black eyes sparkled with anticipation. He smiled at the cover, wondering if such intense, all-consuming love could ever exist in real life. Secretly, he longed to meet someone who would make him feel the same way—an ideal person whose gaze alone would make his heart race. He dreamed, that one day he could too, find a handsome person he could die for. Not that he would not die for Yoshio, it's just that Yoshio was not interesting for him enough to fall in love. He thought that there sure was supposed to be an ideal person, the one he would see, and instantly know. The same way those two characters knew when they looked into each other's eyes while standing in the field of fire. He hugged the manga, slightly smiling to himself, filled with these thoughts and expectations. On the other hand, though, he did not want his story to have as much drama and sacrifice. He was just hoping for a quiet life, with the other man he would be dedicating his life to.

Choosing a comfortable position he opened the first page, fully intending to read this volume tonight. He looked at the clock, mentally noting that he had thirty minutes before he should check on Yoshio. The story was interesting, and since the last volume he read ended on a dramatic note, he was heavily invested in it. The time flew, and the moment thirty minutes passed he was already half done with the manga. Reluctantly, he closed the manga and tucked it under his pillow, feeling slightly ridiculous for hiding it. But Yoshio was a figure of authority to him—someone who had saved him, guided him through life’s misfortunes. Despite Yoshio’s insistence that they were equals, Makio couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still a student, a subordinate. How could he possibly share his interests in something like BL manga with someone so imposing? One day, he thought. But not today.

As Makio approached the bath, he sighed heavily.

"Why are you sighing so much, Makio?" Yoshio's voice called from behind the door. He was already out of the bath, drying himself off.

Makio slid the door open slightly, smiling. "Master’s hearing is as sharp as ever. Just thinking about something personal, pay it no mind."

A pause. Then, “As you wish. Prepare some tea. I think I’ll go to bed early tonight.”

“Of course, Master. Rest well.” Makio bowed again and left, his dark brown pony tail flowing like silk ribbon behind him.

In minutes, a steaming cup of fresh mint tea sat before Yoshio. He sipped it thoughtfully, but the next thing he knew, he had fallen asleep at the table. He did not even notice, how he was moved, and placed on his futon carefully.