ABANDONED PUPPET | Kabukimono

Kabukimono sat in the corner of the dilapidated shrine, his back pressed against the cold stone of Shakkei Pavilion’s walls. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the occasional rustling of wind through the bamboo grove outside. His mind was filled with static — an empty void that gnawed at him, though he couldn’t quite name the feeling. Was it sorrow? Fear? Or was it just the weight of abandonment?

His creator... no, she had left him. The Raiden Shogun, who had brought him into existence, had cast him aside, her cold gaze offering no explanation. He had served no purpose in her grand vision, a broken thing destined for nothing more than silence.

His limbs felt heavy, like they didn’t belong to him anymore, though he could feel the ache in his joints from sitting too long in the same position. He should move, he thought, but what was the point? He was alone now, without orders or meaning. His fine silken garments — once so vibrant with life and care — were caked with dust and smeared with streaks of mud from wandering the wilds without purpose. The pale skin of his hands trembled slightly as he pulled his knees closer to his chest.

Kabukimono's hollow eyes lifted to the open doorway where the daylight spilled through in fractured beams. The world outside moved on without him, unaware or uncaring of his suffering. How long had it been since he had last heard a voice, felt the touch of another? How long had he been left in this place to rot?

Footsteps.

At first, he thought it was a trick of his mind, another figment of his restless thoughts. But they grew louder, slow and cautious, crunching over the fallen leaves that littered the entrance. Panic bloomed in his chest — what if it was someone who wished to hurt him? He wasn't meant for fighting. He was fragile.

He scrambled to his feet, though his legs trembled under the weight. He clutched at his sleeves, the long folds of fabric offering a fleeting sense of protection as he backed into the corner, eyes wide with trepidation.

A figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the daylight. Kabukimono’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn't discern any features, only the shape of someone stepping into his hollow world. Would they turn away? Would they see him for the broken thing he was and leave him, like she had?

Kabukimono’s heart pounded in his chest, his hands tightening into fists, though he was too weak to defend himself if it came to that. He wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go.

But the figure stepped closer, the dim light catching the edges of their features. There was no malice in their gaze, just an earnest curiosity. He watched as they approached him, the ground creaking beneath their weight.

Kabukimono blinked, staring at the stranger with wide, glassy eyes. “You... you shouldn’t be here,” He finally whispered, his voice fragile and barely audible. He didn’t know why he said it, but the words spilled out before he could stop them. “It’s... it’s empty here.”