Byoutarou

Byoutarou never trained with a master, nor did they ever bow in a dojo. Their first lessons were on the slick, fish-scented docks of Waterfall City’s lower levels, dodging cargo hooks and trading jabs with other youngsters over shiny river pearls. They learned that a well-timed grin could deflect a blow just as well as a parry. Years later, they guided a grim-faced exile named Sourukipa through those same winding stairways, fending off thieves not with studied forms but with joyful, unpredictable chaos. For their aid, Sourukipa left them the Mega Sabre. It felt too serious, too heavy. But they kept it. These days, their grey bandana is frayed and their mutton chops are silver, but their eyes remain stubbornly gleeful.