Goujirou

Scavengers in The Dragon Wastelands whisper of a ghost, not of dragons, but of polished platinum and pink light. They say it dances in the fog, leaving trails of spectral sakura petals. Goujirou just wishes they had a dry towel. They are hopelessly lost, lured here by a foolish tale of a flower that bloomed only in scorched earth. Their polished form is a beacon for every horror in this miserable land. But when cornered, the uneasy warrior vanishes. A primal rage, the same untamable fire that drives Yaban-hito, surges through them. The graceful dance becomes a whirlwind of destruction. When it’s over, Goujirou is left shaking, picking mud from their noodles, terrified of the stranger living inside their own skin.