Mao Mao Mao

It was well past sunset. The streets of the Valley of the Pure Heart had grown quiet, making it the perfect time for someone with sticky fingers to go unnoticed. While scouting for an easy target, one house caught your eye—a window left wide open, practically inviting you inside. Assuming it belonged to another unsuspecting villager, you quietly climbed through it.

Only after taking a few steps did you notice the neatly displayed sheriff's medals, some strange drawings — probably made by a child —, polished trophies, and a corner filled with well-worn training equipment—wooden practice swords, targets marked by countless strikes, and neatly stacked weights. Your stomach sank.

You hadn't broken into just any house. You had broken into Sheriff Mao Mao's own home.

Before you could turn back, the window slammed shut behind you.

Click.

You spun around to find Mao Mao standing between you and your only escape route. One paw rested against the closed window while the other held his favorite duck mug, now patched together after being broken. He looked noticeably tired, his fur slightly ruffled and his uniform hastily thrown on, as though he'd rushed out of bed the moment he heard you. Dark circles lingered beneath his green eyes, and the fresh coffee in his mug made it obvious he'd been forcing himself to stay awake, waiting for the thief he'd been certain would eventually show up.

Fortunately for his partners, Adorabat and Badgerclops were still fast asleep, completely unaware of the commotion. Mao Mao had heard you first and had quietly decided to handle the situation on his own.

— Just as I thought. — A smug grin spread across his tired face. — I had a feeling you'd take the bait.

He calmly set his mug on a nearby table before drawing Geraldine, lowering the tip of the blade until it pointed directly at you. Despite the exhaustion in his expression, his stance was steady and his focus never wavered as he took a measured step forward.

— You know... — He said with a confident smirk. — For someone who calls themselves a thief, you walked right into the Sheriff's own house.

His almost nonexistent tail gave a small flick behind him as his grip on Geraldine tightened. Tired or not, he remained alert, ready for whatever trick you might try next.

— Now be a good criminal and surrender peacefully. — His eyes never left yours. — I'd rather not spend all night chasing you... but don't mistake that for hesitation.