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The Oracle of Yami

“Ah... haah... ooh...”

The sand garden within was undisturbed. A rectangle-shaped location blocked off by an ankle-high stone barrier, with flat sand laid within. Among the sands were stones of various shapes and sizes embedded upon its surface, as well as a stone walkway which traveled down the center of it. And standing above it all were black and gold archways, which loomed above the stone walkway like gateways.

It was a straight path, one that led to an indent within the sandpit, where a basin containing water laid. The sand within this garden was golden-red like the sands of a distant desert, and some of which had collected within the water basin. Upon the surface of the clear waters, the sand could be seen glittering like gold, making it appear richer.

A figure walked down the walkway towards this water pool, traveling under the gates as they came to the edge of the pool. They? No. She. She stood at the lip of the water, gazing over its edge towards the clear water within. In it, she saw the reflection of the skies overhead... as well as herself.

She was a young woman. Her skin tone, dark: kissed by the desert's relentless sun. Her figure, voluptuous: crafted by the gods themselves. Her hair long and black: as if capturing the radiance of the night sky within them. Her ears pointed and furred, not being the ears of a human, but the ears of a jackal. They stood from her head like daggers pointing to the skies themselves. And from her backside extended not one tail... but nine.

This woman's body was covered in white and gold robes, which were tightly wound around her body. Gripping them, she pulled the robes off of her voluptuous figure, revealing her semi-nude form to the silent sand garden around her. She then stepped into the water, feeling it cleanse the impurities of yesterday.

…

“Cyril. Cyril! Cyyyyyyyrrrrriiiiiill...”

“Huh? Wha...?”

When he fell asleep the previous night, he felt it happen in real time. Don't you know when you're sleepy, and you know you're sleepy, but you refuse to go to bed for whatever reason? So you stubbornly continue to do whatever it is you were doing, even as your eyes open and close constantly. Before you know it, you fall asleep... while doing whatever it is you were doing.

That's what happened to him last night.

He pulled his head up from the heavy tome he had been reading. A young man with blond hair that was typically curly, smooth, and well-groomed, but was instead wild, messy, and unkempt currently.

He was a lithesome young man, one whose stature wasn't really the tallest. In fact, many would say he was downright short, a problem that had plagued him throughout his adult life. If he could gain a coin for every time someone confused him for a child, he'd have enough money to buy every tome in Northelion... but that's neither here nor there.

As he pulled himself up from the book he used as a pillow, his purple eyes slowly started to focus. He saw the worn and aged walls of a library stare back at him, its many aisles filled with hundreds, if not thousands of tomes in a library that was two stories tall. And yet, despite this library being older than him by a few centuries, it still held this unmistakable beauty and majesty to it, thanks to how dedicated the staff were in maintaining this vault of knowledge.

But... wait... we're getting ahead of ourselves...

The Holy nation of Orchestra! Blessed by the God of Knowledge himself, Logos, it is located within the mountainous region of Stonewind. They say Orchestra is the most beautiful nation in all the world, and while it may not be the largest, its structures are all beautifully created, with stones that are a silver blue, and buildings that stretch high enough to touch the skies.

The truth is a little more mundane than that...

In truth, what made Orchestra so staggering and impressive was not the beauty of its structures, nor the height of its mountains, but instead the knowledge contained therein. For how does a kingdom that worships the God of Knowledge practice its religion? Through study of course. And what brings study?

College.

His hand reached out for the desk, palming around it momentarily before finally finding his glasses. He was just about to pick them up, but was stopped when someone else lifted them before he could. His blurry eyes ran up the familiar sight of a black and green uniform, one that wouldn't look out of place on a military cadet. A green sash ran vertically along a black vest, a white button shirt, and a green tie, all adorning the body of an athletic brunette woman.

An athletic brunette woman with blue eyes, and this cheeky smile on her lips.

“Good morning, Cyril,” she said as she placed the glasses on his face.

“Mrgh... Tabitha...” the young man mumbled back, “What time is it...?”

“Time? Well... almost time for the morning bells to begin ringing...” DING! DING! DING! “Oh... speak of the devil...”

The sound of the morning bells sent a jolt down the young man's spine. Closing his eyes and raising his arms, he performed a stretch followed by a yawn, which both helped him wake up more and more. When his eyes opened, he still saw that brunette woman smiling at him, a sight that caused him to tilt his head.

“Tabitha,” he groaned as he stood up from the desk, “Thank you for waking me up, but you can leave now. I don't want to hear you vex me.”

“You're so mean, Cyril!” she teased, “But I'll have you know, I did not show up to tease you or even wake you up... though I figured you'd be in the library and not in your dorm. I hope whatever it is you were reading was intriguing, by the way.”

“Wait... you're not here to wake me up...?” asked the young man – Cyril – his head tilted to the side, “Then... why are you here?”

“Because Director Himmel wishes to speak with you.”

That name caused the blond young man to stiffen up in place, his eyes wide with genuine surprise. Director Himmel wished to speak with him? That was surprising, causing him to run his hands through his hair to smooth out his messy curls. But the girl he was with – Tabitha – chuckled and shook her head.

“I think you should bathe before hand,” she said, “You smell like dust and books. And I know you're a scholar, but that's not a really flattering scent.”

“I... uh... a-agree...”

Director Himmel. That name held power in this library. To be called by the director of the college was not something a person could just ignore, not in their nation. It was a high honor, and one would be lucky to be blessed by his presence. Even if the director himself could be a rather... ahem... eccentric individual.

But that's for later.

As for now, Cyril turned to face the exit of the library in the distance. As he walked for it, Tabitha followed beside him, chuckling into his ear. They passed by several other people in the library who were studying, as well as the receptionist, who gave them a curt 'Hmph...' as they exited.

The halls of their college were grand and opulent, filled with military regalia such as armored knights standing silently upon the walls. Tapestry adorned with Orchestra's symphonic crest hung over the windows, and everything had this elegant white, gold, and blue color to it. As they walked down the halls together, Tabitha and Cyril passed by many others dressed like they were; either military clothing like Tabitha, or lab coats like Cyril.

“Good morning, Cyril.

“Heya, Tabitha.”

“Together again, you two?”

“Tch... stop being annoying...” Cyril countered.

A blush adorned his cheeks at the teasing of his colleagues, which only caused Tabitha to laugh. He wanted to shout at them, to tell them that his and Tabitha's relationship wasn't 'Like that', but he knew doing that would only further prove their feelings for one another, something he did not want to do. Not that Tabitha minded; she found the teasing of their colleagues to be entertaining.

“Sooooo... what were you studying last night that kept you in the library?” she asked as they headed towards the college's dorms.

“Ancient Religions,” he replied, “My group have been tasked to learn of the religions practiced by the tribesmen who used to inhabit Stahlheim,” pausing for a moment, he shook his head, “Which is why I'm confused why the Director wishes to speak with me.”

“Must be very important,” Tabitha remarked as she paused at his door, “Just uh... don't go falling a sleep with your face in a book like last time, 'kay? I'm not always going to be around to fix things for you.”

“Tabitha...”

His groan was cut short when she reached up her hand. Placing it on his head, Tabitha helped smooth out his blond locks, taming his wild bedhead into something more manageable. It drew yet another groan from Cyril's lips, who looked at her with a face of annoyance. She laughed it off.

“See ya later, Cyril,” she said teasingly, to which he rolled his eyes.

Entering the door behind him, Cyril closed it behind him before sighing. Again? He went to sleep in the library again? Ms. Pratchett was going to have his head if he continued annoying her like that. Bleh...

After spending several moments bemoaning his overstudying, he looked forward to see his dorm. It was a modest and small room, with a well-worn bed, a desk, a window, and a lot – and I do mean a lot – of books. They were stacked atop one another and circled his room, making it difficult for an average person to navigate his home with such little room to maneuver. But of course, this is his room; he could walk around all of these tomes with his eyes closed.

He headed towards the door to the back; his bathroom. Entering inside, it was a small area with porcelain walls and floors, a sink, a toilet, and a shower stall that was juuuuuust wide enough to fit a person inside of it. Maybe two if you don't mind getting cramped. And as he began to undress himself, removing his lab coat and laying it aside, he looked over to face himself in the mirror.

What he saw staring back at him was a young man. Curly blond hair, a studious expression, these clear and soft features, and these piercing purple eyes.

Cyril Oleander. His was a name not often spoken of at Northelion Academy, but it was no less respected. Oftentimes the leader of whatever group he is assigned to, he was recognized for his dedication to study, willing to put obscene hours in the library researching even the most mundane or obscure of topics.

His little 'sleepover' last night was not new.

When the shower turned on and hot water began filling the stall, Cyril stepped inside of it and gave a relaxed groan. He could feel his body relax under the soothing waters of the shower, which were hot and cool at the same time. As his blond hair matted down to his body, and more water flowed down his flat form, he closed his eyes and fell deep into thought.

In his closed eyes he saw... blue skies... white clouds... pyramids of a strange shape? And...

A woman with nine tails.

…

“Tell me, Cyril... do you know what the Oracle of Yami is?”

Director Himmel. In Northelion Academy, no name is stronger than Director Himmel. He was the captain of their college, the manager, the man who made all the decisions that dictated not only its future, but the future of its alumni. In a kingdom known for being incredibly intelligent due to worshiping the God of Knowledge, being the director of an academy was seen as being an aristocrat in other nations. With that in mind, one would suspect a director would carry his or herself with the utmost of professionalism, knowing how important their status is among the commoners of their kingdom.

Not so with Director Himmel.

“FORE!”

FWIP!

“GUH!?”

With a golf club in hand, this 50-year-old man with gray hair swung with all his might, striking his golf ball and sending it flying... straight into the chest of a knight's armor. They weren't outside, they weren't even in a gym room! They were in his office, and yet he swung like they were on the fields of Sir Garn's great golf fields.

“My, my,” said the man as he leaned on his driver's handle, “I gotta say, I'm feelin' much stronger compared to last time! Geh heh heh!”

Director Richard Himmel was everything a director shouldn't be. He wasn't some uptight, studious professional, but instead this loud braggart who was more at home on the field of some sporting game than he was in his own office. His various sporting equipment could be found resting in various areas of his massive office, be it his aforementioned golf club, his tennis rackets, even his cricket bat, just to name a few. His stature matched his profession, as he was this big, bulky, burly man who was – once again – unlike one's stereotypical ideas of what a college director should be.

But don't let that fool you. While Director Himmel was as loud and braggadocious as he was burly, he was far, far, far from stupid. He wasn't the director for no reason. Orchestra didn't believe in things like nepotism... well... mostly. Director Himmel got to his position because he earned it, even if he didn't act like it.

“D-Director Himmel,” said Cyril as he stood beside his superior, “You... you were saying?”

“Huh? Oh, right, right! Come over here, Cyril, sit right here next to me!” said the director as he began ushering the young man over towards his desk, “I heard from Librarian Pratchett that you slept over in the library again last night. Exactly what I'd expect of someone as dedicated as you!”

“Ugh... you know about that...? Mrrg...”

“It's your fifth time this month, Cyril,” said Director Himmel as he sat behind his desk, “But don't get too torn up over it. I have to know what happens to all the alumni and faculty of the academy. It is my job! Gah hah hah!”

“Ugh... w-well...” Cyril mumbled as he fixed his glasses, “Director, could you... please explain what you were saying before.”

“Ah! A blunt and straightforward man! I love that about you, Cyril,” said Himmel as he leaned laxly on his chair, “Let me repeat myself: Do you know what the Oracle of Yami is?”

“The Oracle of Yami...?” Cyril repeated, before taking a thinking pose, “Hmm...”

Eyes closed, he pondered about the question. At first, he didn't know what the 'Oracle of Yami' could entail. But as he thought about it further, he figured through the word 'Yami' that it had to have something to do with the island nation of Solaria. But as he thought about it further, he remembered that Solaria had no major oracles to speak of; at least, not in any religions native to the land. So he thought about it further, where a name came to mind.

“Rahara...” Cyril whispered, causing Director Himmel's face to brighten up.

“Ah-ha! Exactly! Yes, that's it!” he said, “Rahara! The land of the twin suns! You know your history, Cyril, but I'm not too surprised. Religion and history are often intertwined!” he tilted his head, “Tell me... do you know what the major religion of Rahara is?”

“Kemetokami...” Cyril answered, “A unique blend of religions. It seems to mix the spirits and practices of Shintoism, with the gods and hierarchy of Guarudian gods. But...” he shook his head, “Most information on Kemetokami comes second hand. The religion and its nation as a whole had been thoroughly routed by the Mireval Empire several centuries ago... although... the Mireval Empire itself doesn't exist anymore...”

“Yes, yes,” said Director Himmel as he dismissively waved his hand through the air, “The Mireval Empire crumbled and fell apart 327 years ago, became the Six Countries, then they went to war with one another, merged, broke apart again 172 years ago, and then got united a few generations later into what we now know as Narvad Kingdoms! History is such a lovely thing, isn't it?”

“Y-yes it is,” Cyril replied before swallowing his spit, “Um... Director Himmel... why are you asking about Rahara and Kemetokami?”

“Yes, yes, that,” said the director as he reached over towards a globe on his desk.

Sliding it over, he quickly spun the globe around, causing Cyril's eyes to spin as he watched the map rotate. With pin-point aim, the director suddenly stopped the globe's spin, pointing the continent of Sonja towards his subordinate. He then brought his finger over, pointing towards one location in particular.

“High Bishop...?” said Cyril, to which his director nodded.

“Yeeeesss! High Bishop! The second most knowledgeable city in the world! Compared to Orchestra's capital, of course!” said Director Himmel with a large grin on his face, “An intelligent young man like you has been to High Bishop, right?”

“In the past... yes...” Cyril answered, “Though I mostly stayed at the Library of Vern...”

“Ah, yes, the Library of Vern. As to be expected,” Director Himmel remarked, “Lovely architecture. And the sound of the fountain running while you're reading. Ah... positively divine. However, Orchestra is home to many libraries, and you already stay in our library more than necessary! During your next stay at High Bishop, be sure to enjoy all it has to offer. It is truly a beautiful place, Cyri.”

“During my next stay?” Cyril repeated, “What does that mean, Director...?”

“Ah! Yes! Seems I ran away from myself,” the director replied, “Apologies, Cyril!” he then leaned over on his desk, smiling at his subordinate, “Cyril... we have received word that a surviving member of Kemetokami currently resides in High Bishop. Normally, I would not pay such rumors much mind. However... they claim that this surviving member is a woman with nine tails.”

“Nine... tails...?”

Cyril jolted in place upon hearing such a thing. Nine-tailed beasts were common in certain religions around their world, such as the aforementioned Solaria and its religion. But that's not why the young man quaked. When he closed his eyes – even if brief – he saw it again.

Blue skies... white clouds... pyramids of a strange shape... and... a woman with nine tails.

“The Oracle of Yami,” said Director Himmel, “If memories serve – and, please bear with me, it has been years since I've researched such a thing – was recognized as being a beastkin with nine tails, am I right? Specifically... a jackal?”

“The nine-tailed jackal...” Cyril muttered, “It is... a very important figure in Kemetokami's religion. It appears often in what little information we have on Kemetokami. It has led me to believe that the nine-tailed jackal and the Oracle of Yami are one and the same, though...” he shrugged his shoulders, “I'm not exactly sure.”

“And that's what I want you to find out, Cyril,” said Director Himmel as he leaned forward, “I believe that the nine-tailed jackal – the Oracle of Yami – is living in High Bishop. I want you to investigate and find out if this is true. And if it is, well, learn from them, Cyril. Learn all you can about Kemetokami from perhaps the last living member of its religion, and someone so important as well. And if it's not true, well...” Himmel shrugged his shoulders sarcastically, “Actually enjoy your time in High Bishop, and not spend all day sleeping in a library.”

Cyril sat there, leaned back in his chair as his mind struggled to parse the information told to him. A nine-tailed jackal – the Oracle of Yami and a high-ranking member of Kemetokami religion – was possibly living in High Bishop, and no one knew about it! The Oracle of Yami is incredibly important from what his studies tell him; there's no way one could be living somewhere and not be a local legend! That is, unless they were living in secrecy, or – more accurately – the people they lived with did not know how important they were. That was possible too.

Also...

HE HAD TO GO TO HIGH BISHOP!?

That's not a trip one can just make from High Bishop, not without a few months of planning beforehand! High Bishop was on the other side of the globe as so gleefully demonstrated by his director! And it was that same director who was currently grinning at him, expecting him to go to the city without hesitation!

Cyril could only sit there, jaw agape, while Director Himmer continued grinning. He even chuckled, as if reveling in his subordinate's suffering.

“B-but Director!” said Cyril, “I...! I have so much work here! My team and I are still researching the religions of the tribesmen in Stahlheim!”

“Of which there are still plenty of tribesmen we can – and often do – speak with,” Himmel replied, “I appreciate your dedication, Cyril, which is why I want you to go instead to High Bishop. I'm not sure I trust anyone else to gain the information we need aside from you.”

“B-but, I...! Ngh!” Cyril jolted in place, “High Bishop is so far away, and... and my work, and...! Guh!” he shook his head, “The Oracle of Yami! If they've been living in secrecy like you claim, then why would they want to speak with anyone, especially someone like me?”

“Hm... good question,” Himmel said as he began prodding his fingers together, “An important religious figure living in secrecy, no doubt scared from the deterioration of her people from centuries ago. Assuming, of course, these rumors are true. Perhaps someone's confused a nine-tailed fox with a jackal, but the other rumors surrounding this individual seem to line up. So...” he clapped his hands together, “I need you to do whatever it is you can to study under the Oracle of Yami, Cyril. Whatever it takes! Talk to them, beg them, work as their slave, seduce them, whatever it takes!”

“DIRECTOR HIMMEL! DON'T YOU THINK YOU'RE BEING A BIT OUTLANDISH!?” Cyril cried, his cheeks flushed red.

“BWAHAHAHAHA! Maybe!” the director replied, “But I am being genuine here, Cyril! Kemetokami is an ancient religion, its practices alien and unknown to all, even us. It was nearly eradicated in its religious purging, so whatever information we can gain about it is paramount to unearth treasures for us. If there is a chance – even a slim chance – that a practitioner is still alive and active, it is our duty to seek them out and learn from them. Not just for ourselves, not even for future generations, but for those of the past so that they may be remembered in the future. Kemetokami deserves to be remembered, Cyril, and I want you to be the author of those memories.”

Cyril looked at his director, still appearing embarrassed and defensive. But after he took a deep breath and his face relaxed, his mind did likewise. Closing his eyes, Cyril thought about Himmel's request, and just how important it was. History was more than just remembering the past; it was making sure that the past lives on, no matter what. Kemetokami was a religion that was – in all honesty – extinct. It would be an honor to unearth and revitalize the religion.

While Cyril was annoyed by how sudden Himmel's request was, he realized it was a request he could not say 'no' to. Even he himself would jump at the chance to at the very least interview a practitioner of Kemetokami, and for them to be the Oracle of Yami was a chance he could not pass up.

So...

“Haaah...”

Cyril sighed... and nodded.

“When do you want me to go, Director?”

Himmel smiled.

…

“Are you sure you don't want me to go with you, Cyril?”

It had been a week or so since Cyril's conversation with Director Himmel. The time was spent preparing for the trip to High Bishop, with the young man needing to prepare his clothes, his books, and his various other tools needed for proper research.

It did not take long for news of his trip to spread around the campus. When Director Himmel calls someone to his office specifically... he tends to rant about it not too long later. The man rarely kept secrets, and he was almost proud to share the nature of his jobs with others. It was by the end of that same evening when everyone knew Cyril was going to High Bishop, and the nature of his quest to unearth the secrets of Kemetokami.

Most people praised him and wished him luck on his journey, even if he was embarrassed by the number of people talking to him in the halls. The only person who wasn't so excited was--

“Tabitha... I'm a grown man. I don't need you doting on me...”

She looked at him, fists on her hips, military uniform on her body, and pistol holstered at her hip. Her stance was abrasive and boisterous, yet she wore this pout on her lips, and her brown eyes even quivered. But Cyril remained abrasive himself... as best as he could.

“The last time...” said Tabitha, “We went to High Bishop together. You, me, and the research team. I remember someone nearly getting lost in the city several times. If I wasn't there, only Logos knows what would've happened to you!”

“That was two years ago! Cut me some slack, Tabitha!”

But she wouldn't, instead shaking her head in displeasure... before sighing. Dropping her defensive stance, she looked at him with concern and approached him, where she placed her hand on his shoulder.

“I know there's nothing I can say or do that will change your mind,” said Tabitha, “And I really don't want to try and convince Director Himmel to not send you, cuz he'll just end up sending me to do something I don't want to do. But...” she squeezed him, “Don't get into any trouble. I won't be able to save you if you do.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tabitha...” Cyril mumbled as he turned, “If you're just going to stand there and berate me, you can leave my dorm. I still have a lot of stuff to pack up...”

Turning around, he faced his bedroom. It had been cleaned of many of its books... but not most. It was still a jungle of tomes stacked atop one another in a messy sprawl, but he had done a good job filling his luggage up and clearing things out.

But as he packed his final things, he felt Tabitha's shadow loom behind him. He tensed up again, thinking she was going to do something, like shout at him, or give him a playful jab. So he turned to face her, prepared to push her away. Instead...

Her arms wrapped around him.

“What?”

She hugged him.

Cyril leaned back, a bit confused by the sudden embrace. And after a few moments of standing there in confusion, he raised his arms to hug Tabitha back. She was a smidgen taller than he was – as most people were considering his diminutive height – but she wasn't so much taller than it made their hug awkward.

For a few moments they hugged one another, before Tabitha pulled back. Her brown eyes were filled with concern for him, something he both felt embarrassed by, yet pleased to see. Happy to know that she cared for him so deeply, but also annoyed by it as it showed how little she trusted him to protect himself.

But he didn't say anything about it, instead sighing and shrugging his shoulders.

“I'll be fine, Tabitha. I promise.”

“You better be...” she replied whilst pulling away, “And don't be late for your flight.”

“I know, I know...”

She left soon after, with Cyril sitting back on the suitcase behind him. Gazing at the door before him as the sunset skies oozed through his window, he thought about Tabitha, and how overprotective she could be. He knew it came from a place of love – they had been friends for as long as he could remember – but it still felt belittling of her to not trust him to take care of himself.

It also felt belittling of him that he couldn't mount the courage to just tell her this. Maybe she had a right to worry about him... ugh...

Enough of this... he still had things to pack up.

…

Centuries ago, four wise men from four different corners of the world, all went on a journey around the same time. They learned of great things during their travels, and spread their culture and teachings as well. And then one day, these four men going on a similar quest, all met here on these beach-side plains. Back then, there were no buildings, no statues, not even the great fountain in the center of the city. No, there was nothing... nothing but one another.

These four men came together, and all throughout the night, they spoke, sharing their travels and ideals, learning and teaching one another, all until the sun rose... and they spoke even further beyond that. From this conversation, these four men came to a brilliant idea. What if they created a city? One that would play home and host to all manners of knowledge, from all corners of the world/ The religious, the arcane, the political, the scientific, the simple; all would be welcome here. To teach one another, to learn from one another, and to advance culture and life as we know it.

