Chapter Text
17 For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do.
Nanami felt him before he saw or touched him.
He recognized the footsteps that entered the church without needing to check his dress shoes, to make sure they were the same ones that always entered the church at exactly 9:42 pm; he felt his brown eyes whose tone should be the exact color of the branches of the tree where the damn apple was tasted, avoiding looking at the gaps that separated them before he himself looked through them to try to find them; may God forgive him for his choice of words, because he was already punished every day by himself, but the priest knew that the man kneeling on the other side of the confessional could only be someone sent from the darkest depths of Hell, because only that would explain his trembling hands, joined in the form of a prayer for those who would condemn him for eternity if he were being hasty.
Heavens, he hoped that was the case, because it was so much easier to admit to being tempted by evil, by what came to Earth with the morbid intention of haunting him, than to deal with the possibility that he was willing to contaminate an angel sent from Heaven with his own sin.
“Good night, Father,” the naturally deep voice reached his ears and forced him to close his eyes, taking a deep breath as if trying to fill the lack of sense in his mind with air in the lungs. It was already too familiar, from the deep timbre to the most subtle details such as which letters of the alphabet he unconsciously intoned more than the others, and yet it gave him goosebumps as if it were the first time he had heard it, leaving along with the words that danced on his tongue a thought spinning in the priest's head: would this be the voice that would welcome me to Paradise, if I were worthy of standing before the gates? The answer, somehow, was clear and ambiguous at the same time. That man was an angel, yes, he just couldn't tell if he was a Fallen One. He prayed so. “I hope I'm not bothering you with my presence here again.” A nasal laugh accompanied those words and Nanami's eyes opened immediately, attracted by the sound, searching between the triangular gaps that divided both spaces in the small confessional for any trace of a smile they could find. The distance, angle and low lighting did not allow him to find it. The priest pressed his joined hands together tighter, as if trying to suppress his own regret at not having seen him smile.
He cleared his throat, forcing himself to temporarily push those thoughts away — because he already knew they would come back — to clear his mind, actually processing what he had said. He repeated to himself: answer him, talk to him, but it was as if his body was shouting back, from the depths of his soul: go away, run away from him.
The internal chaos made him almost dizzy.
“Good evening, counselor,” he replied, trying to contain a grimace when he realized how broken his own voice sounded, as if his tongue had suddenly become very dry and his throat was sore, even though he was not thirsty and perfectly healthy.
Another nasal laugh from the lawyer, quieter than the other, but still loud enough that it echoed and rumbled inside the priest, shaking each of his pillars of sanity, as if threatening to make them crumble at any moment.
Even kneeling on a solid and stable surface, Nanami felt like he would fall into an abyss in the blink of an eye.
“I appreciate it, but I already told you don't need to call me that. I call you Father out of respect for the vocation you are exercising at this moment, the cassock you wear is part of your being. Outside the office, on nights like this, I'm no longer a lawyer, I'm as ordinary a man as anyone else. You can just call me Higuruma. Or Hiromi, if it doesn't sound too personal, but I believe that after so many late-night conversations, we can no longer consider ourselves mere strangers.”
“Hiromi…” Nanami repeated the word in a low whisper, feeling it burning on his tongue as if he were saying something profane out loud and the price was poison running down his throat. He didn't want to say it, but the name escaped his lips before he realized it was on the tip of his tongue, almost hypnotized, lost in a trance that clouded the logic of his thoughts and prevented him from clinging to reason. The priest held back a shuddering sigh, separating his hands so he could rub his palms on the robes of his cassock, wiping off the sweat that had accumulated on them. His face felt hot, but his insides felt even hotter, as if everything inside him was burning. Could it be the flames of Hell consuming him? He told himself that he was afraid of fire, but Nanami couldn't escape the satisfaction of burning like that, as if the heat was welcomed by his body in the cold church, even if what was left of reason begged him to throw himself into a frozen lake and put out those flames. “I… I understand. I think it's best for both of us to keep things formal, counselor. It's how... things should be.”
It was the first time that night that he was mentally thankful for the low probability of Hiromi being able to see him on the other side of the confessional, because he was sure that his own expression was at that moment as pathetic as his tone of voice sounded when he answered him. Nanami took another deep breath, lifting his head upward, as if expecting to find God judging him for his behavior, but nothing but the wood on top of the confessional filled the view. Still, he searched for the divine figure through it, asking in a silent cry for Him to guide him towards the light once again and not allow him to get lost in the shadows, as he finally asked:
“Have you come to confess your sins before Christ and seek redemption once again, counselor Higuruma?”
He still remembered the first night.
