Hinata

They command the light of the sun itself, yet their favorite trick is making shadow puppets on the plaza walls after dusk. To the fishers mending nets by the lower rapids, Hinata is a welcome sight, a flash of royal blue trading stories for spiced minnows. They see a noble who remembers the names of their children and the rhythm of the tides. The sentinels guarding the pale stone temple, however, whisper of an embarrassment. A gifted channeler, heir to a celestial path once walked by Sutaraito, wasting their potential on frivolous games. Neither group sees the whole truth: the fishers don’t witness the blinding energy Hinata practices in solitude over the falls, and the guards don’t understand the intelligence gathered in those dockside chats.