Tōju

Tōju was born in Noir Vale.

Well, allegedly. Every time they asked their father, his story changed. One day, it was because he won Tōju from a series of increasingly high-stake bets at the Hanafuda Card Den. A week later, it was because he stole a hefty geode from miner, cracked it open, and found a tiny babe sleeping inside. Yet the week after that, he called them stupid for believing any of those stories in the first place and told them that it's obvious that he found Tōju at the bottom of an empty rowboat floating down the Noir River.

After far too many of these stories, Tōju gave up on getting any actual information from their father. Not like he was much of a father anyways -- more of a master than anything else. He dragged them all over the Sun Empire, taking them to places no kid had business being in and drilling every landmark and shortcut into their head. So it was only natural that they followed in his footsteps. Before Tōju even reached double digits of age, they already busied themselves ferrying messages for mere snacks and the occasional pocket change.

And they like staying busy! Sure, maybe the responsibility required of a courier isn't quite what you'd expect from a shuppet with their personality, but the constant traveling suits them. The muffled clack of coins beneath their cloak is a constant, satisfying companion, and they like the expressions on people's faces when they appear out of nowhere with a surprise package or a letter they'd been longing to receive.

It's why, despite how immature they are in all other aspects of their life, Tōju takes their job as a courier exceedingly seriously. Soon after setting off as an independent courier, they gained a reputation for always respecting their client's privacy and accepting any job without questions -- as long as the payment measured up to the task. How delightful! How professional! How easily abused!

For better or worse, Tōju's willingness to accept any job from any client has led to them gathering a...less than reputable customer base. That isn't to say that all of the requests they accept are shady. But when the number of broken marriages, sudden illnesses, and far-fetched accidents grows too big to be counted on two hands...

Well. One certainly gains a reputation. Now, alongside their trustworthiness and professionalism, Tōju has also garnered the unfortunate nickname: "omen of misfortune." Rumors say that they feed off of envy and malice, swallowing the sender's dark emotions to spit a curse out at the receiver. Contract them if you wish to deliver misfortune straight to your enemy's doorstep.

Tōju? Doesn't seem to care at all.

"Don't ya know?" They say with a laugh. "All publicity is good publicity!"

Who cares what people think as long as they keep dropping coin into their hand?

But when a merchant, filled with bitterness at his neighbor's booming business, asks them to deliver a box to the golden store across the street. Or when a courtesan, the end of her finger wrapped with cloth, pushes a lumpy letter into their hands. Tōju's laughter dies. An uncharacteristic solemnness falls over them. For a moment, it looks like they want to say something.

But they don't.

They accept the job.
They always do.

Full reference.

Likes: temari, arare, windy days, the sound of coins.
Dislikes: know-it-alls, red-bean paste, rainy periods.
Mixed-feelings: gossips.

Trivia:

• Has a small mouth. Eats like a hamster.
• Their hands never seem to emerge from beneath their cloak. Somehow, letters always end up in their recipient's hand.
• Seems to be saving up for something.

I stuck to "they" to stay consistent within the profile, but Tōju doesn't care what pronouns they're referred to and will often switch which ones they use based on how they're feeling that day or whatever's funnier for the bit.