Hiyohiko

Hiyohiko tapped their carved cane impatiently on the bamboo-lined street, the sound sharp in the cold air of The Great Panda City. “No, the other way! The stall with the steamed buns is that way,” they insisted, pointing past a row of cherry blossoms. Seijun just shook their head, a small smile playing on their lips. “It has always been on this side of the river.” Hiyohiko’s gleeful expression didn’t falter. “Well, we used to settle disagreements with more than pointing,” they chirped, tracing the old scar by their eye with a gloved finger. Seijun’s smile widened. It was true. These days, the worst outcome of being wrong was having to buy the buns for both of them.