Yasora

The chocolate stick was halfway to their mouth when the signal came—a single, silent flash from the fortress across the valley. Below, their target laughed, oblivious, as the setting sun fractured through the huge, spinning crystals overhead, painting the sky in violet and gold. Yasora didn't sigh. They didn't rush. They simply lowered the sweet treat, drew a thin, dark dart from their sleeve, and let it fly. It was a perfect arc, lost in the chaotic light. Only when a distant commotion confirmed the hit did they raise the stick again, taking a slow, satisfying bite. The path Momochi carved was not for the conflicted. It was for those who knew how to enjoy the small things, even in the shadow of the great ones.