Chishizu

The sharp scent of wet bamboo and the distant clink of wind chimes always preceded Chishizu's morning rounds. Inside the archives of The Great Panda City, however, the only sound was the incessant tapping from newfangled glowing tablets. "The chronicles are written on paper, not light!" they would declare, mutton chops bristling with indignation. One day, they confiscated a particularly noisy device. In their attempt to deactivate it, they instead projected a life-sized, breakdancing panda onto a priceless historical map. The students fell silent, then erupted in laughter. Chishizu, peering over their modern UV glasses, simply adjusted their robes. "As you can see, a clear violation of protocol."