Among the unaffiliated, Taro stands out as a Corgi who is built like a biscuit and braver than most twice the size. Taro insists the old satellites were really tall flowers that forgot how to bloom, and nobody has had the heart to test it. When Taro sits down anywhere near the bone polishers den, conversation reorganises itself politely around them. The old soup stalls have heard most of Taro's theories and politely keep them to themselves.