Shinatsu

Shinatsu was not built for this level of noise. The recon headset crackles, but it's not the wind or enemy chatter—it’s the sound of a hundred anxieties at once. A trainee’s fear of failing a spar, a cook’s worry about the winter stores, the silent ambition of a rival eyeing another's blade. They sit frozen on the steps of The Dojo, drowning in the unfiltered thoughts of everyone within the grounds. They were chosen for this duty because of their legendary calm, a trait honed by the lakeside tranquility. The headset was meant to be a tool of focus, to help them listen for distant threats. But during a system test, it re-tuned itself, not to the world, but to the minds around them. The peace they once cultivated is gone, replaced by a constant chorus of secrets.