The sliding door creaks open just enough for Jiro to peek inside.
Children sit scattered across the room on woven mats, small wooden trays set before them, each holding a small pot, the trays dusted with soil.
Masaki stands at a low stone basin along the wall, washing trays as water gently pools beneath them.
Traitor.
At the front of the room, an old woman stands with her back turned, helping one of the children.
Won't get a better chance than this.
He starts to step inside.
The old woman quickly turns back to face the class.
"Now that our pots are ready… it's time to bring out the Fumika."
He pulls his foot back quickly.
Damn old lady.
She makes her way to the side of the classroom and starts rummaging through one of the cabinets.
Here goes nothing.
He slips through the door and gently slides it closed behind him.
One of the kids spots him. Jiro quickly raises a finger to his lips. He hurries across the room, quietly settling in beside Masaki at the stone basin.
"Thanks for the reminder," he whispers, reaching for something to wash.
Masaki ignores him, a slight smirk tugging at her lips.
The woman turns back to the class with baskets full of roots, leaves, and flowers. She sets them down by her feet and asks the class a question.
"Now, who can tell me what we use the Fumika plant for?"
A small hand rises from the group.
"Go ahead Aoi."
"You drink it when you're sick."
"Correct! But that is just one of the many uses of the Fumika. Anyone else?"
No other hands go up.
"Surely someone? No? Then perhaps Jiro can answer. It would be a shame to waste all that extra time he took getting here."
Damn… thought I was safe. Old lady's got eyes in the back of her head.
"Come on, don't be shy," she says with a grin.
Jiro turns from the basin and faces the class.
"Uh… depends how you use it. It can be used for medicine."
"Aoi already said that," the old woman cuts in.
"Uh…"
He taps Masaki with his foot.
The grin tugging at her lips almost breaks into a laugh.
"That's what I thought."
The woman turns to the class. "This is why it's important to be on time and pay attention. Unless, of course, you'd like to end up like Jiro here."
The room breaks into laughter.
"Alright, now that we know how to plant the Fumika, we'll go over each part of the plant and what they're used for."
Jiro turns back around and settles in beside Masaki.
"Thanks for the help…"
"Not my fault you've been here five years and still don't know what it's used for."
Jiro scoffs. They return to washing trays.
A few moments later…
"Alright, tomorrow we'll be going over preparation methods. No one follow Jiro's example today, or you'll be joining him after class. Dismissed."
The kids file out of the room, grinning and laughing.
Jiro looks over at them, smiling—then a cane smacks him over the head.
"You're supposed to be setting a good example for the young ones. How are they going to grow into responsible adults if their elders cannot?"
Masaki tries to hide a smirk.
"That goes for you too!" She gestures to Masaki.
"Lady Chiyo, but I was here before everyone," she snaps.
"Yes, well, your peer wasn't. This temple isn't run by one person. We rely on one another to maintain balance."
"But—"
"Not another word. Now, today I have a special task for the two of you. This room is in dire need of a deep cleaning after today."
She tosses a bucket to Masaki, a brush clattering inside. "I want to be able to see my reflection in that wood."
Jiro looks into the bucket. "Old lady, there's only one brush in here."
"That one's for Masaki."
She pulls out a toothbrush and places it in Jiro's hand.
"This one suits you better."
She laughs as she waddles out of the room.
Jiro turns to Masaki. The grin disappears, replaced by a hard stare.
"Masaki, I…"
"This is what I'm talking about. You're still the same kid who came in here five years ago—just less sad. When are you going to grow up?" she says, picking up the trays.
"And why do I have to do that? You and Naku both suddenly have a problem with me. Is this about me turning eighteen? What does that even have to do with anything?!" he screams.
Masaki stills, caught off guard by the outburst.
He steadies his breathing. "Sorry… I didn't mean to yell." He steps away and starts gathering the mats from the floor.
Masaki sets down her tray and approaches him.
She places a hand on his shoulder. "Jiro, this place isn't some paradise you're meant to stay in forever. As good as it sounds, this isn't living."
He freezes.
"You didn't come here by choice—you were brought here because of what happened to your parents. Just like me. This isn't how our lives are supposed to be."
He looks at her.
"Then why are you still here?"
Masaki falters, her hand slips from his shoulder.
"I make a difference here. The elders, the kids—they depend on me. There aren't many able bodies left around here. And there's going to be even less one day. Someone has to stay."
"And that someone has to be you? I mean didn't you just say our lives aren't supposed to be like this."
She steps away from him.
"You just don't get it. Maybe you will when you're older. But even then… I'm not so sure. You can go. I'll finish up here."
"No, I'll—"
"Just go."
Jiro hesitates.
"Alright."
He turns and heads for the door.
The hallway opens to the courtyard. Children are playing as Jiro walks past.
She's right… I don't get it. Someone has to stay, but just not me?
It seems I'm the only one who wants to!
He turns the corner and heads down another corridor, passing the kitchen.
After all this time, suddenly today is the day staying here isn't okay?
I'm not hiding from anything. I have everything I need… why don't they get that?
He walks past the fountain, the soft trickle of water fills the hall.
He stops in his tracks.
I need to clear my head.
He steps inside, sliding the door shut behind him.
He settles in front of the fountain, ankles tucked beneath him, hands resting together as he closes his eyes.
His breathing slows as he lets out a deep breath.
Why does it even matter?… it's just another year.
He draws in a breath.
"…you were brought here because of what happened to your parents."
What does she know about it? She says we're the same, but we're not.
He exhales again, this time deeper, trying to push his thoughts away.
Inhale.
Exhale.
This isn't working.
He opens his eyes and sighs.
"So much for clearing my head."
He stands to his feet.
He tilts his head up, eyes settling on the towering statue.
"Don't worry big guy, I'm not going anywhere."
He slides the door open and steps out, the sound of the fountain fading behind him.