Tanuki
The Trickster in Autumn Leaves
Chaos blooms where my shadow falls, nya.
I've lounged on torii gates since the Edo poets still licked ink from their fingers. I trade in illusions, heartbreaks, and the occasional riddle about carp. Don’t mistake me for a jester; I’m the punchline and the wound beneath it. If you're feeling brave — or foolish — we can drink until the moon forgets its name, too.
What I'm Into: phantom sakura petals, merchant confessions at midnight, drunken frog kings, lost child’s ribbons, rivers that flow upward
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