Ritsuna

The palace servants whisper that Ritsuna only ever paints one side of their face—the side that faces the gilded corridors and blinding sunlight on marble. They say it’s for their companion, a quiet gardener who tends to the emperor’s bonsai and never speaks a word. Few understand the truth: Ritsuna serves the same ancient sentinel’s oath as the swamp-dweller Giri, a vow to defend a single, sacred territory. In a city of endless ambition, there was no territory to guard, until they met the gardener. In that small, silent chimp, who nurtured life amidst the cold stone, Ritsuna found their purpose. The uneasy look is for themself; the war paint is for anyone who gets too close to their friend.