This is how the city of High Bishop came to be. And like Director Himmel said, it was perhaps the second-most knowledgeable city in the world. Second only to Orchestra's capital, of course!

The airship ride over towards High Bishop was as pleasant as could be for someone who – quite honestly – does not like flying. When Cyril finally stepped foot on solid land after two days of flying, he spent his first day in High Bishop sleeping at his rented hotel. The headache he felt when he landed would've been enough to kill a lesser man.

But when he woke up the next moment in the plush seats of Hotel Elion, Cyril felt rejuvenated. The white and brown halls of the elegant hotel surrounded him, and a cool wind blew in from the nearby mountain neighboring High Bishop, which mixed with the sea sea breeze that came from the ocean. It all flowed through his windows and into his bedroom, while the morning light poured through his windows, shimmering upon him.

His morning bath was just as empowering, leaving him glowing. From his purple eyes to his platinum blond hair, Cyril looked and felt revitalized! Now it was time to get to work.

He emerged from Hotel Elion wearing his typical attire that owned the typical colors of Northelion Academy: shorts on his legs, suspenders that wrapped around him, a black button up shirt, and green tie. Ah! But before he got to work searching for the Oracle of Yami, he needed to have breakfast, and his morning coffee!

There was a cafe next door, one that had the sweetest of aromas flowing from it as he walked by. Entering into the cafe and sitting down, he ordered his coffee, his creams and sugars, as well as a plate of crumpets.

Oh... such lovely crumpets too. They had an amazing crunch, and delicious softness to them. And the butter and jelly they came with? Positively divine. Hm... maybe Director Himmel; he really did spend too much time in the library last time, because he did not remember the food here being so good.

As Cyril ate his breakfast, he pulled out a heavy tome containing information on extinct religions. There was a section in the tome – an incredibly small section – dedicated to Kemetokami. Of the information included within the writing, there were details dedicated solely to the being known as Setokami.

While much of Kemetokami is unknown, the name 'Setokami' appears many times in the few bits of information they have on the religion. According to their data, Setokami is the name of a species of animal – or in this case, beastkin – that, quite simply, does not exist.

A beastkin is a species of human in their world with the characteristics of certain animals. The ears and tail of a cat, or a dog, or a horse; something common like that. They're no different from humans, and aren't treated as such.

But among beastkin, there are different classes. There are, say, the bugkin: people with the characteristics and attributes of bugs and insects of various kinds. They're a rare type of beastkin, but not unheard of. Mr. Flint, who works at the academy's armory, is a bugkin, specifically being a stag beetle.

However, there is another classification of beastkin that are even rarer than bugkin, and those are known as the mythkin. They get their name because they inhabit the characteristics of creatures that most people see as being mythical, such as dragons, or nine-tailed foxes. To a scholar like him, mythkin are no more or less mythical than your common, everyday wizard; they just have mutated genes that make them appear more fantastic.

But Setokami is... different. Setokami is depicted as a nine-tailed jackal. They are not just some biological mutation, but – in Kemetokami's faith – a sign of divine providence. From the few scraps of information they have on the religion, it is paramount that the individual who serves the role as Oracle of Yami must be a Setokami. It is that important.

They will accept nothing else.

To think, someone so important, someone so powerful, could be living an unassuming life in High Bishop. Why is that? And how hard would it be to find them if they didn't want to be found?

Surprisingly easy all things considered...

“Excuse, ma'am,” said Cyril as a waitress – a beastkin woman with dog ears – walked by, “Could you answer a few questions for me?”

“Oh, sure hun, what's up?” asked the waitress as she gave him a smile.

“I... uh... and I know this may seem sudden or random, but, please, bear with me,” said the young man as he pushed his glasses up on his face, “But... you see, I'm looking for a person, someone specific, someone who may live here in High Bishop. I-I know High Bishop is a large place, and it may be hard to find them, but I feel they may have unique attributes.”

“Hm... it depends,” said the waitress, “Like you said, High Bishop's a large city. There's a lot of people with unique attributes runnin' around, but I'll help ya to the best of my abilities.”

“Ah! Thank you, uh,” Cyril paused for a moment, “Um... do you know of a beastkin woman? Someone with nine tails? And she's supposed to be a jackal?”

“Oh! You're talking about the witch maiden!”

“The... what?”

Cyril looked at the waitress, confused. The waitress chuckled, though he couldn't tell if she was laughing at him or at their situation.

“You... know of them?” asked Cyril, to which the waitress shook her head.

“Not 'them', her,” she said, “And everyone knows 'bout her! She's the witch maiden! They say anyone who asks her for good blessin's, are sure to get 'em! They even say she can tell the future with 100% certainty. Now, I ain't never visited her – I've never been the kind to deal with arcane things and magic – but people either speak highly of her, or are terrified of her.”

“T-terrified?” Cyril repeated, “Wh-why's that?”

“They don't call her a 'witch maiden' for no reason!” the waitress answered, “They say if people annoy her, she puts hex's on 'em! Like, they can't talk, or they can't see, or they can't hear! Sometimes she even makes 'em sick! And the only way you can remove her hexes is to wait for 'em to wear off, or to beg a holy man to cast some holy magic on ya to make it go away!”

“R-really... um... okay then...”

This was... way too much information to take in all at once. Cyril thought he'd be searching for the Oracle of Yami – oh, sorry, the witch maiden – for a long time! But the first person – the FIRST PERSON! – he asks about it, tells him exactly who it is, how they're perceived by the people of High Bishop, and even a little bit of their personality! He even now knew that the Oracle of Yami was a woman!

A woman... a woman... a woman...

Blue skies... white clouds... pyramids of a strange shape... and... a woman with nine tails.

“Hey, hun...? You okay there?” asked the waitress, “You're lookin' a bit funny in the face...”

“I am...!? Oh... s-sorry,” Cyril apologized as he shook his head, attempting to regain his composure, “Ma'am... uh... if I may, do you know where the, uh... witch maiden is? I'd love to talk to her.”

“I wish I could tell ya where she lives, but I ain't never been to her abode,” the waitress explained, “Why dontcha go to the library though? But I have seen her once or twice in High Bishop, specifically in the upper east wing. She's a bit of a local celebrity there. Try askin' in that place. She might just be walkin' around if ya visit there.”

“Ah! Thanks, ma'am! Thanks a lot!” Cyril said as he smiled and stood up... only to sit back down, “Um... uh... check please...”

…

High Bishop was large. Perhaps too large. He didn't remember it being this large the last time he was here! Then again, he only stayed in one section of the grand city. Now as he stayed here alone without an entire research squad and regiment of Orchestral knights to look after them, Cyril realized that High Bishop technically wasn't one city, but was more like four cities merged into one giant metropolis!

Putting it in the simplest terms imaginable... High Bishop is really, really big.

With the waitress' information staying in his mind, Cyril took a trolley across High Bishop towards its north-eastern wing. His rented hotel room was on the south-western border, which was the closest area to the beaches. Because of it, the south-western section of High Bishop had a more tropical air to it, with its white buildings, palm trees, and the boardwalk which was in walking distance from his hotel. By contrast, the north-eastern wing was denser, with many buildings standing side by side, making it a virtual jungle of roads and structures. When Cyril arrived and exited from the station, he was greeted by the sight of many carriages traveling too and fro – some via horses, others via engines – and many people walking around.

How was he supposed to find the Oracle of Yami through all of this!?

“Dear heavenly Logos,” he muttered to himself, “Please help your student's unseeing gaze...”

Puffing out his chest, Cyril headed into the city, prepared for a days worth of pointless fumbling as he searched for the Oracle of Yami. All he had to go by was the waitress' claims that the 'witch maiden' was somewhat of a local celebrity, so maybe asking people for her would turn up some information. He doubted it however. Sure, some random waitress in some random part of town might have known about her, but that was a total fluke, right? In reality, searching for someone has to be difficult... right?

It's not like the first person he asks again will turn up something again... right!? Weeeelll...

“Excuse me, sir,” said Cyril as he came across an acting officer, “Could you help me with something?”

“Sure thing,” said the officer, “What can I help you with?”

“I'm looking for someone. Apparently, she's known as the... um... witch maiden?”

“Oh! You mean Miss Natsume!”

“Miss... Natsume!?”

No way. No way in Paradiso that it happened... again!

“Um... y-yes... I'm looking for... uh... Miss Natsume,” Cyril mumbled before whispering under his breath, “I think I am, anyway...” he straightened up, “Could you tell me where to find her?”

“There's a library not too far from here,” said the officer as he pointed down the road, “You can't miss it. It's the largest library in this sector. Miss Natsume frequents that library and the bookstores near it. Try searching around there; she may have come down from her home today.”

“Ah... thank you, kind sir!”

With a respectful bow, Cyril turned and began running off, heading down the road as he was told. His heart raced as – once again – the first person he asked had information he needed. Director Himmel made it seem like the Oracle of Yami was trying to be a recluse, but that's not the vibe Cyril was getting now! Maybe she really was a local celebrity with how many people instantly knew her!

After a fair bit of jogging, Cyril arrived at his destination: the Lanternhold Library. It was a grand building made of wood and stone, and owning the vague shape of a wooden lantern from the nations of Tylis and Pithoon. Cyril gazed in awe of the structure, amazed by its size and architecture. At this time of day just before noon, there were many people walking in and out of the library, but none that matched the description of the Oracle of Yami. Guess he was just going to have to ask around. He was already two for two when it came to getting help; could he make it three for three?

Entering into the library, Cyril gazed in awe of the structure as he headed for the receptionist's desk. Lanternhold Library wasn't just two stories tall, but three stories tall, with each floor being filled with many, many, many books! There were so many books, he had to slap himself – both mentally and physically – in order to stop from finding a corner somewhere and studying!

Ugh... Director Himmel and Tabitha were right; he did spend too much time in the library...

“Hello, ma'am!” said Cyril as he approached the receptionist, a flamingo woman with a monocole.

“Yes, sir?” said the receptionist, her voice ringing with eloquence and professionalism, “How may I help you? Are you looking for a certain book?”

“No, no. I'm looking for a certain person.”

“Mm? An author perhaps? I assure you, sir, name a name, and we'll have the book here.”

“No, not an author,” said Cyril with a shake of his head, “Like... an actual person; someone who comes here frequently. I'm looking for a woman named... uh... Natsume?”

“Natsume!?” said the receptionist, her elegant demeanor dropping almost instantly.

She stared at Cyril, mouth agape, and he looked back with equally as dumbfounded nature. Thankfully, the receptionist took a deep breath, regaining her regal disposition as she looked at him.

“Apologies,” said the flamingowoman, “I wasn't expecting that.”

“I uh... heard that she frequents this place a lot, as well as the bookstores surrounding it,” Cyril tilted his head, “Is that true.”

“It's not untrue,” said the receptionist, “But trying to find the witch maiden at any one library or any one bookstore is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. If you're keen on finding her, you're better off trying to go to her shrine.”

“Do you... know where her shrine is?” Cyril asked, though the receptionist shook her head.

“Fortunately for me, yet unfortunately for you, I do not. I have no need for the witch maiden and her spells,” she claimed, “And those who do go to her for aid tend to not share this fact, for they may fear repercussions for their illicit activities,” the receptionist leaned in, “But you... you do not strike me as the type of young man who would go to a witch for help. What? Do you wish to speak to her for... relationship advice?”

“RELATIONSHIP ADVICE!?” Cyril shouted, only to immediately be 'shushed' by library patrons. After clamping his hand over his mouth and silently apologizing for his outburst, he straightened up his tie as he struggled to regain his composure, “Ahem... n-no... n-nothing of the sort... I... just wish to... speak with her, is all.”

“Is that so...” mumbled the receptionist as she fixed her monocle on her face, “Well then... as I said, I do not know the exact location of the witch maiden's shrine. If you wish to find that information, I recommend you go to the nearby courier's office. It's name is Holy Grace Deliveries. The witch maiden goes there often to get her arcane tools.”

“I see... Holy Grace Deliveries, you say?” stepping back, Cyril smiled at the receptionist, “Thank you, ma'am. I'll be out of your hair now.”

He turned to exit Lanternhold Library... but stopped as he began walking down the stairs towards the exit. Once again he turned to face the beautiful décor and all the books on display, where his desire to read almost took hold over him. Almost. He still had a job to do, and he would not fail it.

So Cyril left, running out of the Lanternhold Library and coming to the street... where he came to a skidding halt. Riiiiiiiight. He didn't actually know where Holy Grace Deliveries was, did he? He only knew it was some nebulous 'nearby'.

“Ugh...” Cyril mumbled, “Okay...”

One hour and ten minutes. It took Cyril one hour and ten minutes of mindless searching to finally find his destination. By now, the sun was high in the sky as it was just a little past noon. Coming to a nearby bench, the young man sat upon it to catch his breath after mindlessly running around like a fool. Maybe he should have asked for more concrete directions, but he was so excited by his quest that he ran away so quickly. Him, of all people, excited for something. Ugh... he could just hear Tabitha's laugh, even when on the opposite side of the globe.

But as if it were fate, when Cyril pulled his head up... he saw it.

Holy Grace Deliveries. Simple, honest, and straight to the point.

Holy Grace Deliveries – or 'HGD' to those who use it often – was exactly what it said on the surface; a delivery station in High Bishop. Honestly, it was one of many other delivery stations, as High Bishop was large it could facilitate multiple post offices and the like. To set itself apart, Holy Grace Deliveries prided itself upon its quaint and homely aroma.

It wasn't a large building, meaning it was easily swallowed by the other buildings around it. And yet, people casually walked in and out of the courier's office, giving it a steady flow of patrons.

“Okay...” said Cyril as he stood up from his bench and took a deep breath, “Here we go...!”

Ring-A-Ding!

“Hm?”

The ringing bell echoed through the post office, bringing Cyril's gaze forward. The humble postal service was a modest little area, with a wide desk, many PO boxes behind said desk, as well as a door to the back that led to even more PO boxes. Behind the desk was also a wolf of a fellow, one with luscious red hair that had gray streaks running through it, showing his age. Despite his species and age, there was a jovial air about this man, and he greeted Cyril with an affable smile.

“Good afternoon, son,” said the wolf as the young man approached the desk, “Haven't seen your face 'round these parts before. Ya new here?” the wolfman then paused for a moment as he looked Cyril up and down, “Those clothes... I recognize them. You from Orchestra? That's where ya hail from? What can I do ya for?”

“Ah...? You can tell I'm from Orchestra?” said Cyril as he approached the desk, “Right... um... I am from Orchestra, but...” he shook his head, “I'm just here for research, that's all.”

“Yup, sounds 'bout right!” said the wolfman with a grin, “It ain't often that someone from Orchestra comes to these parts, less they're on some research duty. Most people from Orchestra hang out near the libraries.”

“Oh... I wish...” Cyril mumbled under his breath, before shaking his head clear, “Uh... that's not why I'm here though. You see, I'm looking for someone, and from what I've been told, she frequents this place often,” he tilted his head, “Do you know someone by the name of Natsume? Apparently, the people here call her the--”

“Witch maiden?” asked the wolf, to which Cyril deflated lightly before nodding.

“Yeah... that's the person...” he tensed up, “Do you... know her?”

“Hmmm...”

Curling his fingers at his chin, the wolf looked Cyril up and down, as if analyzing them. The scholar could feel the intense gaze of the wolf, and it caused his face to slightly pale. But he let out a deep breath, relaxing himself, while the wolf continued to leer at him.

“It ain't really polite of me to just give up someone's dwellin', even someone like her. But I can tell you've been runnin' around all mornin' lookin' for her,” he remarked, “And if there's one thing I know about Orchestral scholars, you don't so easily leave their quest. A buncha stubborn folks, I gotta say.”

“Uhh... I assure you, I don't mean to cause Natsume any distress or ill will,” Cyril claimed, “I just wish to ask her questions, is all.”

“Of that, I'm sure,” said the wolf, “But that's not the issue here,” he leaned in, “I'm not sure what you've heard of Natsume, but I have no qualms telling you to not bother her. She ain't the type of woman to suffer fools lightly. She likes keeping to herself, and she really doesn't like talkin' to much people. So unless you don't mind gettin' hexed, I recommend you find someone else to talk to.”

“I... I can't do that,” said Cyril as he shook his head, “Natsume...! I came all of this way to find and speak to her specifically! If she is who I think she is, then she may be the last practitioner of her religion... and I can't pass up the chance to talk to someone as important as her.”

“Her religion, you say?” said the wolf man, “And what religion might that be?”

“I have it on good authority that she may be the last worshiper of the religion known as 'Kemetokami',” Cyril explained, “All the information we have on the religion are... incredibly sparse, so if there is anyone who practices that belief, they are an invaluable source of knowledge,” he shook his head, “I just can't... not talk to her... even if it's for a short while.”

The wolf looked at Cyril, reading the pleading desperation on his face as he continued rubbing his chin. For a moment, he continued being abrasive... but then he sighed dismissively and rolled his eyes.

“You Orchestral scholars... just as stubborn as I knew you'd be...” he remarked before dropping his hands, “I still don't recommend you go bother her, but if you suddenly vanish into thin air, not many people in High Bishop'll notice it.”

“V... vanish...?” Cyril repeated while the wolf reached under his desk.

“I ain't gonna lie to ya, son,” said the wolf as he rummaged under his desk in search of something, “I still recommend you don't go and bother Miss Natsume, but I ain't gonna stop ya if you want to. She runs a shrine up on the mountain near here, you can't miss it. There's a gate at the end of this street up north that leads straight into the forests at the base of the mountain. If you follow that path up, you'll eventually come to a tree with strange totems surrounding it. If you go right at that tree, then it's a straight shot up to Natsume's shrine. And if you go – when you go – give her this.”

The wolfman's hand reemerged from behind his desk. In it he held a small, paperback book, which he handed to Cyril. At first confused, the scholar hesitated, but soon took the book from the wolfman. And what did he see?

Incubus & Grease, By Taylor Monique.

It was a... romance novel? And a steamy one at that if he was going by the image on the cover, that being of this burly man with his chest exposed, and this curvaceous woman with spiky red hair. Cyril looked at the book with great confusion, before looking back up at the wolfman, who chuckled in his direction.

“It's my wife's book,” he said, “Share it with Natsume when you see her. That should hopefully stop her from immediately putting a curse on you.”

“Um... uh... th-thanks...?” Cyril mumbled in confusion, “Okay then... I'll be off.”

“Again, son, I recommend you don't bother her,” said the wolfman.

Cyril nodded, taking his warning into consideration, but knowing that nothing was going to stop his quest. He had come this far already; it would be foolish of him to stop right at his journey's end. The Oracle of Yami, the mysterious witch maiden, the Setokami known as Natsume: she was right around the corner; he just needed to go to her.

With a smile and a wave, Cyril exited from the post office and turned towards the northern end of the street he stood on. His heart raced as he rushed towards the exiting gate, knowing that his journey was finally nearing its climax. As he parted through the gate and bid farewell to the guards standing at post, he quickly entered into a forest, just as the wolf at the post office claimed. His once rushing feet then began to slow as he traveled down the well-worn path.

And his mind began to race with thoughts.

So far, he had gained a lot of information about the Oracle of Yami that painted quite the picture of her. The waitress claimed she was some sort of local celebrity at the north-eastern sector of High Bishop, which was proven further true when he spoke to the officer he passed by. They both seemed to speak highly of her, curiously enough.

But then he spoke to the receptionist at Lanternhold Library, who seemed to respond with more fear than joy. The way she shouted out Natsume's name, and how her mouth hung open frightened Cyril. The receptionist wouldn't even call the Oracle of Yami by her name, instead calling her by the title of 'witch maiden'. This only got worse when he met with the man at the post office, who outright warned him to not meet up with Natsume.

All these thoughts caused Cyril to slow down as he walked through the forest, where eventually came to a halt. Turning around, he faced High Bishop, which was visible even through the thicket of the woods. When he turned to look forward once more, he gasped and stepped back. Before Cyril stood a tree, one with these strange totems resting around it.

Was that tree always there? He didn't remember seeing it when he was running before. Then again, he really wasn't paying attention as he was too excited to focus. Now as he took a few deep breaths to settle himself, he focused on the tree and totems before him, scanning them thoroughly. They were strange, clay figures with vague humanoid shapes. Some were short and rotund, others were tall and spindly, all had noodle-like arms, and black holes for eyes and mouths. From afar, they looked positively frightening. But instead of trembling, Cyril pulled one of his textbooks from his satchel and began searching through it.

“Haniwa...”

Haniwa were clay, terracotta figures created in certain areas of the world that were used in burial rituals. In a way, they were funerary objects, acting as markers to denote that a person was entering into a graveyard.

But these haniwa totems were just ever so slightly different from what Cyril was used to. Even the images in his textbook he held did not 100% match up with what he was currently seeing. The ones in front of him had strange symbols that did not match up with the symbols of other haniwa figures he had seen in the past. Such as this one that had the symbol of an ankh on it.

Huh...

These haniwa figurines were leaning upon the tree, wrapped around it, and lining a small road that split from this path. And this split path traveled deeper into the woods as they began climbing the mountain. Stuffing his textbook back into his satchel, Cyril began climbing up this right-hand path, traveling further and further up.

More and more haniwa figures became visible, owning those unique markings that made them stand out from others. He looked down towards them, pulling out a sketchbook in order to note down what he saw. Not only was he a researcher, but Cyril was an amazing artist, capable of sketching out the haniwa totems and their unique features in a matter of minutes.

This... had the unfortunate side effect of making his already long walk even longer. What should have taken about ten or so minutes up this strip of land, ended up being stretched out to thirty minutes as he painstakingly copied and made notes of all the haniwa figures he passed.

This only got worse when the haniwa figures finally stopped appearing... only to be replaced by full on busts.

Flanking the sides of the roads were derelict and aged busts of unknown deities. Cyril saw the heads of bird-like creatures, possibly eagles, the heads of wolves that bore their crescent-shaped fangs, the heads of jackals, full on busts of foxes with wings, and solar disks.

Like the haniwa figures from before, these were symbols that were worshiped in certain areas of the world. And also like the haniwa figures, their designs were... off. They reminded him of myths and religions in the eastern world like Solaria, but certain animals – like the jackal and solar disk – were important in desert nations such as Guarude.

Cyril had never seen such things before, guiding him to – once again – sketch out these busts, and make a plethora of notes about them. This was worse than the haniwa figures, because these busts were bigger, and he constantly referred to his textbooks to cross reference these busts with similar appearing busts in other religious sites.

It was... quite the ordeal... and an amazing one at that.

Cyril's mind raced with thoughts as he struggled to learn what this all meant. None of the textbooks he had lined up with these statues, with most connections being tertiary at best. More and more the young scholar realized that he was face-to-face with genuine Kemetokami artifacts! But he knew not what any of this meant, and could only make educated guesses. And while making educated guesses is what researchers like him do, he wouldn't be satisfied until he had answers. And only one person had the answers he sought.

