Gyorou

The bamboo weavers in The Great Panda City whisper that Gyorou doesn't blink. They sit for hours beneath the cherry blossoms, sipping strawberry milk with a steady hand that ignores the biting highland wind. Their innocent demeanor and quirky apple stick make them a figure of gentle amusement among the nobility, easily dismissed and thoroughly underestimated. This is their design. While others see a daydreamer, Gyorou is cataloging every word, every shift in alliance, with a flawless, cold precision. They once heard a traveler speak of Taihi's struggle with a dual nature and felt a quiet, mechanical solidarity. It is a lonely existence, being the perfect actor in a play you did not write.