Masuzu

Masuzu remembered the clean, sharp scent of pine on a winter wind, a world where what you saw was what you got. Here in the Teikodian Empire, the air is thick with perfume and unspoken threats. The sunlight that blinds off the golden spires feels designed to hide the rot beneath. Their samurai training is useless in corridors where a whispered lie cuts deeper than any blade. They came here emboldened by tales of Yuji’s selfless courage, believing a pure heart and a ready stance were enough to change things. But the Empire demanded a different resilience. So, Masuzu learned to trade an earnest glare for a disarming smile, and their silence for witty deflections. It is a performance, but it keeps them alive.