Chapter Text
Eternal life, happiness, pleasure... no more pain nor suffering.
Those were the promises whispered in the shadows, the golden lies proclaimed by the cult of the Eternal Paradise. A dogma that everyone followed, revered, and prayed to. As the rules dictated, until, finally, they reached the pinnacle of their faith.
The wonderful and merciful God on Earth opened the door to that promised paradise, a place where eternal life would be their reward, where one would never die as long as they remained within it. He was the chosen one, the incarnation of divinity, the bridge between the earthly and the eternal, the being who offered infinite joy and pleasures.
All praise and follow Douma, our lord.
The weather was partly calm—or so they assumed.
The temple stood in the middle of nowhere, far from civilization, lost among mountains and forests. Black clouds hung in a gray sky, and a cold wind grew stronger with every passing second as it brushed against their skin; all around them was a desolate wasteland set amidst a sea of lush forests. Thanks to the dense canopy of conifers, firs, and pines, overlapping one another, it was almost impossible to tell what season it was; daylight barely penetrated, which only added to the eerie atmosphere. The faithful believers would go out for a walk and breathe in the fresh air around them, sometimes to gather supplies. Due to the weather conditions, fewer and fewer believers chose to leave the temple—except for one.
Inosuke Hashibira, the child abandoned at the temple, the boy raised by the cult, the most troublesome beast in the flock. Many adjectives describe him, and none are inaccurate, for the young man—as the cult members themselves said—brought trouble from the moment he appeared. They were going to leave him at an orphanage in the nearest village and let him fend for himself, making him someone else’s problem. Being a fussy baby who wouldn’t stop crying no matter what, they thought he was sick and would die soon, but the merciful Douma, in all his kindness, decided to take him in as his ward, to keep him under his roof and in his care. He would have preferred they’d left him in the forest, he thought, for the laws of nature were better for him than the charade they put on in the cult.
The green-eyed young man always preferred the raw, unvarnished brutality of the mountain and its creatures to the false kindness laced with divisive slander found among those inside. He preferred the ancient roots and solid ground of the rocky slopes to the wooden floors and deceptive corridors of the temple—but above all, he preferred not to be under Douma’s cold gaze. He wasn’t his father—he made that very clear to him. They barely spoke to each other, but there he was, always watching him and smiling; his keen senses sent a chill down his spine every time that walking statue approached him. He didn’t understand how everyone in there seemed spellbound by his empty words, dumbed down even more than they already were, eagerly waiting to reach a sufficient level of idiocy so they wouldn’t be seen again.
That was a hassle too, though he’d long since stopped caring. From a very young age, he’d had to learn not to get attached to Douma’s followers; at first, it hurt, of course it did. The first people he remembered, the ones who taught him to speak, were kind women who never stopped saying he was an adorable little boy, marveling at his beautiful features. They would stroke his hair, pinch his cheeks, and sneakily let him eat more desserts from the stores. But from one day to the next, he never saw them again; they disappeared. Douma told him he didn’t have to worry about them because they had already attained eternal life, and just like them, Inosuke watched as more followers would come and go.
At first, he tried to persuade some of them to leave, but it was in vain; they wanted to stay there and disapproved of the boy’s “ingratitude.” That’s how he earned a bad reputation within the temple; for even though people left, the rumors persisted, and soon overshadowed the earlier ones—where he was an adorably mischievous and restless child—with new ones portraying him as a heretical rebel who didn’t value the effort Master Douma had put into caring for him, an ungrateful one who spat on their beliefs and brought chaos to their perfect way of life.
This is how he lost interest in them as well, and took greater refuge in the forest around him; it was easier and more entertaining to play with the wild boars, run with the wolves, or test his strength against the bears, or even try to imitate the birds’ chirping. there in the mountains he was king, a better one than Douma, since he knew that animals die; he viewed the cycle of life with naturalness, and there were no lies about anything “eternal.” But both inside and out, he was lonely, isolated, being his own kind.
Douma once saw him returning from the forest, heading toward the storerooms. Noticing his muscular build and his determination—as he wore the pelt of an animal he’d hunted himself tied around his waist—and realizing he’d grown enough, Douma decided to offer him a deal.
“Hey, since I can’t always be at the temple, tell me. Wouldn’t you like to be a sort of guard? You’ll have privileges, of course—you’ll be able to go wherever you want in the temple and won’t have to follow the curfew anymore, but… the sanctuary is still off-limits. My disciples will see you as their protector and will obey you too. Isn’t that great? You know, the shepherd looks after his sheep, but when he’s not around, they can count on the hound, hahaha."
And who protects the sheeps from the shepherd?
He thought about that at the time, but it was better than being an insignificant outcast; now he was an unwelcome protector. He liked it—he wouldn’t deny it—to see the annoyed looks on the others’ faces when he had more privileges, like strolling through the temple whenever he pleased and eating the others’ rations, leaving them only what he liked least. He didn’t really care if the next day one of them found “eternal life”—that was their business and Douma’s; after all, he protected the sheep from external threats. He wasn’t going to try to interfere in their affairs—or at least that’s what he thought until a few days ago.
Inosuke was now outside the temple, sitting on the cold, damp ground, staring intently at the entrance to the forest. He didn’t like thinking—but right now there were too many thoughts swirling in his mind to ignore them, and they all revolved around the same subject, or rather, the same person.
“Inosuke, there you are. Hey, aren’t you cold out here?” There she was, the source of his troubles, looking around as she approached.
“No, it’s better than being inside.”
“I guess you’re right,” she replied, shrugging, as she sat down on the ground next to the boy, hugged her knees, and rested her cheek on her shoulder. Looking at him curiously, with those blue eyes that took his breath away, “You don’t mind if I keep you company, do you?”
“No.”
It made sense that she was there with him, he concluded, looking at the moorland in front of him. It was there that he found her, the only sheep in the flock for whom he wouldn’t mind biting the shepherd.
It was in the forest where he met Aoi Kanzaki.
Next chapter: “Deep in the Forest and Aoi's Fall”