Eidolon

Warning (PG16)

This episode contains adult themes. Reader discretion recommended.

Shrine Dinner

The wind in the mountains had teeth this evening, a needling cold that slipped beneath Rei’s coat as she climbed the final steps to the Oni stone shrine. At the top Reon’s silhouette emerged, perfectly poised, as though he had always been waiting.

“Welcome Kitsu”, his voice rolled out warm and measured, indifferent to the evening’s biting breeze. Rei lowered her eyes and bowed out of ritual necessity, “Ceremonial Master.” When she looked up again, he was standing closer, his blue eyes shining. Reon’s hand came up, his knuckles brushing her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw. The touch was deceptively gentle, a master’s caress meant to soothe and claim in the same breath.

He leaned in, his presence enveloping her, as his lips met hers. They were soft and warm, a stark contrast to the chilling wind. A flicker of heat, undeniable and treacherous, sparked within her. But it was immediately doused by a cold wave of memory: the kiss he had forced upon her in front of Takumi, the sickening thuds of his fists meeting Takumi’s blocking arms, the sight of the deep, mottled bruises that had painted Takumi afterward. Her body, which had begun to thaw for a treacherous second, went rigid. She held herself perfectly still, a statue in his arms, her lips a firm, unyielding line against his.

Reon hummed against her mouth, the vibration a blend of displeasure and amusement. He pulled back just enough to see her face. Her eyes were open, glittering with anger and stubborn resistance. She was rejecting him out of a loyalty he found both irritating and commendable. “So pouty,” he murmured, his thumb stroking her bottom lip, “Your spirit is a fire I enjoy, Kitsu. But remember, fire should be banked and controlled.”

He did not press further. Instead, he released her, turning with a fluid grace that seemed to mock the tension thrumming through her. “Come along, my stubborn concubine,” he said, his voice a soft command that carried easily on the thin mountain air. He began to walk toward the shrine’s entrance, not looking back, utterly confident that she would follow. Naturally she did. Obedience was a clear path to survival, and Rei was only just beginning to learn the rules of the Oni games she was now forced to play.

He led her through the main ceremonial hall with the stone pillars. Rei expected to see the usual pot of tea waiting there, but there was none. “I’ll show you another section of the shrine on our way to the house”, Reon casually explained, leading her through a new hallway and into the shrine’s garden grounds.

Lanterns swayed on chains around them, their flames trembling in the wind. Rei followed Reon across a short wooden bridge that arched over a pond, the surface black as oil. The water was so still it reflected the lanterns like wounds of gold. He stopped there, waving her closer, inviting her to observe the fish. She drifted close, her eyes fixed on the dark water and the colorful shapes swimming there.

Reon was silent, a statue of observation, his gaze not on the pond but on her. For a long moment, the only sounds were the wind sighing through the pines and the soft weave of koi’s tails. Rei tried to maintain her reluctantly obedient posture, but the fish were mesmerizing. A white one with a single splash of orange like a setting sun cut through the water, its path serene and purposeful. Her shoulders, held tight, relaxed. An entertained smile blossomed on lips before she could suppress it.

She felt the weight of his stare and her eyes met his’ across the pond’s reflective surface. In the dim, dancing light, the shape of his eyes, the angle of his jaw; for a heart-stopping second, it was Karasu looking back at her. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips, soft as a prayer.

Reon’s smile was immediate and bitter-sweet. He knew that gasp wasn’t for him. It was a ghost, summoned by a familiar face. In order to bring the focus back to present circumstances, he decided to break the spell. “Are you pouting over Takumi?” he asked, his voice cutting through the chill air. Rei turned fully to face him, her expression carefully neutral. 

“May I answer honestly, Ceremonial Master? Or will my honesty be used as grounds for further punishment?” she inquired cautiously. He contemplated her, the lantern light carving planes of shadow and gold on her face. “A good concubine always chooses her words with caution”, he said, “I’m feeling curious. So please, do tell the truth.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, suspicious of his phrasing, but she let out a long, controlled breath. “Then I will answer,” she began, her tone measured, “I dutifully accept my disciplinary… lessons from you, but my true repentance is for Takumi. If my penalties from you involve… being embraced by you in his presence, and you beating him black and blue… then my path to earning his forgiveness becomes endless. What you’re noticing is less a pout, and more a plea for the ability of my eventual atonement.”

