Kiyoka

The scent of damp bamboo on the cold mountain wind is how we mark the seasons in The Great Panda City, and it's the same scent that always hangs around Kiyoka. We see them by the river, watching the cherry blossoms fall, their wrinkled mouth set in a permanent line of concentration. The children say the pufferfish on their head will puff up if you startle them, but no one has ever gotten close enough to try. They carry a blade, but we only ever see them use their intense gaze to scan the purple sky. A trader once whispered they saw Kiyoka speaking into a polished stone, reporting to someone named Kanshi-in. We don’t know what they’re guarding us from, only that their stillness feels more purposeful than any patrol from the Panda Council.