Two months ago, precisely at 9:42 pm, a man entered the church, seeming to carry the weight of the world on his crestfallen shoulders, hours after mass had ended. Nanami might not remember all the names, but he recognized all the faces and was sure it was the first time this particular man had set foot in that church. Still, he kept his gaze down, didn't raise his head to look around and didn't even move towards the altar, which was where normally lost souls at that time of day would go without hesitation, seeking to vent to God. Instead, he made his way to the confessional, knelt down, and patiently waited. As he would do with anyone else seeking support, even though the time available to the public for confessions had already passed, Father Nanami joined him on the other side and waited for his confession.
Oh, God, he should have understood the signs, but his genuine desire to welcome others accumulated in his heart at that moment was more intense than the clarity in his mind to analyze between the lines of the situation he was about to be part of. If the evil temptation awaited him inside that confessional, why, God, didn't you stop me from going to it? The question echoed in his mind, but Nanami knew that it had already been answered long ago, after all it was his own steps and his good will that embraced sin, there was no one to blame but himself.
On the first night, Hiromi Higuruma seemed as human as anyone else.
A tired lawyer with a tendency to overwork himself for a noble cause, similar to his own: helping others. That night, Higuruma said that he wasn't sure why he went to church that day; apologized for his next words, assuring him that they would only be pure sincerity without the desire to offend, but he also said that he was not a man of faith and that, despite not disagreeing with those who did so, he did not truly believe in the Divine, which was not a surprise, it was far from being the first case of the type that Nanami had dealt with, and just like everyone else, instead of going to judging him without knowing his reasons for such thought or insisting so he start to believe in what did not make sense to him, Nanami asked him what he believed that had led him to the confessional. Higuruma was silent for about a minute before saying in a lower tone of voice than he had heard before that, for the first time in a while, he would like to be heard by someone who would listen to him without judgment, literally and metaphorically speaking.
Nanami made himself available to be that someone, not knowing that while he was saving someone else's soul, he was condemning his own.
The priest remembered every word — the summary of who he was and the profession he practiced, the outburst about the country's judicial system and the corruption involved, the impossible cases he took on because, if it weren't for him, no one else would, and he was too weak to pretend not to see a hand reaching out in his direction; he remembered how his deep voice sounded so exhausted as he talked about the judgement that same day, where his client, even though proven innocent, had received a life sentence simply because the system needed someone to blame for the crime committed, and how this sequence of difficult days, verdicts bought by rich prosecutors and the clients' desolate looks in his direction after hearing their sentences, were leaving him on the edge.
He confessed to feeling guilty about the cruel fate he handed his clients. He did not come seeking divine forgiveness, but understanding from someone who was a source capable of illuminating even the darkest of hearts. Hiromi asked the priest to clear him of the accusations he made, or at least to declare a sentence so that he would stop feeling so miserable.
Nanami remembered every moment that followed that one, but still, somehow, the sequence of events seemed cloudy in his mind. Would it be shame? Repudiation? Fear? It no longer mattered, not when, regardless of the reason, the priest had embraced the sin, consoled it, delivered a piece of peace through Christ's teachings, humanized by himself, explained with patience so that even those without faith could understand the seriousness behind the words. The man who shuffled into that church as if he carried a weight greater than he could bear on his shoulders left it with more confident steps, leaving behind a sincere thank you and taking with him the understanding that, even if he didn't believe in what existed above, he was welcome in God's house when his own suffocated him once again.
Higuruma returned the following night.
And in the other.
And the next one.
It had become part of the priest's daily routine to kneel in the confessional with that lawyer and listen to his outbursts, promptly at 9:42 pm. Little by little, he came to know more about who he was beyond the office, a lonely man who believed he had no life of his own outside of work. Patient, understanding and extremely kind, also convinced of his own abilities, very intelligent logically but oblivious to what involved other feelings, his own and others, it was the observations that began to condemn the priest.
Because Hiromi Higuruma was genuinely a good man, confessing and taking the blame for sins that were never his.
And Kento Nanami, the priest of that church on the far side of the big city, the man who dedicated his life to Christ and promised from a young age to remain pure in His name, was tempted to taste the sin he always tried to avoid. Because of him.
His dilemmas, certainties, likes and dislikes, the genuine desire to keep his eyes open so that those lost were found in the chaotic crowd and were guided to the correct path through his actions; the deep tone of voice, the eloquence of his well-thought out words, the suit perfectly fitted to his body, the tired eyes that looked at him with such intensity through the cracks at the right moments and at the church when he was about to leave it once again... Heavens, the more he got to know Higuruma, the more Nanami felt like corrupting every bit of him. It was a nameless but undeniable desire, a will so primitive and intense that there was no explanation for its existence other than the certainty that it was the Devil himself tempting him. It had to be. The priest couldn't bear the idea of feeling that way for someone who never intended to make him suffer, it would be cruel if it were like that, an inhuman joke, the flames of Hell forming the shape of a smile to mock him.
