Utsuhiko

Utsuhiko remembered the warmth of the lacquered box before they learned to fear it, a smooth comfort in their palms. It was meant to hold charcoal for sketching the quiet world they loved. But inside, it now holds a jagged shard that hums with the same wild, untamable energy as the amulet worn by Akurai. The first time it reacted was in The Underworld. Cornered by a cultist near a slosh marsh, Utsuhiko's panic unleashed a wave of azure light that boiled the ground around them. Since then, the box stays buried in their backpack, a constant, heavy secret. Their shy smile and the brim of their cap are a careful performance, a shield to keep their own heart placid. They are an artist who cannot afford to feel too deeply.