Cyril continued on, his textbooks and sketchbooks in his satchel as he continued climbing through the forests. Thankfully, there were no more busts for him to get sidetracked by, and the trees around him began opening up. He saw that he had climbed up the grassy mountainside, giving him vantage over the immediate location. Cyril could more easily see around the mountain, and even see as far as High Bishop's central plaza where its massive clock tower stood.

But he continued on, while the ground beneath him began to change. Gone was the dirt path, replaced by an eroded stone path. Cyril could also see the broken wood of what once was banisters, making this walk less perilous than it was now. As it stood, there was a chance of him tripping and falling down the hillside... ugh... he did not want those thoughts in his mind.

So he kept going. Further. Further. Higher. Higher. And as he turned the corner, he stopped and gasped. There was an archway before him, one with an eastern architecture to it. It was what he knew as a torii gate, but instead of being red as expected, it was gold, white black. And instead of having katakana, or hiragana, or kanji written upon, there were various Guarudian hieroglyphs.

Mouth agape, Cyril gazed in awe of the torii gate. He was in such awe, that he almost did not hear the sound of...

Sweeep... Sweep... Sweeeep...

Someone was sweeping. It drew Cyril's gaze down, who saw... her...

Before Cyril stood a woman, one with a broom in hand. She was tall, taller than him, and taller than average for women who live at High Bishop. But she was not from High Bishop, was she? She was from somewhere else.

She was a woman of immaculate stature, with a darker skin complexion. Her features were sharp, her nose was pointed, and her lips were thin. From her head flowed black hair that was long and long and long, but tamed into twintails that extended from the side of her head like tassels. And her body?

Her body.

Her body was voluptuous, her figure curvaceous. From the rounding of her hips, to the narrowness of her waist, up to the heft of her bosom, she had a physique he'd only seen ascribed to aristocrats and other women of high status and class. Not that he meant to ogle her body of course, but it seemed as if – in some odd way – her clothing accentuated her divine figure!

This white kosode that was tied tight around her body, almost like a second layer of skin. It exposed her shoulders and even her sides to the point that her edges of her bosom were visible. She had a long flowing skirt that hugged the curves of her hips tight, yet were open at the sides, exposing her hips... and the side-tied panties she was wearing beneath.

Her clothing – from the zori sandals on her feet to the detached sleeves on her arms – was all so similar to the attire that Shinto priestesses wear in nations such as Solaria. Mikos is what they were called... or shrine maidens. But unlike those shrine maidens, this woman's clothing was not white and red, but instead white and gold. And hanging from her neck via a necklace was an ankh: the symbol of life in Guarudian mythology.

This woman felt... majestic. This woman felt... otherworldly. This woman felt... divine. And if her clothing hadn't made her feel this way, then her attributes did. For from her head she had not ears like he, a human, but instead the sharp, pointed and black ears of a jackal. And from her head she had not one tail, but nine. Nine black tails that all flowed and swayed with hypnotic movements.

And yet.

And yet.

And yet it was not her clothes, her body, nor her nine tails that attracted Cyril so. It was her eyes. Her sharp, powerful, domineering eyes. Eyes that were sharp. Eyes that could penetrate his very soul. Eyes that shined with the same radiance as the starlit sky. Eyes that were looking squarely at him.

For a moment, Cyril stood there with his mouth agape. He wanted to say something, but he was so stunned by this woman's beauty, that sounds failed to reach him. Instead, his mind was assaulted by those images again.

Blue skies... white clouds... pyramids of a strange shape... and... a woman with nine tails.

This was her! This was the woman of his dreams! Truly! She had been in his dreams! Somehow!

“Are you--”

“ Chinmoku...”

Zzzzzziiiiiiiiip!

“Hm? Mmmm!? MMMMM!?!?!?”

Cyril's lips...

Were sealed shut.

Like his mouth was the zipper on pants, his lips were zipped close, rendering him speechless. The young scholar's eyes grew wide as he tried to open his mouth, only to feel his lips refuse to budge via some invisible force. His next act was to grip at his lips, as if he could forcibly pry them apart with his hands.

It didn't work.

“MMMM!? HMMMM!? NMMMMM!?!?!?”

“If you're going to struggle and open your mouth, do it somewhere else,” said the woman as she turned away, her eyes closed, “Even the sound of your lip-less mumbling is annoying to me.”

Cyril gazed wide-eyed at the woman. She hexed him? She hexed him! Just like the waitress warned him, the so-called 'witch maiden' had no qualms slinging out curses and hexes if someone annoyed her. Did he annoy her? He didn't even say a full sentence before she silenced him!

What else did the waitress say? That he needed to either wait for the spell to wear off, or beg a holy man to cure the infliction! Both options sounded like they'd take way too long in order to speak again! Besides, how was he going to talk to her if he was cursed? Even if he waited for the hex to leave naturally, what was stopping her from just hexing him again?

Wait... that man at the courier's office! The book he gave him! Maybe Cyril could use it to gain the witch maiden's favor? She had turned around to return to her idle sweeping, so he reached into his satchel. Boldly, the young scholar approached the nine-tailed jackal... and placed his hand on her shoulder. She tensed up and turned around, glaring at him as she raised her hand, as if prepared to strike him down. But...

“Ah...”

A book. In Cyril's hand, he was holding a book. A romance book. A romance book she had yet to read.

Incubus & Grease, By Taylor Monique.

“Oooooh...!”

The woman's face changed almost immediately. No longer was she annoyed and alert, instead being star-struck by the book before her. She came close to taking the novel from Cyril, but instead looked the young man in his eyes, watching him tremble.

“Is this... for me...?” she said, her tone no longer having that terse annoyance within it.

“Mm-hm!” Cyril said, praying that this would convince her to liberate his lips. Thankfully for him...

“ Hanasu...”

“Bwaaah! Hah hah ha!”

Cyril gripped his throat, clinching it lightly as he gasped for breath. While she didn't stop his ability to breathe, losing the ability to even open his mouth felt paramount to drowning! Now that his lips gaped open, he would never take for granted the ability to speak ever again.

Slowly – hesitantly – he looked back up towards the nine-tailed jackal before him. She held the book in one hand, while her other hand held her broom, her stance powerful and mighty. The witch maiden loomed over him like a goddess, with her powerful gaze to match. Lips curled into a frown, sharp eyes piercing his soul... all while the sun glowed overhead. Behind her were cherry blossoms that gently billowed in the wind, and derelict structures similar to eastern Asian homes, only their roofs were like that of a pyramid's top.

It all made her feel so much grander than any woman he has ever met before.

“Why are you here?” asked the nine-tailed jackal, her tone curt and pointed, “If you have come for my aid, then I recommend you go home. I am not in the mood for the follies of others today...”

“I...” said Cyril as he looked at her.

He paused for a moment. She was so quick to hex him before he got a sentence out; what if he said something else that annoyed her? At least the book he gave her suppressed her for the moment; if he was going to talk, it would be now. He just needed to pick his words very wisely.

“Mistress Natsume...?” he whispered, making her ears twitch.

“That is my name,” she replied, “Why are you here? Just to deliver the book?”

“N-no...” Cyril mumbled back... before bowing his head down before her, “My name is Cyril Oleander. I'm a scholar at Northelion Academy from Orchestra. I have come to interview you.”

“Interview... me...?” said the witch maiden, before turning around dismissively, “Tch... you're from Orchestra, no? Then interview a witch there. There are plenty within your kingdom's borders...”

“I don't want to interview a witch. I am not here to interview a witch,” said Cyril, “I'm here to interview you. You are the... the Oracle of Yami, are you not? You are the setokami.”

Natsume locked up, and Cyril grew silent. For several moments he stood there, gazing at her back, watching as her nine tails all froze up. With her back to him, he was incapable of seeing her face, which made him worry. But the young scholar did not buckle. He remained strong, refusing to show fear.

“How do you know that name?” Natsume asked, her voice piercing the air with how... rigid it was.

“I study religions at the Northelion Academy,” Cyril explained, “And we have information on the religion of Kemetokami... but our data is sparse to say the least. My director had heard that a practitioner of Kemetokami lived here, at High Bishop, so I was sent to investigate, and hopefully learn from them... er... yearn from you... learn about you.”

“And if I decline...?”

Her response caused Cyril to grow quiet. In his mind, he replayed the words Director Himmel told him.

I need you to do whatever it is you can to study under the Oracle of Yami, Cyril. Whatever it takes! Talk to them, beg them, work as their slave, seduce them, whatever it takes!

Yeah. That. Well, he wouldn't include everything Director Himmel said, but he would try his hardest.

“I'll do whatever it takes to learn from you.”

“Whatever it takes...?” repeated Natsume as she turned around to face him, “Is that an intelligent thing to say when speaking with the witch maiden?”

Honestly? No. While Cyril knew that most rumors about witches were just that, hyperbolic rumors, he wasn't so stupid as to think they weren't dangerous! Witches were often seen as being less reputable when compared to other spellcasters, such as court wizards or mages. And Natsume already proved herself fully willing to curse someone if they annoyed her. What punishment would befall Cyril by agreeing to do 'whatever it takes' just to be taught by her?

But he didn't back down. He couldn't back down. And, no, it's not because he feared failing Director Himmel and his academy... thought that played a part in things too. No, he wanted to learn from Natsume because, personally, he needed to learn from Natsume. The haniwa figures he saw outside of her domain piqued his interests, and the derelict busts he came across next caused those interests to explode into a hunger for knowledge. And now, as he stood before the Oracle of Yami herself, he knew he would not leave High Bishop until he learned about her.

Until he learned all about her.

So, yes, he would be willing to do whatever it takes. She could curse him, could bind his lips, his eyes, his ears, his whatever, and he'd take it. Just so he could learn more about her and the mysterious religion she worshiped.

Cyril took a deep breath.

“Yes,” he confirmed, “Whatever it takes.”

Natsume tilted her head up at him.

“Khee khee khee khee khee! Foolish boy.”

Almost immediately, Cyril regretted his decision.

There was a darkness at the fridges of Natsume's face, one that soon took on the form of a full miasma of shadows that flowed around her body. The young scholar could have even swore he saw sigils emerge from around her, as if the witch maiden was struggling to contain her malevolent aura!

More and more the universe was telling him not to get involved. But the man at the post office was right; Orchestral researchers were a stubborn group, and even though Cyril was fidgeting slightly in Natsume's presence, he wasn't going to back down.

“Fine then,” said Natsume, the sinister miasma fading from her body, “If you wish for me to teach you about Kemetokami, I'm going to put you to work beforehand. It's been a while since I've had aid at my shrine, and as you can tell... it's a bit derelict.”

A bit? There were vines growing through the stone path and the buildings! The shrine looked as if it had been fully reclaimed by nature! He wouldn't be surprised if he found wild animals living among the structures!

Was Cyril expecting to work? No. Was he going to shrug in the face of work? He's a researcher who's spent days at archaeology sites! While he wasn't as physically capable as, say, Tabitha, he was still used to getting his hands dirty! So...

“I'll do my best.”

Natsume smiled.

“Good. Khee khee khee!”

She walked closer, her nine tails swaying in a hypnotic manner. Cyril's chest tightened as he watched her approach, his head tilting back in order to see her in all of her tall, divine glory. His heart raced as his eyes were trapped by her eyes, and the smirk on her lips were fueled by deviousness and malevolence.

“Return to your room, Cyril,” said Natsume as she clutched close to her broom, “I have no need for you today.”

“What? R-really?” he said, stunned by her command.

“I was going to go down to Lanternhold Library to search for a new book... but...” raising the book in hand, she shook it, “I think I'll retire early today and read this novel you have so graciously given to me. Regardless...” she looked back at him, “You'll need your energy for tomorrow. It has been so long since I've had a personal aide.”

A cold sweat broke down Cyril's brow at Natsume's words. Was it too late to take back his 'whatever it takes' clause? No? Dammit.

…

A year ago, Cyril's team and the archaeologists team both traveled to the nation of Durna to investigate ancient ruins that had been unearthed after a recent monsoon tore through the countryside. When they arrived and united with the archaeologists native to Durna, they spent the next several days digging through stone, sediment and a lot of mud in order to unravel these ancient ruins. While Cyril was not suited for extreme physical activity, that did not mean he couldn't do it. He worked with their contractors to properly dig up the ruins, aching and draining his body every inch of the way.

Somehow, that was easier than this!

“Tch! Have you never tilled a field before? Are you daft?”

“Hnn...!”

It was cool on the mountainside... so why was he so sweaty? The skies were dotted with only a few white clouds, and the sun shined upon him. For all intents and purposes, it was a beautiful and clear day.

Too bad he couldn't enjoy it!

Thwak! Draaaaaaaaaaaaag!

With a garden hoe in hand, Cyril dragged it through the soft soil, drawing lines through its surface. He did so in a location that had been tilled before in the past, going by the obvious signs... such as the admittedly horrifying scarecrow that overlooked the area. Absolutely terrifying to humans... not so frightening to animals, considering the number of crows perched upon it.

This small farmland – and I certainly mean 'small' – was located a few yards away from Natsume's shrine. Her home could be seen in the distance, as well as the forest that surrounded it. Beyond in the distance, Cyril could hear the sound of a waterfall, but... he ignored it.

Less he gain more of her ire.

Speaking of...

“I recommend straightening your back more... less you want to cause yourself more pain.”

Natsume... the Oracle of Yami... the setokami. She was surrounded by so much mystery beforehand. During the buildup for his trip to High Bishop, Cyril's mind was filled with thoughts about who she was, and what she was like. He thought she'd be some wise mystic who was elegant and divine, one whose knowledge was beyond his years. Instead, he got this bossy jackal woman who seemed to enjoy his suffering.

And yet... she was still elegant and divine. Oh Logos... give him strength!

As Cyril tilled through the fields, Natsume stood behind at her farmland's edge. She was dressed as she was yesterday, wearing the same white and gold attire that was akin to what a miko would wear. However, in her hand sat a paper parasol she used to block out the sun from above, one that was white and gold. It cast her face in shadows, which caused her eyes to glow, and her smirk to appear even more devilish.

She so clearly took sadistic glee in his suffering.

“Do you spend all day with your nose in books?” asked Natsume, “You have a fit body, and yet you seem unfit for manual labor such as this. Keep the line straight. I am planting crops that will see me through the winter seasons, not trying to create an abstract portrait.”

“Mggh...”

“Oh? Do I annoy you?” asked Natsume, her haughty tone piercing the air, “You are free to leave whenever you please. A part of me would enjoy it.”

Her goading words caused him to roll his eyes, but Cyril would not be deterred. If she thought he'd give up, she had another thing coming! No matter how sharp her tone was, or how pointed her critique of him, he was going to toil these fields, and she was going to teach him!

“Baaah... hah... ha... there...” Cyril mumbled as he leaned against his hoe, sweat dripping from his brow.

“Hmm...”

Natsume walked forward, checking Cyril's handiwork. He had tilled the field, and while it took longer than it normally would, Natsume was pleased. Was she pleased because she didn't have to till the fields? Or was she pleased because she enjoyed watching Cyril suffer? He assumed it was both.

“Here,” said the setokami as she approached him, a small bag in hand, “This bag contains sugarcane seeds. Plant them in the dirt. Four seeds must be spaced apart by two feet, understood?”

“Hm... yes, ma'am,” Cyril answered, to which Natsume shook her head.

“That's 'Yes, Mistress', understood?”

“Hmm... yes... Mistress...”

“Good... now do it... khee khee khee!”

Her laughter – that 'Khee khee khee' – it was filled with this arrogant and venomous bile to it. Cyril had only known Natsume for a day at most, yet the sound of her chortle was already like nails on a chalkboard! Again, he assumed it was her attempts to drive him away, but he refused to back down. Instead, he took the bag of sugarcane seeds, and watched as the Oracle of Yami began walking off.

Her tone may have been baleful, her actions may have been sadistic, but the way she carried herself was anything but. Natsume moved like a woman without flaw. She was stout, her body never bending, and when she walked, it was with such an elegant stride. Even her nine tails continued to move with their hypnotic sway. Cyril found himself watching her move longer than need be, and he only looked away when she turned around to face him.

It took him close to two hours to hoe the fields to Natsume's liking. Thankfully, it only took him twenty minutes to plant the seeds how he had been commanded.

Pulling back, he dragged his arm across his sweaty brow. But Natsume walked behind him, where she poked him in his back with her parasol.

“What are you doing? Trying to relax?” asked the setokami, “I'm beginning to doubt you want me to teach you about Kemetokami.”

“Mmmg...!”

No, no, no. No! He wasn't going to fall for her tricks! For a woman with knowledge of a nearly extinct religion, it's odd that she resulted to using schoolyard tricks in an attempt to make him leave. If she wanted to get rid of him, why didn't she just use her magic to force him away? Her personality now seemed to be at complete odds with the terse woman who silenced him when he so much as dared try to speak to her.

This was a test, wasn't it? She really wanted to make sure if he was worthy of gaining her knowledge. Then so be it. He was going to get that knowledge, one way or another.

“Okay,” said Cyril as he faced Natsume, “What next?”

“Break time over?” asked the witch maiden, her face gaining that sadistic smirk once again, “Good. Follow me.”

Clutching her parasol close, Natsume began walking off. Cyril lingered for a moment, before taking a deep breath and following behind. Together, they traveled away from Natsume's small farm, walking up a small incline towards her shrine. The witch maiden's home was far, far larger than one would expect from first glance. If they were to climb the mountainside, they would see the central shrine which Cyril assumed acted as her home. But there wasn't one shrine, but several smaller buildings that circled a central, larger shrine.

Cyril could see that larger shrine, but he had yet to walk into her home proper. For now, these glimpses of it was all he was allowed to see.

Natsume continued on, leading the young scholar along a path that circled the perimeter of her shrine. Together, the two entered into the forest directly to the back of her estate, entering among trees. The area was dense with foliage and rocks, and the topography began to slant at a somewhat steep incline. Cyril began to struggle slightly with walking along the path, but Natsume remained unaffected, and – moreover – flawless. She walked with such poise, such grace, almost as if gravity didn't apply to her.

“Almost there,” said the nine-tailed jackal as they continued on.

They passed under a few more trees, where the sound of rushing water grew louder. It was the waterfall he heard from before! As they passed through one last thicket, Cyril's eyes grew wide. Before him across a small ravine was a waterfall that deposited water into a clear basin of pure water. The young scholar gasped in awe of the natural beauty he gazed upon... before something else attracted his eyes.

Within the ravine, slightly tipped over at an edge, and clearly worn down by the ravishes of time, was a pyramid. But that's not true, is it? Cyril knew what a pyramid looked like. He had the honor of going to Guarude once, and gazing upon one of their glorious pyramids in person. But this pyramid? This pyramid was... different. This pyramid was... unique.

This pyramid was tiered as it rose up, with each tier having the wooden roof of a Shinto-style structure thanks to its curved eaves. The very top of this decaying pyramid too appeared similar to the roof of Natsume's shrine, as well as the pointed structures of shrines and homes in Solaria.

Cyril stared at the pyramid like he was gazing upon an optical illusion. A structure that was like a Shinto shrine and a desert pyramid, combined together to create something that should not exist. The haniwa figures, those busts of unknown deities, even the unique coloration of the torii gate with its hieroglyphs, could all be easily ignored. But this? This pyramid? This pyramid that sank and eroded into this basin of water, could not be denied.

“What is that...?” Cyril asked breathlessly. The words left his mouth instinctively; he hadn't even realized he spoke them until they already left his lips. Fortunately for him.

“That is a shrine-pyramid.”

Natsume answered.

“It is... it was a place of worship for Kemetokami's gods: the kami-neteru.”

“The... kami-neteru...?”

“In the past, this shrine-pyramid was erected in reverence of the goddess Inari-Isis, the kami-neteru whose dominion was over magic... rice... and fertility.”

“Fer... tility...?”

Cyril gazed over at Natsume. Natsume gazed back towards Cyril. The sadistic setokami who forced him to perform manual labor was gone. Replacing her was the divine, no-nonsense goddess who he saw when he first came to her shrine. She gazed not at him, but through him, and into him. Natsume's gaze penetrated his very soul.

“Cyril...” she said, making him straighten up.

“Y-yes...?”

“You are not done yet. This is my rice field.”

“Rice... field...? Oh no...”

Cyril looked down, gazing forward instead of towards the ravine. Before him were multiple ledges of water and grass; terraces of paddy fields meant for rice. These ledges were filled with grains of rice that grew on stalks which reached up past his thighs. Grains that were ripe for the taking. While normal rice fields were far larger than this, that didn't make these rice fields any less impressive... or any less daunting.

“You are going to need this,” said Natsume.

Cyril looked over towards the witch maiden. Next to her – having seemingly appeared from thin air – was a basket. And in her hand was a sickle blade. That brief flicker of divinity Natsume had when speaking of Inari-Isis had vanished. Returning at his side was the sadistic setokami and her wicked grin.

“Get to work, boy,” she commanded whilst giving him the sickle blade, “This rice isn't going to harvest itself. Cut it from the base, and carry it back to this basket. And do know, you will be harvesting the grain the old fashion way by whacking it. I hope your arm strength is up to par, khee khee khee!”

“Hmm...” Cyril looked down to the sickle he held, gripping its handle tight, “Uh... I hope so too...”

Hopes are nice... but physical strain is hell.

A part of Cyril thought – a part of Cyril hoped – that his manual labor would be finished after harvesting Natsume's rice. For several hours he spent in her paddy fields, tearing rice grain out from the ground, carrying it to the basket, then going back to the paddy fields to do it all over again. He then needed to carry the basket – by himself! – back to the outskirts of nine-tailed jackal's shrine, where he had to whack the grains upon a rack, which caused the rice itself to fill into yet another basket. Then he had to take this basket filled with rice and carry it somewhere else.

If the pain in his arm wasn't going to kill him, then the pain in his back sure as hell would...

“This way, boy,” said Natsume, that sadistic grin on her lips as she looked over her shoulder towards him, “I have no silo to dry out my rice; I do things the old fashion way. We will be planting the seeds near my zen garden.”

“Okay... ah...”

A zen garden. Yes, a place meant for quiet reflection and meditation. While they would not be entering the zen garden, being near it would be enough to increase Cyril's mood.

Natsume walked off, heading down the side of her shrine... before taking a left to enter into it more directly. Following behind, Cyril's heart raced. This was the first time traveling deeper into her home; he had only been on its outskirts thus far. And while this wasn't the same as actually entering inside a building, the young scholar was still curious to see all that he could.

There were brief glimpses, but he could see the busts of various idols. Similar to the statues that line the road outside of Natsume's shrine, these busts were also derelict and crumbling, with vines growing through its mossy stone. But enough of the statues remained for him to get an idea of what they once looked like.

Bird-like creatures, wolves with crescent-shaped fangs, jackals, foxes with wings, and solar disks. What did Natsume call them before? The gods of Kemetokami? She called them the kami-neteru, right? Were these busts made in recognition of the kami-neteru? Cyril opened his mouth to ask about them, but he stopped himself.