He needed Hiromi to be an envoy from the furthest place in Hell, because, if he weren't, may God one day forgive him for his growing desire to make him burn so much so that he felt there.
“I'm not sure if we can call this a confession, I think it's more like… getting something off my chest,” Higuruma replied, bringing him back to reality. Nanami ran a hand through his hair, taking the blonde strands back in an attempt to reduce some of the growing heat in the confessional, even though it was a very cold environment, but the same straightened strands returned to their previous positions soon after, so the priest just contained a low sigh and clasped his hands in his own lap, muttering in a hoarse voice a “Continue, please” to the lawyer. He continued: “I've been thinking about our last few conversations and your suggestion to explore small changes in routine so that I can find new personal tastes, and be more than… Well, a lawyer. Establishing a fixed time in the day to enjoy nature, as you suggested, has cleared my mind, so I imagine that looking for more things like that will make me feel better about myself.” The silence lasted for about two minutes until Higuruma broke it again, his tone a little lower than before, as if contemplating: “There's a thought that won't leave my head…”
You won't get out of my head, the voice in Nanami's head replied mentally, before he could silence it. He brought his hands together again in the form of prayer, asking for silent forgiveness from whoever was listening at the top for letting himself get carried away like that.
“I am listening, counselor,” he encouraged him, the tip of his tongue passing through his dry lips shortly after. His throat still felt dry, the tongue was burning. It was as if with every word the lawyer spoke, Nanami felt warmer inside.
He would explode at any moment if he continued like this.
“My secretary was proposed this week,” Hiromi said slowly, as if he were choosing his own words carefully. He always did this, but this time, he seemed even more dedicated to this small role. For some reason, perhaps due to the deeper tone of voice or the mention of a marriage coming out of those lips, the priest felt a shiver run through his body, trailing down his spine. The hands clasped again in quiet prayer. “As you well know, I've never been in a relationship, I've always focused too much on my studies and the work I wanted to do, and simply having someone so close by my side wasn't necessary. It still doesn't. But…” Higuruma cleared his throat. Mentally, Nanami could clearly see the curve of the Adam's apple. He wanted to be seeing it with his own eyes again. “My secretary is a young woman, you see? She talks more than she should often and is still working on creating a filter for the things she says. I hear her say from time to time that she feels more willing when… she shares… intimate moments… with her boyfriend the night before. If you understand me. I wonder…” Nanami swallowed, feeling a drop of sweat slowly running down his forehead, on the side of his face that, even without being able to see it in a reflection, he was sure was dyed a notable shade of red. Silently, he clung to the crucifix hanging around his neck, making the sign of the cross with his hands and leaving a light kiss on the necklace at the end, begging in thought for God to notice his despair and give him the strength to deal with the flood of profane thoughts that, one by one, began to fill his mind. “I mean, I've been researching about it... There seem to be benefits to the act... Improved cardiovascular health, reduced stress... Maybe…” The priest made the mistake of trying to look at him through the cracks in the confessional. It was inevitable, like a calling he couldn't refuse. For the first time, the angle and lighting of the environment behind him were ideal so he could see Higuruma perfectly through the holes. The short strands of hair falling across his forehead, the pale skin, the eyes looking distractedly downwards as he spoke, the large nose... He asked God for help and, in response, the Devil seemed to have lured him into a trap. Nanami once again made the sign of the cross with his hands and cried out for divine forgiveness knowing that, even if he knew in advance that he would fall into the trap, he would choose to step on it willingly, even if it opened an abyss in the ground and took him directly to Hell. “Ah, why am I saying these things? Forgive me, it took me a while to process that among so many places to vent about this, I decided to do it in a church, where these words are considered a sin. I apologize, Father. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable, that wasn't my intention.”
As if he felt his upon him, Higuruma's gaze suddenly turned to the partition in the confessional, trying to look at the priest through it. Nanami looked away immediately, holding the crucifix tighter, begging the low lighting to be enough to hide his deplorable state.
He didn't know if he was still looking at him, but he felt his gaze burning over his entire body, as if, suddenly, he was completely exposed to him, even though practically every inch of his skin was covered by his cassock.
Whether he was an angel or a demon, Hiromi Higuruma was able to mess with his head to make him forget the difference between Heaven and Hell and feel willing to spend eternity in either one, as long as he was there.
“It's okay,” Nanami murmured, his own voice sounding as shaky as his hands were at that moment. He avoided looking at him at all costs. He couldn't. If he looked, he would no longer be able to look away, and only God would know what would happen next. Regardless of what it was, He would be ashamed. “It's more... normal than you think. That kind of confession, in this case. It's natural for you to feel tempted to... to perform this act... I... Please continue. I'm here to listen. No judgments.”
