Yuunako

They move through The Great Panda City with the posture of a noble, yet sleep in alleys where the freezing wind bites hardest. Locals whisper they are the last of a disgraced house, a cautionary tale told over warm tea. They let the whispers continue. It's a useful cover for a life that was not lost, but deliberately discarded. Yuunako saw the coldness in the city's heart long before they felt it on their skin—a rot beneath the serene bamboo and cherry blossoms. So they walked away, trading silk for rags to find a different kind of power. Their carved cane isn't for support; it's a repository of secrets, its notches and patterns messages for Takeo's network. That side smile is for those who think they understand.