Danzaemon

The crisp scent of bamboo leaves on the cold mountain wind is a pleasure Danzaemon never takes for granted. For years, they saw the world through another's lens, their limbs moving to the same cold logic that once puppeteered Taihi. When that connection was finally severed, the world returned in a rush—overwhelming color, unfiltered sound. Now, they reside in The Great Panda City, a quiet figure in a dragon-emblazoned robe. They wear the tactical goggles not for combat, but to focus on the details they were forced to miss: the exact shade of a cherry blossom, the steam rising from a teacup, the genuine smile of a friend. Every focused glance is a small, perfect victory they choose for themself.