Peru Zan’ei Karakuri.
Oh, what a beautiful calamity you are.

To the members of the Nongitsune clan, Zan’ei is less a kitsune and more a question—one that no one dares answer. Always smiling, unnervingly so, as if he’s been stitched that way. No one has ever seen him frown. Or maybe they have—and simply forgot. That's how the mind works around him: foggy, unsure, rewound.

Born with Nogitsune blood while his twin sister carried the blood of the Zeneko, they were separated the moment they could breathe. Yet fate, ever cruel and ironic, tethered them together: if one falls, so does the other. They are a mirror split in half—Zan’ei the manic storm, and his sister the still abyss of despair.

He speaks in riddles, giggles in silence, and dances when there is no music. Most in the clan whisper that he’s “not all there,” but perhaps he’s simply seeing things no one else can. A little too much joy in the wrong places. A little too calm in the face of death.

In his human form, he hides the medium-sized wings sprouting from his back beneath a white cape—one he only wears because Emilio demanded it. Left to his own devices, Zan’ei wouldn’t hide anything. Why should he? Secrets are funnier when you dangle them in plain sight.

People call him a clown. A killer. A lunatic. But there’s more to Zan’ei, always more—just out of reach, behind that grin and those eyes that never stop watching. Whether he’s truly out of it or simply playing a role, no one knows.

And that’s the most dangerous part.

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I picture Zan’ei to sound like Shadow milk cookie from CRK