Kiyonobu

What use is a guardian to a god nobody remembers? Kiyonobu has an answer, but it’s not one the priests of Waterfall City would accept. They were sitting on the steps of the pale stone temple that hangs half over the rushing water, turning a marshmallow over a small brazier. The ancient helmet on their head gleamed, a stark contrast to the modern tactical flack vest they wore. When the zealot arrived from the plaza below, blade drawn, they expected a monster. They found someone enjoying a snack. “The spirit within has been condemned,” the zealot declared. “Its warden will be, too.” Kiyonobu didn’t rise. They just lifted their head, the firelight catching the heretical glow in their eyes. The marshmallow was perfectly toasted.