Rushing through the concrete jungle that was modern Tokyo, his heart hammering in his chest, he chanced a glance at the sidewalk behind him. Besides some more disturbed glances from the locals, there seemed to be no sign of them.

For a moment, hope bloomed in Blake’s heart and he slowed down to a crawl, ignoring the muttering passerby who took a width berth around him. And, with smog filling his nostrils, Blake’s heartbeat started to return to something approximating normal, the rivulets of sweat slowing, but then, spread thin within the dense crowds, he saw them. Stern faced, most of them wearing sunglasses and expensive looking black suits, which jarred harshly with the tattoos visible on their exposed flesh.

All of them walking towards him.

“Shit!”

Blake, whose heartbeat has only just calmed, felt his heart kick to high gear again and started running once more.

“Sure gramps, ‘you’ll find love in the east’,” he said, mimicking an old woman’s voice. “Fat load of bollocks, that was. What I’m about to find has little to do with love! Worst five bucks I’ve ever spent,” he said in a snarky tone, panting, while his green eyes roved left and right. Searching for anything with which he might save himself.

But there was nothing. Nothing which would help clear the misunderstanding between him and the psychos trailing after him.

And hell, with all the ruckus he was causing, what with disturbing the peace by shoving quite a few passerbys to the side in his mad dash? It was bound to attract police attention at any moment⁠—

The shrill sound of a whistle accompanied by a quick shout in Japanese made him wince and glance to his left, a stern faced policeman on the other side of the street raised his arm, causing the cars to slow and also started marching towards him, and seeing as Blake did not reply was quick enough to switch to English.

“You there, stop!”

“Oh, for fucks sake!” he hissed and pivoted to the right, knocking a few more bystanders down in his mad dash.

“Stop!”

Just his luck, that he’d land on the one copper in this place that also spoke English! No way he could play the clueless foreigner now.

His lungs burned. He kept running. The sun overhead kept shining, making him feel like slowly cooking chicken.

With gasping, panting breaths and a thoroughly soaked white shirt, Blake continued running, or rather, more like stumbling along. His energy was all but spent now, and pretty soon he’d collapse. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t stop!

“Please God… oh shit,” he panted. “That’s not what they call them here, is it?” he said as he stopped for but a second, eyes barely able to focus but a few meters in front of him as he put a hand to a nearby building wall for support. The hordes of people around him seeming like an indistinct blur to his senses. “Kami… Kami-sama, that’s right,” he slurred. “Please, save me, and I’ll do anything!” he said, his soul shining with the honesty only despair could bring.

The sun above seemed to shine brighter for but a moment, as if his plea was heard. But, beyond, causing a few more droplets of sweat to trail down his back and front, courtesy of the heat. Nothing seemed to happen.

Footsteps echoed behind him, and through the throes of people all around him, Blake somehow just knew what they meant and whom they belonged to.

He tensed and pushed off the wall, about to start running once more.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, some distance in front of him and somewhat to the right, he noticed one of the land’s traditional Temples. Or was it Church… Not important right now! He shook his head and, with his feet pumping with desperate energy, made towards it.

He was more exhausted than he thought if he could miss such a big, and distinct, building right in front of him, after all.

And unless the local mob was even crueler than he thought, than they should respect such areas of worship enough that they wouldn’t just barge in or try violence within them.

Passing through the old wooden arch, serving as the Temple’s gate, Blake broke in a full body shudder.

It might be just the exhaustion speaking, but the air felt different. Cleaner and heavier at the same time, more potent.

Still, he didn’t dare stop, climbing the white pristine staircase two steps at a time, his eyes fixed to the building’s ornate main gate ahead. He could stop and ponder about the mob, life and everything as much as he liked once he was safe and could think his next move!

Almost crushing into the door, Blake grasped the wooden handle and, hoping beyond hope, yanked it to the side. A relieved breath leaving him when the wooden panel engraved with scenes out of myth and mischievous foxes easily slid to the side, revealing the Temple’s interior.

Without waiting for an invitation, he barged in and closed the door behind him and collapsed with his back against the stronger than it looked door.

Eyes closed, Blake spent a few moments catching his breath and waiting for the inevitable.

After a few minutes, when no thug seemed to barge in, he wearily cracked open an eyelid.

