Akisumi

  I wonder what Tsurubami confessed here.

  It had to be something selfless—something for our sake.

  He must’ve prayed to the Lord of Darkness on our behalf.

  Just like the figure in my beloved Pietà sculpture.

  I can see him now, kneeling before the glowing, breathing black stone,

  offering up silent prayers.

  Maybe his devotion could purify even my twisted desires.

  Tonight, I realized something about myself.

  I definitely revere Tsurubami.

  And because of that, I now believe in the Lord of Darkness more deeply than ever before.

  “This is where we pour holy water into the hollow in the stone and confess our sins to the Lord of Darkness.

  I was doing that… when I fell in.”

  Tsurubami spoke with tension in his voice,

  clearly remembering the moment he fell into the underground.

  “Tsurubami… don’t push yourself.

  You don’t have to say anything if you don’t—”

  “Did you really fall from a place like this?”

  The owner’s loud voice cut right through my gentleness.

  “Keep your voice down,” my brother warned.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Sorry, but look at this thing.

  The hollow's only deep enough to dip your wrist in, tops.

  You faithful types say this water connects your hearts to the Lord of Darkness, right?

  But if you fell through it, wouldn’t that mean you fell… inside the Lord of Darkness?”

  Silence fell—so heavy it made a sound of its own.

  “So the underground… is inside the Lord’s heart?”

  Tsurubami said earnestly.

  The owner waved his hands in front of his face.

  “Don’t take it so literally. It’s just a figure of speech.

  Anyway… maybe you’re not the arsonist after all.”

  “Of course he isn’t.”

  I answered in his place, then turned to Tsurubami.

  “Tsurubami, was that your first time in the confessional?

  I’m not asking why you were here, I just…

  This is my first time inside, and I was wondering if anything felt different than usual.

  Honestly, I’m probably the one who should’ve come to confess.”

  I tried to make it lighthearted—

  but his reply caught me off guard.

  “I come here all the time.

  Let’s see… since middle school, I’ve probably come here more times than I can count to repent before the Lord of Darkness.

  And no, nothing seemed unusual that day…”

  There’s no trace of sin on his beautiful face.

  Of course not—he’s an angel.

  “So… what was it like when you fell?”

  Flustered, I shifted the topic.

  “…Honestly, I don’t remember much.

  All I know is, when I was pulled into that hollow, I thought:

  ‘My sins haven’t been forgiven.’

  Then I woke up underground.”

  The owner moved like he was about to sit on the sacred stone,

  but my brother stopped him.

  He awkwardly readjusted his posture and then, as if to stir up trouble again, asked:

  “If you don’t remember falling—how do you know it was the underground?”

  Still doubting him.

  And yet—for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to hate the owner.

  Anyone else and I’d be furious.

  But with him… I just couldn’t.

  Who is this man?

  “I knew because the first person I met told me so,”

  Tsurubami replied, calm as ever.

  “I fell into the ruins of a fire.

  When I opened my eyes, the person I saw was… the Head Pastor.”

  Mr. White’s eyes widened.

  Even though his face hardly moved, his emotions were always so clear.

  “The Head Pastor said to me:

  ‘Welcome to the underground, child of Medicine.’”