Reirou

Every morning, Reirou finds the same stone bench in the plaza, just close enough to feel the mist from the great cascade. With their carved cane resting beside them, they eat their breakfast: toast with a thick spread of berry jam. Their cybernetic eyes, capable of calculating trajectories and seeing through fog, are used for one task only—locating the sweetest spot on the bread. They have walked many roads and climbed countless mountains, but the daily journey down the city's rock-hewn stairs to watch the fishing boats is the only one that matters these days. The roar of the water is a constant song, a better companion than any they met on their travels. A small smear of purple remains on their cheek, unnoticed.