The Man of Faith

**Date Started:** November 29, 2021
**Date Completed:** Ongoing
**Previous Role-Play**: N/A
**Next Role-Play**: N/A
**Users Involved:** Berserkchart486
**Setting:** Kyoto, Japan
**Characters Involved**: Abraham Lewinsky

## Shadow of the Achaemenid

Not many people wanted to be professors, in terms of the profession and the responsibilities. Most just wanted the title. They wanted to tell people that they were just glorified teachers. Afterall, it did have that fanfare of intelligence, yet compassion. You were smarter than the normal teacher, but you still wanted to do your part in the world and help educate the next class, and all that. Abraham was no different. He did it for the women. For some reason, he thought women loved professors. It was quite the opposite from what he was used to. In fact, it was very different.

It wasn’t that being dumb was something he was used to, but being a scholar was somewhat reserved for monks. Well, they weren’t even called monks then. The word he would have had for him didn’t exactly translate over well, but that was because the concept of it didn’t really exist until after well…he was gone. See, Abraham was old, even if he didn’t look it, but that was because of the nature of his spirit. He was human, but different. Most people probably heard that before though, but he really meant it.

“Mr. Lewinsky.”

Abraham glanced up from his book, not that he was reading it amidst his deep string of thoughts. His eyes caught the woman that called him. A slender, middle-aged woman, probably early forties, with a hacked bob that stretched over her left eye. Her hair was a bleached blonde, and she wore a sleeveless office pencil dress, with a black skirt. She was the epitome of a secretary, yet there was a certain glamour to her.

Abraham raised his hand. “Yes, that’s me.”

There were several other people beside him, all dressed in the same navy-blue suit that he wore, as if it was standard.

“You’re next. You can come back.”

He stood up from his chair, his towering figure enveloping the remainder of the candidates in his shadow, as he followed the woman back into an office.

She sat behind the desk, folding her leg across the other, before reaching and opening a folder.

“University of Tokyo for your Doctorate in Cultural Anthropology…it’s an impressive program.”

Abraham feigned a smile. “Thank you, Mrs….”

“Manabe,” she added. “I’m the head of the department here in Kyoto University.”

There was the awkward silence that proceeded.

I’ve been looking over your resume, and it’s exceptional to say the least. But I have concerns.”

He lifted his eyebrow. “Which are?”

“A lot of people from these high-profile schools have difficulties connecting with students. They often desire to spend more time committing research than educating,” she explained.

“Oh, I do understand that then,” Abraham replied. “A lot of my colleagues that I attended university with have decided to join museums, or famed expeditions; I’m more interested in actually teaching, strangely enough.”

She nodded. “I see by all of your references. But that’s where my concern lies. According to this, you speak well over ten different languages fluently. For what reason would you tie yourself up in education, Mr. Lewinsky.”

He smiled. “You can call me Abraham, Mrs. Manabe. You’re my senior.”

“I reserve a first name basis for my colleagues, Mr. Lewinsky,” she replied casually. Her tone was direct. “Now, let’s not get too far off subject. My question, Mr. Lewinsky.”

“Doctor,” he corrected.

The air was tense and fraught, the awkwardness revibrating throughout it like a shockwave in the quiet room.

Mrs. Manabe broke it with a chuckle. “Apologies, *Dr.* Lewinsky.”

Abraham narrowed his eyes. “Dr. Manabe,” he begun, “What is it that you want exactly?”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you invited me here to this interview, you know a lot about me, you’ve even spoken to my references already. From this conversation, I just…” he paused for a moment. “This doesn’t seem much like an interview as it does a cross-examination, a probe.”

Dr. Manabe nodded her head in agreement. “You’re as attentive as your record speaks for itself. I’ve already known about your discoveries, Dr. Lewinsky, during your years as a graduate student. Your ability to find artifact, lost ruins of ancient civilizations; the ability to read and *speak* Akkadian, which went extinct in the 8th century BC. Hell, you even can read the ancient Phoenician scripts that modern…”

She took a deep breath, pausing before she continued to ramble. “What I’m saying is that you have talents that literally no one else in the world has, Dr. Lewinsky. Let’s not waste it by using them to educate snobby undergraduate students who won’t even pay attention to your lectures.”

As the woman spoke, her hand slid over across the desk to Abraham’s own.

“I want you to be our head-research expert here at Kyoto University. We’re in dire need of something to push our anthropology program to the next level; that’s why I sought you out, requested to have your professors suggest interviewing with us.”

Abraham glanced down at his hand. “Y-yeah, I was trying to figure out exactly why they pushed Kyoto so much.

“I hope that isn’t…”

“It’s not,” Abraham replied quickly, sliding his hand away. He looked in a different direction, glancing towards the empty wall so that he didn’t make eye contact with her. “I…”

Dr. Manabe was almost flattered at his nervousness. “So~?”

