Kunijirou

Kunijirou slid down the mossy riverbank on a shield of bark, scattering a flock of startled birds with a whoop of laughter. To the forest locals, they are a champion of games, a master of silly faces who often forgets their Royal Cloak is meant for courts, not for climbing the tallest amber-leaved trees. But a visiting merchant once saw them settle a dispute over foraging rights with a gaze so steady and a voice so calm, it felt like judgment from an ancient king. Some whisper they are an exiled noble hiding from a past life. Others believe they are simply a forest spirit who stumbled upon a fancy coat. Everyone agrees on one thing: you never know if they will greet you with a formal bow or a perfectly aimed acorn.