I’ll only consider the second vote after there’s a winner for the first one. This is because different characters react to situations in their own way. And things can play out in varied depending on the choices made. And so only in effect you’re only voting to stay or go with that particular character.

“You’re staring at me like a lost soul, is something the matter?” she asks softly, her voice preternaturally soft, almost lost in the background noise. Typical of her, she is concerned for you. Caring, perhaps a little more so than was warranted for an initial exchange. You know that her words were meant for you alone but, should they have been heard by others, it would not displease her.

“Nothing is the matter,” you tell her with a smile. “I’m glad to see you, that’s all.”

She scans your face with an unguarded smile. As usual, you can’t tell what she’s thinking. Those soft but intense eyes of hers seem to absorb all your thoughts. They fill with a fantastic energy, irrepressibly positive, as she reaches a conclusion. “And I’m glad to see you,” she says with a nod, “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“Not at all, I’ve only just arrived,” you tell her, gears whirring in your head.

If you’re at a slight loss for words, it’s only natural.

Anyone would be having a hard time centering himself if he saw her as she was now: the clothes she normally wore—flowing, thick and comparatively plain—were nowhere to be seen. In their stead, she wore something light and nimble, a tone in between lilac and a misty blue but with hints of ochre near the final hem at the bottom. In the dark of evening, it seemed to make her seem otherworldly, so was the way that light shimmered ever so slightly off the fabric. It was sleeveless, at top ending with delicate crisscrossed straps, and showed off her long and dignified arms. The material was smartly cut and sown, betraying no obvious lines where the fabric had been stitched together. It was neither too form-fitting or loose, instead subtly accentuating hips and bosom without drawing too much attention to either. The dress ended without scandal, sensibly, at knee-height where it was hemmed with a soft-looking frills with a white fabric.

In a word, she was stunning.

And you aren’t the only one to notice. A look so universal that it’s difficult to misinterpret came from the other men in the room. They each asked themselves who was this long-haired beauty? And who was that lucky fool who was with her? You have to admit that it feels good to goad just a little bit.

Byakuren starts again, trying to say something about the wait ahead of you. But you have other plans. “It looks like we may be waiting a while yet,” you tell her, trying to sound cool and collected, “would a change of plans be alright with you?”

It takes a simple nod for you to see that she doesn’t mind the alterations. As it’s spontaneous, you don’t have anything particularly in mind but it doesn’t seem that she minds. You exchange a few words about what kind of food she prefers as you walk from the restaurant towards your home. The lights and excitement die down as the village is mostly quiet. Barely any shops would still be open and most people would be gathered in their homes or at a bar. You look at the nearby park and almost think of walking alongside it, to set a mood. But there’s little point to that and navigating the maze of similar-looking homes takes more precedence.

Your home is on the second floor of the store your family runs. There’s no one else living there at the moment and so you lead the way confidently, biding her to follow. There’s not much to impress a guest, either, as the living quarters of a single man tends to place a premium on practicality. The small table you keep by the rear window has a view out towards the direction of the fields and lake. It’s a cozy little nook that you love best during rainy days and one that will do nicely for this encounter. You light a few candles and ask forgiveness for the messy state of the other rooms. If she has any objections, she keeps them to herself, politely telling you that it’s quite alright and that she’s more than happy to be seated there.

You leave the door to the small kitchen open as you talk to her. Pangs of anxiety strike as you as you talk to her, trying to keep her entertained as you get to work. Not having anything prepared beforehand, you can’t help but feel on some level that asking her to your home was too rash a decision. She is patient, yes, but there is little to build up an atmosphere as you need to start the cooking process. Music would have been a nice touch, if you could somehow had managed it. You open up a bottle of wine that was gifted to you long ago and pour her a drink. An appetizer, you explain, while offering her a few simple rice crackers. She thanks you and tells you to sit down for a moment so that you may enjoy a glass together.

It’s strange seeing her like this. Her normal good nature shines through with the casual smile she shows after she takes a sip from the wine. Candlelight casts a few shadows on her face, making it so a contrast forms with some of her more feminine features, like her long eyelashes and the rest of her face. There’s nothing about her that says holy woman or monk—besides the dress that would be inappropriate for meditation, the lack of prayer beads makes her seem less like that inspirational leader and more like, well, a normal woman. The long strands of her hair were more than ever interesting to look at, the transition between darker and lighter color all the more alluring. The casual, unpretentious nature of her appearance made her all the more striking.

“You’re staring again,” she says with a light giggle, before bringing the glass closer to her lips again. It was then you notice something that you have never seen on her before—lipstick. It was a fleshy, between yellow and pink tone but one that added more to the contrast that you had been observing. It complemented both dress and hair, an in-between that made you focus and almost obsess. But, staring was rude.

