Rihako

Rihako remembers the weight of Hachiko’s head on their shoulder as they watched cherry blossoms drift onto the river. It was before the mask, before the whispers in the bamboo-lined streets of The Great Panda City had names and targets. The mission was supposed to be simple: gather intelligence from a visiting dignitary. But Hachiko, fearing for Rihako’s safety, had followed. They were never the intended target, merely in the path of a blade meant for someone else. These days, Rihako still carries the fishing rod they once shared, but the line never touches the water. The mask hides their face, and the city’s freezing winds are a poor substitute for the warmth that was stolen from them.