Daichi

Daichi was once the steadiest hand in The Great Panda City. In their youth, they polished their guiding lanterns until the bamboo frames shone, their own reflection clear and untroubled in the polished metal. They knew every stone on the path up the mountain, every cherry tree by the pattern of its petals. Then came the night Shinpi passed through, a shadow wearing a mask and a whisper. A brief conversation near the gates, a moment of shared silence, was all it took. Daichi felt a coldness creep behind their eyes that had nothing to do with the freezing wind. These days, their hands tremble. The lanterns are no longer for guiding visitors, but for keeping their own shadows at bay. The demon in their eyes sees things in the shifting fog that others miss—a curse that makes them a better warrior, but a haunted soul.