Meeru

Meeru spun, their blade catching the practice sword with a dull thud, but their gaze was lost in the purple hues above The Great Panda City. Their trainer sighed. "Focus! Your feet are here, not in the clouds." It was the same story every day. Others saw the polished platinum fur and the fine katana and assumed Meeru was a pampered trainee lost in daydreams. They moved with an odd, disconnected grace, always a half-second too early, their expression perpetually uneasy. During a sudden skirmish with a rogue mercenary, their trainer was disarmed and cornered. The mercenary lunged, but Meeru was already there, blade intercepting the attack. Their trainer saw it then: Meeru’s star-filled eyes weren’t watching the foe, but the foe’s shimmering reflection in their own blade—a reflection that moved a full second ahead of reality.