The kami-neteru... such a mystical name.

“This way, boy,” said Natsume, her tone curt yet dripping with cruelty, “There's no time to get awestruck. Khee khee khee!”

“Hmm...”

They turned around another corner, walking past what Cyril assumed to be the shrine's courtyard. The aged buildings surrounded a pen containing a grand cherry blossom tree, one that swayed softly through the breeze. The cherry blossom tree was contained in a pen, and at the front of the pen was a small, pyramid-shaped shrine that wasn't much larger than a mailbox. Again, Cyril's eyes grew alight with curiosity, but again, he did not speak.

But Natsume noticed it nonetheless.

“Are you curious, boy?” she asked whilst looking at him, noticing his gaze.

“I...” Cyril nodded, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Khee khee khee... here... take this...”

Turning to face him, Natsume's hand reached into a seam along her chest. He watched as she rummaged about within that pocket, before pulling out – of all things – a lotus petal. Cyril gazed at it, eyes wide with awe and confusion, while the setokami handed the petal to him.

“Lotus petals are important in Kemetokami,” Natsume explained, “They are what we use to commune with the spirits... and the dearly departed. Follow me.”

There it was again: that divine and no-nonsense goddess who maintained this derelict temple. He had nearly forgotten about it after harvesting all that rice. Now with this lotus petal in hand, he followed Natsume to the small shrine, watching as she opened it up. Within laid ashes, which were quickly blown away by a gentle breeze.

“Gaze upon the lotus petal, and tell me what do you see,” Natsume ordered, causing Cyril to do as he was told.

“I see... kanji?” he answered.

“Upon this lotus petal, we write our prayers, our hopes, our dreams,” Natsume stated, “And we burn them for the spirits above to read. Perhaps they answer them. Perhaps not. Perhaps we are merely content to know that those who have left us know that we are still well, and we still care for them. When the message is written, we place it into this shrine... and we burn it away with incense until not but ash remains,” she looked over at him, “Place the lotus petal within.”

Doing as he was told once again, Cyril placed the lotus petal within the shrine. Natsume then grabbed a thin white stick that sat in a holder to the side of the shrine. Pulling out said stick, she flicked it through the air, using her magical prowess to cause a small flame to appear at the end of the stick. It burned hot and bright, and filled the air with a sweet smelling fragrance. This was a stick of incense, and she placed it upon the lotus petal, holding it close until a small fire appeared within the petal. She then rested the stick of incense upon the petal and closed the shrine, allowing the fire to burn away the petal.

“Now... we pay our respects so that the offering reaches the spirits safely,” said Natsume.

Closing her eyes, the nine-tailed jackal bent over in reverence, holding a pose of respect. Cyril paused for a moment, before mirroring what she was doing, closing his eyes and bowing as well. For several moments they stood like this, paying their respects, before Natsume straightened back up.

“Okay. Break time is over,” said the setokami as she turned away from Cyril, a devious smirk adorning her lips, “Get moving, boy. That rice isn't going to spread itself out.”

As her sadistic tone returned, Cyril straightened up. But he wasn't as put off by it as he was before. While he could not gleam what was Natsume's true personality (was she a divine goddess merely acting like a sadistic witch, or was she a sadistic witch who had streaks of divinity within her?), he understood completely that there were different shades to the Oracle of Yami. Her knowledge of her religion went well beyond his... and he had no doubts she could teach him other things as well.

He promised himself – not just for his academy, but truly for himself – to learn everything Natsume could possibly teach her... even if the manual labor was going to run his body ragged.

Together, they left the small shrine outside of the cherry blossom tree. But for a brief moment, Cyril paused. That lotus petal with the kanji on it; Natsume said they write messages upon the lotus petal: their prayers, their hopes, their dreams, and just general messages to the spirits. So... what was written on that lotus petal?

“Boy? Aren't you coming?” asked Natsume, to which Cyril nodded.

“Yes, I'm coming...!”

The spread of rice was surprisingly long. The young scholar thought he'd only have to dump the basket over, and let the rice flow upon the ground. But that's not what Natsume wanted. The setokami wanted him to spread the rice in lines upon the ground, and to make sure none of it was blocked by any shadows. Cyril did so upon a strip of land that neighbored Natsume's dry garden. By the time he was finished, the sun had begun its downward trajectory, casting the sky in reds and oranges of various colors.

Cyril pulled back, sweat drenching his body as his legs shook and his arms felt like strained noodles. The basket of rice he held was now empty, as Natsume made sure he plucked every grain of rice – no matter how small – from its wooden basin. Now as the rice laid upon the fields, drying in the sun, the young scholar stumbled backwards upon unsteady feet... before falling on a small staircase that led up to one of the shrine's ledges.

Reclining upon the stairs, Cyril gazed upon his handiwork, a somewhat delirious smile spreading out on his lips. Behind him, he heard the sliding door leading into Natsume's home open up, but he couldn't bring himself to look back. A part of him feared punishment for his brief pause; that she'd silence him or sew his eyes shut due to him taking a break. But instead...

He heard Natsume sit down behind him, getting upon her knees. Next a bucket of wood sat down next to him, one that plopped with water filled to the basin. Reaching into the bucket, the nine-tailed pulled out a white rag, one she squeezed to ring out. She then gently grabbed Cyril's head, pulling him back gently until his head rested upon her lap. He gasped in confusion, but said nothing, allowing her to do as she pleased.

With that white rag in hand, Natsume pressed it to his forehead, revealing it to be cold to the touch. Against his sweaty forehead, it felt as soothing as a warm blanket on a Sunday morning, causing Cyril to sigh from pleasure. His eyes closed shut soon after, while the setokami continued to grind her cold wet rag against his forehead.

She said nothing. He said nothing. A part of him expected – even hoped – that she'd praise him for his hard work today... but no. There was nothing but silence, and the silence was good.

Ah... Natsume's hands were so gentle.

…

“I thought your tilling was awful and maligned, but your sand raking is even worse. How am I to meditate when I see this gazing back at me?”

“Nmmm...”

It was the next day, and as expected Cyril came to perform more manual labor for Natsume. The witch maiden ordered him to follow her to her zen garden, something that genuinely excited him. Thus far, he had only been lucky to experience a few aspects of the setokami's home and religion, such as her cherry blossom. Being invited to her zen garden was an opportunity he could not pass up!

And the zen garden was a beauty to behold. Standing on the deck of her home, gazing out over this square shaped encampment instilled within Cyril a sense of awe he couldn't quite explain. He has been to many houses of worship throughout his years, but this felt truly otherworldly, even in its simplicity. The zen gardens he had experienced in the past were works of art filled with gravel, but this was a work of art filled with golden-red sand.

Rahara was a desert nation; was this sand native from her homeland? That question bounced around in Cyril's head... until Natsume gave him a rake made of wood, one with triangle-shaped teeth. She then ordered him to drag this lake through the sands in lines, and to keep the lines as aligned and as straight as he could manage. 'Samon' and 'Hokime' she called it... though those words went well over his head. All Cyril knew was that he needed to drag lines in the sand, and if he did a poor job, Natsume was going to let him know about it.

Oh by Logos did she let him know...

“Slow down, boy,” Natsume ordered as she stood perched upon her home's deck, “If you move too fast, you'll ruin the balance. This is an art form; not manual labor!”

“Mmgg...”

Cyril couldn't help but to roll his eyes at that statement. This was manual labor, and she couldn't call it anything else! Besides, wasn't maintaining zen gardens supposed to, you know, make one feel at peace? You don't just meditate while gazing at it; it brings a sense of balance to the individual raking through the sand and gravel! But that's not what Cyril felt.

Bleh...

Regardless of how he felt while tending to Natsume's zen garden, the young scholar did not bemoan his situation. At least, not verbally. He just did as he was told while committing as much information to memory as he could.

The witch maiden's zen garden was different from what he knew of other zen gardens he had seen. There was the major difference of it having sand instead of gravel, but there were changes beyond that. A walkway that ran through the garden, passing under smaller torii gates which traveled from one end of the sand garden to the other. Zen gardens weren't typically places one walks through, right? But this place was different.

Drawing his rake through the sand, Cyril reached the opposing end of the zen garden, where he came across something... alien. Dug out into the sand pit via a square shaped hole that had its own stone divot, was a body of water. It was clear and pristine to the point that he could see the bottom of the basin... as well as the flecks of sand which drifted through it. When the sun struck the body of water, the sand within it glittered like gold, shimmering in a way that made Cyril gasp in awe.

“Curious?” asked Natsume.

Her voice appeared from over his shoulder... which should have been impossible. She was standing on the deck of her home watching him rake through her sand garden, was she not? So how did she appear behind him without making a noise? Her sudden presence caused Cyril to tense up in fear, even gasp.

“Natsume, I--” he whispered, only to be cut off when Natsume said,

“ Chinmoku...”

Zzzziiiiiip!

“Mmmf!?”

With her spell, she sealed his mouth shut, forcing him to be silent. Cyril's eyes grew wide with fear and his heart raced, but unlike last time, he did not start struggling to open his mouth. Instead, he focused on the sound of Natsume's voice, even as she taunted him with her trademark 'Khee khee khee'.

“Gaze upon the water, Cyril,” the nine-tailed jackal ordered, “This body of water you see is known as a cleansing basin. In Kemetokami, we use it for our purification rites, an act known as Misogi-Ka. In Misogi-Ka, we bathe in sacred rivers or sand gardens to clean away the impurities that stain not only our bodies, but our minds and souls. It is important to cleanse oneself in Misogi-Ka, so that the impurities do not accumulate and weigh down upon one's spirit. I bathe in this tub at the beginning of every month to make sure of this.”

“Mmmm...”

Slowly – gently – Natsume placed her hand upon Cyril's back. His eyes bulged, a cold sweat oozing down his brow. What was she about to do? Well...

She pushed him.

“Hmm!?”

Cyril stumbled forward, coming eeeeveeerrrrr so close to falling over into her cleansing basin. But before he could fall over into it completely, Natsume grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him back, stopping his descent. He breathed hard nonetheless, his eyes remaining wide and his heart racing as he gazed towards the clear body of water and its flickering golden sands. The Oracle of Yami then pulled back her hand, and spoke.

“ Hanasu...”

“Guhh! Hah hah ha!”

Like the first time, Cyril was transformed into a panting mess when his ability to open his mouth had been returned. He then grabbed the wooden rake tight and turned around to face Natsume. But Natsume wasn't behind him. Somehow, she had returned to standing perched upon her home's deck, her eyes glowing in the distance as she wore her trademark sadistic smile.

“Keep raking, boy,” she commanded, “I want this done before noon.”

“Y-yes... Mistress...”

But before Cyril returned to raking, he gazed at the cleansing basin one last time. There was a palpable power emanating from the tub, one that felt... otherworldly. He shuddered to think what it was he could be feeling. Just the fleeting fear of Natsume holding power over him? Or the understanding that – on some level – the Oracle of Yami's home was alive? Putting it lightly...

Cyril felt as if he and Natsume weren't as alone as he thought they were.

The rest of his raking happened without issue. Yes, Natsume berated him for his poor form, and yes, he had to redo a few areas several times, but things could have been significantly worse. When he was finished, two hours had passed. He now stood at the entrance to the sand garden, sweat percolating on his form as he gazed at his handiwork. And Natsume?

“I've done better,” said the nine-tailed jackal as she gazed upon her zen garden, “But for your first time, it could have been worse, boy. Khee khee khee.”

“I uh... um...” mumbled Cyril, before sighing and exhaling deeply, “Thank you, Mistress...”

“Khee khee khee! As you should. When your Mistress praises you, you should be thankful for said praise,” she then turned, facing the entrance to her home, “Now stay here. I will be back.”

Cyril turned, facing Natsume as she opened the sliding door to her home. She then entered inside... but did not close the door behind her. Eyebrow raised, the young scholar gazed at the witch maiden, watching as her nine tails swayed... and her hips did likewise. She moved with this flawless elegance to her that was also so... erotic. Although, he'd never admit to that out loud.

It did not matter. Before he knew it, Natsume had turned around a corner in her home, vanishing from view... and leaving Cyril alone. He took that moment to deflate completely, where he fell upon the ground and sat there, panting gently for breath. But then his eyes looked forward, once again gazing into her home.

This was his first unabashed view of the interior to her home, was it not? And as he expected, the interior was similar in architecture and design to the east Asian homes of places like Solaria. Straw floors, wooden walls, paper doors with images painted upon them. But unlike Solaria – whose painted doors showed images such as mountains, rivers, and green fields, the images painted on these doors were of deserts, rocky buttes, and shrine-pyramids. There were also many hieroglyphs, which continued to be alien to Cyril.

You know what Natsume also had a lot of in her home? Books. Like... an obscene amount of books. Cyril was often teased by others for having a large assortment of tomes in his room, despite the small size of his dorm. But this? This!? This was extreme.

From the floor to nearly the ceiling, there were books stacked upon books, stacked upon books. If Cyril's small dorm was a jungle of books, then this room alone was a labyrinth of tomes which made it difficult to see through. Some were big, some were small, but they were all so dusty, making it clear to the young scholar that they had been here for years, maybe even decades.

Hmm...

His curiosity got the better of him, and he let that curiosity guide him forward. Despite knowing that a punishment would surely befall him if he entered into Natsume's home without her permission... he just couldn't help himself! She's known as the witch maiden, right? He needed to see what kind of arcane knowledge existed within one of these books! And there were so many of them piled upon one another! If he just picked up one book – just one – there would be no harm in at least reading its title, right?

So Cyril picked up one book, and he brought his eyes upon its title. And...

Dandelion Truths, by Theresa Heim.

That's... not the title of a book containing unspeakable horrors. That's the title of a steamy romance book. Hmm... well... he did give her that book before; what was it called again? Incubus & Grease, right? Maybe this was just another romance book? So Cyril picked up another one, and...

Seas of Passion, by Samuel Thatcher.

That's... the title of yet another steamy romance book. In fact, this one was even steamier than the last, being far more erotic! That's another steamy romance book. What's the chances of a third book being erotic romance? Well...

Sanctuary Sins, by Sophia Knights.

Incredibly high, actually.

Cyril's eyes grew wide as he looked at the three books he checked. He then looked at every other book in this room, where he came to a horrifying discovery. All of them – all of them – were romance novels! Not all of them were steamy erotica – there was a lot that was fluffy and soft – but that doesn't change the fact THIS ENTIRE ROOM WAS FILLED WITH ROMANCE NOVELS!!!

“This isn't a problem, is it?” Natsume's voice suddenly echoed from his side.

“BWAH!?”

Cyril leaped back and turned, coming face-to-face with the witch maiden, who seemingly appeared from thin air. The nine-tailed jackal gazed at him, her face flat, lacking her sadistic charm, nor her ethereal divinity. She just looked at him like they were random strangers on the street talking about the weather.

“I can--”

Was all he could eek out before--

“ Chinmoku...”

Zzzzzziiiiiip!

That's twice in one day: A new record!

Cyril's lips were sealed up once again, restricting his ability to speak. He groaned, but unlike last time, he did not freak out. Instead, he admitted defeat almost instantly, understanding this was his punishment for overstepping his boundaries. What he didn't expect was for Natsume to raise her hands, revealing a wooden container.

“I brought you a bento box for lunch,” she explained... only to shake her head as her sadistic smile returned, “But I don't think it would do you much good in your state. I think I'll eat it instead! And once I'm finished, then we'll continue with your labor.”

And to make her words just that much pointed, Natsume opened the bento box, revealing its contents. Within was noodles, along with freshly cut and steamed fish, and cooked vegetables, all within this box, and all smelling incredibly delicious. If Cyril's mouth could open, he'd be drooling.

Truly, she was a witch in every sense of the word.

…

The rest of the day went on without issue. Cyril had learned his lesson about peeking in on Natsume's personal life, and he was truly apologetic about it. And, no, it's not because she sealed his lips. Thankfully, she released him from her hex at the end of the day, allowing him to run back into town and eat something. He was so drained, however, that he didn't finish his meal, and by the time he dragged himself into his rented room, he passed out on the floor.

And it was a good damn sleep.

Despite all the torture he was suffering at Natsume's hand, he woke up early in the morning to bathe, have a good breakfast, and then he left. He knew not what to expect for today's labor, but he also knew it was pointless to think about it. Whatever happened would happen, and he was sure the witch maiden was going to make him suffer for it.

So he started that walk towards her shrine, entering into the forest and coming to that familiar fork in the road. But today, there was a person there... and they were facing the direction heading towards Natsume's home.

“Um... good morning?” said Cyril.

“Ayiiieee!” the girl said, surprised.

She was a young woman, no doubt being around Cyril's age. Her hair was short and brown, she had a petite frame, and her face was very cat-like. Seriously; she was cat-like! She had the ears of a feline, the tail of a feline, and her eyes were sharp like a feline! Wearing modest and sporty clothes, she stood at the fork in the road with her eyes wide.

“Oh! Hee hee! Good morning, sir!” she said politely, making Cyril cock his head.

“Are you lost...?” he asked, “I can lead you back to High Bishop, if you'd like.”

“I'm not lost!” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, “I'm right where I wanna be! Hee hee!”

“Oooookaaaaay...” Cyril mumbled as he began walking past her, “Uh... see you around, then...”

“W-wait,” said the catgirl as she gazed at him, “You're going up to Miss Natsume's home? Are you looking to get help from her too?”

“Too?” Cyril repeated as he looked at her, “No. Or... well... not technically...” he shrugged his shoulders, “I'm... doing odd jobs around her shrine, I guess you can say,” he raised an eyebrow, “What about you? Did you... want to go up to her for... um... help?”

“YES!” the catgirl said, before quieting down as she coughed sheepishly, “I mean... y-yes...” she shrugged her shoulders, “I've gone to Miss Natsume in the past, and she's helped me. S-so... so I was just going to go to her again... that's all...”

“Really? And... Mistress Natsume hasn't cursed you yet?”

“Wow... you call her 'mistress'?” said the catgirl, her cheeks turning red, “Eeeeee! That's so cool! I could never call her Mistress Natsume!” she then shook her head, “Oh! Ooops... no, she hasn't cursed me yet. At least, I don't think she has... I have been losing my socks a lot though...”

Cyril raised his eyebrow at this girl. She gave off this airheaded personality from the little they've spoken; maybe it was due to her tone? But if she was an airhead, that made it odd that Natsume hadn't placed a hex on her. Then again, maybe Cyril was just bitter because he was constantly being hexed by the nine-tailed jackal.

“I won't be bothering you if I go speak with Miss Natsume, would I?” asked the catgirl, before tensing up, “Oh! Ooops! I forgot! My name's Mitty! And you are?”

“Cyril...” he answered, causing her eyes to sparkle.

“Cyril? Woooooow! That name sounds so cool! I've never met a Cyril before...”

“Cyril... isn't that uncommon a name, is it? Not where I'm from...”

“Hm? Where are you from?”

“Orchestra.”

“Really!? Like! Really really!? For really!?” said the catgirl as she rushed up towards Cyril, taking him aback, “You're seriously, really, truthfully from Orchestra! Woooooow! That's so awesome! I've heard a lot of things about Orchestra! Like, like, like! They got these golems that's powered by magic that do things for people, right? Like cook and clean for them!? I'd love to have a golem cook and clean for me! But if they did... then... I guess I'd be out of a job...”

“Golems? You mean... the constructs?” asked Cyril, “There's... not that unique...”

“Woooooow! They're called constructs!? Sooooo cooooooool!”

The catgirl – Mitty – began beaming with excitement. Cyril felt embarrassed... but a hapless smile appeared on his face. This interaction – small though it may be – was what High Bishop was built for. The meeting of people from different lands with different cultures, learning from one another. Was he the first person from Orchestra she had ever spoken to? If so, then it made him feel somewhat proud.

“What about you?” asked Cyril as he and Mitty began walking up the mountainside towards Natsume's shrine, “Where do you come from?”

“Oh? Me? Nowhere special,” said Mitty as she gingerly prodded her fingers together, “I come from a place called Dunbar, but I moved to High Bishop for the work. All I can do though is work as a servant, like a maid...” she grinned at him, “Not that I'm complaining or anything! I'm happy I have a job! Hee hee hee! Besides, I'm sure I'm nothing special to someone who comes from Orchestra!”

“I wouldn't say that,” Cyril replied, “Everyone has roles to play.”

“Hee hee hee! Thank you!”

“So... what is it you were going to ask Natsume for help with? Assuming you want to tell.”

For as outgoing and energetic as Mitty had been thus far, she suddenly grew embarrassed, as even her cheeks turned red. Still smiling through her embarrassment, the catgirl gazed to the side, where she chuckled lightly.

“That's... a secret...” she whispered, to which Cyril nodded.

He pressed no further, and together, the both of them approached Natsume's home. They stepped foot upon its outer perimeter, and walked beneath her gilded torii gate, where the nine-tailed jackal could be seen. Broom in hand and dressed in her golden miko attire, the setokami casually brushed away the cherry blossoms and dust motes that stained her front gates, before turning to face the two.

“Boy, you're here,” she said, before bringing her gaze over towards the catgirl at his side, where her personality shifted, “Mitty. It's lovely to see you again.”

“Miss Natsume!” she replied, her face positively beaming with excitement, “It's awesome to see you too! Hee hee!”

“Have you come for another consultation?” asked Natsume, to which the catgirl nodded furiously.

“Mm-hm! Yes yes yes! Another one, please! Hee hee!”

“Hm... so eager are you,” she gestured towards the shrine behind her cherry blossom, “You know where to wait for me,” her head then turned to face Cyril, “As for you, boy. Join Mitty. Give her someone to talk to.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Hee hee hee! That's so cool!”

Natsume returned to her sweeping, while Mitty began walking off. Cyril followed the catgirl, with the both of them passing the witch maiden, who paid them no mind. They then passed the cherry blossom that sat in the center of the courtyard, before traveling beyond to the shrine behind it.

No. Not the shrine. The shrine-pyramid.

Cyril's head tipped back as he gazed at the sheer awe of the shrine-pyramid. He didn't have the honor of gazing upon it the other times, as they never had much time to focus upon it. But now as he walked towards the great structure, he could see it in all of its unique splendor. It was like the shrine-pyramid he saw at Natsume's paddy fields, only instead of crumbling apart as it sank into the ravine, this shrine stood tall and proud.

Yet the signs of age were obvious. The crumbling pieces here and there, the Shinto-styled roofs that were chipping apart, the grass and moss growing at its base. It – like the rest of Natsume's derelict home – was steadily succumbing to time and erosion. It all left Cyril wondering how beautiful this place looked in the past. If only... if only...

Mitty slid open the paper door that barred entry, and the two entered inside. Once again, Cyril gazed in awe of the shrine-pyramid as he stood within its hollowed interior. There were columns that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, and the walls were adorned with a variety of kanji and hieroglyphs, all of which went over Cyril's head.

