Utayoshi

Utayoshi’s fishing rod was meant for quiet contemplation, a tool for achieving inner peace by the river. In theory. In practice, here in The Heart of the Forest, it was mostly a hazard. The locals, in their endless pursuit of merriment, had declared this week’s entertainment to be “synchronized river dancing.” The scar on Utayoshi’s cheek wasn’t from a Soul Chaser, but from an errant, jewel-encrusted tambourine flung during last month’s festival. Their perpetually upset expression came from trying to guard the riverbank’s serenity while being constantly asked to judge competitive pie-eating contests. They just wanted to catch one fish. Just one. Instead, they caught a soggy party streamer and the lingering scent of burnt honey-cakes.