Deijii

Deijii was never distracted. For years, their world in Waterfall City was defined by the roar of the falls and the worn straps of their elder armour. Duty was a rhythm, steady as the river carving its path below. Then they met a quiet ink-maker from the lower outskirts, whose hands were perpetually stained with berry dyes used for mapping the stars. They never spoke of battle. Instead, the ink-maker talked about constellations, and Deijii would listen. The warrior’s intense focus, once reserved for scanning horizons for threats, slowly learned a new target: the way the other chimp’s eyes would light up when describing a distant nebula. Deijii still trains with the same discipline, but the grin is new. It’s a secret language shared with the night sky.