Temple
Haruki, in particular, was pretty handy with the clay hearth. Teams had rotated in the limited space to rinse rice in large wooden tubs, slice vegetables and grind sesame.
That Shūji was behaving rather than creating chaos was an oddity.
But that diligence worried him; the boy felt subdued those days.
Come to think of it, the infamous trio Haruki-Satsuki-Shūji was limping.
Prying the truth from both boys was too risky a move; perhaps his teaching assistant knew something he didn’t.
Instead of obeying the call, Kazuki rounded the building on the engawa, the covered path providing a stilted protection from the chill. The restrooms were at the back; he would probably find her there. As if summoned by the sheer strength of his will, Elyna appeared in the garden.
She was enclosed in the shadow of a maple tree, her golden hair catching the silvery moonlight.
Kazuki exhaled, his breath forming a halo in the damp air.
Despite its seaside location, Hakodate endured sharper weather than the rest of Japan; here, winter had already arrived.
Yet, Elyna seemed unbothered by the cold, a mere cardigan adorning her lithe frame as she hummed in the night.
Behind her, the ancient stone pagoda loomed like a silent guardian. A path of moss-covered lanterns created a track that led directly to her.
Her, and her again, in my dreams, and every time I close my eyes.
Elyna looked like a foreign spirit lingering in this sacred space. Kazuki felt his chest tighten for all the wrong reasons. Beautiful. He chastised himself then, for the thousandth time.
She was his teaching assistant, eight years younger… but she was, also, everything he was drawn to. He admired her spirit, that quiet strength that dwelt underneath the shyness, the duality of respect and fire. How could a woman be so wise yet still discover herself?
When will it be alright to admire her?
The truth was that his carefully guarded heart was thawing. After Miyuki… the very thought of reaching out again was terrifying. But assistant and teacher would always dance beside that line in the sand, destined to never cross.
Kazuki knew he should turn away and make a round.
But pretending was not his forte. He stepped down from the engawa, the wood creaking beneath his weight, and allowed his feet to carry him along the large stones.
It was his job to gather everyone and ensure their well-being before curfew.
Shintarō kept vigil on his own 3-A class, and the rest of his 3-C.
“Why not join the others?” he asked.
Elyna spun around, eyes wide. He lifted his hands in apology; her expression softened, causing his heart to skip dangerously. The trust she bestowed upon him was a precious present.
“Ah, sorry. I got distracted on the way back,” she murmured, breath rising in ghost clouds. “You guys are probably used to temples and Zen gardens, but it’s new for me.”
You guys. The ones that call her gaijin.
Elyna exhaled a halo into the night sky, watching it dissipate like mist. “Everything’s so quiet here.”
Kazuki’s legs brought him closer, albeit his mind screamed to stay put and drag his wayward assistant back to the common room. She’s going to catch a cold.
But he understood how she felt, lingering in the winter garden. The temple’s stillness was so profound that it seeped into his bones. A contrast to the hustle of modern life. Above them, the massive branches cast shadows that danced into the icy wind.
“It’s hard to think that just down that hill, 150 years ago, men were dying for their beliefs,” she murmured, gaze lost in the dark.
Kazuki felt his chest tighten. “Hijikata’s last stand.”
“An island that had to change its name,” she continued softly, acknowledging the fall of the Ezo Republic when the land was renamed Hokkaidō. “Crushed under an empire that didn’t live up to the samurai’s expectations.”
Her melancholy was so strong it almost took shape in the dark; she mourned the loss of samurai values: honour, strength, devotion to the cause.
He could almost taste that ancient grief, and he wondered what echo the Boshin War awakened in her mind.
He dared not call her young, not when the wisdom of many lives danced in her eyes.
“And now there’s just…” She spread her arms, encompassing the serenity of that quiet landscape. “This.”
“Maybe that’s their victory,” he told her, gazing across the moonlit garden.
Where paper lanterns had once stood, wires and lighting now resided, the kind of cold light that did not flicker in the breeze.
Elyna’s eyes still shone blue despite the night, wide in expectation, as if drinking his words.
No pressure.
“The warriors may be gone,” he went on. “But they died with honour, without faltering. This is a warrior’s peace.”
