Kiwami

Every dawn, Kiwami sits by the stream that cuts through The Heart of the Forest and cleans their raspberry visor. The locals who see them from afar mistake the act for a ritual of peace, a quiet meditation to welcome the day. They are wrong. Beneath the kitsune mask, Kiwami is not finding calm; they are stoking a cold fire. Each wipe of the cloth is a promise renewed, a vow to continue the hunt. They scan the amber-leaved canopy not for beauty, but for a single misplaced black feather, the sign that Karasu or their servants are near. The forest offers tranquility to all who reside within it, but Kiwami did not come here to live. They came to wait. When the visor is clean, they rise, the forest’s peace unable to touch them.