Yohachirou

The sweet, charring scent of sugar is a quiet heresy in the gilded heart of The Teikodian Empire, but Yohachirou tends their small fire with the focus they once reserved for strategic war maps. They used to wear embroidered silks, their world a tapestry of whispered secrets and cold ambition. That was before the night in the high spire's observatory, when a shard of impossible light resolved into the form of Kanshi-in’s intergalactic mothership. It hung in the lens, vast and silent, making every imperial decree and courtly drama feel like a children’s game. Yohachirou walked away from that room and never looked back, trading silk for cotton and grand strategy for the simple truth of a flame. The marshmallow stick is not a snack; it's a declaration.