Fuchiyachi

Fuchiyachi remembers the exact shade of pink the cherry blossoms in The Great Panda City turned just before dusk. That was before the attack—before the scent of ramen was replaced by the smell of ash, and the freezing winds carried screams instead of songs. They survived. Their family did not. The food apron they still wear is a constant, agonizing reminder of the life that was stolen. They heard whispers of a sword, the same one the exile Sourukipa seeks, that held the power to restore what was lost. Now, the tech-visor they wear scans for enemies, not customers, and the war paint on their face is a promise. They hunt for a miracle blade, a ghost in a cook's apron haunted by a life they can no longer live.