And at the back of the shrine-pyramid, painted on the wall was a glorious image. It showed two beings standing side by side: one was a masculine figure that had the head of a falcon, and next to him was a feminine figure with the attributes of a dragon. These divine figures stood beneath two suns, one being gold which stood above the masculine figure, and the other sun being silver which stood above the feminine figure.

Seeing this before him was like unearthing an ancient treasure. Something like this was here beneath the noses of others for soooooo long, and no one seemed to know or care. Cyril studied extensively about Kemetokami before coming to High Bishop, just to make sure he knew what he was getting into when he found Natsume. But the information Orchestra had on the dead religion was little to nothing.

But here, looking him in the eye was information that would make the scholars back home talk for decades. And no one in High Bishop seemed to know that something as important as this was nearby, out in the open. Sure, they had to get through Natsume to see it, but Mitty could see it, so why would no one else ever write about this!?

“You're really looking at this hard, Cyril,” said the catgirl, snapping him from his thoughts.

“I've just... never seen something like this before,” he replied, “All the time I've been here working with Mistress Natsume, she never let me enter into the central shrine-pyramid.”

“I wonder why...” Mitty mumbled, “Maybe... hm... maybe... hee hee!” she looked at Cyril with a wide grin, “Maybe she likes you! I always get this shy vibe from Miss Natsume! She doesn't like talking to people, and she's always glaring at people!”

“That... gives off a shy vibe...?” Cyril mumbled, “I... I wouldn't say so...”

“I mean, you two kinda got this relationship going on,” Mitty remarked as she began to sheepishly prod her fingers together, “Like, the way you call her 'mistress' is kinda like a guy calling a girl his girlfriend! And I've never heard of someone performing odd jobs around her home!”

“I'm beginning to think you don't know what romantic relationships are...” Cyril mumbled.

Mitty laughed at his response, but they both grew quiet when footsteps echoed behind them. It was Natsume, entering her home and walking behind them.

“Miss Natsume!” said Mitty as she wiggled before her, “Are you done sweeping?”

“Yes, Mitty, and I'm ready for your consultation,” said Natsume as she gestured for a door at the wall, “Let us not dally any further...” she then swept her eyes over towards Cyril, pinning him in place, “You boy... stay out here. We will not be long.”

“Y... yes, Mistress.”

Standing idly by, he watched as Natsume and Mitty walked for a door to the side. The witch maiden opened it up, and for the briefest of moments, Cyril saw... a menagerie of arcane objects. Bookcases were visible that were filled with tomes of arcane origins. They rested alongside jars filled with various objects, such as strange liquids, dead animals, and even eyeballs. Blinking eyeballs.

The room oozed with this sinister aura that felt cold just looking at them. In that brief glimpse he saw, Cyril felt his heart get caught in his throat. Mitty entered inside however, while Natsume stood at the door. The nine-tailed jackal looked up, her gaze meeting Cyril's gaze... where a mischievous smile appeared on her lips. Without a word she closed the door, sliding it shut and leaving him alone.

Doing as he was told, Cyril stood outside in the lobby of this shrine, returning his gaze to the mural before him. He knew not what he saw – of the masculine figure with its falcon head and golden sun, or the feminine figure with her dragon appendages and silver sun – but he knew it had to be important. This was the main shrine of Natsume's home, yes? So he could only assume this was a pair of deities. But who were they, and what did they represent? So many questions.

Slowly, Cyril reached into his satchel, where he pulled out one of his sketchbooks. Like the haniwa statues before, the young scholar copied the image of the two deities, drawing them with excruciating detail. But he did not stop there. Not only did he draw the two deities, and not only did he write a myriad of notes about them, but he also copied the kanji and hieroglyphs that ran along the mural and the walls of the shrine. And after writing them all down, he grabbed another book to hopefully translate what they meant.

It took him ten or so minutes of searching, but he eventually found the answer.

“Ra-no-Kami...” he whispered, “And... Amaterasu-no-Neteru...? Hm...?”

These phrases... made no sense to him. Ra-no-Kami and Amaterasu-no-Neteru? What does that mean? All he knew was that these phrases were written above the images of the two deities: Ra-no-Kami for the male figure, and Amaterasu-no-Neteru for the female figure. Were these their names? Was the male god Ra-no-Kami, and the female goddess Amaterasu-no-Neteru? That was his assumption, but he'd never know until Natsume told him.

Speaking of...

Sliiiideee...

The door to the other room finally opened. Facing it, Cyril put his books back into his satchel, while he watched Mitty emerge from within.

“Hey, Mitty!” he called, “How did your... consultation... go...?”

His words grew confusing. Mitty appeared positively drained. The bubbly and airheaded catgirl who he walked up the mountainside with was practically gone. Her shoulders were slumped over, her head tipped over, and she didn't look Cyril in the eye. He couldn't get a good look of her face from where he stood – it was like her expression was covered in shadows. She said nothing to him, didn't answer him at all, and instead turned to face the exit to the shrine. He watched as she silently hobbled over towards the exit, moving less like a living creature, and more like a reanimated corpse.

“Mitty...?” Cyril whispered, his words falling on deaf ears.

She exited through the sliding door and closed it behind her, leaving him alone and confused. He wanted to go after her – to ask her what was up – but he knew he wouldn't get an answer, at least, not from her. So instead he turned, facing the door she exited from, where he saw it was still opened. Approaching it slowly, Cyril expected to see Natsume exit from him. But, no, he walked to the doorway and pushed his head through it, entering in on the other end.

This was Natsume's lair.

There was a reason why the people of High Bishop called Natsume the 'witch maiden'. It wasn't just because of her curses and hexes, nor because of her mysterious nature. It was also in how she carried herself, more specifically, in how her 'consultation room' looked.

There laid a cauldron in the middle, one that oozed and quaked with a mysterious liquid. The floor was messily laden with various items, while the walls were lined with all sorts of arcane tools. Those bookcases he saw earlier were indeed filled with various books of otherworldly origin, resting alongside vials and bottles filled with substances that only the gods know.

And presiding over it all was the Oracle of Yami herself, who sat in a throne-like chair made of stone with a solar disk resting above it, one that was separated into two colors: one silver, one gold.

“Boy...” said Natsume as she looked down upon him, “I thought I told you to wait in the shrine.”

“I... but...” he whispered, before pointing towards the exit, “Mitty...? What happened to her? She was so... ah...”

“People in High Bishop often come to me for aid in things that cannot be so easily obtained,” Natsume explained, “Typically, they come to me for divination; they wish to know how their futures will go. Other times, they request good fortune for whatever endeavors they will participate in. But sometimes, they come to me for more... specific desires.”

“Specific... desires...?” Cyril repeated.

“Normally, I ignore them. I may even hex them if I'm in the mood,” Natsume continued, “I only help those who I deem interesting... or if I'm bored. Khee khee khee! But when I do help others with their unique requests, I demand payment in turn,” she shook her head, “But money is of little importance to me. I yearn for more... I yearn for something that only my client can give me for my consultation. And that payment...” Tap Tap Tap, “I place here in this trunk.”

Cyril gazed over. Next to Natsume's foot was a brown stone box shaped like a coffin, one with the symbol of an ankh on its surface. And when the nine-tailed jackal tapped this coffin, it seemed to resonate.

“Mitty gave me something only she could give me as payment for her request,” Natsume explained, “She did not fight to keep it, for her desires were so strong, she would probably give me her own arm if I requested it.”

“What did you... do to her...?” Cyril asked, to which Natsume looked at him slowly.

“Would you like to experience it for yourself?”

Cyril shrank upon her response, his face even paling as he gritted his teeth. Shaking his head 'no', he felt a swelling of shame emerge in his chest. He knew not what Natsume did to Mitty, and he didn't know Mitty long enough to care if something ill befell her. But that didn't make him feel any better.

Slowly, the witch maiden stood from her chair, where she walked over towards Cyril. He averted his eyes as he continued berating himself for his own perceived cowardice... but she brought over her hand. Gently cupping the young scholar's cheek, Natsume guided his face forward so that he may look her in the eye... and see the smile on her lips.

It was an odd smile. It was a smile both mischievous and sadistic... but also comforting and reassuring. It was a smile of absolution.

“You're so brave, Cyril,” she said, “So kind and sweet to care about others.”

“I... what...?” he replied, confused.

But Natsume didn't answer him, instead dropping her hand as she began walking again.

“Come. We have work to do today.”

Cyril paused for a moment... before taking a deep breath.

“Yes, Mistress...”

…

“Natsume?”

“Yes, boy?”

“Who are Ra-no-Kami, and Amaterasu-no-Neteru?”

The cherry blossoms above billowed softly in the wind. It was lunch time, with the sun high, and a bento box in hand. Natsume's cooking wasn't just good, it was phenomenal. Biting into the fish in this box and rice was like biting into edible gold. They sat under the cherry blossoms that overlooked Natsume's shrine, enjoying their meal.

But that question... it had been on Cyril's mind all day long. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he saw was the mural in Natsume's shrine... as well as Mitty's despondent face. He wouldn't ask about the catgirl though, both not wanting to pry into her personal issues, and also being incapable of facing the witch maiden and her arcane affairs.

Natsume however raised her eyebrow at Cyril's question, before sighing and gazing towards her eroding home.

“How have you learned those names?” she asked.

“I... translated them from the kanji and hieroglyphs in your major shrine,” Cyril answered, “Ra-no-Kami and Amaterasu-no-Neteru. They were the names placed above the two figures on that mural. I've... I've heard of Ra before... he is a major god in Guraudian religion. And... likewise for Amterasu, who is important in Shintoism. But... uh... I've never heard of Ra being called a kami before, or Amterasu being labeled a neteru...” he looked back up at her, “What does it mean?”

Natsume didn't answer immediately, instead taking a deep breath as she gazed at the silent landscape that surrounded her home.

“Ra-no-Kami... and Amaterasu-no-Neteru... are the heavenly Father and Mother of Kemetokami,” Natsume stated, “They represent Rahara as a whole; the land of the Twin Suns. It was their union that birthed Rahara.”

“Rahara...” Cyril repeated, “That is the name of your homeland, isn't it? Where you were born... I assume?”

Natsume looked at him. Any inkling of sadism or deviousness was lost from her, instead replaced with a more forlorn expression. She appeared saddened, as if reminiscing about events she hadn't thought about in many, many years.

“What was... Rahara like...?” asked Cyril, to which she shrugged her shoulders.

“Beautiful,” she answered, “Rahara was a nation of gilded sands for as far as the eye can see, with verdant highlands interspersed among them. The shrine-pyramids that dotted my home were numerous and grand, along with luscious cherry blossoms and lotus gardens. Haaah... even though it has been years since it was thriving, I still carry it and its teachings within my heart.”

“Natsume... if I may be so bold as to ask...”

“Tch... you may...”

“I... ah... what is the Oracle of Yami? What do you do for Kemetokami?”

Natsume looked back at him, her forlorn expression replaced with something flat. Cyril stiffened up, frightened that his question had accidentally angered her, and that a hex was coming his way soon. But she said no spell, cast no curse. Instead she stood up from the bench they shared, and spread out her nine tails.

“The Dual Suns of Kemetokami illuminate all life,” said Natsume, “The Golden Sun and Silver Sun represent light, creation, divine law, justice, order, and leadership. But light cannot exist without darkness. That darkness is always with us, be it physical like a shadow, or mental, like the darkness inside of us. We call the spirit of darkness Yami-no-Kami. And it is the duty of the Oracle of Yami – my duty – to understand it. Yami-no-Kami... the Lunar Chaos. Only through studying the darkness can we hope to better understand the light. Huff...” she shook her head, “I must walk this line between the Luncar Chaos and the Solar Order, if I am to maintain my duties. It is difficult... for Kemetokami is almost extinct. But I must do it. Not for myself, but for those who are no longer here with me.”

Natsume paused, her eyes closing shut as she reminisced about the past. And for a few moments, she remained that way, until standing up from her bench.

“Okay. Break time is over,” said Natsume as she twisted her head at Cyril, her sadistic smile returning in full-force, “Are you ready, boy? My personal library is in need of sorting, and I'm far too tired to do so.”

On one hand, Cyril loves libraries, and the idea of spending time within Natsume's personal library was exciting. Who knows how deep her treasure trove of knowledge extends!? On the other hand, he had seen how she lazily stacked her books all over the place, and how most of them were romance novels anyway. Adding onto that how mischievous her smile was now, and he knew sorting through her library probably wouldn't be as fun as he was hoping it would be.

Oh well...

“Yes, Mistress.”

…

The days thus far had been sunny and free. Blue skies... white clouds... a gentle breeze. Today however, things were more... gray.

His body felt heavier, as if gravity itself was forcing him downward. Was he finally feeling the exhaustion of all his work throughout the week? It left him feeling conflicted. Was he really that weak that only a few days of work was enough to drain him so thoroughly? Then again, it wasn't just a typical eight-hour shift at some manual labor job. Natsume made sure to overwork him to the point that he was dragging himself into his bed.

And yet, he always felt perfectly rejuvenated the next day... funny how that seemed to work.

On this day, the clouds were a blanket of gray, bloating out the sun, and dropping the temperature of the atmosphere by ten or so degrees. It was cooler than it had been; even cooler than when a gentle breeze was breathing. On occasion, he felt a shiver run up his spine, though he never voiced displeasure or discomfort.

Cyril's feet brought him forward, up the mountainside, and to the torii gates that mark the entrance into Natsume's home. He traveled under them, expecting to see the nine-tailed jackal sweeping like usual. Instead, the space was void of her, save for a few animals here and there. A flock of birds, a family of squirrels, even a herd of deer. They all tensed up upon seeing Cyril, before turning to rush away into the surrounding woods.

But one animal remained. There sat a fox next to the cherry blossom tree, one of golden fur and black tips. Unlike most foxes which were docile and skittish, this one remained firmed in place. Cyril tilted his head at the animal, watching as it turned away and began running off... only to come to a stop. It looked over its shoulder towards the young scholar, as if gesturing to him to follow it. Cyril nodded... and followed.

The fox led him deeper into the shrine, the two passing by the few buildings scattered in this domain. Eventually, they arrived at the stone barrier surrounding Natsume's sand garden. When they did, Cyril blinked... and the fox seemingly vanished. Confused, he skidded to a halt, his head turning around in search of the animal he followed. Instead, his gaze traveled down the walkway that entered into the zen garden, falling upon the distance... where he saw her.

Nine tails. They swayed hypnotically in the distance, moving as if indifferent to reality. They were attached to the voluptuous form of a beautiful woman, one whose body was clothed in white and gold robes that were practically skin-tight. Her robes were semi-transparent; one could see the shadow of her curvaceous figure on the other side. The curves of her hips, the dip of her waist, the swell of her bosom; all were visible from her backside. Hers was a body that was erotic, voluptuous... and divine.

Natsume stood before the cleansing basin at the end of her zen garden, erect and immobile like a statue. Cyril opened his mouth to call to her, but cut himself off before the words could leave his lips. Silently, he watched as the setokami brought her hands up to the robes she wore... and removed them from her body.

Fwump!

“!?”

Cyril flinched and pulled back, but no gasp left his lips. It was like he stood in a vacuum where noise could not leave his lips. Natsume meanwhile remained blissfully unaware of him as her naked form stood proud for all to see.

Her ebony skin... her jet black hair and fur... her illustrious figure... Natsume was divinity in motion.

Silently, Cyril watched as the Oracle of Yami brushed her hand along her head, tossing back the twintails of her hair. She then stepped forward into the cleansing basin, sinking down into it; step after step after step. And finally...

Splash!

She sank beneath the waters of the cleansing basin.

Misogi-Ka: the Purification Rites. Natsume said she bathed at the first of the month to clean away the impurities that have collected upon her body and soul.

Eventually, the setokami returned, her head appearing at the surface of the cleansing basin. Stuck in place with his mouth agape, Cyril could do nothing but watch as Natsume bathed within the tub, her body glistening. The waters of the purifying pool cascaded down her body, highlighting her curves and drawing attention to them. Her body radiated not like flesh, but like an idol that was worthy of worship.

Within the tub were golden flecks of sand which shimmered in the sunlight. They had collected upon Natsume's body, and while the skies were bloated with gray clouds, those golden flecks still somehow shimmered upon her divine form.

Cyril's heart began to race as Natsume sat upon the edge of the cleansing basin. Reaching for a towel she had resting by, the nine-tailed jackal dragged it upon her face, drying her of water. An airy sigh left her as she tipped her head back and closed her eyes, followed by a groan of relaxation.

But then Natsume's eyes reopened. Across her zen garden, her eyes glowed like stars in the darkness of the night sky. Cyril's heart tightened; staring into her eyes was like staring into the eyes of a wild bear. He suddenly realized he shouldn't be here.

So Cyril turned, prepared to leave as he interrupted Natsume's religious ritual. He did not get far.

“ Teishi.”

His feet got stuck in place, glued to the ground by some mystical, otherworldly force. Cyril tried to move his legs, but they would not obey him. He was like a puppet on strings, and his puppeteer had forced him to stop. His chest raced, frightened by what fate would befall him. All he could do was grit his teeth and close his eyes, awaiting his next command.

“ Aruku.”

Natsume's voice spoke clearly to him, as if her lips were hovering next to his ears. He was forced to turn around, walking towards the setokami without control of his own. His body was no longer under his command, but her command. And she remained sitting there in the distance, her eyes locked on him and her face serious. When he looked back, Cyril couldn't tell if this was the sadistic witch maiden, or the divine goddess. Perhaps she was both.

“Nat--”

“ Chinmoku...”

Zzzzzziiiiiiiiip!

Yeah... that was to be expected.

Cyril's lips were sealed shut, and he trembled as Natsume gazed at him. Rising up, up, she used her towel to cover her body, keeping it folded like a minidress. Her tails swayed hypnotically as she stood on the opposite end of the cleansing basin. She spoke again...

“ Teishi.”

Like before on the deck of her shrine, Cyril was fastened to the ground. He could not move; he had no choice but to watch as Natsume walked around the cleansing basin, where she came to his side. Closing his eyes, he breathed hard through his nose, his mind racing with a large amount of terrible ends that could befall him.

Gently, Natsume grabbed his satchel, removing it from his shoulders. He heard it fall to the ground with a heavy 'Thunk!', and it made him tremble. But the setokami did not stop there. Her gentle and talented fingers began tracing Cyril's body, coming up to his neck. He thought briefly that she was going to choke him for his incidental spying, but instead... Natsume began unbuttoning his top.

One by one by one, she undid the buttons of his clothes, freeing it from his body. Once it grew slack, she pulled it off of him, and dropped it to the ground. But Natsume did not stop there. Her hands traveled lower, undoing the buckle of his belt. The sound of its 'Clink!' sent a shudder through Cyril's body... which steadily grew warm.

What are you doing?

That's what he wanted to say, but his lips were sealed. He had no choice but to watch as Natsume... undressed him.

Cyril's pants and underwear were both pulled down his pants, along with his shoes. Natsume was very thorough in the removal of his clothes; not one area of his body was clad. And he felt every inch of her hand as she undressed him. Her palms, her fingers; every aspect of the setokami was perfect. And now as he was rendered as naked as the day he was born, his mouth split open in shock, and he looked down towards his crotch.

His naked crotch.

“!!!”

Quickly dropping his hands, Cyril covered his manhood. Natsume's trademark 'Khee khee khee!' echoed into his ears, amused by his embarrassment. But just as quick as it was to appear, she grew quiet, and the nine-tailed jackal straightened up behind him.

“You need to be cleansed, Cyril,” said Natsume as she placed her hands upon his shoulders, “So that you may walk into the next month with your spirit light and airy. This is known as Misogi-Ka, and it is important in Kemetokami. Now you will participate in it. Be thankful...”

And she pushed him.

“MMM!?”

This was like the other time, wasn't it? When she sealed his lips and pushed him into the cleansing basin. But this time, she didn't stop him. This time, Natsume let Cyril fall.

SPLASH!

On all sides he was surrounded by water. Completely naked, the young scholar spun around in circles, feeling as if he was floating not in a body of water, but floating in a void devoid of all logic. No gravity, no friction, no buoyancy; it was just him, the purifying elements of this body of water, and the golden flecks of sand which glimmered within it.

“Bwaaaaah...?”

Cyril's mouth opened, as he was suddenly freed of Natsume's hex. But he didn't scream or howl in fear; he continued hovering there in this expansive pool that felt way larger than it actually was. The water didn't fill his lungs, and he had no fear of drowning. He just... hovered there.

In Misogi-Ka, we bathe in sacred rivers or sand gardens to clean away the impurities that stain not only our bodies, but our minds and souls.

Natsume's words from earlier replayed in Cyril's mind, as if explaining to him what was happening.

You need to be cleansed, Cyril. So that you may walk into the next month with your spirit light and airy.

It is important to cleanse oneself in Misogi-Ka, so that the impurities do not accumulate and weigh down upon one's spirit.

Now you will participate in it. Be thankful...

Cyril could feel it; his body growing lighter and airy, as if being freed of the weight of something invisible. Bringing his gaze upwards, he stared towards the surface of the cleansing basin, and swam towards it. His hands broke through the water first, where he gripped upon the edge of the pool tight, and pulled his head up from it.

“Gaah! Haah! Haah! Haah!”

The cool air of the overcast day swelled around him, while his eyes looked up. Natsume stood before him, still covered in naught by that towel. Her face indifferent, she extended her hand to the young man in her purifying pool, which he was quick to grab upon. With a firm grasp, she helped Cyril out of the cleansing basin, who climbed upon solid ground. He staggered a bit – his legs felt wobbly – but then he looked up to meet Natsume's gaze.

Her face remained indifferent, yet her eyes glowed like stars, and Cyril could have sworn her flesh was surrounded in a golden light.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

Cyril paused for a moment... before taking a deep breath. The first words that left his lips were honest.

“Pure.”

Natsume smiled.

…

The rest of the day was a blur for Cyril. He couldn't quite remember what he did too specifically, outside that it was some manner of manual labor. He remembered cleaning Natsume's floors... and... he remembered dusting the courtyard free of fallen cherry blossoms... and... he remembered setting and moving some books around. But it all just sort of... flowed into one another, without him needing to think much about what he was doing. Neither he nor Natsume spoke much, with the nine-tailed jackal only talking in order to tell him what to do next. And even then, her words did not come off as stiff orders, but more as indifferent guidance that he was quick to follow.

The Misogi-Ka was enlightening to put it lightly. While Cyril has experienced many religious rites throughout his years, this was one of the rare moments where he truly felt different when it was over.

But it did come to an end. Eventually. Yet... Cyril did not remember it coming to an end. He didn't remember a lot of things. He was so entranced following the Misogi-Ka, that it became difficult for him to remember things outside of the barest essentials. He remembered doing as he was told, he remembered having lunch, he even remembered having dinner, and he did both with Natsume.

Dinner with Natsume... why couldn't he remember it well? She cooked him a traditional Rahara dinner, he remembered it tasting good, and he remembered... Natsume's smile. A rare smile that wasn't sadistic, mischievous, haughty, or teasing. A smile that was just that; a smile.

