Torori

The sweet, sharp scent of berry jam rises with the morning sun, cutting through the cold air swirling around the white marble balustrade. Below, the city’s gold spires glint so fiercely it hurts to look. Torori sits not with a sword, but with toast. A courier had come at dawn, speaking of grand sacrifices and missions like Yuji's—a glorious disappearance in a flash of golden light. They offered Torori a similar path, a chance to escape the gilded cage. Instead of answering, Torori had spread the jam thicker. To stay, to endure the quiet rot beneath the polished stone, felt like a truer fight. Retreating was not in their nature. They take the last bite, the simple pleasure a small anchor in a vast, glittering lie.