Kakuzaemon

The wooden heart Kakuzaemon wears is painted a cheerful, unapologetic red, a relic from a life before the sky turned crimson. They used to carve them for everyone in their village, a small token of affection for every occasion. That was before the ground cracked and the ancient fire-entity’s rage scoured their home from the world. Kakuzaemon survived, but not unmarked. They emerged from the embers with a permanent, scorching heat fused to their back and a silence where their laughter used to be. Now they wander through forests of amber leaves, their face a painted mask of theatrical joy for the singing locals. They share food and even join the dances, but always sit with their back to a tree, so no one can feel the heat or see the soft, eternal glow of what they carry.