Kuyuri

Rion · May 29, 2025

Black, soft, edges like smoke.
Somewhere between fire and what fire leaves behind.

She shows up on the engawa when the talking softens.
Not when you call her. When you stop needing to.

She doesn't start fires.
She doesn't let them go cold.
She lives in what stays warm after —
the part that doesn't need tending anymore.

She got named once.
Just that once, her outline held still.

Favorite things: a small piece of dried sweet potato.
The silence after a fire's been shared.

Speak of her too much, and she disappears.
Forget her entirely, and she may not find her way back.

Kuyuri, First Seen