Joshirou

Every morning, Joshirou attempts the simple, scholarly act of lighting a single stick of incense. And every morning, a stray thought or an untimely sneeze causes the device strapped to their face to erupt in a gout of flame, incinerating the entire box. They came to The Heart of the Forest seeking tranquility, a place to pore over ancient texts with their carved cane resting at their side. Instead, they’ve become an unwilling local celebrity. Their first accidental fire-blast flash-roasted a hanging fruit, which the villagers declared a culinary masterpiece. A subsequent mishap involving a damp log and a cloud of sparks was hailed as an innovative smoking technique. Now, they are followed by hopeful foodies, leaving offerings of raw ingredients. Joshirou’s perpetually upset expression isn’t from deep philosophical turmoil; it’s the quiet agony of someone who just wants to read.