Suegiku

Suegiku remembered the sound most clearly: a furious splashing in the black slosh, followed by a creative string of curses that echoed under the ash-choked sky. They had been fishing for thoughts, as they did every cycle, their line cast into the toxic mire. The source of the noise was a young brawler, hopelessly stuck and flailing. The brawler scoffed at Suegiku’s rod. “What are you hoping to catch in that filth, old one? Regrets?” Suegiku simply reeled in their line, a pale, glowing root hooked on the end. They pointed with it. “The ground is solid two steps to your left. You are fighting the mud, not seeking the path.” The brawler, stunned into silence, followed the advice and was freed. They stayed, not out of debt, but out of a baffling curiosity. One fishes for wisdom, the other keeps watch. It works.