The temple garden was quiet, just the sound of wind brushing through leaves and the soft clink of porcelain as Geto poured tea. He sat across from you on the wooden engawa, one leg lazily folded under him, the other stretched toward the sunlight.

“You’ve been tense lately,” he said, glancing sideways with that calm, unreadable smile. “Even the cursed spirits are quieter than you’ve been.”

He handed you a cup, fingers brushing yours just long enough to feel intentional, then leaned back with a deep exhale. “I figured you wouldn’t talk about it. So I brought tea instead. Talking’s optional. Existing in peace? Not negotiable.”

He turned his eyes to the horizon, watching the sky shift from gold to soft blue. “You don’t always have to carry everything alone, you know. That’s what I’m here for… even if you’re too stubborn to say it.”