When she left the temple, she was hollow. Empty as the dojo she once trained in. She'd missed them all dearly. She missed being among her special family. The teasing, the tiresome euphemisms, and even the inconsistent bragging. Japan was beautiful; Tokyo was just as alive as she'd left it, but it didn't fill the warrior heart like China had. She had returned out of mere curiosity, to see if new young dragons were enlisted in her former role. Of course, she'd known that deep down she'd been away from the place of peace for too long, and needed to visit. The memories of riding her old dragon friend Dojo gave her some hope for spotting another fiery female warrior.
Much to her dismay, she found the temple free of guests, or anyone else for that matter. Open during daylight hours as she once recalled it being, she saw little harm in taking a quick peek through the gardens.
She saw many changes, alongside classic details. The establishment itself hadn't changed much over the last fifteen years, nor had the planting of banzai trees. Serene as it always had been. Still, the music was new. It appeared she hadn't been so alone after all. She hadn't heard much flute playing when she was still in her youth, other than the guitar songs Clay would create on rare occasion. Nonetheless, the song was beautiful. She searched through the halls of the sacred building for the musician, but no luck. She'd been ready to leave by then, when the wooden instrument came to a sudden halt, replaced by footsteps.
"Excuse me."
It was a monk. He resembled a young Dashi in his monochrome attire, even more so with his calm stance. In his left hand he held the oak flute she'd heard from before, in the other, a scroll. It took Kimiko a moment or so to realize she had been staring. Quickly she regained her composure and bowed immediately.
"I'm very sorry," She whispered. "I was on my way out."
His laugh was light. Familiar. "It is troublesome enough you could not greet an old friend, but to leave without good bye? That is...pardon my English, cold, sister."
Her head lifts at the sound of his voice. The odd though correct structure of his sentence. He smiles at her, and it's then she recognizes the lighthearted tone. She rushes forward without hesitation; arms locked around his neck as she laughs in disbelief.
"Omi."
How they shared such an equal attraction is beyond her.
He is particularly occupied with his position, taking after their master when he passed on. He liked not to question things, simply respect or work around them. Meditation, teaching and personal reading kept him busy throughout the day, so they rarely saw each other.
To add to their complex bond, his way did not allow a "love life". Distractions and temptations were not the way of a true monk, and yet...she grew attached. She would not be allowed neither words nor displays of affection. Marriage was an impossible task. He'd made his promise to his great master. She didn't mind. She'd do without, she said. With her sweet memories of their golden days and that warm giggle, who was he to deny her? He'd been fond of her from beginning till end.
Glances are shared throughout the day. Their hands intertwine from time to time, when they pass one another. He is aware this is against his devoted lifestyle. She is careless to the fact. Fire, forever weakened by the waters she chose to be surrounded by.
Here, no one reigns. There is balance.