The Temple

Upon reaching the peak, a large overbearing gate comes into sight. Yuki places her hand inside her jacket pocket, removes a crumpled paper and begins smoothing it with her fingers. The paper is soft and worn. She’d never thought she’d actually use this. It ought to have been treasured and kept safe. Her sister would’ve taken more care. She was the one who always seems to keep things in order, so effortlessly. She would have kept this ticket flat. She was gone now, at least as far as Yuki was concerned.
She takes the ticket out of her pocket and studies the faded writing and wonders if it will be accepted. Still, her feet carry her forward, but slowly, so as to delay her arrival at the gate. The sounds of the forest begin to subdue. The singing of birds becomes fainter and fainter until they soon disappear altogether. The silence is eerie and makes Yuki feel uneasy, but reluctantly she carries on. A few more steps and she begins to hear something else; human voices reciting a chant in a harmony so perfect it must have hypnotized the forest. She moves more quickly now, half in anticipation but also somewhat out of fear and it isn’t long until she finds herself outside the entrance.

Yuki looks up and sees a group of lithe stone foxes perched upon the weather worn tiled gate. Their paws pose delicately as if balancing on the structure were an entertaining challenge. Though their exact intent is unknown as years of acid rain has removed all character from their faces. Beneath them the two rhythmic monks stand frozen, as if lost in their recitations. Up close their words become clear, but Yuki doesn't listen, the melody is what has captured her. The monk’s pointed hats shield their faces and Yuki cannot tell whether she is welcome or not. Her vision is drawn to the small bowls at their feet begging donations in exchange for prayers. Yuki wishes to stay, and allow their mantras to quieten her spirit, but she moves on for fear of being cheap, she has no money to pay them.

She carries on through the gate and hands her crumpled ticked over at the counter. The girl inside does nothing to improve the atmosphere. Her body is slim and dressed immaculately. Her face is beautiful, far to pretty to provide pleasant service. But she does manage to point her eyes in the direction of entry and Yuki takes her hint, and carries on. Yuki relaxes. The small impolite exchange reminded her of things more ordinary.

Once inside the Genkan, Yuki removes her shoes and places them gently on the racks beside the stairs. Her feet look tiny on the massive cedar floorboards. They are dark and highly polished. Each panel when pressed squeaks like a nightingale. Yuki slides her feet along them; a game she remembers playing as a child. Though try as she may, she is no match for the clever invention used to warn ancient owners of late night spies.

She enters a square tatami room laid with a red seating carpet. The detachable walls have been removed, leaving two posts to remain on either side, holding up the roof and sealing the view in a picture frame. A few guests sip a thick green tea and nibble sweets as they enjoy the view. Yuki takes a spot along the edge with a clear view of the pond. The red carp swimming below catch her attention. She watches them surface, display their villainous moustaches and gulp at the air. They seem almost out of place in the water swimming as though stalking a mouse, she wonders if these carp wouldn’t prefer to be cats.

Soon the other guests leave and the hostess removes their cups. It’s quiet, only the sounds of the tea lady clinking pottery can be heard. A young monk arrives carrying a bamboo tray with a single clay cup of a murky looking tea. He lays it down on the tatami and motions for Yuki to enjoy. He kneels down beside her and looks straight out at the rolling hills decorated by millions of fiery red leaves. Yuki takes a sip, then turns to study the monk’s face, who has very promptly fallen into some kind of meditative trance. She tilts the cup to take another sip but keeps her eyes on him, tipping her cup more than her lips. He looks somewhat uneasy. His hands twitch as if trying to dispel an unwelcome feeling. His hands clasp and he brings them to his chest, but the shake and his exertion to hold them still is seen in a tensed bicep. Her eyes have become fixed on his hand so much so that she jolts with surprise when he suddenly shuffles over towards her. She looks around to see if anyone is watching, and then back again to see he is now still. She lifts her cup to her lips, hoping to drink what remains, and then leave. But the monk boy suddenly reaches out and places his hand between her mouth and the edge of the cup. She puts it back down on the tatami and he leans over further, gently places his hands on either side of her head, then looks at her. His face seems strange, Yuki cannot understand his expression. Like a face aglow with a soft kind of pleasure where everything but his eyes seem to be smiling. Instead they are intense, focused, like exerting a fierce power. His touch is defeating, yet somehow comforting, her eyes glaze over and the grey fog begins to lift. She feels her weight shift her body falling gently to the floor. His hands let go. She sees his face, overlooking her, still smiling, eyes still intense.