𝓕ᵃᵗʰᵉʳ'ˢ 𝓟ᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗ 𝓛ⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ 𝓖ⁱʳˡ

I | I

★・・・★

CHAPTER — I
part one

"DARLING, WHERE is my fancy gold-colored tie ?" Your father called from the bathroom, his head popping out of the doorframe, shaving cream still on his lower face as he buttoned his shirt.

You saw your mom sigh, and then give you a tired smile. Everything felt like usual—except it wasn't.

You had moved in the day prior. The house you just started calling home was smaller than the previous one, but nice, still. It was comfortable, reasonably furnished already with a kitchen table and a few other furnitures (your dad kept grumbling about how it was still not enough considering the money he spent on it).

You liked it.

Your room consisted of a bed, a nightstand and a cupboard. It was modest, and you enjoyed it this way. Your favorite part of it was the big window that gave a superb view to the fields and the sea in the horizon.

"On the nightstand," Your mother replied from where she was standing in the kitchen, cooking breakfast, which consisted of scrambled eggs and a salad.

"I love you so much."

Your mother only hummed in response, instead opting to turn to you with a soft grin gracing her lips.

Had you ever seen her look this relaxed after the accident ? Your heart warmed for your mother, who so obviously seemed to enjoy the little gateway this far.

"__, do you like your room ?" She asked carefully, swiftly scooping the eggs and putting them in three separate plates.

"Yes—it's perfect mother."

You stand up from where you were sitting at the dinner table and automatically joined your mother in the kitchen. You reached for five forks and knives out of habit—before remembering that you were now only three, you quickly corrected yourself as a your heart constricted in your chest at the memory of your greatly missed grandmother and aunt.

"Is the desk big enough ?" Your mother pressed.

You nodded, guessing she was wondering wether the desk would be appropriate for writing or not. It is true that it is a bit bothersome to write on a small desk. However, that issue does not concern you anymore. She knew you liked writing and that you would likely pursue it as a career like your father, who's a rather known and respected writer.

"Everything is perfect mother." You chuckled as an attempt to pacify her, which seemed to work.

"Ooh~ breakfast," your dad chimed as he came in, taking the plates and putting them on the dinner table, your mother following him with a big bowl filled with salad. "I guess this means I cook dinner then."

"Indeed," your mother laughs weakly, sitting down, "Good luck for your appointment, though."

Your father was to go to his appointment with a publishing house for them to finance his upcoming book... he had had a few issues with his previous one.

The publishing house wasn't in Ushinawareta it was around 2 hours away, so your dad would be gone for the entire day.

"Thank you," he quickly pecked her cheek and dug in, "What are my favorite girls doing today though ?"

"Visiting," your mother said, evasive.

"The church." Your finished. It was Sunday, after all.

Your father gave you a smirk filled with pride. He beamed noticing that his daughter took so much after him. After all, the reason he got this far in life was all because of God's will and you didn't doubt it.

You glanced at the clock, it was 9:21. You had to hurry a little if you wanted to be on time for church.

You promptly swallowed down your food, excited.

★・・・★

You swallowed down your saliva, feeling yourself grow a bit nervous.

You were... not so good at meeting new people. However, this was something you wanted to do—that you had to. The church community was something very important to you.

"... Go in already, __." Your mother chided, unimpressed.

You opened the big and heavy door of the church and gasped. It was beautiful. It was minimal, but breath-taking. The whole interior was white, with brown cushions on top of grey benches. A lot of white candles were scattered here and there. There was, obviously, a wood gross with Jesus on it, hanging on the ceiling, looking all-mighty and immensely powerful. It was simple but neat.

It was the most beautiful church you've ever set your feet in. You had been living in a relatively small town your entire life, and the church there wasn't nearly as impressive as this one.

The atmosphere, though, was what slightly deterred you. It was eerily silent and the ambience felt tense, chilly almost. You had never felt this way in a church before, you had always felt safe and welcomed. The church was a place of love and understanding, right ?

Jesus on his cross looked down at you with cold, soulless eyes and you shivered.

Something in your gut was telling you to leave, to run, but you ignored it. You were probably just being sensitive after moving away.

Was it the modernity of this place that made it feel so wholly cold impersonal ?

"Welcome."

You heard a low, gravely voice behind you say. You let out squeaked, your entire body going rigid.

You hadn't even heard them approach.

You immediately whipped your head back to see a big and tall man who looked like he was in his mid fourties. He was dressed in a black shirt tucked in a pair of black pants and on his feet were shiny black leather shoes. His jaw was set and his black hair hung low on his face, making him look even more intimidating. The corners of his mouth were lifted in a chilling smirk which was probably meant to be welcoming - but there was something so dark and confusing about the way he was looking at you that it just made the entire interaction unsettling. His eyes were sharp and bottomless, it was as if he was gazing at you right through your anatomy, as if he could see things that you didn't know about and understand things that you couldn't. You immediately looked down. Something about this man scared you, something about this entire place felt entirely off.

If you weren't so disturbed, you would've probably noticed with heat rushing to your face how attractive he was. Your mother, her, might have noticed.

You peeked at her, she apparently didn't sense anything wrong and placed on her lips a polite smile before introducing herself. You incredulously gawked at her. You felt like a rebellious teenager all of a sudden. Was this who you were becoming ? Someone who doesn't want to go church ? You felt mildly terrified and appalled at the thought—what would your father even think of you?

Church and belief were the things that kept your family together.

You could tell he was wearing what was considered to be priest clothings—but it didn't match with him. The clothes on him looked nothing short of sinful, you noticed with embarrassment. The shit was—too tight and left too little to the imagination. It was like staring at someone dressed as a priest, not an actual priest.

"I am Father Fushiguro," he spoke again with his deep and measured voice, the grin never leaving his lips. "I take it you are our newcomers ?"

★・・・★

any thoughts ?