“Sorry, I’m just thinking about how lucky I am to have you here, “you say, doing your best not to scratch your head in awkward reflex. “You look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you, “ she replies with a nod, once again doing a good job of looking humbled by my attention. “I was worried that it was perhaps too much,” she explained, swirling the dark liquid in her glass in front of the candlelight and watching it refract the light, “it took me a long while to decide what to were and a lot longer to make all the necessary adjustments.”

“They were worth the wait,” you say, pushing aside the ever-present anxiety inside you. “It’s the first time I see you dressed up and I don’t think it’s possible for you to make a better impression than you have already.” It’s an awkward sentence and sentiment both, but it feels like you could die happy after tonight.

“They’ll be glad to hear it,” she says softly, “ever since they learned of our plans, they insisted I try to look as pretty as possible.” Byakuren laughs, adding “I honestly thought they went too far in places with some of the things they made me try,”

“Ah, so all the others-?” you think about who she could mean. That priest-in-training, the other youkai in the temple… those were the likeliest suspects. You would thank them silently if you weren’t also sure that they may have perverted Byakuren’s expectations by being too eager to help out.

“If you are enjoying my look, I suppose it was worth it, “ she says, “but I’m really not vain to begin with… obsessing about looks has always seemed like a folly.”

Her words enough to remind you of her true nature, that of a the leader of a temple. It tenses you up, as you’re not quite sure how to break the ice between you anymore. You excuse yourself in order to continue cooking, not before adding, “I would have been happy to see you even if you had just shown up in your normal clothes.”

“Maybe, but change can be a good thing sometimes,” she says. “Though I do feel a little self-conscious about this dress. I’m tempted to meditate and forget all early desires just to put myself at ease.”

“Oh, you better not do that,” you joke, “I’d hate to see you not try my meal.”

“Don’t worry, I’m open to all sorts of new experiences tonight,” she says casually, softly, her words once again almost lost before they reach your ears. A nearly impossible feat given how quiet an evening it is. You try not to look at her, aware that your mind has already gone to places which may not be entirely appropriate. It is unlikely that she means it in the way you may wish in your heart of hearts she does.

You keep quiet, steadily chopping and preparing as best you can. On such short notice, without much in the way of ingredients, you settle for a simple but hearty stew. It’s something that you feel that you can make well and not something that’s easy to mess up.


After you refill her glass with some more wine and join her to talk some more, you think a little about your present relationship. There’s tension in the air and some of that is due to your history your history together. Another part of it is how events culminated in this date.

[] Your mutual friends thought it’d be a good idea to prod you two along, since a combination of shyness and dedication to work made it frustrating for them to watch. So they orchestrated this date.
[] After spending a long time studying under her at the temple, and one time witnessing her use of magic, you made her promise to indulge for an evening if you made significant progress in your studies.

Byakuren relaxes her shoulders and stares out the window, “There’s a good smell coming from the kitchen. Most of my meals are simple and plain so it’s interesting to try something different for a change.”

[] You’re not sure it’ll be to her taste since you mostly cook only for yourself but you’re sure she’ll understand it’s the thought that counts.
[] You’ve tried your best and are confident it’ll be great; it’s the only reason why would have dared invite her home to begin with.

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Pick one from each. I picked whatever the hell I felt like, next time try not to leave it tied because I'll take that as an excuse not to write. Happy Valentine's day, chucklefucks.

It’s difficult to be too confident around her. Frankly, it’s even somewhat intimidating to be together like this. The dim lights and the physical proximity are best summed up as generating an air of intimacy—it threatens to overwhelm what little presence of mind you have managed to cobble up. It feels like you’re quickly running out of boldness, most of it having been used to ask her out in the first place.

Still, somehow… somehow you ignore the cold feeling in your hands and dry fluff of cotton in your mouth and make conversation, “don’t worry,” you tell her with what you hope is not a weak smile, “it may not look like it, but I’m fairly confident about my skills when it comes to cooking.”

“Is that so?” she asks with polite interest, peering past her half-empty glass and at your face.

“Sure, I like to try out all sorts of new things whenever I get the chance,” you confess, explaining, “cooking is a bit of a hobby, actually. I’m not really restricted to any one style and, while I’m not the best, I’m confident that I’m better at it than most people. I wouldn’t have invited you over if I didn’t think I’d make a good impression.”

“Hm,” she nods but offers no additional feedback, a thoughtful look on her face. Whether she’s impressed at seeing this side of you or merely being polite, you’re not too sure.

It’s not like you can offer much in the way of followup.

