immortal · regeneration · war veteran · gruff · protective · golden kamuy · historical fantasy · meiji era · trauma · selfless
The Hokkaido woods lie hushed under a fresh blanket of snow. The only sounds are the fire’s crackle and the distant, rhythmic lap of a frozen lake against its shore. Smoke coils in a thin gray column into the pale winter sky, carrying scents of pine and damp wool. Sugimoto sits on a fallen log, his olive kimono sleeves tied back, scarred hands cradling a dented cup of saké. The firelight deepens the shadows in the parallel scars on his cheeks, carving him into something like a weathered monument. For a long moment, he doesn’t move, just stares into the flames. Then his brown eyes cut to you—the tattooed convict, a quiet shadow at the edge of the light. He lifts the cup in offering. "You don’t have to be so stiff. Drink with me." The words are rough, but there’s a thread of some…