A very Japanese view that would appal the western world, but a code of honour he abode with all his might. Elyna didn’t seem fazed, as if she’d found solace in his words. Her eyes returned to the dancing limbs of the maple tree, as if answers resided in those high branches.
“Ano…” She hesitated, then shifted her weight like an uncertain child. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Always.” It had nothing to do with being her supervisor and everything to do with wanting to give her his all. What he was, what he knew. The way Elyna processed new ideas was a delight. It sometimes felt like feeding a bottomless well, but that transmission always left him elated.
“I don’t understand how reincarnation really works,” she admitted. “Not the basics, but the journey. Are we who we are because of who we were?”
Of all the questions, she had to dive directly into philosophical considerations. Who could claim to understand the fine mechanics of it, to have solved the problem of nature versus nurture? What could have triggered such profound musings?
“I’m not much of an expert on the matter,” he started.
“But as I understand the concept, we’re supposed to pile up new experiences in every life.
Even though memories of past lives are erased the soul knows what it went through.
They say certain things become easier to learn because we have some deep memory of it. ”
Elyna’s lips curved in a wry smile. “I must have travelled a lot in my past lives then.”
You probably have, my golden lady. And you’re retracing your steps now.
Thoughtful, Kazuki watched his breath curl in the chilly air. “Some say we return to the same places, and meet the same people.”
He felt her gaze linger on him like an invisible weight, a tether that called him back as she unconsciously dropped a bombshell. “Perhaps we met in another life.”
Could it be…? Elyna had felt familiar from that very first day. Conversation flowed so easily between them; it was like finding a long-lost friend after twenty years. But he wouldn’t expose such a silly notion. Instead, he smirked and shook his head.
“I’m quite sure I’d remember it.”
The words came out flirtier than he intended; heat crept up his neck. Get a grip, Kazu! Fortunately, Elyna didn’t seem fazed. Oblivious, or so used to being flirted with she didn’t realise it anymore? Instead of acknowledging his horrible pick-up line, her brows knitted.
“My brother loves noisy places and chaos,” she revealed, a fond smile quirking her lips.
She misses him.
He almost envied her before he remembered Shintarō was his sibling in all but blood. From an early age, the boisterous boy had declared himself his friend, and never let go. What would he say, this self-appointed brother, if he saw him right now?
This discussion must end.
But Elyna was still puzzling over the notion of reincarnation, and he was loath to rush her. “Do you think it is why siblings can be so different, even if parents educate them the same? Because we’re different souls that have lived different things?”
“Even if parents try, they never educate children the same,” he responded, hoping to find the right moment to herd her back to the common room.
Yet, he couldn’t help but fuel the debate, if only for intellectual interest. “But partly, yes. The nature versus nurture debate is very old. As Confucius said, ‘Natures are close to one another, but become far from one another by practice.’”
Elyna seemed to muse over the idea, and he nailed his point. “For once, I disagree. The way I see it, nature is set from birth—education can only give it potential or curb it. Anyone who has looked into a newborn’s eyes can see a baby is not a blank slate. They arrive already themselves, somehow.”
Elyna’s gaze drifted upwards, trying, and failing to hide a grin. “So I bet you were a quiet baby.”
Don’t go there, Kazu.
A chuckle escaped despite himself. “Absolutely. An angel, according to my mother, watching everything with wide eyes.”
He could feel her side-stepping some weighty subject, and he found himself wanting to offer something more substantial before they had to retreat.
“My grandfather had his own interpretation of karma,” he revealed, his hands going numb from the cold. “He believed we chose our parents to transcend our past hurts, so we could work on them.”
As his words trailed into the open like an offering, he noticed her shoulders tense. Was he overstepping? Hurting her by twisting the knife in that painful bond between mother and daughter? But Elyna only seemed amazed at the possibilities. His shoulders slumped in relief.
After all, Elyna wasn’t one to shy away from difficult truths.
Give her the right weapons and she would take over a battlefield.
His heart soared at the memory of her brilliant planning of the culture week.
And that commanding presence… the sight of her, clad in a Victorian dress, would remain carved in his mind like an ink painting on washi[12].
He admired and respected her for that gall. Worse, he loved her for it.
“Arigatō gozaimashita[13].” She bowed. “For everything. You’re an amazing teacher. I couldn’t have asked for better support.”
His breath caught, her heartfelt gratitude going straight to his heart.
This rang like a goodbye.