Yuukei

Yuukei snapped the chocolate stick in two, offering half to a child whose face was streaked with soot. It was a habit from their old life, a time when their bamboo workshop in The Great Panda City was filled with the laughter of neighbors and the scent of cherry blossoms. That was before the attack. Before the sky turned crimson and the street filled with the silent, destructive fire of Soul Chasers. They fought to protect their shop, their home by the river, but all that remained was ash and the ghost of a life they'd built with their own hands. They left the city the next morning, carrying only a bundle of uncut bamboo—too perfect to have burned, too painful to leave behind. The sushi on their head is a memory of a shared meal. The bamboo is for a home they can never build again.