
Hailing from Ashinohara, the Miko of Flaming Sakura now remains in Lahai-Roi as the last and only member of the Special Response Force.

Few would guess that the white birds soaring above the skies of <te href=260004>Lahai-Roi</te>, the very ones under the Miko of Flaming Sakura's command, could look so endearingly adorable up close. Hiyuki's fingers are nimble, yet they seem to fail her whenever she attempts a "professional" origami bird. She even resorted to eavesdropping on origami lessons from outside a window, but the final result was always this same, harmlessly cute shape.

A fortune lot from the Flaming Sakura. Its sakura motifs and divination text have been wholly obscured, buried beneath tiny white flowers gathered from somewhere unknown. Hiyuki first drew this lot when she sought guidance, asking whether she would smoothly inherit the title of Miko of Flaming Sakura. Only days later, she discovered that someone had, in secret, stitched and reshaped her fortune into this form.

In her spare time, Hiyuki retreats to a secluded corner to carve. Figurines of people, animals, miniature landscapes, or scenes from art, she attempts to render them all with her carving knife. Recently, there is a rumor that her interest has shifted from the <te href=700022>Exoswarm</te> to the <te href=851071>Spacetrek Collective</te>'s various mechanical constructs. Students have even reported glimpsing her in the frostlands, attempting to carve the likeness of the <te href=700008>Exostrider</te>. Perhaps one day, the carving knife in her hand will finally replace the blade sheathed at her waist.
The first time Hiyuki heard the truth of her own past, it spilled from Gyokuro's drunken lips. Hiyuki's mouth tightened. Without a word, she poured herself a glass of the bitter liquor. "Hiyuki... My dear Hiyuki..." "You can't do this. You can't be the damn Miko of Flaming Sakura... Your life was never meant to be like this!" Hiyuki's eyes narrowed. If the people of Ashinohara saw their usually dignified and poised Miko of Flaming Sakura acting like this behind closed doors... The second hand ticked. The minute hand followed. At last, the hour hand lurched forward. By Ashinohara time, this very moment marked Hiyuki's transition into adulthood. She sighed and downed the drink in one burning gulp. "You managed. You think I cannot?" The liquor scorched her throat and settled like lead in her slight frame. So this was what they called the "drink of adulthood." Its taste, she decided, was hardly worth the wait. Hiyuki stood and draped a blanket over Gyokuro's muttering form. She lingered in the corner for a long moment. At last, she stepped forward, tucked the edges tight, and closed the door softly behind her. The next morning, Gyokuro's fury toward the steward tasked with the Legacy Talisman's succession rang out loud enough to be heard two streets away. The Suzu's power lay in "drawing upon the future." In simple terms, it meant every use exacted a toll from the bearer's remaining lifespan. In the worst case, it meant a successor who inherited the bell today might vanish into nothingness in their very first battle against a Threnodian. Because the price was so high, successors were usually chosen early. Hiyuki had stayed at Gyokuro's side for more than a decade. Even if Gyokuro refused to name her... who else could possibly be chosen? The steward, unable to handle Gyokuro's temper, could only offer a strained, placating smile. "Even if not Hiyuki, surely you must name someone, Lady Miko." Gyokuro fell silent for a few breaths. She sighed, cleared her throat, and prepared to resume her tirade. It was Hiyuki who finally opened the door, ending the farce. "For years, I have journeyed with you through Ashinohara. I know what each duty demands." "I have mastered every art a miko must know. The weaving of charms, the ceremonial dances—all from teachers of your own choosing." "Only I can ensure the name of the Flaming Sakura remains untarnished, Gyokuro... No. Lady Miko." Gyokuro's brow furrowed. She waved a hand dismissively. "You've learned it all, have you? Then don't you realize the Suzu will be the death of you?" "I was an orphan you took in. My family lies buried beneath the snow from that Threnodian attack. I have no attachments left." The room fell suffocatingly quiet. The only sound was the raspy, obsessive scrape of Gyokuro's thumb as she rubbed the bell on her wrist. She tried to speak, but in the end, no words came.