Tamika

One Dragonslayer Blade, two demon eyes, and a smear of strawberry jam across their cheek. Tamika adjusted the greatsword on their back, its weight a familiar anchor against the cold, high-altitude winds that whipped through the bamboo-lined streets. They had been a wanderer once, someone who spoke the language of steel and shadow. Then they found Fuyuka, a small figure shivering in the shadow of a gate, with eyes wider than the moon. The promises made since that day were simpler, quieter, and far heavier. Fuyuka pointed to a stall selling toast, their own face clean. The jam was a reminder, a small, sticky mark of a life Tamika never expected to have, and would now defend with a fury that made dragons seem tame.