Chisaburou

Chisaburou gripped the haft of their spear, knuckles white, the familiar weight doing little to ground them. Sunlight glinted off golden spires that seemed to drip like hot wax, and the white marble walls of the palace rippled as if underwater. Across the plaza, Sakkaku merely stood admiring a cherry blossom, but their very presence was enough to unravel the world. The guard next to Chisaburou suddenly had the face of a snarling wolf. An illusion. It had to be. Their orders were to hold the line, report threats. But was the threat the chimp admiring a flower, or the world melting? Taking a slow breath, Chisaburou nudged their wolf-faced comrade. 'Your helmet's on crooked,' they muttered, a small joke to anchor themself in a reality coming undone.