curse of the oni | 𝖟𝖔𝖘𝖆𝖓

1 ♱ The Summoning

And the smoke of their torment goes up forever and ever, and they have no rest, day or night.

- Revelation 14:11

IT pours outside the ominous cathedral, the raindrops splattering against the clerestory windows, the vague light of the full moon shining through the colored glass. Within the stone building sits numerous aisles of empty wooden benches and a massive chandelier hanging from above, emitting a dim light that— although eerie— is also comforting. On the south transept of the nave-- right past the Lectern-- poses a confessional box, presumably conducted for solemn sins.

Inside the dark box sits an anxious man, his fingers fidgeting together as he manages to formulate his confession. A cold sweat trickles down his temple, a knot forming within his dry throat. Whether he should confess or not is up to him, though according to the Catholic rite, it is said to be obligatory once a year for a sin as horrible as the one he has to be spilled to the Priest, who— in return— ought to give the penitent a prayer. It goes something along the lines of this:

"God, the Father of mercies, through the death and the resurrection of His son, has reconciled the world to Himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us and forgiveness of sins;"

However, this "priest" is oddly different, and instead gives comfort to his penitent than have their so-called sins forgiven. As for the answer regarding why— this blonde Priest isn't quite sure and refuses to figure out why he's overly forgiving. Instead, he says something like this:

"I supposed we're all humans, aren't we? We're committed to making mistakes so that we learn from them. But what is truly a sin, really? If a sin isn't meant to be committed by a human, why does it tie to our everyday life? Gluttony, pride, wrath, lust. . ." He trails off, his eyes darting from the grid wall obscuring the penitent and down to his lap, pondering the so-called dangers of the seven sins.

The penitent sighs behind the wooden wall. "Oh, but Prêtre Sanji. . . what am I to do with this sinful behavior of mine? Are you implying that I embrace it? Or that I must eradicate it?"

"I suppose you must terminate it if you wish to follow this order," Sanji implies, a soft sigh slipping from his lips. He glances up from his lap, gazing up at the ceiling of the confessional box. "But let me ask you this one thing— not much as your prêtre, but as a person."

The penitent says, "Go ahead, prêtre."

"Is it harming you? I mean. . . if it's satisfying. . . you'll keep doing it, won't you? To be unbiased, maybe the only ones aware of your sin, are you and I. Is there really a need to fret, then?" Sanji looks at the wall.

"Prêtrê, I keep having gay thoughts."

With his elbow resting on the edge of the confessional box, Sanji brings his hand to his face, two fingers rubbing at his temple, his eyes gazing off at the red-colored curtain before him. He takes a deep breath, murmuring, "Well, who doesn't?"

The penitent calls out to him one last time. "Prêtre? Are you still there?"

"Forgive me. I'm. . . supposed to tell you how sinful it is to have such revolting thoughts. May I suggest that you terminate it? After all, it might as well be a phase." Sanji tightens his lips, awaiting the penitent's response.

There's a few seconds of silence before he answers Sanji's statement. He says, "I was thinking the same thing, prêtre. Merci."

Behind the wall, the penitent rises from his seat, pushing aside the red-colored curtain from his side and retiring from the confessional box. Sanji patiently waits for a few seconds before he follows, finding himself within the empty, eerie cathedral. The rain seemingly stopped, though a few drops continued to strike against the giant, colorful windows of the church.