“…..What are we talking about, salary-wise? This is quite a bit more work than just teaching, no? I should probably get compensated.”

“And you will,” she answered, sliding back in her chair to unveil a pamphlet. “You’ll be an associate professor in name, and your base pay will be approximately 600,000 Yen per month. But, as you can expect, we’ll be asking you to travel quite a bit, to various sites and various universities. We’ll need you to do lectures across the world, workshops, etc., so, we’ll also be simultaneously subsidizing your housing cost, and all your travel expenses, with rather generous stipends per trip. I wager that you’ll receive, by the end of your year, with your stipends approximately an additional 400,000 yen per month.”

She smiled. “Sounds like a great deal, doesn’t it?”

Abraham glanced back at her momentarily, before lowering his eyes to the floor. “Yes, of course it does, but that’s only because the department is going to make almost fifty times that from my lectures. How much are you outsourcing me for a single workshop?”

“About 230,000 yen per workshop. You’re quite popular, Dr. Lewinsky. You do realize that you simply being here is going to elevate our program quite a bit, right? I mean, let’s take this into consideration,” Dr. Manabe continued, pulling another paper from her folder. It was decorated with various graphs, projections, but, what she pointed out was enrollment.”

“You’re the only person in the world that knows a majority of the ancient, extinct languages native to the Mesopotamia. Aramaic, Old Persian, Akkadian, Median, Ancient Greek, Elamite…It was almost as if you lived amid the Achaemenians, Dr. Lewinsky, and you’ve never shared your secrets with anyone of how you’ve managed to perfect their tongue. Everyone is willing to visit here, to work here, just to inherit pieces, fragments of your wisdom. You will open up anthropological studies across the world, you know that?”

She stood up, spreading her arms out wide.

“You’re our golden b,” she paused. “No, you’re *my* golden boy, Abraham.”

Abraham stood up. “O-Okay, I’ll agree to it. Where do I sign?”

“Goodie!” she exclaimed, sliding a pen to him. “Sign here, and I’ll get everything in order. I look forward to working with you, Abraham.”

He stood up.

“My name is Yuki, Abraham.”

Abraham never looked back as he walked towards the door.

“Um, okay. Nice to meet you, Yuki.”

## Fragile Memories

It was not Abraham’s first-time visiting Kyoto, and it seemed that it would serve as a temporary city of residence for him, not that he anticipated spending much time in his home. He was set to meet Yuki again tomorrow to discuss in detail his responsibilities, and, by her admission, she was set to help him find residence. They wanted him to start immediately, so they’d push him through background, etc., It was all detailed in a text message that she sent him following his departure only an hour ago.

He exhaled deeply, either a sign of relief or exhaustion, perhaps a mixture of both, as he leaned his head against the headrest of his seat. The train he boarded was to take him down into the city; his hotel was there, but, more than anything, there was a famed ramen shop that he adored whenever he visited. It was unusual that he was an inhabitant of Japan, but he truthfully was never a huge fan of ramen of any kind. It was this place alone that could even garner him to try it.

*“Abraham…”*

*“Abraham!”*

*He glanced up from the newspaper, her long brown hair flapping carelessly in the wind.*

*“Hoy, my bad. What’s up?”*

*She almost pouted. “Don’t hoy me. You promised you’d try this spot.”*

*Abraham waved her off dismissively. “Yeah, but I hate ramen, remember? It’s just so…”*

*“You don’t know what it is because you haven’t tried it. So, you will, today, you old man.”*

*She kept him youthful, well, aside from the various mutagens, the blood of Yhwach, and of course, his spiritual body. Regardless, she always made him try new things whenever they were sent somewhere in the human world.*

He broke himself from his thoughts. He hated remembering the past, especially when his was so long and muddled. Approximately a year ago, for some unknown reason, a large surplus of people simply vanished from the face of the world. It was a phenomenon that seemed to have occurred across the world, and dimensions. He had heard the echoes, the rumors that revibrated from the spiritual lands. She was one of them, another one that simply vanished that day, fading into nothingness. Even with all his knowledge, expertise, and research, he couldn’t even touch the surface of beginning to understand what had happened.

It wasn’t like they were dating or anything. No, she had a boyfriend of her own. He looked at her more like a daughter, or a really spoiled niece. He didn’t have any of his own. Well, he did have a few nieces, but they had long since perished, and even if they wouldn’t have fallen to the test of time, the Shinigami would have murdered them as they did his entire bloodline. He was a Quincy, a human, but he didn’t feel that he belonged on the Material World anymore than a Soul did. Whenever he entered the human world, rather, whomever he had come to meet, they always left him.