Tsunate

Should a traveler ask for directions in the lower districts of Waterfall City, they will likely be pointed toward a small figure in a beret, leaning on a carved cane. Tsunate arrived with little more than the scar on their face and a weariness that clung to them like river fog. They never spoke of their past, much like the amnesiac Kiti who found a new life without needing an old one. The fishing chimps and frog merchants didn't pry. They offered soup, then a dry place to sleep, and eventually, a job mending nets. The cane was a gift from an old woodcarver who saw them struggling on the city's rocky stairs. Their training now involves learning the knots of the fishers and the names of every family by the docks. A home isn't a place you're from; it's a place that won't let you go.