Yosojirou

Yosojirou spun their carved cane, deflecting a spray of black slosh with a practiced, weary flick of the wrist. In life, their kabuki paint was for roaring crowds, not the groaning undead of The Underworld. Death was meant to be their final bow, an elegant exit from the stage. Instead, the wrathful spirit of the failed wizard, Yurei, found their soul lingering in the quiet dark and demanded an encore. Dragged back into a body that no longer tired, Yosojirou was forced into the role of a warrior, fueled by an anger that wasn't their own. They still move with theatrical grace, every parry a dramatic flourish, but it is a performance of pure obligation. The fury in the painted eyes belongs to the ghost; the exhausted sigh after each battle is entirely their own.