"Feels like I was treated like a rabbit."
"Rabbits don't eat that much tofu… probably."
"I can't believe I actually liked the tofu skin and shredded tofu more than the leafy greens."
"I heard half an hour ago, some thugs made a huge fuss because they didn't like the food and got kicked out by the staff. They went quiet when the security showed up."
"It wasn't that bad… though I get how tourists might feel let down."
Kitagawa Ryo and Ichinose Honami smiled and nodded politely at a monk passing by before resuming their commentary on the vegetarian meal they'd just had.
"I still need to eat something else."
Ryo rubbed his stomach. The complimentary temple meal had embodied the true essence of "vegetarian" — light and minimal. For a growing teenage boy, it felt more like a light snack than a full meal.
"I've got sandwiches."
Honami rummaged through her backpack and pulled out two homemade ham and egg sandwiches.
The temple, built halfway up the mountain, was large. They had walked from the front yard to the main hall, drawn fortunes, then strolled to the back garden — all taking about an hour. As they approached the rear exit, Ryo finally finished his third sandwich, sipping contentedly on his lemon blossom tea.
In the courtyard, a stage had been set up where three white-haired monks interpreted fortunes. Ryo was slightly surprised to find that this temple didn't interpret love fortunes. Curious, he edged closer to a nearby tour group to eavesdrop on the guide's explanation.
Normally uninterested in such legends — often written up by tourism authorities to add mystique and boost visitor appeal — Ryo nonetheless found the temple's unique stance worth hearing out.
The story was simple.
Long ago, two brothers fell in love with the same woman. Both received positive love fortunes and, believing they had divine backing, became rivals. Unable to outdo each other, they eventually asked the woman to choose. She, however, was indecisive — enjoying being loved by both.
To keep their affections, she jumped off a cliff in front of them, thinking her death would make them remember her forever.
"What happened next?" Honami asked, intrigued by Ryo's retelling.
"They both moved on, got married, had kids, and lived happily ever after."
Ryo forced a smile, clearly unimpressed by the legend.
"So why doesn't the temple interpret love fortunes?"
"Because those same brothers funded the temple's construction and left a rule behind: Love can't be predicted."
Honami looked at Ryo, deadpan. "I thought they'd become monks and cut all ties to romance."
Ryo glanced at the love fortune stick Honami had been holding and asked, "What about that, then?"
"Let's return it."
Now that they knew the temple didn't interpret love fortunes, they lost interest and returned the stick to a young monk.
"You're allowed to keep it as a souvenir," the monk explained. "Even though we don't interpret them, we let visitors take them home."
"Want to keep it?" Honami asked.
"You drew it, so it's up to you," Ryo replied disinterestedly.
Honami studied the cheaply-made wooden stick, wrapped in red cloth labeled "Love." Normally, a poem would be inscribed, but here, it was just for show.
Ryo asked, "Don't you want to read it?"
Just then, Honami's phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen, ignoring his question, and politely handed the stick back.
"Better return it. Otherwise, I'll probably just toss it later."
"Understood."
The monk placed the stick in a special box.
"Did they go to the summit already…?" Honami muttered.
"What's wrong?" Ryo asked.
"Nothing. Let's head up too. If we wait any longer, we'll be late getting back down."
Unable to reach her sister Maki, Honami stowed her phone and smiled. She could still track Maki's location via a shared app.
"I was just wondering if they reached the summit."
"There are two paths. Maybe they didn't come through the temple."
Ryo took Honami's bag and slung it over his shoulder. It was around 2 PM, the sun blazing overhead.
"Let's go."
Just five minutes after they left, a man finishing his fortune reading asked an old monk:
"Is the story about love fortunes true?"
The old monk lazily blinked and replied, "More or less."
The man looked disappointed, but the monk smiled, his wrinkled face folding into a kind expression.
"But there's another version. The donors' real message was: 'Love isn't determined by fortune. A 'great match' doesn't guarantee love, and a 'terrible match' doesn't break real bonds. If you fixate on fortunes, you'll lose sight of your true feelings.'"
"So we don't interpret love fortunes. We tell couples: it's something you must resolve yourselves."
"Master… I've seen the light."
"You must have experienced much in love," the monk praised kindly.
"Actually, I'm 39 and single."
The monk choked and called over a young monk, then smiled slyly:
"Well, we do offer custom fortunes. Imagine bringing a date here, getting a 'custom fortune' with a heartfelt line chosen by you. Romantic, right?"
"We've matched hundreds this way. We even offer a writing service — for a fee."
He handed the man a sample book.
"'So long as the love is true, the days need not be long.' That's from Qin Guan."
"'Together we swim like ducks in water… yet frost on duckweed easily dissolves.' From The Manyoshu."
"'I'll take care of you for a lifetime.' Simple, but sincere."
Then the man froze at a strange line:
"One—more—stick!"
"What does that mean?"
He scratched his head.
"Love really is hard to understand."
-------------------------------------
Karuizawa Kei stopped in her tracks.
Every time she saw Uehara Emika, hatred and disgust surged within her. But beneath that, she knew, lay fear and avoidance.
Even though the scar on her abdomen no longer bled, she never touched it — nor the woman who left it.
Seeing Emika again, unchanged after two years, was surreal. Her overly made-up face looked artificial, as if dipped in preservatives.
"Hey, Karuizawa. Been two years, huh?"
That voice — coated in venom — nearly knocked Kei off balance. Still, she stepped in front of Ichinose Maki, shielding her. Her phone screen, hidden in her right hand, was glowing.
"You know her, Emi?" asked a buzz-cut man beside Emika, slinging an arm around her shoulder.
"Just a classmate. We didn't get along."
"Then no discounts. 100,000 yen."
He pointed to his scuffed white sneakers.
"Just a bit of dirt! And from a cat!" Maki shouted, cradling Hotaru the cat.
It had happened when Hotaru ran past and brushed the man's shoe. An apology and fair compensation should have sufficed.
"What would a brat know?"
The man lit a cigarette despite a 'No Smoking' sign nearby.
"Pay up, or we'll make a scene."
Kei warily eyed the group — five or six rough-looking students behind the man. On this narrow mountain trail, she couldn't guarantee they could flee.
"Ken, I have an idea."
Emika whispered in the man's ear like a snake:
"If she can't pay, make her lick it clean."
Her words reopened old wounds. Kei clenched her lips. Emika had once stabbed her in the side — expelled afterward, but the damage had been done. Kei's life from 14 to 16 had been branded with the label "bullying victim."
"It's okay," she whispered to Maki.
Back then, Kei had cried to parents and teachers, but nothing stopped the bullying. So she learned to endure — licking shoes, cleaning urine-soaked desks, crying alone in the woods. She hugged trees, rocks, imagined protectors… but none came.
Until now.
Maki's phone had died an hour ago, so Kei used her own to send GPS and voice recordings to the first name in her contacts.
Then, she looked Emika in the eye.
He would come.
Kitagawa Ryo would come.
They'd only known each other a few days, but if there was one thing Kei believed she had more than Honami —
It was trust in him.
And that was enough.