Reon laughed, a low, rich sound that seemed to please the night. He enjoyed her response, how she had carefully wrapped a critique of his actions in a plea for her own journey to redemption. “A clever and respectful phrasing,” he complimented, “You’re improving—taming your insurrection at least partially. Come now.” He gestured for her to follow as he led her along a gravel path that wound past a pristine zen garden, raked into perfect concentric circles. They entered another hall, this one open on one side, ending with the familiar wooden beam bridge that arced over the steep mountain cliffs, leading to his house.

As they walked, his voice carried back to her, “My job isn’t just to punish you, Kitsu. I’m also tasked with punishing Takumi for his negligence. He branded you without teaching you, gave you a weapon without showing you how to hold it. That’s a failure in itself.” He offered no apology, no promise of future gentleness. He simply stated the facts of his role, the cold mechanics of the Oni machine.

They were almost at the door to his house when he paused, his hand on the wooden frame, and half-turned to her. “Though I’ll admit,” he said, his tone heating ever so slightly, “I want more time with you Kitsu. You show great potential… with the proper schooling in the Iron Oni ways, you could become a truly great concubine.” With that Reon slid open the door to his home and stepped inside. Warmth spilled out, carrying the scent of cedar and toasted rice. The interior was as Rei remembered: minimal, traditional, with tatami mats, low tables and the glow of paper lamps. A place built for meditation, discipline, seduction.

“Shoes,” he reminded her softly. Rei stepped out of her heels, letting her bare feet sink into the tatami. He gestured toward the kitchen alcove, “I look forward to more of your food.” She blinked, trying to subdue her excitement at the prospect of cooking, “What would you like?”

“Kimchi jjigae”, he smiled and handed her an apron; linen, unbleached, soft with years of use. She threw it on, fastening it hurriedly at her back. His kitchen was immaculate like last time, arranged with almost military precision. Reon moved behind her as she washed her hands; too close, his breath grazing the edge of her hair. He untied her loosely bound apron, pulling her close as he tightened it around her waist, tying a perfect bow. She felt his muscular body perfectly mold against her back, his hands on her hips, his nose in her hair as he breathed in her scent. Rei exhaled shakily, closing her eyes in an attempt to compose herself, biting her bottom lip to choke a moan of pleasure threatening to escape.

“Hhmmm…”, his hum brushed her spine. “When did you first learn Korean cooking?” he asked softly, moving away. “Chochin Row,” she whispered, her voice more heated and husky than she wanted it to be, “One of the hostesses at the Den was from Seoul. She shared some tips and tricks.” Rei began assembling ingredients, kimchi, tofu, scallions and pork belly. As the pot heated, she felt Reon’s presence settle beside her. He wasn’t touching her, but she felt examined on a molecular level. “I looked into your Italian family”, he said suddenly, oddly amiable. Rei froze for a fraction of a second, her knife hovering above the cutting board, “…why?”

Reon stepped around the kitchen island, settling in front of her, sidestepping her question entirely, “Your mother’s family is fascinating. Fractured, talented. A line of artisans, thieves, lovers – a little crafty, a little aristocratic, a little mad…”, he tilted his head, “Do you know any of it?” Rei stirred the pot, letting the steam rise as a shield, “My mother never really talked about her family.” Reon leaned on the counter, watching her face more than the food, “Then allow me to reveal a truth or two.” She swallowed, “Are these revelations from you… free? I don’t feel like owing you more favors.”

“Wise inclination, but that has nothing to do with curiosity”, his blue eyes glinted, “You are a woman shrouded in obscurities; lost family, lost histories, old secrets. It makes you pliable in some ways and dangerous in others.” Rei’s pulse jumped; annoyance, fear, something else tangled beneath, “You don’t know me Reon.”

“Oh Kitsu”, his tone was velvety, “It’s my responsibility to know.” She stirred the ingredients harder than necessary. Reon folded his arms leisurely, “If you wish, I can tell you what your mother hid from you… the reasons she ran.” Rei looked up, finally meeting his gaze, “And why would you do that?” His expression changed slowly, becoming coaxing. “Because,” he mumbled, “unlike Kumi, I prefer an informed concubine… one who understands both her power – and her weaknesses.”

