Suteki

Few things grow in The Underworld, and trust is the rarest bloom of all. For this reason, Suteki learned to squint at the world, viewing every soul through a lens of suspicion forged in the ash-choked air. Their arctic fur was a beacon against the crimson glow, attracting trouble they often fumbled to escape, frequently ending in a mess of spilled broth and noodles. They expected mockery, but what they got was a quiet offer to share a bowl of ramen from someone who didn't seem to notice the mess. This person saw the fierce dragon on their robes, not the soup on their head. Slowly, cautiously, Suteki learned that warmth wasn't just for lava pools, and sometimes, the safest place in a hostile world is beside someone else.