Onihiko

Onihiko snapped their fan shut, the sound cutting through the freezing wind that whipped between bamboo-lined streets. It was a habit, a sharp report to silence the other impulse—the one that wanted to splinter the bamboo, to howl into the purple-hued sky. Most saw only the calm warden of the mountain city, a practical guardian whose wisdom was as deep as the river below. They didn't see the second self, a wildness bound tight beneath the white bandana, an echo of the dangerous duality found in beings like Taihi. This city, with its unshakable calm and delicate cherry blossoms, was the perfect cage. Or perhaps, the perfect anchor. Every gust of wind was a test of that anchor, a quiet battle no one else could see.