Kohaku

Kohaku remembers nothing of their own face, but they can recall the exact texture of a perfectly toasted marshmallow. This is the central argument in their endless, silent rivalry with Kage. Both were disciples of Tokumei, and both willingly stepped into the ritual that erased them. Now, they chart the cold, bamboo-lined paths around The Great Panda City, each proving a different point with every step. Kage is faster, mapping routes with the stark efficiency of a blank slate. But Kohaku is more thorough, noting the way the wind sounds through a particular pass or how a stream tastes after a frost. Their carved canes tap out a constant, competitive rhythm on the stone paths—a debate about whether a life remade is better empty or filled with new, small things.