“Holy shit… did it… did it actually work?” he mused in wonder and jumped to his feet, making to dust off his black pants before pausing. A feeling of sudden guilt welling up within him. The wooden floor, which he’d presumed dirty, was what could only be described as spotless. Hell, he could even almost see his reflection on the wooden beams. In fact, his cargo pants, in all honesty, dirtied up the wood below him and not the reverse.

“Sorry…” he muttered, speaking to thin air for some reason and with a series of soft kicks removed his shoes, letting his nigh bare feet touch the polished wood below.

He might be an uncultured ruffian, but he at least knew this much about the country’s customs at least.

“Still, while I wait for the idiots outside to disperse… let’s take a look shall we?” Blake said, an excited smile on his face as he rubbed his palms together and walked towards to one of the doors to his left leading deeper into the gigantic Temple and away from the entrance lounge.

Thoroughly lost but in no way annoyed about it, Blake hummed a tune as he slid open yet another door. “Excuse me, coming through.” And entered a, yet again, empty room.

Well. Empty of people that is, for like all of the rooms he’d seen so far, it was richly decorated, with expensive artwork and jewelry, which if his experienced…collector’s eyes were any judge… the stuff here was of great historic value, even putting aside the obvious monetary one.

Glancing at the shrine in the center of the room, the shrine which seemed to be made out of solid gold, Blake’s knees grew weak at the sight and with a gulp and trembling arms, he grasped to his left for support.

The noise from his left coupled with his hand closing in around something velvety soft, caused him to blink and look, and the man’s mouth fell open.

For atop the cloth rack he was using as support were…were! What could only be described as priceless priestesses outfits. Each of them enough to buy a small apartment if his guess was right!

Blake’s head spun and he let go of the rack, taking stumbling steps towards the center of the room and the shrine within it. The shrine upon whose offering slab, a bowl decorated with precious gemstones and filled with water, rested.

Glancing at the surrounding opulence, Blake couldn’t help but whine.

This wasn’t fair! He really should have brought his backpack with him today! And did those jerks have to make such a big fuss over such a tiny misunderstanding? In fact…

His hand dived within one of his pants’ pockets, fishing out a piece of jewelry that previously seemed oh so important, but now…

The black-haired man glanced around him once more and the jewelry dropped through nerveless fingers. He run a hand through his short-cropped hair and licked parched lips before freezing.

His eyes fell on the offering bowl gleaming innocently beside him, and he chewed his lip.

T-this was fine, r-right? They were big on hospitality here after all, and he was a weary guest and all that rot. Or was he confusing countries and customs again.

“Oh, screw it! It’s not like there’s anyone around to complain!” Blake cried and his hand shot out, grasping the bowl and bringing it to his dry lips and swallowing.

To his parched, thirsty mouth, the first few drops felt absolutely divine as they traveled down his tongue and into his gullet.

After almost a day spent non-stop running, the sheer euphoria was enough to almost make him moan.

In fact… with the first few desperate gulps out of the way, his mind was able to function once more and Blake noticed that this? It did not taste quite as water should.

“The hell?” he asked, brows furrowed as he lowered the innocent bowl for a moment, glancing at the pale swirling liquid within, which he only now realized was not even as clear as water should be.

Giving it another shake and swirl revealed no secrets and despite the contact having lasted for but a few seconds, a desperate need, nay, almost longing, really burned in his lips and mouth for more.

Suspicious, but seeing no reason not to, he wasn’t dead yet after all, and he remained quite thirsty... Blake raised his impromptu chalice once more and begun chugging.

This time, able to appreciate the thin, imperceptibly bitter and tangy taste, a moan did leave him. One entirely of his own volition.

A dusting of red on his cheeks, he lowered the now empty bowl back in its rightful place.

“Ahh, that hit the spot,” he said, rubbing his belly and, for some reason, having to fight the urge to rub his thighs together.

Oi, brain, berries and twig in between! Remember that.

“It gladdens me to hear it is so,” a soft, sensual, feminine voice said from somewhere behind him and Blake froze. He turned around with a panicked smile on his face.

“Ahh, I can explain!”

“There’s no need.”

“You see— eh?”

The tall, well-endowed woman garbed in the traditional outfit of the country’s priestesses, namely what looked like someone stitched half of a white kimono, or what Blake privately called an expensive bathrobe, and a long red skirt together shook her head from side to side.

Sending her long, straight pink-locks swaying from side to side and, as a consequence, also causing her m