Chitomi

Chitomi hammered the crimson-hot metal, the clang echoing against a sky choked with ash. The pink daisies woven into their hair never wilted, a stubborn splash of life in a realm dedicated to decay. When Yutsuka chose this place, this land of unnatural snow and black slosh, Chitomi had followed without a word of protest. The locals, gaunt figures with hollow eyes, had laughed at first. A smith? Here? But their laughter died when they saw what Chitomi forged: tools of mending, not war. Their evolution had granted them power over flame and steel, allowing them to create amidst entropy. Their eyes held the fury of a forge, but their smug smirk was for Yutsuka alone—a private joke that they could build a home anywhere. Every repaired gate was a love letter.