Bonjirou

In Waterfall City, the river is said to hold every memory that flows through it. Bonjirou just holds a bowl of ramen. They wander the stone stairs connecting the lower huts to the main plaza, their fishing rod bobbing behind them. They don't remember where they got it, much like they don't remember the day before. This fractured sense of self, a quiet echo of Kiti's own lost history, doesn't trouble them. It just leaves more room for the present. They will sit for hours with the boat builders, sharing their meal without a word, their gentle eyes reflecting the rushing water. Their story isn't written in a book; it's told in the steam rising from their bowl, a temporary warmth offered to anyone who sits beside them for a moment.