Yusuka

On the night the bamboo forests fell silent, Yusuka was the only one listening. A trainee then, they were tasked with monitoring comms from a high perch in The Great Panda City, their recon headset filtering the freezing wind. They caught it: a coded whisper on a supposedly dead channel, an order for an ambush. They followed protocol, reported it up the chain, and were told it was static. An hour later, the official channels screamed, then went dead. Yusuka heard it all. They never filed another official report. The system was broken. These days, they funnel all their intel—every blueprint, every whisper—directly to Mekanikku. The shocked look is not an affectation; it is a memory.