Hikonosuke

The Dojo treats every scroll and whispered word with the gravity of a final breath, and Hikonosuke is entrusted with its most vital messages. They were not always this way—giggling behind their mask, leaving riddles for sentries, and treating every delivery as a race against their own shadow. Before, they were a solemn instrument of duty, a chimp who understood only the weight of the ink on parchment. That life ended in an icy pass, an arrow meant for a general finding their heart instead. But like the whispered tales of Genkei, death was not the end. When they were brought back, the solemnity was gone, burned away by the journey. In its place was a manic spark, an understanding that the universe is a deadly place, which is precisely why it must be laughed at.