Rinase

In The Teikodian Empire, they say the brightest gleam comes from a freshly sharpened blade, not a polished smile. Rinase possessed both, but understood that only one truly mattered in the palace's shadowed corridors. Every day, they trained until their knuckles bled, seeking the quiet nod of approval from Yasuke, the Emperor's heir. Their blade work was fluid, their form impeccable, but in the capital's gilded dojos, perfection was simply the baseline. Last week, a courtier offered them a different kind of weapon: a rumor, precisely aimed, that would disqualify their chief rival before the annual tournament. It was a path to the recognition they craved, a shortcut through the very shadows Yasuke seemed to despise. Their white bandana feels heavier these days, stained not with sweat, but with the weight of a choice yet to be made.