Ushigorou

There's a saying in the high-altitude city with its purple sky: “Even a cherry blossom can cast a shadow of ash.” For Ushigorou, the shadow is a constant, scorching heat behind their ribs. They once painted scrolls, their brush capturing the gentle sway of bamboo in the freezing wind. But on a pilgrimage to a forgotten shrine, they stumbled upon a trapped fire spirit. In freeing it, a stray ember of the same chaotic energy that transformed Hotaru latched onto their soul. They left their brushes and ink behind that day. The poker face is a dam; the squinting eyes are a constant vigil against the inferno that wants to burn through. They just keep wandering, hoping the cold mountain air is enough to keep the flames inside.