A patriarch without dignity gets a beating of a lifetime.
——Sū ěr.
Setting aside the state of mind of Koyomi Araragi—who, despite never having touched alcohol until Sū ěr departure, found himself with a cup shoved into his hands by Rikuo Nura while being lectured with lines like, "You're a vampire, what's a little booze? Look at me, I haven't even finished high school and I drink like a fish"—Sū ěr could only say that Nurarihyon had paid the price for his earlier "flash of inspiration."
Ultimately, the exchange of cups between Araragi and Rikuo didn't happen. For Araragi, a youth raised in modern society, the idea of bowing down and calling someone "Big Brother" was a bit too alien, despite how common it seemed among yōkai. He eventually declined on the grounds that he was only a "temporary" vampire and would return to being human once the ordeal was over.
Rikuo didn't throw a fit over the rejection. He merely nodded in understanding, left a promise that Araragi could ask for help anytime, and then proceeded to eat, drink, and play as usual. He even called over the other yōkai of the Nura Clan, turning the night into a raucous banquet that gave Araragi a true taste of yōkai revelry.
It was, admittedly, a good feeling. The heroic and chivalrous aura of the yōkai—reminiscent of ancient warriors—made Araragi feel a sense of belonging, even if he didn't join the clan. The lingering repulsion he felt toward his non-human identity faded quite a bit.
While the boy was undergoing his grueling "special training," Sū ěr had already brought Think and Jibril to Nara.
To the Shrine of the Gods of Marriage.
Or rather, the shrine established by humans to worship... the three of them, just as Nurarihyon had said.
The history of the yōkai had been passed down among humans. After the yōkai faded from the physical world, humans continued to worship these legends. Over hundreds of years, the shrine had become a spiritual anchor.
Along the winding stone path, layer upon layer of torii gates stretched upward. They were arranged by the year they were erected; the closer to the entrance, the newer they looked. The red lacquer on the gate before Sū ěr was bright and glossy, lacking the deep, weathered crimson of an ancient structure.
Hesitation—though he had known of this place for a while, standing here in person gave Sū ěr a peculiar mix of feelings.
Accomplishment? Pride? Absurdity? Hesitation? Curiosity? Embarrassment?
What would the enshrined statues even look like?
"Move it, move it!" Jibril kept poking Sū ěr in the kidneys, urging him forward. Unlike him, she was impatient to see the interior. How were she and Sū ěr being worshipped by these humans?
Hiding her non-human features, Jibril had taken the form of a stunning girl with pink hair and amber eyes. As she clung to Sū ěr arm and tried to pull him up the path, she looked like a lively teenager, drawing smiles from the other pilgrims passing by.
Many of them wore "mysterious" smiles, likely lost in their own romantic fantasies.
For shrines dedicated to other deities, they might have faced decline in an era where technology had eroded traditional awe and reverence. But the Twin-Soul Shrine was the opposite. Dedicated to the Gods of Marriage, it hadn't faded; instead, it had become a nationally famous "Holy Land of Love," listed as a must-see for foreign tourists.
Young people, after all, love this stuff. For couples, visiting this place was like completing a quest—receiving a blessing to stay together forever.
Then there were those who weren't yet a couple but wanted to confess. Internet data suggested that confession success rates at the Twin-Soul Shrine were 40% higher than anywhere else!
Of course, Sū ěr knew this was pure selection bias. Since the shrine was famous, the motive for going there was an open secret. If a guy invited a girl there (or vice versa), the implication was already clear. If they agreed to go, they already liked each other. Of course the success rate was high.
This logic had long been summarized online. For students, "Want to go to the Twin-Soul Shrine together?" had become a coded confession like "The moon is beautiful tonight." It was trendy, elegant, and left enough room for both parties to avoid embarrassment if rejected.
So, it was only natural that the place was packed with young couples. Sū ěr and Jibril fit right in.
"Alright everyone, we have arrived at the Spring of Clear Hearts. It is said these springs are the tears shed by the Twin-Soul Deity, who pitied lovers struggling to understand one another. Legend says if two people drink from the same cup of this water, they will share a 'heart-to-heart' connection like the Deity, knowing each other's thoughts without a word. I assume you've all brought your cups? You can line up here to collect the water~"
"OOHHHH!!!"
A tour guide was enthusiastically explaining the origin of the spring to a group, and many tourists stopped to listen.
Sū ěr and Jibril quickened their pace. With one look, Sū ěr saw why the founders of the shrine chose this spring as the first attraction. As for the "tears of the deity" bit... Sū ěr took it with a grain of salt.
Between dark, moss-covered stone walls, two springs erupted simultaneously. They didn't just trickle down the stone; they jetted out in two steady, unending pillars of water.