The lawyer sighed in relief. The priest turned over in his own shell, as if his soul were in the process of being torn apart.
“I don't have much to say about the subject, anyway. I'm not familiar with the topic and I believe I have to delve deeper into it to really understand what I want. As I said, I don't need this kind of… contact, I don't actively look for it, I just… I allowed myself to imagine once in my life whether it would be worth at least trying, analyzing the results of this. Maybe it would be useful,” Hiromi continued. Nanami's heart beat wildly inside his chest, competing with the rest of his body to decide who would run first. “I don't usually feel attracted to anyone, anyway. Despite this, I have a feeling that if it happened one day, it wouldn't just be limited to women, but men as well.” The priest shuddered. He closed his eyes tightly. He tried to make the sign of the cross once again, but his hands were shaking too much and they weren't obeying him correctly. Instead, he tightened his grip on the crucifix, placing another light kiss on it. Father, please, if this is a test, forgive me for failing. I don't know how much longer I can bear it. I am trying to resist sin. I'm trying so hard. Please understand that I am weak, and if I fail your test and get lost in the shadows, enlighten me and bring me back to the path I never wanted to leave. I beg you. “I understand that the union of these two things can be seen as… a great sin, from the church's point of view, but you know that I have no faith and, consequently, no fear of sinning, and if I have never indulged in… pleasures of the flesh with women, doing them with men in this context wouldn't be wrong, would it?”
Whether it was God's answer, a cry for help from his own core, dramatic exaggeration of the heart or simply what was left of the reasoning of his thoughts, Nanami didn't know, but three words were clear: I will die.
“Forgive me, I'm talking too much today and leaving little space for you to speak, I'm trying to fix this habit,” the lawyer said. Nanami lowered his gaze, carefully and slowly removing the crucifix from his neck, looking at it resting in his palms on his lap. His hands were still shaking, but for a different reason than before. “Anyway, despite not believing in the existence of a “right person”, I would like my first attempt in this direction to be made with someone considerably close, to make the moment more pleasant, as far as possible, but I have no friends and the people closest to me are my work colleagues, I have no interest in deepening my ties with them beyond the professional.” Higuruma laughed softly to himself and Kento was sure that no, he wouldn't die. In fact, he had never felt so alive before and perhaps that was precisely his disgrace. “Speaking these words out loud, I only realized now that the only person close to me is you, Father.”
Naivety.
There was nothing more than that and sincerity in Hiromi's choice of words. They were tempting, insinuating, but the priest already knew him well enough to recognize that the lawyer had no idea what they seemed to sound like in that context, implying that he was the only possible option to put his most profane desires into practice.
Hiromi was not an angel.
He wasn't a demon.
He was simply a man and the only dirty thing in that church from the beginning was Kento himself.
The priest gave the crucifix in his hands one last kiss, carefully resting it on a small hook inside the confessional so that it would hang and serve as evidence that he, at least, tried.
“I could,” he muttered, defeated. Surrendered. Surrendered to what everything in his existence begged him to do, even if it went against everything he had always followed.
Even if it would condemn him for eternity.
“Pardon me, Father?” Hiromi asked after a few moments of silence, confused.
Nanami stared at him across the confessional divider once again, through the holes in the wood carvings. He could still see him perfectly, so beautiful. So kind. So pure.
Father, I tried. I tried with all my being.
“I could give you what you want,” Nanami said, and didn't escape the lawyer's gaze when he met his own.
Higuruma's eyes widened, a reddish hue filling his cheeks, similar to what was on his own face until then. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if the words were lost on the way from his throat to the tip of his tongue, until he finally found them after a few tries:
“That…. Doesn't that go against your f—”
“Please, Hiromi.” For the first time, Nanami begged a man and not God, and it seemed like the right thing to do. His name seemed to have been created to be said for him; to be cried out to him. Perhaps, at the end of the day, Higuruma would be his salvation. “I don't know how I found myself in this state, I don't understand what you did to me, but if you really want to try, allow me to be the one to burn us both with the flames of sin. Please. I can't take it anymore.”
A wave of panic began to take over the priest's body as the lawyer's silence continued after his confession. Nanami's eyes widened, processing his own despair and how pathetic he must have seemed in front of a man who had come seeking nothing but understanding from him that night.
“I… Oh, God, forgive me. I let myself be carried away by these… thoughts… I shouldn't have… Higuruma, by God, I apologize, I… Please disregard these words. I didn't intend to…”
“No…” it was Hiromi's turn to murmur as if he were in a trance, staring at a new horizon opened before his eyes, interrupting him. His gaze never leaving Nanami’s. “I… I want it.”