Motoshige

On the night the freezing winds from the mountain pass blew out every lantern in The Great Panda City, Motoshige was attempting to read an ancient scroll while eating. The endeavor ended, as it often did, with a bowl of noodles overturned on their head. They were scrubbing broth from their fur when a quiet voice asked if they needed help. It was a fellow scholar, one Motoshige had admired from afar. This scholar didn't laugh; they simply offered a cloth and then gestured to the massive Dragonslayer Blade on Motoshige’s back. “A clumsy warrior?” they asked, a gentle smile in their voice. For the first time, Motoshige didn't feel ashamed. “A retired one,” they replied. Their conversations started there, built not on heroic deeds, but on shared meals and spilled ink.