Masayuki

Masayuki plucked a fat, black leech from their ankle with a disgusted shriek that sent a flock of birds scattering. This was not the plan. The plan had been berry tarts and afternoon naps in the sun-dappled clearings of The Heart of the Forest. But then they had asked Aki for a simple blessing for their new garden, and the ancient spirit, in its infinite and deeply inconvenient wisdom, had given them a quest instead. Something about a rare moonpetal that only grows on the far side of the wilder woods. Every day since has been a symphony of mud, thorns, and existential complaining. They still tie their red bow perfectly each morning, a small, defiant piece of home in a world determined to ruin their day. They may be an adventurer now, but only under furious protest.