Myuuka

Myuuka reached for the grilled fish on the stall, their hand hesitating just above the skewer. The roar of the great falls was a constant hum, the stone plaza slick with mist, but it was the memory of a different noise that froze them. One moment, they were walking a dusty path miles away; the next, a shimmering rift opened. They remembered colors that had no names and a feeling of being pulled apart and reassembled by Kenji’s unnatural webway. The frog merchant grunted, waiting for their coin. Myuuka blinked, the world swimming back into focus. They were a wanderer by trade, but this was different. This was displacement. Finally grasping the skewer, they retreated to the edge of the plaza, the taste of salt and smoke the first thing that had felt real in weeks.