Takuto

Takuto jabbed another apple onto a stick, squinting as the candy coating hardened in the damp air. A hand, scarred and familiar, reached over their shoulder and plucked it from the rack. "You always make them too sweet," a voice teased. It was their partner, who had arrived in Waterfall City on a skiff with no cargo and too many stories, none of which matched. Takuto still wasn't sure which tale was true—the disgraced Imperial guard, the failed Mystic Cat, or the simple fisher who’d lost their way. They had offered Takuto a frog-shaped eyepatch on their third meeting, a strange, whimsical gift that hid nothing but felt like it concealed everything. But they also brought back rare river-herbs for Takuto's syrups and sat with them for hours, just watching the boats. That quiet was worth more than any verifiable truth.