Kumahiko

The single, perfect worm dangling from Kumahiko’s hat was not for fishing. It was a distraction, meant to draw the eye while Kumahiko watched everything else. Today, it was the gold-chased armor of the palace guards in The Teikodian Empire. Through their hip specs, they noted the weary posture beneath the polished steel, the hollow look in their eyes. Kumahiko felt a familiar warmth on their back, the scorching embers they carried flaring slightly. They’d heard tales of Moeru, of a thief consumed by a sacred stone, and saw echoes of that hunger in every gem-studded wall here. The embers were a reminder of a friend who reached for similar power and vanished. The side smile was a shield; the journey was a race against the heat.