Toutarou

Toutarou plucks a single wilting blossom from the branch, their movements precise beneath a simple bowler hat. This was their tree, shared with a noble whose laughter once filled this secluded palace courtyard. They spent entire afternoons here, back when the sunlight on the gold-spired towers felt like a blessing, not a judgment. But that was before a sibling’s ambition turned the white marble halls into a tomb, a quiet betrayal that echoed the cursed fate of the spirit Genkei. Toutarou fled after, becoming a wanderer who saw their love’s face in every crowd. These days, their features are set in an unreadable line, a poker face shielding a heart still aching. They always return to this tree, a silent promise to a ghost, ensuring every petal falls perfectly.