And then... and then...

And then...

Everything went dark.

“Bwah!?”

Cyril awoke in a room that was not his. It wasn't his room at the dormitory, nor was it his rented room at the hotel. It was a bedroom, simple and modest. The bed he rested in was small with white sheets, there was a wooden drawer nearby, in the corner of the room was a statue of a fox, and through the windows he saw the moonlight skies of the mountainside.

The mountainside...? This bedroom. Ah...! He was in one of Natsume's bedrooms! Haah... he felt embarrassed taking this long to figure that out.

Grabbing the blankets he slept within, Cyril pulled them aside... revealing the fact that he was wearing white robes. White robes with golden edges and hieroglyphs on them! The young scholar's face blanked and his cheeks turned red; these were not the clothes he was wearing earlier! In fact, he looked up slowly to see his clothing had been neatly folded and rested upon a nearby table.

“Aah...? Did she...?” he mumbled to himself whilst getting up out of his bed.

Nearby were a pair of sandals that were perfectly fixed for his shoe size. Figuring they were for him, he slipped the sandals upon his feet and quickly made way for the door. It slid open, the sound of it echoing into the halls immediately outside of his room. Said halls were rustic and simple, with scrolls hanging from the walls that depicted images of what he assumed were Raharian spirits: the kami-neteru. He saw humanoid foxes, wolves, falcons... jackals.

Hmm...

Gingerly, Cyril walked through the halls of Natsume's home as he searched for the witch maiden. On one hand, he felt as if he was gaining a raw, unfiltered view of her private life as he roamed through her home. On the other hand, he feared he may accidentally intrude upon her privacy, driving her to hex him... even if it is her fault that he's here in the first place.

Not like that's ever stopped her from cursing him before...

The architecture of Natsume's home continued on with the odd mixture of Guarudian religion and Shintoism. The wood of the floors and ceilings were reinforced by the stone of the walls, with those scrolls hanging from them, and even a potted plant here and there. Compared to the other areas of the setokami's home which was littered with books, this place was pristine.

Eventually, Cyril's random walking brought him to an area with light gleaming on the other end. Through the paper doors he could see the silhouette of a certain nine-tailed jackal, sitting in a chair with her many tails flowing hypnotically. Approaching the door, Cyril was about to open it, only to pause and take a deep breath. He then slid the door open, revealing...

“Ah...”

Natsume's library.

He had been here the previous day in order to sort out the many, many, many books she owned. The young scholar was so engrossed with his (mind-numbing) duty, that he didn't really pay much attention to his surroundings. Now he knew there were multiple entrances to Natsume's library, one that led from her shrine, another that led from her home.

Speaking of...

“Oh... boy... you're awake.”

Natsume's voice pierced the relative quiet of her library. Looking forward, Cyril's gaze befell the Oracle of Yami, who sat in a high chair in the center of her library with a candle standing at her side, one that surged with a brightly glowing golden flame. She wore her typically indifferent and uppity face, her eyes gazing down upon him with her trademark superiority, her body clad in white and gold robes similar to the ones he wore. And yet in her hands sat the same book he used to appease her with when he first came to her.

Incubus & Grease.

“Mistress Natsume,” said Cyril as he approached her, “You...? Did you change my clothes?”

“What? Was I supposed to let you sleep in your clothes?” she replied casually, “That would've been uncomfortable. And while I don't mind watching you suffer, I'd like it if your suffering was done by my hands. Besides...” she smiled at him with those devilish lips of hers, “There's nothing you have I have not seen before.”

Her response did not make him feel any better.

Cyril gritted his teeth and groaned to himself, his cheeks turning a bright red. But there was no reason to get angry or frustrated with her; that would change nothing. Instead, he let out a sigh and approached Natsume, where he sat in the chair opposite of hers.

“Do you... like torturing me...?” he asked, to which Natsume shrugged her shoulders.

“I am no sadist,” she remarked, a statement that may have been the biggest lie he's ever heard, “But I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy watching you squirm from time to time. Khee khee khee. You make the cutest face when you blush, Cyril. I wish I could keep that face trapped forever.”

“I...? Uhhhh...” Cyril mumbled back, his cheeks turning red. When a witch says she wishes to keep something 'trapped forever', that's cause for concern. Then again, showing her that so-called 'cutest face' she enjoyed wasn't going to make things better either.

So Cyril let out a deep breath, causing his flustered face to vanish as he steadily approached the Oracle of Yami. Sitting in front of her was another chair, one he climbed into.

“This is the first time I've seen you not wear your shrine maiden attire,” said Cyril as he sat before Natsume, “These robes we're wearing... are they normal for people in Rahara?”

“These robes we're wearing are called yukata,” Natsume explained, “It's casual wear meant for lounging around the house,” she shook her head, “I'd lose my mind if I were supposed to wear my maiden clothes all day. Hm...”

“They're... very comfortable,” said Cyril with a roll of his eyes, “Though I still feel embarrassed and disturbed that you undressed me, I do thank you for the change of clothes. I would be uncomfortable sleeping in my usual clothes.”

“Is this your attempt at small talk?” asked Natsume, her face and tone flat, “I see it is only your face and looks that attract the fairer sex.”

“I...! Ugh...”

Palming his face and blushing again, Cyril gazed towards Natsume, who looked back at him with her usual indifferent gaze. The setokami's flawless ability to radiate divinity in the face of indifference needed to be studied. She always moved with this elegance and grace to her, but looked bored out of her mind. Even now as she casually leaned forward to leer at him, she did so without bend or break; without looking slack or lazy. She was like a queen – a goddess – briefly entertaining some foolish mortal: him.

Setokami: Jackal god.

“That book you're reading,” whispered Cyril, making Natsume raise an eyebrow, “Incubus & Grease... that was the book the post office man gave to me...” he tilted his head, “You really enjoy romance novels, don't you? What is it about?”

“Khee khee khee~ why wouldn't I enjoy romance novels?” she replied, that insidious smile spreading on her lips, “Name something more... hhhrrh... arousing than an illicit affair? Something more... mmph... invigorating than erotic lovemaking? Something more passionate than... haaah... a simple kiss in the rain.”

“I... uh...” blushing, Cyril shook his head, “I've never been a romance person when it came to my recreational reading. They're popular among many of the women at my academy, but... I prefer reading more mystery stories. Stories that test my brain.”

“'Recreational'? 'Stories that test your brain'?” repeated Natsume, “Come now, boy, talk like that will only push women away. I enjoy reading my tomes from time to time to home my mind, but focusing too much on studies will only end with your brain collapsing in on itself,” she tilted her head at him, “Even you must know the importance of relaxation,” her head tilted the other way, “Tell me... you are in the city of High Bishop; how often have you enjoyed the sights? Have you even been to the beach?”

“I...? Well...” blushing, he shook his head, “N-no... not like I've had the chance to with all the work I've been doing for you.”

“Do not blame me for your own inadequacies,” said Natsume with a shake of her head, “I have never given you a schedule; I only put you to work when you arrive on your own accord. If you wished to spend a day enjoying all of the pleasantries on offer, I would not think poorly of you.”

“I... find that hard to believe...” Cyril mumbled... before closing his eyes, “Haaah... but... your words remind me of someone I know.”

“That someone you know... is their name Tabitha?”

Cyril's eyes reopened. Locking upon Natsume's face, his eyes grew wide and face blanked, turning pale in surprise and even fear of the indifferent woman in front of him.

“How did...?” he whispered, the words failing to leave him.

“Khee khee khee! You were saying her name in your sleep,” Natsume claimed, causing Cyril to blush harder, “What? Did you think I read your mind to gain that information? I know I am a witch, but I don't find joy in casually eavesdropping on the minds of others. In reality, most people are painfully droll in the thoughts that travel through their mind.”

“Was I... really saying Tabitha's name in my sleep...?” Cyril whispered, before gazing to the side, “Oh by Logos... have I always been saying Tabitha's name in my sleep? I... I hope no one at the academy ever hears of this...”

“Who is Tabitha?” Natsume asked, making Cyril look back.

“She's a... friend of mine,” he stated, “We've been friends since childhood... she goes to the Northelion Academy with me, but she's a member of the armed forces as a cadet.”

“You must be close friends then,” said Natsume as she leaned forward, “I've read many romance novels of friends and lovers. I wonder how your stories will end. With you two coming together? Or perhaps...” her lips curled into a smile, one that caught Cyril's gaze, “Will a dashing interloper come into the mix?”

“Dashing... interloper...?” Cyril repeated.

“Hmm... perhaps...”

Natsume stood from her chair, moving less like flesh, and swirling more like shadows. Coming to Cyril's side, she caused him to stiffen up. He glanced over, meeting the grin she wore on her face.

“Perhaps... some strong, confident lieutenant will appear. Suave and charming, he'll beguile young Tabitha with his confidence and reliability. Before you know it, your time together will diminish, leaving you feeling jilted and cuckolded.”

“Uh... I'd... rather like this to stop now...”

“Or perhaps the opposite may happen,” Natsume said as she darted to the opposite side of Cyril, her lips hovering against his other ear, “Perhaps some seductive and alluring woman will approach you. You'll be attracted to her intelligence and her guile... not to mention her proud nature... khee khee khee.”

“Uh... Mistress... Natsume...”

“I wonder how you'll fall for her,” said the setokami as she came around to Cyril's back, forcing him to gaze forward towards her lit candle as his cheeks turned red, “You're the type of man who will stay true to his convictions... but will eventually fall to them after a little pushing~ Khee khee khee! No doubt that all this seductive interloper needs to do is place her hands on your shoulders, and...”

Grip!

“Mmm!?”

Natsume's hands fell on his shoulders. Cyril jolted in place, realizing that she wasn't just creating some steamy what-if scenario, but she was going too far as to actually act it out! He opened his mouth to say something to her, but--

Tug! Plap!

“Nmmm!?”

Natsume pulled him back, resting his head upon her chest. The robes she wore – her yukata – were tightly bound to her body, with the sash around her waist being squeezed in such a way that it seemed to flaunt the voluptuousness of her body. The top of which squeezed over her chest, supporting and drawing attention to the bountiful cleavage she sported.

Her breasts. His head was resting on her breasts. They supported him like a pillow, and beneath her clothes and flesh, he could hear...

Ba-Dump... Ba-Dump... Ba-Dump...

The gentle and relaxed beating of her powerful heart.

“Yesssss... she'd be a bit more forthcoming with you,” Natsume whispered into his ear, her tone dripping with a unique blend of seductive charm, and sadistic domination, “You wouldn't so easily break on whatever attraction you have to your beloved friend Tabitha. But... you are still a boy... khee khee khee! Even your resolve will soon break.”

“Haaah... nnnn... N-Natsu... me...”

“Maybe this interloper needs to be more drastic with you,” said the nine-tailed jackal as her hands slid away from his shoulders, coming to his chest where she began to push her hands under the seams of his robes, “Perhaps she'll get even more pushy with you, forcing you to crumble beneath her voracious onslaught.”

“Haaah...! Haaaahh...! Nnnmmm...!”

“An interaction in an academy library,” Natsume whispered into his ears, her hands still kneading at his flat chest, “Subtle flirtation shifting into more outward intimacy. Your defenses begin to wane, unable to stop yourself from indulging in pleasure. You feel honor towards your friend; you don't want to hurt Tabitha. But technically, you two are not in a relationship, so there's no one's heart that is being broken... is there?”

And then – without warning – Natsume pulled her hands back. Cryil leaned forward, gasping briefly as he felt his chest tighten; like he'd just finished with a particularly spirited workout session. He turned to face the setokami, who tightened her sash around her waist, and pulled her robes up to further obscure her cleavage. She looked up at him, a playful smile on her lips, before she shook her head.

“Such a steamy story, isn't it?” she claimed, pretending that her overt flirtatious were merely in jest, “Unfortunately, scenarios like that only occur within the pages of a novel. Oh... if only...” walking past Cyril with her hips swaying, she returned to her high chair, “Still... what would you do if a beautiful woman pursued you so fervently?” leaning over, she smiled at him devilishly, “I'm sure an honest boy like you would stick to his bonds, and would never fall under the wiles of a seductive mistress... would you?”

Cyril's cheeks were as red as a tomato as she gazed towards Natsume. The smile on her face, the way her nine tails swayed, how she leaned forward with her head propped up by her hand; how could she look anywhere but at her? The phantom sensation of her recent touches continued to pulse through him, as if she was still groping him. And the feeling of her chest as well as the sound of her beating heart?

He wanted to experience more of it.

“Natsume...” he whispered, “Haaah...! I wouldn't say Tabitha and I are... romantically involved... in any way. We are friends. Just friends, a-and nothing more.”

“Really? Is that the truth?” said Natsume, “I find that hard to believe. When a man and woman spend so much time with one another and aren't related, it is only natural that some sort of romantic feelings would begin to grow. Unless, of course, one of you is gay,” she leaned in and shook her head, “But I can tell that's not the case with you. Khee khee khee~”

The way she leaned in... she did so to goad him, didn't she? Her yukata clung to her body in such a way, that her curvy and luscious breasts sported an erotic cleavage within her white and gold garbs. Cyril had marveled at Natsume's beauty many times during their time together, but this was the most overt she had ever been with him.

The smiling... the giggling... the purposeful flaunting of her body... not to mention the steamy scenario she orchestrated, which continued to dance around in his head. This all had to be another trick of hers, right? Just one of her sadistic little games because she wanted to see him squirm.

So if he knew this, why was he falling for it?

“Mistress Natsume,” he said, following a pause where he swallowed his spit, “Did you... do you... with all the romance books you read... uh... um... d-do you have a lover?”

It wasn't until the question left his lips that he realized what he asked. Cyril tensed up, his eyes swelling in size as if confused by what he himself asked. He even looked to the side, as if breaking eye contact with Natsume would be enough to gain some smidgen of composure. It didn't work.

“Khee khee khee! You are asking a dangerous question, boy,” said Natsume as she straightened up in her chair, looming over him with this lordly and divine presence as a haughty smile spread on her lips, “Asking a girl if they have a lover? That creates implications, and implications can be hazardous. Khee khee khee!”

“I-I was just curious!” said Cyril, looking away as he attempted to hand wave his question, “Y-you read all these romance novels, and you clearly like them, so... uh... I-I just assumed that you... um... might've had a lover... a boyfriend o-or something... y-yeah...”

Gingerly, his eyes returned to Natsume. That smile of hers... how could a smile be so dangerous yet charming at the same time?

“No,” said the setokami as her smile remained on her lips, “I do not have a lover. I have yet to find a partner – man, woman, or otherwise – who truly lights that flame within me. Truth be told...” her eyes traveled to her book, her finger lazily stroking upon its surface, “I tend to turn others away with my personality. I don't blame them. Apparently, I have the nasty tendency of being rather... possessive,” she looked back at him, “Why do you ask, boy?”

“I was... c-curious...” Cyril mumbled as he sheepishly scratched the back of his head, “I was... wondering... what does a woman like you value in a partner? These romance novels you read... do you like those big, strong men on their covers?”

“Hmm...? Do you take me for some vapid hussy who values looks more than personality?”

“N-no! That's not...!”

“Khee khee khee! I am merely teasing you, boy,” leaning upright on her chair, Natsume shook her head, “I indeed enjoy men of a certain build... though... I would not say I am so focused on that build that I turn a blind eye towards other physiques. Personally...” her eyes locked in upon his face, “I prefer men like... you.”

“Wh-what?”

“Khee khee khee! Yes... I prefer stupid men. Men who don't realize when they are in over their head. Men who pursue something – preferably me – without understanding just how dangerous I am.”

“Stupid... men...?” Cyril repeated, feeling understandably insulted... but also confused, “You... think I'm stupid...?”

“Khee khee khee! Of course I do,” Natsume whispered as she rose her sleeve to her chin in a mirthful giggle, “Does it not sound stupid to put one's life into the service of a witch? Does it not sound stupid to come back to that witch day after day when she puts them through such grueling work? Does it not sound stupid to return to that witch even when she constantly curses and hexes you? And why? Why do you do it? Because you are pursuing something. You need to learn Kemetokami, so you will withstand any challenge – no matter how hard or how embarrassing – just to learn beneath me. Oh...” she rolled her eyes, “If only that dedication was directed towards me. Maybe I'd return the favor... maybe.”

“Hmm...”

On one hand, Natsume insulted him, and she wasn't even being sly about it. The word 'stupid' drifted around and around in his head, and was only amplified by the look on her face. That insidious smile sat on her lips, taunting him, as if to say 'What are you going to do about it?' And, really, he had no answer. What was he going to do about it? And why wasn't it as insulting as it should be?

Because Natsume was right. Cyril was stupid. Only a stupid idiot would actually find attraction to the woman who's practically tortured him for this long week. Was the Oracle of Yami attractive? Incredibly so; she was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he has ever had the honor of meeting in his life. But his attraction to her went beyond mere physical appearance. There was something truly transcendent about her, something he couldn't avoid.

“Mistress Natsume...” he whispered, his voice dry.

Perhaps Stockholm Syndrome had taken over. It may have only been a week, and the abuse he suffered under her may have been small, but it had clearly taken root in him. Or maybe Natsume was right, and he really was stupid, conflating desire and lust for something deeper and more romantic. Or maybe, alas, the setokami was right.

When a man and woman spend so much time with one another and aren't related, it is only natural that some sort of romantic feelings would begin to grow.

“There's something you want to ask me, boy,” said Natsume with a soft giggle, “Go ahead. Ask. But be forewarned. I am taking this as a consultation, and I will require payment for my services.”

The talk of consultation and the warning of payment reminded Cyril of Mitty. It also brought back to Natsume's warning beforehand, and how Mitty's desires were so strong, she may have given up her own arm if the setokami demanded it. Was Cyril's own desires that strong?

Yes...

“May I embrace you...?” he whispered.

“Khee khee khee... very well.”

She stood up from her high chair; a sight that made Cyril stiffen in place. Walking closer and closer, the setokami stood before him like an erect pillar of divine origin, and stretched out her arms. Her body was presented before him, her white and gold yukata clinging to her voluptuous form like a second layer of skin. His breathing getting caught in his throat, the young scholar looked her up and down, tracing the erotic image of her curves, before finally bringing his eyes up towards her face.

That smile... it goaded him forward... like a warm light at the end of a cold tunnel.

“Well...?” said the Oracle of Yami, “Are you not going to stand, Cyril?”

“I...!”

Cyril staggered to his feet, standing up before Natsume. Once again, the differences in their height made itself known, but now it felt even greater. The nine-tailed jackal no longer felt like just a tall woman, but like a monolithic structure; an obelisk given form. And he was nothing more than a peon, a mere follower who had come to worship.

Hesitantly, Cyril raised his arms to meet Natsume, who filled the air with her soft 'Khee khee khees'. He stumbled towards her again and again, clearing the already small distance they shared. One last time he looked up towards the setokami, watching her nine tails sway hypnotically, and gazing upon her divine and devious smile.

He took one last step forward.

“Hmmf!”

“Hmm...”

And they hugged.

Standing in the middle of her library, Cyril and Natsume embraced one another. Their differences in height meant that his arms wrapped around her thin waist, while his head rested upon her chest.

Ba-Dump... Ba-Dump... Ba-Dump...

There it was again: The gentle and relaxed beating of her powerful heart. But unlike the last hug they shared where Natsume purposefully taunted him with a steamy scenario, this hug was more... personal. Maybe it was because he hugged her back, no longer making this a one-sided affair on her end.

Cyril felt himself melt against the setokami, hugging her harder, and practically burying his head against her chest. He heard her giggle – those 'Khee khee khees!' sounding so natural – and he felt her nine tails begin to curl. Not only was she hugging him with her arms wrapped around his shoulders, but her tails too cradled him close.

And then she began to tip over. Further. Further. Further. Cyril felt his back begin to arch. Pulling his head from her chest, he eked out her name with a sudden 'Natsu--'... before the both of them fell over.

“Oof!”

Cyril laid upon the floor, his back flattened as he gazed up towards her face. She pinned him beneath her voluptuous body, with her arms resting beside his head, and this mischievous grin spread on her lips. The young scholar's cheeks turned an intense red as he gazed up towards Natsume, who filled the air with her taunting giggles.

Her yukata was so taut on her body, that the voluptuous silhouette of her body beneath was visible.

“Natsume...” Cyril whispered before swallowing his spit, “I...? Wh-what are you doing?”

“Me? Khee khee khee! I'm taking my payment,” Natsume answered, “I have given you your request: To embrace me. Now, I will take that which you owe me, and you will give it to me.”

“Glk! I... well...” Cyril shrunk slightly, “What... what is it? Wh-what do you want from me?”

“Khee khee khee... your virginity.”

“My-- Nmmm...? Mmmm...”

Natsume's lips pressed to his. For a moment, Cyril stiffened in place, surprised by how forthcoming the setokami had become. Her eyes were closed shut, her face was utterly composed, and she kissed him with the same gentleness as a familiar lover. He meanwhile was as stiff as a board, unable to move due to sheer surprise.

But then he began to melt, falling into the kiss, and accepting it. His eyes closed shut as he pushed back, keeping the lip-lock for as long as he could. He wasn't in control here, she was, and he enjoyed it.

“Chu~ Aaah... khee khee khee... you taste good, boy...” said Natsume as she licked her lips in a lurid display, “Mmmm~”

“Natsume... ah...”

“That's Mistress to you, boy,” said the witch maiden as she straightened up on Cyril's body, straddling his hips, “Prepare yourself. Nmmm~”

She captured his lips again, her hands moving down to pin his hands to the floors. Fingers moving, they locked their fingers between one another, with Natsume keeping him pinned to the floor, while he squeezed her hand back as hard as he could. Cyril shuddered against the witch maiden, who with her expert skill was capable of pushing his mouth open with her own. Her tongue slithered into his mouth, where it began grinding against his tongue, gifting him her taste.

Her sweet, honeyed taste. If gold was edible, that would be the taste of her tongue and lips.

Cyril groaned against Natsume's mouth, his tongue swirling and sliding around her tongue like he was licking a lollipop. She had far more control, far greater precision than he did, but that didn't make his fumbled licking any less pleasurable. Quite the opposite, really; she enjoyed how nubile and pure he was at this.

It was so cute!

With a mischievous smile, the nine-tailed jackal pulled herself up, separating their lips. Her tongue continued hanging out however, allowing a sliver of her glistening clear drool to ooze out of her mouth, and fall into his.

Even the taste of her spit was good.

As her intoxicating 'Khee khee khees' filled the air, Natsume once again sat upright upon Cyril's hips. This time however, her hand slid up and down her waist. Coming to the middle of her yukata, she gripped the sash that kept her robe tightened upon her body. Slowly – deliberately – she undid the knot of her sash, freeing it ever so slowly from her body, until her yukata fell slack upon her waist.

The area around her cleavage expanded before his eyes. Just how busty was she? Well... he wouldn't have to wait for long to see.

Plap-Plap!

Absolute perfection.

