Motose

Every morning, Motose traces the same path to the grand plaza in Waterfall City. They used to stride, their haori catching the mist from the falls, the diamond dust on their back glinting like a promise. They taught younger chimps how to shape crystal from that very dust, their side smile a beacon of confidence. Their will, they boasted, was like Daiyamondo's—it could not be broken. But will cannot stop a landslide. During a skirmish at the city's edge, their younger sibling slipped on the slick rock stairs. Motose’s crystal barrier formed an instant too late, shattering against the rush of stone and water that claimed them. The will did not break. It simply froze. They still stand before the fish statue, squinting as if searching for a reflection that is no longer there.