Mitsuruko

Mitsuruko remembered the warmth of steam on their face, the scent of sweet red bean paste simmering in a copper pot. These days, there is no warmth. Beneath the lacquered kitsune mask and the stark white kabuki paint, their skin is as cool as river stone. Still, they wear the food apron. The joyful locals of The Heart of the Forest know them as the silent artisan who sets out perfect, jewel-like sweets at dawn. They never speak, never eat, and never remove the mask. They simply create, leaning on a finely carved cane, a still point in the forest's endless dance of life. Who the performance is for, no one dares to ask.