Hikana

Hikana launched themself down the great stone stairs of Waterfall City, wings flared in a desperate, last-ditch effort to save the runaway pork bun. A frog merchant paused their haggling to watch, shaking their head with a fond smile. It was the third “catastrophe” Hikana had averted that morning, after rescuing a dropped fishing net from a “watery grave” and shielding a child’s sandcastle from an “imminent tidal threat” caused by a kicked bucket. They had spent decades exploring places where one misplaced step meant oblivion. Now retired, their protective instincts remained, just with far smaller targets. Sliding to a halt, Hikana gently scooped up the bun, presenting it to its stunned owner. “Vigilance,” they declared wisely, “is the flavor of life.”