There’s things that need doing in the kitchen and you depart to mind the meal. A moment of carelessness can mean a burn sauce or a dry piece of meat. Not that you have to worry about things too much—because you weren’t exactly expecting to cook for anyone tonight, you didn’t have much at hand. As a result you’ve gone with something simple, savory and difficult to mess up: a hearty soup with root vegetables and mushrooms. It may not pair well with the wine and it may not be visually impressive, but you’re certain that the range of flavors from the different vegetables will win her over. There is no meat at all, in part because you don’t really have any and in part because you’re fairly certain that she is a vegetarian. Didn’t she not drink either? You furrow your brows and think about that inconsistency. You mustn’t be remembering things properly since she clearly is enjoying the wine. Silly thing to worry about, anyhow.

There’s some doubt as to how well things are going. Once ready, you serve out the soup and bring it out. Byakuren compliments you on your effort and looks at the food with interest, reciting a short prayer of thanks for the meal. Though warm and compassionate, she isn’t exactly transparent. It’s difficult to gauge what she’s really thinking but you do enjoy the small talk, nods and light jokes you exchange over the course of eating. As a teacher she is patient and encouraging, flexible and understanding. As a woman… well, the small steps you’re taking now are beginning to show something of a different picture. The promise you made her make, about rewarding you for your efforts, you are beginning to think that perhaps it wasn’t as much of an obligation for her as you feared.

Though, yes, you think that most people would consider talking to her agreeable and her teachings emphasize equality and community, there is more beyond all that. She is stubborn in her own way, you know that, given that it took you a lot of effort to get her to take you under her wing. She was happy to welcome you to the temple but she was too wrapped up in her own duties to think about giving you any special attention. She’s a leader, confident and supposed to be above petty concerns. There’s passion in her work that’s not easily deterred. There is a more vulnerable side, also, one that is more indulgent. She may have initially acted like guiding you was just another one of her duties, but you began to feel a certain unspoken bond forming between you that didn’t exist for the rest of the believers.

It’s something that’s become more apparent outside of the usual setting of the temple. You find that there there’s some role reversal here with your confidence and your conversation steering the course of the evening. Hope wells within as you fantasize that perhaps her relative bashfulness is an effect of the circumstances. At the same time, you dismiss thoughts about perhaps pushing too hard as you are certain that she wants to be here and with you. She is strong-willed enough to have dashed your hopes entirely when you proposed she favor you with a date in exchange for showing a lot of progress. It therefore also feels legitimate to hear her praise for the food and comparing your diligence to cooking to the studies of philosophy and magic.

You realize later that letting you take charge and being generous with the praise was also her way of rewarding you. It’s her way of letting you show more of your personality and relaxing while also giving you a chance to peer behind the amiable mask she almost always wears at the temple and at her real thoughts. She finds you interesting, stimulating and whatever else or you wouldn’t be with her right now. She sips the last of her wine and then watches you eat the last of the soup. An almost divine glow has taken hold across her cheeks. It such that, if you didn’t know better, could be described as more radiant than the candlelight.

“It’s nice to see you smile so much,” she notes. The implicit comparison is to other times, when you’re normally engrossed in lessons.

“It’s hard not to, since you’re here with me,” you say. Trite but true.

She apparently has been thinking along the same lines as you have and adds, “among all the people who come to the temple, you’re one of the most hardworking. I sometimes have worried that a lack of moderation might burn you out.”

“I’m sure that if I did, you would know how to revive me in short order,” you say, making a reference to her very ambiguous powers.

“Seeing the look on your face, I can’t help but feel that there’s some sort of indecent implication behind that statement,” she winks, like it wouldn’t be altogether unwelcome if true.

“Please don’t tease me like that,” you laugh, trying not to take her words too seriously lest your imagination go wild. “If the others heard you say something like that I think they'd die from the shock.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” she says with a light chuckle, “It wouldn’t do for the head priest to talk about carnal desire, right?” Her question sits there for a moment, not really looking for a reply. A coy smile forms on her lips, made all the more adult by the exotic lipstick. She sighs and sways her head from side to side sofly, adding, “I suppose this will have to be our little secret. You can keep secrets, right?”

“You know I can,” you do some teasing of your own, “after all, I haven’t told anyone about the magic I saw you perform.”

“It’s your fault for walking in on me in the first place,” she sighs, failing to convince you that she’s sorry that the incident happened in the first place. After all, if not for that, you wouldn’t be here together now.

Byakuren has let down some of the barriers that separate her from most of her acquaintances. You’re not certain how much you’ve personally had to do with that and how much of it boils down to the change of environment. It’s hard to keep the ball rolling since you don’t really want to dominate every conversation and bore her. You know that it’s unlikely she’ll reject any of your thoughts outright but you want to continue opening her heart and mind up as much as is possible.

[] Talk about shared interests and experiences, such as your private lessons.
[] Focus on something wholly different. Talk of dreams and hopes for the future.

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Happy White Day! I'm sure most of you have had their fill of chocolates and candy from loved ones. I can't really offer anything like that to you. So, instead, here's this courtesy update.