The kettle hissed, the pot simmered and Rei’s heartbeat felt too loud in her ears. Focusing on the food, she set the steaming bowls on the low dining table, the fragrance of kimchi and pork belly filling the wooden house. Cooking often did that to her; pulled her back to a cramped kitchen in Chochin Row, to the sound of her mother chatting over a pan, to the rhythm of knives and the language of ingredients. Even here, in this shrine on a foreign mountain, food felt like her element, her language, her mother’s too. She finished preparing the rest of their meal, setting the table with a few side dishes in concentrated silence.

Reon knelt by the table, taking the seat across from her with quiet elegance. He took the first bite without ceremony. His eyes softened. “Excellent Kitsu, this is delicious”, he murmured, then added, “Your mother was a better chef than she received credit for in Mirage. Did you know she graduated from one of the best cooking schools in Italy?” Rei stilled, “You looked into that too?”

“I look into everything,” Reon declared, “It’s my nature… and my trade.” Then he went into an intentional silence; the kind hunters use when the bait has already been laid. Rei ate slowly, refusing to break. The spicy broth warmed her throat, her hands, the cold edges of her nerves. Reon didn’t rush, didn’t fill the space with talk; he watched her, waiting for her interest to swell into discomfort.

She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. “So…”, she said, feigning casualness, “how long have you practiced the Iron Oni Fist?” Reon lifted an eyebrow at her chosen subject, “Since I was sixteen.” Rei coughed, almost choking on her jjigae, reluctantly impressed, “That’s early for a covert discipline…” Reon smirked, “Yes it is.” She took another bite, reluctant to praise him further, “Did your father teach you?”

His smirk shifted to something fainter, “My family history isn’t interesting, not like yours.” Rei didn’t flinch, instead she sipped her broth quietly and kept steering the conversation, “This shrine… do all Ceremonial Masters keep personal temples in remote mountains, or is that just your flair?” Reon’s laugh was soft, “Ask the Oni about Oni things, and they won’t answer. Ask the Oni about yourself…”, his gaze sharpened, “and they will offer you irresistible secrets.” She ignored the bait, “This place is beautiful, serene. Very unlike Mirage City.” Reon’s patience was thinning, but he respected her obstinate refusal to take his bait all the same. “Mirage is noise,” he commented, “This shrine is the absence of it.” Still he waited, still she stalled.

“I must admit Reon, I’m pleasantly surprised that this disciplinary dinner is mainly conversational. I had expected more of…”, she paused, then pressed on, blushing, “…last time your flavor of discipline was more… intimate in nature – or was that just your initial preference?”

Reon set his chopsticks down with deliberate calm. “Kitsu Kitsu Kitsu,” he hummed, voice low, “your stubbornness is admirable, but I know how curiosity behaves in the end.” Her pulse ticked faster. He didn’t fall into her trap, didn’t dive into sexual tension. Reon knew he had her interest; he wouldn’t let her redirect their attention with temptation, although his pupils’ dilation revealed interest.

Rei exhaled through her nose, placing her bowl down carefully. “Fine, you win”, her voice reluctant, “Please tell me what you found out about my mother’s family?” Reon leaned back, victory glinting in his eyes; not gloating, but satisfied like a man who had just landed the perfect strike.

“I would love to,” he smiled, “But knowledge has a price.” Rei’s jaw tensed. Reon tapped the table lightly. “What’s your price?” she asked cautiously. “A simple favor,” Reon promised, “Nothing that harms you.” Rei stared at him, attempting to read him, unsure if he would lie. “I’ll only accept the cost,” she said slowly, “if the favor is more cooking.”

Reon blinked. Then, abruptly, he laughed; a genuine, warm laugh that cut through the stillness. “Very well, Kitsu”, his smile curved cunningly, “Then your favor will be this: you will cook me something of your choosing – in Mirage City.” Rei’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. She had assumed he could never leave the shrine, like a sacred living effigy. Nodding in agreement, a small knot started stirring in her stomach, “Okay. Deal.”