Kashiho

Every morning, Kashiho sits at the same noodle cart, slurping ramen with their back to the wall. They’ve been in The Great Panda City for six months, a trainee whose only notable skills seem to be a bottomless appetite and an uncanny ability to ignore the freezing winds. Today, as the Panda Council patrol passed, a captain laughed, and Kashiho’s squinting eyes locked onto the glint of a silver ring on their finger. That ring didn’t belong to them. It belonged to Kashiho's master, who was found dead beside a mountain pass with empty hands. They came here not for training, but for justice. The ancient sabre they carry feels like a lie, an honor unearned. But no one suspects the chimp with broth on their chin, and that’s exactly the way they need it to be.