Junan

The scent of cherry blossoms on the freezing mountain wind is what Junan remembers most about their arrival. They don't know who they were before Kenji's psychic call pulled their consciousness into this body, into this city of purple skies. The mask was already there, a fixture they cannot seem to remove. But the glee in their eyes is new. It’s the unsettling joy of a blank slate, of having no past to weigh them down. They carry a blade they instinctively know how to use and follow whispers in their mind that feel like orders. They walk the bamboo-lined streets, a gleeful enigma waiting for the next pull on the psychic threads only they can feel.