Fuyuka

The constant spray from the falls left a fine mist on Fuyuka’s face, a feeling as familiar as breathing. In Waterfall City, you were never truly dry. Their guardian, Tamika, said patience was like the water: it wears down stone not with force, but with persistence. Fuyuka, however, preferred the ancient sabre on their back—quick and decisive. They moved through the upper city with a cocky grin, eager to prove they were more than just Tamika's ward. That changed during a mission in the lower plaza. Ignoring orders, Fuyuka shadowed a mark, getting trapped between fishing stalls and angry merchants. Their forgotten techniques were useless in the crowd. It was Tamika’s quiet distraction, not a blade, that saved them. Since then, Fuyuka listens more. They study the flow of crowds like they study the river, understanding that the greatest power isn't in the strike, but in knowing when not to.