Motoshi

The guards at the palace gates claim Motoshi doesn't sleep. They see them at all hours, a silent figure in tactical goggles walking the white marble plazas, their face a perfect blank. Speculation is a favorite pastime during long shifts: an imperial spy, a disgraced noble, maybe a ghost. But the theories never quite match the evidence Motoshi leaves behind. The night-shift cook finds their best ladle, once thought lost, sitting clean on the counter. A stray cat, usually skittish, is found curled on a warm blanket in an alcove Motoshi often passes. The guards don't know Motoshi's story, but they've stopped guessing. They just know that on the coldest nights, a steaming cup of tea sometimes appears on the parapet, long after the wanderer with the heart on their head has vanished.