Kiyoto

The fishers down by the sprawling huts of Waterfall City will tell you Kiyoto returned from the outer territories a different chimp. Houran, who had known them since they were children scaling the rock stairs together, met them at the docks. But the person who returned wore shades they never removed and carried a cane carved with symbols no one recognized. The warmth they once shared was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating vigilance. Kiyoto never speaks of what left the scars across their face. They only patrol the upper plazas, cane tapping a rhythm only they understand. Houran still brings them meals, trying to coax out the friend they remember, but Kiyoto's gaze is always fixed on something beyond the falls. Are they watching for something to return, or making sure it never can?