"Mmm..."
As I slowly opened my eyes, an unfamiliar ceiling came into view.
Staring at the wooden ceiling, reminiscent of a traditional house, I slowly pushed myself upright.
As I did, the blanket covering my stomach slid down, and I checked the condition of my body.
Other than dizziness from having been unconscious for so long and an ache at the back of my neck, I was perfectly fine.
"...Where am I?"
Once I realized I was all right, I immediately looked around.
Two sides of the room were made up of paper sliding doors, and the floor was smooth wood.
Despite that, aside from my back feeling a little stiff, there was nothing uncomfortable about it.
When I looked down, I noticed the thick futon beneath me.
My clothes had not been changed either, and the belongings I had been carrying were neatly placed beside me.
'Where is this place?'
A sword was displayed in an alcove on one side, while a hanging scroll was mounted on the wall. The flowing calligraphy made it difficult to read, but it said this:
'Dust arises in the heart (胸中生塵).'
Puzzled by the unfamiliar four-character idiom I had never heard before, I tried interpreting each character one by one, and this was what I got.
Dust arises in the heart.
'...Am I the only one who thinks that makes even less sense?'
Unless I looked up its actual meaning, I did not think I would understand it.
Just then, a pleasant breeze drifted in and tickled my bangs.
Looking toward the only open paper door the breeze had come through, my eyes, now accustomed to the light, could make out the view outside.
Trees, grass, and ornamental stones had been arranged there, along with a dry landscape garden—said to be difficult to maintain—that harmonized with its surroundings.
Looking at all those things, which seemed as though they should not suit one another when viewed individually, coming together so harmoniously somehow made me feel at ease.
Honestly, perhaps because I had only just woken up, my head was still spinning. So I lay back down, took in the view outside, and slowly closed my eyes.
As I felt my head gradually clear, I heard slide—the sound of a door opening—and sensed someone entering.
'Who could it be?'
As I blankly thought that, I recalled the last thing that had happened before I woke up here and immediately opened my eyes.
[It seems you are awake.]
"?!"
At the same time, a sketchbook suddenly appeared in front of me. Startled, I shot upright.
As though he had expected that reaction, the Homu Sword Saint naturally moved the sketchbook out of my way, sparing me the humiliation of smashing my head into it.
Still, being alone in an unfamiliar place with someone skilled enough to subdue and knock me unconscious made me clutch the fallen blanket with both hands and pull it up to my chest.
It was a defensive posture I had unconsciously assumed out of wariness.
[If I had intended to do the sort of thing you are imagining, you would not have been lying here comfortably until now.]
As though he had sensed how I felt, the Homu Sword Saint came over and naturally sat beside me. Reading the words written in the sketchbook he held out, I looked into his eyes—or what I presumed were his eyes—to see whether he meant them.
The Homu Sword Saint met my gaze without looking away.
As if asserting his innocence.
Moreover, his gaze lacked the lecherous feeling I would sometimes sense from boys my age. Not completely, but I relaxed my guard a little and slowly lowered the blanket from my chest.
As he said, if he had been after my body, there was no way I would have been lying here comfortably until now.
Even if he could subdue me, it was obvious that I would resist.
Unless he had some perverse preference for subduing someone and forcibly raping them, he would normally have tied me up.
Of course, if my chastity had been defiled like that, I was prepared to bite off my tongue on the spot... but that was not what mattered right now.
"...So why did you bring me here?"
As though he had expected my question, he turned the page and showed me the next one.
[First, because I want to hear your circumstances.]
"My circumstances?"
He nodded at my words, then showed me the next page.
[When a student smokes, it is usually for one of these reasons.]
—Curiosity.
—To become part of a group.
—Stress relief.
—To look grown-up.
—Because it looks cool.
—A parent who smokes.
—Rebellion.
[Which of these applies to you?]
I fell silent for two reasons at his gesture of writing that in the sketchbook and showing it to me.
One was that none of those reasons applied to me.
I had bought cigarettes, and planned to let others catch me smoking, solely so that my father would turn his attention toward me.
The other was that I had no idea what kind of person the suspicious man before me was—the man who had introduced himself as the Homu Sword Saint.
I might know he was not after my body, but that did not erase the fact that he had knocked me unconscious and abducted me.
That was also why I could not completely lower my guard.
"Is there any reason I should tell you that?"
So I turned my head away from him and answered coldly.
There was no reason to tell someone who was practically a complete stranger.
[Is it because you want your parents' attention?]
"?!"
'Can this person really read my mind?'
At the words written in the sketchbook thrust abruptly before me again, I bit my lower lip and turned to glare at him—then flinched and leaned back slightly.
His face was closer than I had expected.
Thinking about it calmly, if he had stretched out his arm to make the writing in the sketchbook visible from where I had turned my head, I should have expected his upper body to be close.
But the words he kept abruptly throwing at me had made calm judgment impossible.
Because I truly could not understand how he kept seeing through my thoughts.
It seemed impossible unless he knew me exceptionally well.
[It seems I was right.]
'...Just who is this person?'
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