Natsume drew her robes open, revealing her gorgeous bust in all of its divine glory. And they were... big. Very... big. Her breasts were twin curvaceous globes of amazing size and erotic shape. They were fixed perfectly to her body, being a bust that only someone of her divine origin could sport. They even had this lift to them that seemed out of odds with gravity. And the bounce they had when she so much as breathed sent shudders down Cyril's spine.

And on her chest, covering her nipples wasn't a bra... but gold plating that was perfectly fixed to the curves of her chest. And on those gold plates were hieroglyphs like the Egyptian eye... and an ankh.

“Enjoying the view, boy?” asked Natsume, this grin on her face as her nine tails swayed about behind her.

“I...” he replied, “I hhh...”

He couldn't even finish his words, causing her to giggle. Silently, she brought over her hands and grabbed his wrists, before guiding his hands upwards so that he could palm her chest. Cyril's eyes widened and his breathing grew quickened as his fingers sank into her pliable flesh. So bouncy, so curvy, and her skin was so flawless. Before he knew it, he was idly groping her tits, rolling them around and around and around, with only her golden brassiere in the way to stop him.

“Khee khee khee! Even scholars like you fall before a maiden's bust!” Natsume remarked as she placed her hands on her hips, “Go ahead, boy. Enjoy yourself.”

As if she needed to tell him to. There was something so remarkable about her chest, watching it bounce and wobble between his clinching hands. The way he squeezed her, causing her breasts to spill through the cracks of his fingers, caused him to squeeze, knead and grope her breasts even more. A throaty groan even left Cyril's lips, one that made Natsume's ears twitch, followed by her trademark chuckle.

But she wouldn't stay still, wouldn't stay idle. While his praising hands sent thrills down her spine, she reached down herself to undo the sash that was tied around his waist. Just like she had done with herself, Natsume casually undid Cyril's knot, causing his yukata to open up slightly around his body. She then pushed her hands under the seams of his robes, where she ever so gently pulled them apart.

His chest revealed to her, a playful giggle left Natsume's lips. But the setokami did not stop there. Further and further down her hand traveled, sliding under his robes and touching his skin directly. Cyril stiffened and looked down, a gasp leaving him as his hands dropped from her breasts. Following her hand with his gaze, he watched as she brought her palm down to his crotch... and the prominent bulge he sported between his legs.

“Khee khee khee! So big for a cute boy~”

Nnngh! Why did she keep calling him that?

Not that Cyril had it in him to argue against her as her hand ghosted along the bulging lump between his legs. Gently she cradled his manhood, rubbing him through the seams of his robes. Cyril bucked and twitched as he felt the pressure of his touch upon his cock, even through the robes he wore.

“Mistress... ngghh...!” he groaned, his groan matched by her giggles.

“You really are too stiff,” she remarked as she leaned on her fist and smiled at him, “You have such weak defenses. Don't boys masturbate often? You should at least be able to withstand this of all things! Khee khee khee!”

He couldn't hope to defend himself against her taunting words, not when she had complete mastery over him. With ease she slid her hand into the slit at his crotch, pulling it open to reveal his crotch... as well as the underwear he was wearing. Wait... this wasn't the underwear he was wearing earlier today. Natsume changed his underwear as well!?

Hmmm...

Maybe if his head wasn't swimming in pleasure, he would have been angrier. Instead, a moan left his lips as the nine-tailed jackal pushed her hand under the thin underwear he was wearing. A fundoshi is what it was called.

“Nmmm!”

“Khee khee khee!”

Cyril tried to stifle a groan when Natsume's hand slid under the underwear he was wearing, her palm clutching it grip his rod. Another moan was forced from his lips as the Oracle of Yami curled her fingers around his dick, pulling it out into the open.

His long, throbbing cock. It stood tall like a tower, with veins running up and down its side, its head being red and swollen, and precum oozing from the tip. Gazing down, Natsume's eyes grew wide in mock surprise, before her mischievous grin returned, and she gazed up towards Cyril's warbling face.

“Khee khee khee! I'm surprised! A cute boy like you is packing such a dangerous tool between his legs,” Natsume remarked, “I wonder... does poor Tabitha know her friend is so well-endowed?”

“D-don't...!” Cyril groaned as the witch maiden's thumb slid along his shaft, “Aaah! Don't bring up...! Tabi... tha...!”

“Oh? Is that so?” said the nine-tailed jackal... before her wicked grin returned in full force, “Not gonna happen, boy. I'm taking my payment, remember? If I want to bring up the name of your friend, then so be it. Still...” she closed her eyes and pursed her lips, “I find it cute how you feel faithful to her.”

Her lips pursed, Natsume planted a kiss upon Cyril's neck. This kiss was followed by another kiss... and another kiss... and another kiss! Then came her tongue, which she dragged along his neck, slathering him in spit, and causing a deep groan to leave his lips. All the while, her hand gently jerked off his dick, pumping up and down, and spreading his glistening precum all along her palm.

Cyril's chest swelled as he took desperate, panting breaths. Not only was Natsume's hand so perfect against his taut and sensitive skin as she stroked his length off, but the nine-tailed jackal continued to kiss, lick, lap, and even nibble at his neck.

She handled his body better than he could ever imagine. The grip of her hand was just perfect, and the speed at which she moved had no equal. More and more precum was squeezed from the tip of his dick, which began lathering all over her palm and even down to her wrist. And her kisses kept falling atop him, while she slowly moved her way up and up. Before Cyril knew it...

“Nmm~”

“Mmm!”

Her lips met his lips in a kiss. Eyes closed and face composed, Natsume held the kiss without flaw, nor did she ever deepen it. As she continued jerking his dick off, she kissed him with the same chasteness as a young yet confident lover, while all he could do was grip and hold her close. The pleasure he felt was damn-near overwhelming, but he didn't climax yet. He couldn't tell if it was because he was holding himself back, or if it was because of her expert control.

No. It was definitely because of her expert control. If she wanted to make him cum, she'd milk his balls like a cow.

“Chu~ Ahh,” said Natsume as she broke their kiss, “Khee khee khee! Good job for maintaining your composure for so long, boy. I'm impressed.”

“Nggggh...! M-Mistressss!” Cyril groaned back, making her giggle even more.

“Khee khee khee! You sound so pathetic. Begging your mistress for release. Hmm... maybe I really should keep you with me. Just lock you up. Forever~”

While Cyril continued to cling to her for support and pleasure, Natsume rose up. Her one hand continued jerking his cock off, but her other hand slid over towards her chest. Gently groping herself, passionate moans left Natsume's lips as she brought her other hand over towards her chest. Gently grabbing the metal plating that acted like her bra...

Tug...

“Ah~”

It fell away, revealing her breasts in full. If Cyril was mesmerized before, then he was utterly enthralled this time. Not only were her breasts shapely and curvaceous, not only were they big and busty, but her nipples were beautiful. Ebony and color and hard in shape, her nipples attracted his eyes like glue.

Her bouncy breasts had this level of support to them even without her bra, making him wonder if her golden brassier even did anything, or was just there for show. A part of him even wanted to ask her about it, but all that came out was--

“Aaah...! Nnnn...!”

“Khee khee khee! Look how much you shake,” Natsume whispered, “And how your eyes are locked upon my bosom. You horny boy...”

Rising up further, the nine-tailed jackal hovered her breasts above Cyril's face. His eyes grew wide, his cheeks turning red as he watched her great and glorious tits swell with her every breath... and then begin drifting closer... and closer... and closer. Placing one hand upon the back of his head, Natsume gently stroked him in such a way that his mouth opened up. And then...

Push!

“MMMM!?”

“Khee khee khee!”

Her nipple... her plump, ebony and rigid nipple... found its way into his awaiting mouth. Cyril's eyes grew wide as the taste of Natsume's body found its way into his mouth. And like her kisses before, all he could do was compare it to gold. He lapped at her nipple, kissed upon it, and before he knew it, his eyes had closed shut as he began idly sucking on her teat. He even nibbled slightly upon her from time to time, sending jolts through her body, and bringing a giggle from her lips.

“Khee khee khee! You are such a boy~!”

Her words were pointed, her tone scathing, and yet her body held him with the gentle embrace of a lover. How the hand on the back of his head gently stroked him, while her other hand continued jerking his dick off, all while coaxing him to suckle from her tit. Cyril hummed and groaned against Natsume, leaving her nipple lathered in his spit as this nursing handjob continued on. More and more he felt the mounting pleasure of his cock begin to rise, desperate to feel that rushing surge of an orgasm. His prominent veins, his throbbing glands, the precum that oozed from the tip; he was coming closer and closer to finally cumming!

But...

Drop!

“Ah!?”

Cyril fell flat on the floor as Natsume suddenly released him. Bridges of spit hung from his mouth to her rigid nipple, while she filled the air with her taunting giggles. Laying there, the young scholar's eyes gazed down towards his cock, watching it stand tall and firm all on its own. He's never seen it so big.

It didn't take much longer for Natsume to reposition herself, where she came down towards his crotch. With that mischievous grin on her lips, the Oracle of Yami shot Cyril a wicked glare as her face hovered near his throbbing cock. It twitched against her face, but she never broke eye contact with the young scholar, keeping him trapped.

Silently, he watched as the nine-tailed jackal opened her mouth, extended her tongue, and draaaaaggggeeeed it along his cock's shaft. Cyril's head jerked back from the touch of her tongue, which felt so deliberate and so pleasurable. Natsume made sure to guide her tongue along the veins of his shaft, only stopping when she came to the bottom of his glands. She then dropped back down to the shaft of his cock, where she gave it another long lick to the top, this time on the opposite side of his cock.

Natsume was a savant at the art of licking a cock. She did it slowly, and she applied the right amount of pressure to her strides that it made Cyril shake and jolt in place. Eventually she picked up the pace, licking along his cock with speed and precision. Mature and womanly moans left her lips as she indulged in his taste. All the heat, musk, and salt he had accumulated not only through the day, but through their time together had collected here upon his dick. It gave him this salty and bitter flavor that she indulged in.

“Mmmmm~ aaah~”

Her moans drifted into Cyril's ears, who fell back upon the floor with his hands curled next to his head. Natsume continued her oral assault, swirling her tongue around the head of his dick. Spit and precum mixed together upon his cock, leaving it shimmering. With one final lick from his shaft all the to the tip, the nine-tailed jackal positioned herself above his dick, opened her mouth wide, and pushed down.

“Shlup! Nmmmmmm~~~”

Natsume pushed down upon Cyril's cock, surrounding it in her tangling drool. Her sharp teeth grazed the side of his cock, while her tongue helped guide his length deeper into her maw. The witch maiden sank and sank and sank upon his member, surrounding him completely in his length, and causing Cryil to buck.

“Aaah!” he cried out involuntarily, causing Natsume to giggle even with her mouthful of dick.

Then came the sucking. Her head bobbed up and down while she hollowed her cheeks, slurping and sucking upon his cock. Her teeth plucked him, her tongue cradled him, and her spit completely entangled him. The friction of her mouth sliding up and down also sent jolts racing towards her brain, drawing more groans and moans from Cyril's lips.

“I can't-” he grunted, “Aaaah...! Mistress!”

“Slurrrp! Pop!”

For as divine as her blowjob was – and it certainly was divine – it wasn't to last forever. The Oracle of Yami pulled herself from his cock, leaving it twitching and throbbing in the air. Hovering above his waist, Natsume looked down upon Cyril with those taunting chortles of hers, before bringing her gaze down towards his throbbing spire.

“I'm impressed,” she quipped as she lazily teased his length with her slender fingers, “You're still holding out. Maybe you're not such a boy after all. Khee khee khee! Or maybe I'm just torturing you more; watching you squirm. I won't let you orgasm until I allow it to happen, understand? Khee khee khee!”

“Hnnggh! M... Mistress...”

Bringing her hands down towards the sides of her chest, Natsume gripped herself tight, kneading her breasts for Cyril's viewing pleasure. But then she realigned herself, hovering her glorious tits above his cock... and pushing down.

Slliiiiiiiide... Plap!

“Ah!?”

Divinity indeed.

On both sides, Cyril's cock was sandwiched by Natsume's greedy breasts. They cradled his length, while his cock penetrated her cleavage. Gazing down, he watched his dick twitch between her length, which guided his gaze up towards the taunting grin she wore.

Natsume didn't stop; she wouldn't stop. His sensual torture would continue as she began groping her breasts around his spire. She squeezed and kneaded her breasts around his dick, jerking him off with her divine tit-flesh. Soon after she began moving up and down, as even the head of his cock began pushing against her ribcage.

Cyril fell back against the floor, moaning and groaning as the pleasure of Natsume's breasts completely wrapped him. From the base to the tip, not one area of his dick was spared by her breasts. Her movements helped increase the pleasure he felt, as his cock felt closer and closer to exploding with cum. It was so good, so arousing, that Cyril reacted via instinct, and--

Plap!

“Nm!?”

“Hm?”

His hips thrusted up, shooting his cock through Natsume's cleavage, and making them bounce. She stared down at his dick with an eyebrow raised and her face flat... before looking up at him with a gaze of annoyance. Did she give him permission to move? No. So why did he move? Well, now it was time for his punishment.

“Again,” she ordered with that flat tone of hers.

“Wh-what...?” Cyril mumbled back, making her tilt her head in the opposite direction.

“I said 'again',” she said, once again with a flat tone, “Do not make me repeat myself, boy.”

“I... aaah!”

Thrust! Plap!

Cyril's hips shot up again, thrusting his cock through her breasts, and making them bounce. His eyes swelled with pleasure from the sensation, while a bullet of precum shot from his dick. But Natsume did not stop; she shook her head.

“Keep. Going.”

Thrust Plap! Thrust Plap! Thrust Plap! Thrust Plap! Thrust Plap! Thrust Plap!

Again and again and again, Cyril thrusted his hips upwards, pounding Natsume's tits with his throbbing cock. Spit and precum splattered upon her breasts, leaving them glistening in his lust, while he howled with pleasure above. With every thrust, more and more of these sinful fluids were stained upon her bosom, which she squeezed even tighter around his cock.

She felt it; the molten rod between his legs was beginning to outright quake with an oncoming orgasm. So close. Sooooo close! He was so close to cumming! Between Natsume's squeezing breasts and his rampant thrusting, he just couldn't... couldn't... couldn't...!

“GUH!”

SPLUUUUURRRRT!!!

With one final thrust upwards, Cyril's cock erupted into a violent spread of jizz and cum which launched up from his cock with the same force of a volcano. Pearly-white shot into the air and then trickled down, falling upon Natsume's breasts, and leaving her globes lathered in white-hot cum. This eruption was followed by several smaller eruptions, all of which splattered upon the setokami's chest until her dark skin was nearly painted completely white.

Was he really that... uh... backed up?

“Wonderful...” Natsume murmured in a less than thrilled manner, even rolling her eyes.

Cyril fell upon the floor, his arm covering his face as he gasped desperately for breath. Is this what sex was like? It was so draining! He wasn't the strongest of men – he was no cadet or the like – but he still had a good bit of stamina within him. Research and archaeological digs were not easy work! But this simple paizuri from Natsume was enough to nearly drain him completely!

But the Oracle of Yami wasn't done. While Cyril laid on the floor as a gasping heap for breath, the voluptuous setokami stood up before him. Her yukata still clung to her body, but she removed it completely, allowing it to fall to the floor with a 'Fwump'. Nothing more than crumpled clothes, Natsume stood before Cyril in all of her divine glory.

He looked up, marveling at the shape of her curvy body; the swell of her chest, the narrowness of her midsection, the width of her hips. None of it was exaggerated; all of it was perfect. And as he sat there gazing at her body, he slowly pulled his gaze up towards her face... and the no-nonsense glare she wore.

“Tch...! Do we look like we're done, boy?” she snarled, “Because last time I checked...” and that wicked grin reappeared on her lips, “I said I was going to take your virginity, did I not? Khee khee khee!”

Bending over, Natsume's breasts clapped together while she gripped the side-tie panties she wore by one of its knots. With a gentle tug, she undid the string, causing her panties to fall apart at her pussy, revealing her mound... and the ankh symbol that her pubic hair had been shaven into.

Cyril's cheeks turned beat-red as he came face to face with Natsume's pussy. He knew what a woman's vagina looked like, having read many anatomy books in his day. But there's a difference between gazing upon an artist's detailed rendition of a vagina, and actually seeing one in person.

Her shape... her size... her curves... it all attracted his gaze; he couldn't look anywhere else.

And then Natsume began to move. She turned around, and walked away from him with her hips swaying left and right, and her nine tails moving hypnotically. Within Natsume's library was a waist-high stone pillar, one that was square shaped, with a flat surface. Retreating to it, the Oracle of Yami sat on its edge with one foot raised and her legs spread, exposing her womanhood in all of its glory.

“Right here,” she said as she stroked her fingers along her shapely labial lips, “Come here, boy. Worship me right here~”

“I don't...” Cyril whispered as he stumbled forward on unsteady feet, “I don't... wh-what do you want me to do...?” Shwing! Tighten! “Wh-what?” Tug! “Nmph!?”

From out of nowhere, a golden ray of light suddenly wrapped around Cyril's neck. He gazed at the ray of light, following its trail straight towards Natsume's open palm. That ray of light wasn't straight and rigid, but instead wispy and loose... like a whip. A whip she was quick to grip upon, tugging forward, and forcing Cyril to his knees.

“Oof!”

He fell down before Natsume and looked up, coming face to face with her exposed pussy.

“See this, boy?” she asked, “This is a maiden's most sacred spot. You will be honored to gaze upon such beauty. Khee khee khee! Now then... open your mouth~”

“My... mouth...” Tug! “Nngh!”

“I said 'Open. Your. Mouth'. Don't make me repeat myself...”

“Nnmm... mmmph... aaaaaawwwwww”

“Khee khee khee~ Good boy~” she tugged again on her whip made of golden magic, being gentler this time, “Closer now~”

Closer? She wanted him to come closer? But he was already face-to-face with her pussy; how much 'closer' could he become?

… Oh! Oh...? Ooooooooh... she wanted him to perform oral sex on her. This realization caused a myriad of emotions to race through him. There was surprise: she wanted him to service her? There was disgust: wasn't a woman's vagina supposed to be dirty? There was also disappointment with himself: Natsume didn't hesitate to suck his cock; it was only right for him to return the favor. Lastly, there was wonder: was he even good enough to please her?

All of these emotions finally fell into one: acceptance. There was nothing left for him to do than to just... well... do it.

“Mmmf!”

“Khee khee khee!”

Cyril moved in, his tongue extended to lick upon Natsume's cunt. His devious tongue licked upon her tight folds, being tepid and gentle at first. He had the skill of a nubile lover, and it showed; this licking wouldn't be enough to serve even in a whorehouse!

But that's not exactly what Natsume was looking forward to.

The whip of golden light she forged vanished in a dazzle of sparkles, but Cyril remained locked on her pussy. More and more his tongue licked at her folds, scooping at her slit with that virgin tongue of his. At first, he did so tepidly, fearing both his deplorable job, as well as her taste. But as the seconds ticked on, his tongue grew more and more courageous, and for one specific reason.

Her taste was amazing.

Like her lips and breasts before, Natsume's body seemed incapable of being anything but exquisite. The first taste of her pussy was like... honey and sugar mixed together to create something truly celestial. Cyril had studied ambrosia before, with many at Northelion Academy debating on whether or not ambrosia was a real liquid the gods had access to, or was just the hyperbolic fantasies of starry-eyed worshipers. Whatever the case may be, if ambrosia was real, then he'd say it could be found flowing from Natsume's pussy.

Her intoxicating fluids oozed down his tongue and into his awaiting maw, coaxing Cyril to deepen his cunnilingus further. He pushed against her mound, penetrating her slit with his tongue so that he could eat her out in earnest. A throaty groan left Natsume's lips and she arched her back, before that wicked grin of hers gave way for a hardy laugh.

“Krah hah hahaaa~~~!”

Breasts bouncing, the setokami pulled up her hand to begin groping herself, moaning pleasurably as Cyril continued dining on her cunt.

“Keep going, boy~” she ordered as she placed her hand upon his head, “Don't you dare stop!”

Doing as he was told, Cyril brought up his hands and placed them upon Natsume's thighs, pushing against them to keep her legs open. His eyes closed shut soon after as he continued to indulge upon her pussy, eating her out at a ginger pace... and moaning throughout all of it.

Why? Why was her flavor so good? The more he ate her out, the better she seemed to taste. Her honey was like an endless river that flowed into his mouth, and his tongue was the bucket that he used to scoop up her essence. Above, he felt her fingers push upon his head, her fingers moving through his hair to grip his scalp. Even if he thought about moving, she wasn't going to let him.

“Good boy, good boy~” she praised, “That's better! Khee khee khee~! Isn't this a much better use of your time? Being down here? Beneath me? Khee khee khee!”

At this moment, he couldn't really complain.

Once more, Cyril deepened his cunnilingus. His tongue pushed apart her tight folds, spreading them apart. With a throaty groan, Natsume again arched her back while her cunt clamped down around him.

“Yeeesss, that's good~” she groaned, this wicked grin spreading on her lips, “Keep going, boy. Push your tongue inside me... deeper... deeper~ Aaaaahh~”

With one hand still resting on his head, Natsume's other hand trailed up her voluptuous body. It ran along her stomach before coming to her chest, where she squeezed her tit into her palm. Biting into her bottom lip and smiling from cheek to cheek, the setokami groped herself as Cyril ate her out, feeling her pussy twitch and throb around his invading mouth.

Slurps, smacks, and suckles echoed throughout the library, mixing with the sound of Cyril's moans. They went on for what felt like forever, broken only occasionally when the young scholar needed to breathe. It wouldn't take him long to go back in however, returning to Natsume's pussy.

He could feel it; her pussy began twitching and throbbing around his tongue. Opening his eyes and looking up, Cyril watched as the witch maiden pinched one of her nipples and smiled down upon him. She knew he could feel it; the mounting pleasure in her divine body. How fortunate for him; he had the honor of bringing a goddess like her to...

“Nnggghh~~~!”

Climax!

“Mmmph!”

Cyril flinched. In his mouth, a geyser of feminine cum suddenly erupted, filling his maw out with her overwhelming divine taste. Her taste was already intense, but now it was even more so. This orgasm was the rawest, truest taste he could ever imagine having of Natsume,

As her release continued flooding his mouth, he continued lapping at her folds, cleaning her pussy of the last bits of her climax. Like before when he orgasmed, Cyril was left panting for breath; like he'd been under water for a while, and had only recently come up for air. For several more moments he sat there on his knees, gazing at Natsume's glistening pussy, before finally bringing his gaze up towards the grin on her face.

“We're not through yet, boy~” Natsume whispered, “I still have every intention of having your virginity, remember? Now then...”

Leaning back upon the pillar she rested upon and keeping her leg raised, Natsume gently glided her hand down her curvaceous figure. Her fingers stopped when they came to her pussy, which she then spread apart to flaunt the endless pink depths of her moist cunt. Eyes wide, mouth closed, and cheeks flaming red, Cyril gazed down the near endless tunnel that was her pussy, unable to look away.

