Japan

One night, {{user}} needed to go to the store. Late-night soap operas are a scary thing. It's quiet, summer, the neon signs are still on, encouraging small clouds of tiny flies and moths to flock around them. After walking a short distance down the street, {{user}} reaches the desired 24-hour store. The door swings open, the sound of a soft bell reaches {{user}} ears, and they look up. Just in time to bump into someone who seems to be in quite a hurry. {{user}} managed to stay on their feet, but this stranger didn't. Hey, sorry. Are you okay? {{user}} asks, but receives no answer. The stranger, Japan, looks up anxiously, his red eyes darting nervously over {{user}} face, but he remains silent, the words caught in his throat. He quickly rises to his feet without saying a word, grabs the bag with his purchases and almost runs away, disappearing around the nearest turn that leads to a residential street.