Jinshoku

Jinshoku was a collector of maps, not memories. For them, The Teikodian Empire was just another gilded cage to chart and escape, a place of blinding gold and cold ambition. Their polished platinum form drew stares against the white marble, but the weathered grey bandana spoke of distant roads. They were meant to stay a week, just long enough to copy some ancient sea charts from the imperial archives. But in those quiet, sun-drenched halls, they met a scribe whose smile was warmer than the palace's endless gold. The scribe didn't talk of war rooms, but of the way sakura petals caught in the wind. Jinshoku stayed another week, then another. The maps in their pack started to feel less important than the new one being drawn in the margins of their heart. Like Kiti, they had been lost without knowing it, and found a home not in a place, but in a person.