Shounorou

The scent of damp soil and decaying amber leaves always clings to Shounorou’s gear. To the food-obsessed locals of The Heart of the Forest, they are just the quiet mapmaker, a dependable figure who vanishes into the wilder greenwoods and returns with flawless charts of new streams. They accept offered pastries with a polite nod, their voice muffled by the mask, their eyes hidden behind the azure visor. The locals assume it is shyness. It is duty. Shounorou feels the magic of Aki not as a warm glow but as a sharp, urgent pulse—a warning. Something is wrong in the deep woods, poisoning the land from within. Their sword is not for adventure, but for surgery. Today, their latest chart led them to a glade where the trees are skeletal. They drew their blade and stepped into the silence.