Aihiko

“Don’t try to follow them,” a palace guard warns new recruits. “You only see the scorch mark where they stood.” To the strategists in The Teikodian Empire, Aihiko is pure function—a grey blur delivering critical intelligence faster than a thought. The court whispers about the embers on their back, a living spark taken from the cursed thief Moeru that fuels their impossible speed. They say it’s a dangerous pact, a fire that demands a price. But the old groundskeeper who sweeps the marble courtyards sees something different. In the quiet hour before dawn, they have seen Aihiko stand perfectly still, the kitsune mask tilted up as if feeling the sun it cannot see. The embers don't rage then. They just glow, a soft, weary heartbeat. No one knows who they are, only what they carry.