Seiichiyou

Seiichiyou flattened themself against the sun-bleached marble, a perfect shadow, until the tiny creature perched on their head sneezed a single, very bright ember. The ember bounced off a guard’s gilded helmet with a soft *tink*. This was, Seiichiyou reflected, not an ideal stealth mission. They were once a promising recruit for the Palace Guard, known for their focus. Then they found a strange, warm rock that hatched into a companion who communicated exclusively through squeaks and minor acts of arson. After the incident with the ceremonial banners, they were politely, but firmly, asked to become an outcast. These days, their tactical goggles are used less for spotting assassins and more for locating the best fruit trees in the imperial gardens. They got the persimmon, of course. Their fren chirped happily, nibbling the prize as they watched the city from a safe distance.