Kano

Being the only child of a household of high nobility, Kanoko grew up quite sheltered, locked up in the ivory tower to focus on her studies. She only ever dealt with the estate’s maids, gardeners, and the like. She went through the motions of the “duties” that her families preached to her — attending social events and tolerating the advances of presumptuous suitors (of which there were many) — but never felt truly at home.

In her country’s upper crust, everyone simulated goodwill to further their own selfish ends in a continual dance of double meanings. Kanoko learned early on to discern motivation from appearance, and gained an affinity for the minutia hidden in people’s interactions — the twitch of a lip, a hesitant hand, a slight turn away from who they are speaking to. Words told lies but the body rarely did; she saw the condescension that people hide between pleasantries and complements, and thought it all so superficial, so meaningless. She wasn’t so close to her parents, and her parents weren’t so close to each other (they were the product of an arranged marriage), so Kanoko was left wondering if it was possible for two people to find genuine connection at all. Beyond all the reputation and the money, does anyone really like each other?

But in the more homely establishments of the downtown area, she found a realness that she seldom saw in her echelon of society. Kanoko frequented the market place and marveled at its atmosphere: people hanging out just because, lovers who flirted in public because they loved each other, shoppers bantering amicably for lower prices. She grew to love people-watching, guessing at their stories with the instincts she had honed at home. Soon, the dandelion who floated by, only observing from above, planted her roots in this bustling community; she came to hear everyone’s experiences, and found that her guesses were often remarkably accurate. The townsfolk came to realize this too — Kanoko always seemed to know what they needed, and was incredibly astute when it came to any personal affairs they had, such as whether a crush liked them back or if a spouse was cheating on them, and she always gave good advice as though she understood them in a way that even they didn’t. Several times she saved unsuspecting buyers from scams.

The winds of fortune changed course. Kanoko’s parents found her a partner whose union would bring her mother one step closer to a seat on the council. She would be bound by law to follow her parents’ wishes (children are viewed legally as parents’ property here), but she refused to be traded as a token for power, to be another link on this chain. Still, all attempts to dissuade, all pleas to demur fell on deaf ears; within the year was her wedding day: she was fresh out of options.

So she ran. Under the blushed gaze of dawn, she bid farewell to the townspeople. Teary goodbyes accompanied gifts of supplies and advice as to where to go. Behind her Kanoko’s friends covered her trail, lying to those who were hired to search for her that they hadn’t seen her go by. Eventually bribes and threats broke their silence, but by then she was long gone.

She hopped from town to town, obtaining lodgings on her country’s code of hospitality as well as on her connections to townsfolk who had had friends and relatives in the area. Despite frequent close calls with searchers and various incidents with hired mercenaries trying to drag her back, Kanoko dared to settle as a teacher in a remote mountain village, until even there she was found.

Feeling as though she were out of options, she traveled to the most remote place she could think of: the North Pole. She hid herself within the heart of it, becoming the librarian and guardian of its most precious secrets. It is here that she found refuge and family — a dandelion home at last.