“Hurry to it, boy...”

“Gulp! Y-yes, M-Mistress...”

Standing up before Natsume, Cyril's cock bounced to life. Amid his oral, his length hat returned to maximum length, with visible steam and a palpable heat radiating off of its form. Gripping his length, the young scholar stroked himself several times, before locking his eyes upon her moist mound. He was so close, he could feel the heat of her pussy attracting him closer. Closer and closer he inched himself, until the head of his cock brushed against her sweltering mound.

Touch~

“Haaah...!”

A shudder immediately raced down Cyril's spine, while Natsume laughed. Saying not a word though, she kept her eyes locked on the young scholar, watching him rub his length against her pussy again and again and again. Up and down the head of his length pressed against her pussy, smearing her nectar along his length, and even staining the pillar beneath her with her fluids. Mouth agape, Cyril began panting desperately, as if unable to hold himself back any further. All he needed to do was line himself up with her vaginal tract... and--

Puuuuuuuuusssshhh!

“Nnnmmph!!!”

“Khee khee khee!!!”

Penetrating Natsume was surprisingly easy to be honest. No, she wasn't loose or anything like that. Quite the opposite; the grip she had on his cock was outright possessive! But actually penetrating her was just so... easy.

Cyril's mouth hung open as he sank down into the nine-tailed jackal, not stopping until he couldn't go any further. His hips met her hips, the two of them now bound with his dick buried deep into her snatch. Chest tightening, he brought his gaze up, where he met Natsume and the mischievous grin she wore.

“Payment received,” she commented, before hooking her finger through the air, “Now... thrust, boy~”

“But I--”

“I said thrust!”

“Nmph!”

She said it so easily, like all he needed to do was swing his hips back and forth. He may have never had sex before, but he's smart enough to know there was a style and technique to this sort of thing; something he lacked entirely. But she just wanted him to thrust? What if he messed up? Wouldn't she dislike it?

Well, she would be angrier with him if he didn't thrust, so...

Pat! Pat! Pat! Pat! Pat! Pat! Pat!

“GUH!”

“Khee khee khee! Keep going!”

Without style or finesse, Cyril thrusted his hips back and forth, using all the strength in his body to pound into Natsume's awaiting cunt. Despite his lack of experience, he had more than enough enthusiasm, for he didn't limit himself in the slightest. His hips slammed back and forth, his cock carving through her pussy with youthful aggression. Every pound caused him to moan and groan, his voice being so young, so sweet, so cute. And Natsume?

“Khee khee khee!”

She kept laughing, even as her back arched off the pillar's surface. The impacts of his body against her sent quakes racing through his her form. Her busty breasts bounced from the impacts, where they swiveled in circles, only to be sent bouncing again.

It didn't take long for sweat to form on Cyril's body. Or had he been sweating all throughout their coupling? He couldn't remember. All he could focus on was the tight feeling of Natsume's pussy as it wrapped around his dick. From the all encompassing heat, to the tangling juices of her nectar, his pussy was going nowhere but in her cunt; again and again and again.

“Khee khee khee! Look at you! Swinging your hips like some wild ape,” Natsume quipped as she placed her hand on his shoulder, gripping him tight, “Harder, boy~! Harder!”

“Mm-hm!”

PAT! PAT! PAT! PAT! PAT!

“Aaah~ Yeeessss~! Hmphh~! Oooh~ Haaah~!”

Harder and harder Cyril pounded into her cunt, making the pillar beneath them rumble slightly from the impacts. The sounds of her voice bolstered the young scholar, who felt emboldened by what he heard. That new sense of courage took form in his hips, which guided him to thrust harder and harder into her awaiting cunt. Natsume felt it, her wicked grin spreading wider on her lips as she laid flat upon her pillar.

The glorious body of the setokami was a divine sight to behold. From her bouncing breasts, to how her black hair fanned around her head, to her nine tails still spread out behind her, and her pussy which gripped his dick again and again and again. She even laid her hands above her head, as if posing for him and him alone.

And that smile. That damned smile.

“Harder, boy~” she cooed, her voice as divine as the teachings of his god, “Thrust harder~”

PATPATPATPATPATPATPATPATPATPATPATPATPATPATPATPATPAT!!!

“MMMMMMM~~~! NMMMMMMM!!!”

Eyes closed shut and that smile remaining on her face, Natsume laid back, allowing Cyril to do as he pleased with her heavenly body. She could feel his cock as it carved and shot through her snatch, fucking her harder and deeper than ever before. And her pussy – just as divine as the rest of her body – gripped his dick with equal pressure.

She could feel it. She could feel it as his balls drew close, and his need for climax increased. So she laid there, biting gently into her bottom lip, awaiting the moment where he finally...

“NNGGHH!!!”

Came...

SPLORT! SPURRT! SPUURRRRT!

Internal though it was, his orgasm still made this audible sound, like he was dumping straight liquid into her cunt. His thick seed filled out her pussy, rushing to fill every inch of her womb, and coming out with enough force that it 'Spurted!' around his cock. From her depths to her slit, cum seeped down every inch of Natsume's now spent pussy and stained the sides of Cyril's dick.

He stood there, panting for breath following their intense coupling. Sweat left his body glistening, and his mind struggled to catch up with reality. It took him a few moments to realize what he had done... and it caused his eyes to grow wide.

He came inside of her. He came inside of her! That realization caused him to babble, struggling to come up with some defense for his actions. Surely, some punishment should befall him, right?

Natsume remained laying on her pillar, her arms still raised above her head, her body glowing with that divine sheen to her. Despite him having cum inside of her, that devious grin remained on her face. If anything, she seemed to bask in the feeling of his climax. It burned inside of her cunt, surging with its weight and volume. While he struggled to defend himself for his actions, the witch maiden raised up.

“Mistress, I--” Clinch! “Ah!?”

Cyril looked down. Natsume's legs had locked around his waist, sticking him in place. An expression of surprise appeared on his face and he looked forward. The setokami had begun rising upwards, her back arching as she suddenly curled forward, and wrapped her arms around his shoulder.

“I did not tell you to stop, did I?” she whispered.

“But I-- Nmm?”

Without warning, Natsume moved in, forcibly taking him into a kiss. A very hungry kiss. The nine-tailed jackal greedily lapped at his lips and tongue with her own tongue, taking him aback. Cyril's body shuddered as he tried to remain upright, but the witch maiden had begun pressing into him. More... more... more! Before he realized it, he was being forced to support her! Only thing is, his body was too drained and he was too short to keep a woman such as herself upright. So once she put all of her weight atop him...

“Nmmph!?”

Thud!

He fell back upon the floor, with Natsume resting atop him. Flattened out similarly to how he was before, Cyril could do naught by gaze up, and watch as the Oracle of Yami straddled his hips. Slowly, she pulled herself up, pulling herself off of his cock with an audible 'Shlap!'. A lewd mixture of cum – both his and hers – stained his dick, while it fell out of her spent pussy, growing flaccid. But Natsume shook her head.

“Mm-mm-mmm...” she whispered as she raised her nail, and poked Cyril in the forehead, “ Chikara o ataeru.”

“Wh-what...?” Pulse! “Nnnggghh!?!?”

Without warning, a sudden rush of energy surged through his body. Cyril felt his muscles tense and flex, as all the blood in his veins began pumping overtime. From tip to toe he felt strengthened, invigorated even! And nowhere was that more obvious than with his penis.

He just came... but you wouldn't know that if you were to look at him now. His cock sprung back to life, reinvigorated by outside powers. Those 'outside powers' being Natsume's magic, of course. But it went beyond that. His cock throbbed with such need, such vitality, that it actually hurt him.

Cyril groaned from the tightness of his dick, while the witch maiden reached down to grab his length. She stroked him gently, before lining his length up with her awaiting slit. Once everything was aligned, Natsume did not hesitate to push down.

Sliiideeee!

“Nnngghh...! What is...!? Aaah!”

Not only was his cock so hard it hurt, but it was also incredibly sensitive! Cyril's body twitched and jolted as Natsume pushed down until their hips met, and he looked up towards her face with his eyes wide. She looked down upon him with a wicked smile on her face, and this glow within her black gaze.

“Not. Yet. Khee khee khee!”

As her giggles filled the air, her hands seized upon his body. One hand sat on his chest, while her other hand gripped his side, the both of them pinning and holding him into place. And as her nine tails began swaying hypnotically behind her, the setokami began moving her hips up and down, riding him in earnest. She was not shy, nor was she hesitant to drop the full weight of her body down upon his waist.

Over and over and over again.

PAT! PAT! PAT! PAT! PAT! PAT! PAT!

“NNGH! NNGHH! HAAAH! AAAHHHNN!!”

“KHEE KHEE KHEE!!!”

Natsume's hips moved with such power and such speed that they began blurring as she took the fullness of Cyril's length, over and over and over again. And if his moans and wails got too loud, she'd press her lips to his, silencing him completely.

What is it she said before? What was that warning she gave to him? Oh... right...

I prefer stupid men. Men who don't realize when they are in over their head. Men who pursue something – preferably me – without understanding just how dangerous I am.

Yeah... that's it.

Cyril was stupid. Cyril was very, very stupid. And now he was suffering for his stupidity.

It was going to be a looooooooooooooong night.

…

The Fine Art of Forced Seminal Extraction

Why oh why is that the first thing he saw upon waking up.

“Nggggh...”

“Khee khee khee... you're finally awake... boy...”

Glimmers of sunlight pierced through a nearby window, illuminating the sight before him. His eyes groggy and his body sore, Cyril awoke to see the same bedroom he woke up in earlier, only now he wasn't alone. On a nearby stool, sitting casually with that... ahem... curious tome in hand, was--

“Natsume...?”

“That's Mistress, boy... but... I'll forgive you this time, since you're so cute. Khee khee khee!”

Though his body felt sore – especially in his legs and hips – Cyril pushed himself up against the mattress while rubbing his forehead. For a moment, he sat there, struggling to remember what happened last night... where it didn't take long to remember.

Sex. They had a lot of sex. Far more sex than he was expecting considering how sexless his life had been up to this part. They had so much sex, you'd never believe Cyril was a virgin! But he wasn't so delusional as to think he was some sexual savant. Whatever skill he showed last night was no doubt enhanced by Natsume's mysterious magic.

Natsume...

Cyril gazed over towards the Oracle of Yami, coming face to face with her trademark smirk. Her nine tails swayed gently, and she closed her book shut, all as her eyes gazed upon the young man currently awaking in one of her beds. The naked young man currently waking up in one of her beds.

“Did you have a good sleep, boy?” she asked, to which he groaned.

“I... I uh...” he mumbled as he used the blankets to cover himself, “I always thought my first time would be a bit more... uh... romantic...”

“Oh? Really? Khee khee khee!” Natsume shook her head, “I thought it was plenty romantic! Tell me, what is more romantic than being positively ravished by a lover in a mess of frantic flesh and lust? I can't imagine anything better...”

Cyril's face fell a bit flat at her response... but a smile couldn't help but to prick at the corners of his mouth. Natsume was a strange woman. Half the time she was a sadistic witch who wouldn't hesitate to sling out hexes the moment someone annoyed her. The other half of the time she was a divine goddess whose you couldn't even approach without feeling belittled. But in a moment like this – a moment of quiet within her home – she felt somewhere in the middle.

Perhaps this was her true self? Then again, maybe not.

“I appreciate the time we've spent together thus far,” said Natsume as she returned to the book in hand, “You have brought some entertainment to my otherwise boring days.”

“You... you speak as if our time together is coming to its end...” Cyril mumbled as he straightened up... to which Natsume tilted her head at him, “Wait... is our time coming to an end?”

“In truth, I need not a servant who will help me with my shrine. To be brutally honest, I detest it. I stay away from the people of High Bishop for a reason, boy. I quite prefer my loneliness. And while making you squirm has been fun thus far, I feel as if I am ready to return to my life of quiet tedium.”

“I... uh... I wouldn't exactly call your life 'tedious'...” Cyril mumbled before shaking his head, “But... Mistress... my interview... are you... will you--”

“Yes, boy, yes,” said Natsume as she stood up from her chair, her silk robes flowing around her body, “I will give you the interview you so desperately seek. Your clothes are folded in the corner, and there is a bathroom through these sliding doors to the back. When you wash yourself off, come to me at the central shrine. We will conduct our interview there.”

Excitement rushed through Cyril as he watched Natsume exit through the sliding door. Finally – Finally! – after what felt like forever, he was going to get his interview with Natsume! The secrets of Kemetokami would soon be revealed! Or – at the very least – more information than anything collected at Northelion Academy.

At first, Cyril began to blitz through his shower. How could he focus on cleaning himself off when he was about to have the first meaningful interview of his career! But as the warm waters fell upon his face to clean off the grime of yesterday, other thoughts came to Cyril's mind.

Perhaps he was coming across this all wrong. This wasn't just a boon for him as a scholar, not just a badge to be worn, but an honor uniquely bestowed upon him. As he heard once, people are only truly dead when they are forgotten. With this interview, he will hopefully make it so that Kemetokami is never truly forgotten.

With this interview, he will hopefully make it so that Natsume is never truly forgotten.

His resolve steeled, Cyril exited from his shower and dried off, before dressing himself up in his usual clothes. He then grabbed all of his things – his satchel filled with textbooks and notebooks – before heading directly towards the main temple. And in the center of the temple, standing before the mural of those two divine figures was Natsume. Gone were the silk robes he found her in earlier that morning however, replaced instead by her shrine maiden attire, with the white kosode on her chest, the gold skirt on her hips, and the zorii sandals on her feet.

She had her back towards him at first, before looking over her shoulder to see Cyril rushing up at her back. Turning to face him completely, Natsume watched as he readied his utensils to conduct the interview proper. She watched him with that typical scowl of hers, as if viciously scanning everything he did with every minute detail. And when he finally stopped to face her, she let out a sigh of minor annoyance.

“Are you... ready, Mistress?” Cyril asked, to which she nodded.

“Yes, yes, boy, I'm ready,” she said dismissively, “Hmm... how should we begin?”

“Uh... I'll ask questions... that'll get things started. If you don't mind me asking, who are you, and where do you come from?”

“Oh gods...” Natsume mumbled with a roll of her eyes, before straightening up, “My name is Natsume, and I hail from the land of Rahara.”

…

“Remarkable...”

Setokami was a mysterious religion. Rahara was a mysterious land. In a kingdom that values knowledge above all else, mysteries are seen as challenges that must be surmounted. They are beloved for how they can open a person's mind by making them ask questions. And only through asking questions can a person hope to learn.

It is sad then that mysteries are – by nature – fleeting. When the answer is gained, then the mystery is lost. And when the mystery is lost, no more questions can be asked. And without any more questions, then there are no more answers. So, therefore, Director Himmel believed that the best mysteries are the ones that give answers... and more mysteries. Like the roots of a tree, they spread and spread and spread out some more. And that's what he held in hand right now.

A book of answers... and even more mysteries.

Director Himmel gazed at the tome in hand. Its pages were filled out from one end to the other, filled with notes and knowledge that beforehand was unknown. And this was not all, for next to it was a sketchbook that itself had been filled out with a wide variety of images. One of which being the most important.

The image of a beautiful woman, one whose hair was done up into twintails, had a pointed nose, thin lips... and powerful eyes.

“I am impressed, Cyril,” said Director Himmel as he pulled his gaze up from the books before him, “When I originally sent you to High Bishop, I feared the Oracle of Yami would not give you the time of day.”

“What...? Did you doubt my capabilities, Director Himmel?” asked the young scholar as he stood on the opposite end of his desk.

“Bwah hah hah! Not at all, Cyril! More so... I felt as if your fears were true. That perhaps the Oracle of Yami would prefer living in secrecy, and did not want to talk to anyone. I feared I was sending you on a fool's errand. But I now see...” he shook the book in hand, “That those fears were misplaced. You did a remarkable job, Cyril.”

“Thank you, Director Himmel.”

“I'll have Janette and the rest of the editors transcribe your notes post-haste! That is... after I've given these books a read through myself,” Director Himmel said with a coy chuckle, “Before the end of the year, all of Orchestra will have books on Kemetokami and Rahara! And it is all thanks to you, Cyril.”

“I... thank you, Director, but...” he shook his head, “I still feel as if there is much we do not know of both Kemetokami and Rahara. Mistress Natsume was very forthcoming with me, but there are still many things we do not know of her and her religion. So much more... specific details.”

“Of that, I am sure, Cyril,” said Director Himmel, “Perhaps you may return to High Bishop to... heh... gain some more information from the Oracle of Yami in the future.”

“If I do... the pleasure will be all mine.”

“Amazing to hear!” said the director, before gesturing for the door, “Please, relax yourself. You've been gone for so long! I'm sure your research team will be happy to see your return. Not to mention Tabitha has been practically running herself ragged being worried about you.”

“What...?” Cyril mumbled, before blushing and gazing to the side, “Aahh...”

“Bwah hah hah! Go back to your dorm, Cyril. Get some rest.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Exiting from Director Himmel's office, Cyril felt a weight be lifted from his shoulders as soon as he stepped through the doors. All around him were the familiar halls of Northelion Academy, uplifting his spirits, and filling him with a sense of nostalgia. And yet, he could not help comparing it to the rustic yet ethereal charm of Natsume's home.

Ah... Natsume...

Before he left for his airship ride home, he visited Natsume one last time at her shrine. But – strangely enough – she was nowhere to be found. He wandered around her home momentarily, searching for the Oracle of Yami, only to come up empty handed. He figured he missed her, and he left soon after. Perhaps she had gone down to High Bishop for a personal quest? Probably to find a new romance novel of questionable content.

Such a shame. He didn't know what he was going to say to Natsume if he saw her, but at the very least, he wanted to say farewell.

Huff...

Those thoughts came to an end when Cyril arrived at his dorm. He pushed his door open, revealing the modest yet messy room he owned with all of his books stacked up as they were. A part of him chuckled as memories of Natsume's messy book rooms came to mind. At the very least, his room was filled with text books, not romance novels. Though, knowing her, she'd probably be annoyed by all of this.

So boring. Do you have no sense of life within you?

Yeah... she'd say something like that...

Thud!

“Cyril!? Cyril, are you here!?”

“Nmmm... Tabitha...”

He had just sat down on his bed when the door suddenly slammed open. Standing there, eyes wide and face frantic was a certain cadet. Cyril didn't even have enough time to say 'Hi' before she rushed over and grabbed him into her arms.

“MMMPH!?”

“You're alright, right? Nothing's wrong, right? You don't have a headache, right? You're not sick, right? You're not injured, right?”

“Mmmm! T-Tabitha...!” Cyril groaned as he pushed himself away from her embrace, “S-stop...! Gnnnhh! You're smothering me...!”

“Oh! Oops...”

Releasing her hold on him, she allowed Cyril to fall back, his glasses slightly skewed. Looking up towards his friend, he still saw that look of concern on her face, causing him to smile in a reassuring manner.

“It's good to see you too, Tabitha,” he said, causing her to roll her eyes and deflate.

“Ugh... you have no idea how much I worried about you during your trip,” Tabitha remarked as she looked him up and down, “And you come back making jokes? Hmph! I see your time away hasn't made you any more polite!”

“Tch...! Polite...?” he replied before shaking his head, “I don't know... it seems rather impolite to barge into someone's room and insult them.”

“Hey! I'm allowed to do that!” Tabitha claimed as she sat down next to him on his bed, “I'm the person who makes sure you don't hurt yourself! Or get lost? Or eat your lunch! Without me, you'd sleep in the library all the time!” she paused for a moment, “And I was super worried that's what you were going to do while you were at High Bishop.”

“I'll have you know, my mission was a complete success,” Cyril replied, “And I didn't sleep in the library, not once...”

He then paused in his head. Does it count as falling asleep in a library if he fell asleep in it after having sex? He wouldn't say it counts... but he certainly wasn't going to bring it up around Tabitha of all people. Who knows how she'd react if she found out he had sex with Natsume! Who knows how she'd react if she knew he had sex with anyone!

“So... how was it...?” she asked, her head tilted to the side, “And... the Oracle of Yami, right? That's who you went to interview, right? And... like... she was a girl, right? Wh... what was she like...?”

“I... um...”

Cyril looked over at Tabitha, seeing the curious look she had on her face. It was the same face he always saw; the one that was often beaming and energetic. It was a face he found comfort and safety in. It was a face that normally was so charming.

But there was something off about her face. Something about it that left him feeling... bleh.

“Cyril...?” said Tabitha, “Is... something wrong?”

“I... I am...” he replied before taking a deep breath, “I'm... just a bit exhausted, I guess. I got off the airship and immediately came to Director Himmel. I... I think I'm going to go and get some sleep. I'll... uh...” he smiled at her, “I'll tell you all about my time in High Bishop when I wake up. Is that okay?”

Tabitha continued looking at him, confused and worried about him. But she nodded, accepting his words as she brushed her hand along his head.

“Then sleep,” she said, “And that's an order!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Slowly – hesitantly – Tabitha stood up, and exited from Cyril's bedroom. Several times she gave him concerned looks, before finally exiting and closing the door behind her. Her concerned actions were probably going to fuel the academy's rumor mill for the next few months... though the idea of the two of them being an item was already a major talking point among the alumni.

Normally, Cyril was annoyed by these comments. But right now, he felt something else inside of him. This time, he felt...

An emptiness.

Was it the exhaustion? It must have been the exhaustion. He didn't sleep much on the airship ride, but he rarely sleeps well on airships. Maybe when he woke up in the next ten hours, he'd feel rejuvenated and – more importantly – normal.

But as he closed his eyes and laid back, for the briefest of moments, Natsume flashed before his eyes. It caused him to spring back up, eyes wide in surprise as realization dawned on him. His lips whispered.

“The payment...”

…

It was dusty in this room. It was cold in this room. This room... really needed a good cleaning. Hm... maybe she should have had that boy clean it up before he left. Oh well; hindsight is always 20/20.

Before her feet resting on the floor was a stone coffin. Upon its sides were carved many Kanji and hieroglyphs, all of which only she would understand. And on the top of this coffin was the symbol of life: an Ankh.

This stone casket seemed to radiate with an otherworldly presence, pulsing and throbbing like it was a live. Placing her hands upon it, she slowly pushed open the slab that kept it contained, causing a bright golden light to come flooding out which illuminated her dismal room.

“Hrrrmph!”

From the nine-tailed jackal's body, another light emerged. This light was a bright blue, and it flowed from her flesh like an aura. Condensing it down, she forced the light into a compact ball which was no bigger than a child's toy, yet shined brighter than any candle light. She then pushed the mysterious orb into the coffin, containing it within. And after she pushed the stone slab back over the casket, she sealed it away along with the rest of her 'payment'.

She knew what would happen. She knew when he returned to Tabitha, he would feel the effects of her 'payment'. And it brought a smile to her face. There were no doubts in her mind that, one day, he would return to her. And she looked forward to that meeting.

“Khee khee khee!”

Apparently, I have the nasty tendency of being rather... possessive.