"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice sounding like an echo from a distant time.
The girl looked up, startled. "I... I'm fine. Thank you." She looked at her ruined treat, her lip trembling. "Are you okay
"I remember things," Fushi said softly, a sad smile touching his lips. "And as long as I remember them, they never truly leave." I'm fine
He stepped into the crowd, his form shimmering as he shifted into the likeness of a traveler, ready to see what the next century would teach him about the pain and beauty of being alive. "And as long as I remember them, they never truly leave
As she ran back to her mother, Fushi looked up at the moon. The Nokkers—the soul-stealing shadows of his past—were quiet for now, but he knew they were never truly gone. He stood up, his cloak fluttering in a wind only he could feel. He was the Immortal, the observer of all things, destined to walk until the end of time, carrying the hearts of the fallen within his own.
The white-haired boy, Fushi, stood at the edge of a world that had grown too quiet. He wasn't just a boy anymore; he was a vessel of a thousand memories, an immortal shape-shifter who had spent centuries learning what it meant to be human.