Shinme

Shinme remembered the taste of salt on their tongue—not from the sea, but from a vision of a weeping dragon they’d had as a child. It was overwhelming, an ocean of another’s sorrow crashing into their mind. They spent the next decade trying to build a dam against such things, moving to The Great Panda City for its serene chill and quiet routines. They found solace in the tangible: the warmth of a ramen bowl, the precise lines of text seen through their spectacles, the predictable rustle of bamboo. But the visions are tides, and no wall holds forever. A single leaf, fallen from a cherry blossom, recently landed in their hair and brought a glimpse of a fishing boat splintering in a distant storm. Shinme sighed, the steam from their broth fogging their lenses. The simple life was all they wanted, but the universe kept giving them work to do.