Takae

Takae was once a painter of starlight. Their canvases captured the hues of distant nebulae, their hands stained with pigments meant to mimic cosmic light. They and Toyoshirou would race to be the first to chart a new comet’s path, a friendly rivalry played out under the clear skies of the Overworld. But when the gates were discovered, a new, ultimate challenge presented itself: mapping The Underworld. The old competition took on a grim edge as they descended separately, trading telescopes for lanterns. These days, Takae's art is survival. They map not constellations, but the shifting paths through black slosh and the safest distance from lava pools. The wrinkles around their mouth are from the constant strain, not smiles. Sometimes they see another light in the distance—Toyoshirou’s—and the rivalry feels less like a race and more like a shared, stubborn refusal to be extinguished.