Souhiko

In Waterfall City, a chimp's worth is often measured by the weight of their net or the sharpness of their blade. Then Souhiko arrived, dressed in a general's suit too clean for the docks and sipping strawberry milk from a carton. The city's hardened locals dismissed them as a misplaced noble, a joke waiting for a punchline. When they were assigned to guard the city's tea shipment—a notoriously thankless job—the snickering was audible from the plaza to the temple. But then the thefts stopped. A strange silence fell over the lower docks at night, broken only by whispers of a shadowy figure who moved without a sound and left behind only the scent of sweet berries. Souhiko just smiles, leaning on their carved cane, letting everyone think they're simply enjoying the view.