𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝗷𝘂𝗷𝘂𝘁𝘀𝘂 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗻

─ 𝟎𝟎𝟏.

CHAPTER 001 // STRONGEST LOVE

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AFTERNOON // TEMPLE

Long black hair cascades off his shoulder, catching a few stray rays of sunlight as the monk shifts beneath the tree. He reclines lazily, his hands cradling the back of his head, while his legs stretch before him, crossed at the ankles.

The sun feels warm today.

Of course, it does, he muses. Summer in Japan never fails to bring that deep, lingering heat. It clings to the air, sinking into the skin like a gentle weight. It is a season that begs for stillness, a chance to pause and absorb the world's natural rhythm. He closes his eyes, feeling that sense of reconnection with the earth below him and the whisper of the breeze through the trees.

Green leaves flutter from the branches, spiralling down like tiny, lazy dancers. They collect around him, forming a soft bed beneath his body, and the mild breeze encourages them to continue their slow, graceful descent. The fresh and clean air carries the sweet scent of blossoms—a faint reminder of simpler days when life moved without rush or chaos. The light filters through the foliage, dappling his face, warm against his skin.

"GETO-SAMA!!!"

The peaceful silence shatters, the high-pitched squeal jolting him from his calm reverie.

His eyes flutter open slowly, reluctance written in every motion, and a sigh escapes his lips, heavy with resignation. He doesn't need to look to know who it is. Only a handful of people could cut through his stillness with such energy.

One eyelid tugs open lazily, revealing the familiar figure of a small masked girl stomping toward him.

Your every step is filled with righteous fury, each bouncing your hair in rhythm with your determined march.

Geto blinks slowly, his eyes tracking your movement, though his expression remains as calm as ever. Behind you, Nanako trails close, her light brown hair catching in the wind, and Mimiko follows, the two sisters always in sync.

There's something almost comical about how the three girls move as a unit, rushing toward him with such urgency. But the humour fades quickly as Geto notes the severe tension that wipes away any lingering comfort from his features.

Mimiko's brows furrow as she approaches, her voice soft and laced with worry. "See, I told you he was sleeping, [Name]. Sorry, Geto-sama. We didn't mean to disturb you."

The stuffed doll clutched tightly in Mimiko's arms seems to share her concern, pressed so firmly against her chest as though offering an apology of its own.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Geto's mouth, his amusement slipping through despite the interruption.

"Not at all," he says with gentle reassurance, his voice smooth and calm.

But you snap your masked face toward him, clearly far from appeased by his response. Your tiny fists tremble at your sides as if the anger inside you has nowhere to go but out.

Geto notices the fiery stance and tries to suppress a teasing grin. Instead, he shapes his expression into a curious calm, a gentle smile barely hiding the playfulness in his eyes.

"What seems to be the matter, girls?" he asks, genuinely intrigued.

You jab an accusing finger in Nanako's direction. "Nanako made fun of my drawing!"