Hourou

Every evening, when the training grounds of The Dojo fall quiet, Hourou lights a small fire. For a long time, they felt no warmth from it, just a flicker of light against their undead eyes. That changed when a fellow trainee, unafraid of their spectral chill, sat beside them and offered a simple marshmallow. Hourou, who had forgotten the taste of food, merely stared. But their new companion simply smiled, placed it on a bamboo skewer, and held it to the fire. Watching the sugar crisp and melt sparked a feeling that had been dormant for ages. They shared it, and every night after. The stick Hourou carries is a constant reminder of that first taste of sweetness, a promise that life, in some form, had returned.