Komiki

Komiki remembered the weight of the little one clinging to their back, and the searing heat on their own face. They were cornered on the ash plains of The Underworld, two Soul Chasers advancing with their ghostly flames. Komiki’s katana was fast, but not fast enough for two. They could feel the trembling of their charge, a young defector from the Cult of Kaze. There was no time for a plan, only an instinct that was once warm and protective, now twisted into a weapon. “Hold tight,” Komiki whispered, then, “and close your eyes.” The roar that followed was not a war cry, but a sound of pure necessity. When the air cooled, the Chimp on their back was silent, not with relief, but with fear of their savior.