Rikyou

Rikyou’s hands move with the serene grace of a calligrapher, yet their back smolders with embers that never cool. They live in a small house high on the mountain, where freezing winds rattle the bamboo screens and carry the scent of cherry blossoms. Preparing a meal is a meditative act, a discipline of absolute focus. A single lapse, one moment of frustration, and the searing heat at their back could flare, turning the delicate food to ash. They’ve heard tales of Hotaru, the chimp consumed and reborn as living fire. Rikyou fears that same potential sleeps within them, a constant, quiet threat. Every intricate task they master is another prayer for control, another wall against the inferno. The intense focus in their eyes is not for the meal, but for the fire they refuse to feed.