Koretoshi

Koretoshi felt their grip slip, the roar of the falls below a deafening promise. The azure visor had flashed a warning—unstable rock—but they’d pushed on, driven by something that felt like courage but was really just pride. That was their first mistake. Dangling there, with their guiding lanterns mocking them from their pack, they understood. Then came the hand. Ruriie’s. No words were needed. The rescue was quiet, humbling. They still climb the treacherous cliffs around Waterfall City. But now, they listen to the visor. They test every hold. The mask isn’t for an enemy’s eyes; it’s a private confession, hiding the memory of the fool who almost fell, and the humbling debt to the one who caught them.