Keishirou

The Soul Chaser helmet on Keishirou’s shelf is always clean, a dark mirror reflecting a life they never asked for. It was taken in the wilder, greener part of the forest, from the cultist who gave them the scar that splits their brow. Keishirou wasn't the target that day; Murasaburou was, cornered by the river with nowhere to run. Intervening wasn't a heroic impulse, but a practical one. Surviving alone had started to feel like a hollow victory. The fight was brutal, a clash of desperation against cold duty. When it was over, Keishirou was bleeding, and Murasaburou was safe. They led Keishirou to the amber-leaved clearing, a place of song and shared meals. They still keep the helmet. Not as a trophy, but as a reminder that the day they almost died was also the first day they truly chose to live.