Hawai

The Merchant of Questionable Stains, they called Hawai, whose stall near the grand plaza of Waterfall City was known more for the jam on their tie than the goods they sold. Their partner was the only one who saw it not as carelessness, but as joy. They would simply laugh, wiping a smudge from Hawai’s cheek before the morning trade began, their life a quiet rhythm of shared breakfasts and knowing glances. But some days, a runner would arrive with a sealed scroll. The call from Hiro. Then, their partner would help them trade the stained shirt for dark, silent armor, their playful eyes turning sharp and focused. Their partner never asked them to choose between lives. They just packed an extra jam toast for the road, understanding the warrior who left was the same soul who would return, hungry for home.