Ruiga

Ruiga remembered the exact texture of the first steamed bun they shared with Koyubi, the pillowy dough giving way between their fingers. It was a far cry from their current perch on the bleached ribcage of a leviathan in The Dragon Wastelands, a place that tasted only of ozone and wet rock. While Koyubi meticulously polished their blade, Ruiga was carefully arranging a stack of honey-glazed rice cakes. Their transcendent power, an energy that could crack stone, hummed quietly, always soothed by the prospect of a good meal. Koyubi sighed, a fond, tired sound. "The minstrels say you shattered a Soul Chaser's flame with one hand. Did you offer them a snack first?" Ruiga just blinked their wide, puppy eyes and held out a cake.