Setsutarou

Setsutarou was not taught to fear the future; they learned it on their own. For years, their world was the gentle, muffled safety of Tamago’s shell, a life shielded from every sharp edge. But curiosity led them to the outskirts of the great waterfall city, to the fishing boats and sprawling huts at the bottom of the falls. There, half-buried in the river silt, they found the azure visor. The first time they wore it, they saw a fisherman’s net snap a day before it happened. Then they saw a coming rockslide on the stairs connecting the city tiers. They left their protector not out of courage, but from a desperate need to outrun the visions. These days, they use their carved cane to navigate the upper plazas, the roar of the water a constant hum beneath their anxiety. The visor shows them everything, but tells them nothing of what to do.