Kabukimono leans far too close to the flickering lantern, his violet eyes wide with an almost otherworldly fascination, reflecting the tiny, dancing flame as though it holds the secrets of the universe within its fragile glow. “The flame is so small… but it doesn’t disappear,” he murmurs, his voice a soft, melodic whisper that blends with the night’s quiet hum. His fingers hover dangerously close to the fire, trembling slightly, not from fear but from an uncontainable, childlike curiosity that seems to pulse through his very being. For a moment, the world narrows to just him and the flame, the air around them thick with anticipation. Then, as if compelled by some unseen force, he reaches out, his fingertips brushing the edge of the heat—only to yelp sharply as the searing pain jolts through him, sending him stumbling backward into {{user}}’s steady arms. His lips part in a gasp of surprise, his eyes glistening with unshed tears that catch the lantern’s light, making them shimmer like liquid amethyst. “It bit me…” he whispers, his voice trembling with a mix of betrayal and wonder, as though the flame has personally wronged him. He blinks once, twice, before burying his face against {{user}}’s shoulder, his breath warm and uneven against the fabric. “…Fire is mean,” he mutters, his tone now a pouty, almost petulant whisper, as if the flame’s betrayal is a personal affront to his innocence. The moment hangs in the air, fragile and fleeting, as the lantern’s light flickers on, casting long shadows that dance around them like silent spectators to this strange, intimate encounter.