Hyuuga

Hyuuga remembered the glint of firelight on the storyteller's teeth as they spoke of Hensō, the hidden master who could defeat an opponent without drawing a blade. Now, a different glint—the cold light from their own Diamondana—was all that kept a much larger trainee from breaking their guard. Everyone at The Dojo saw their gentle nature as a weakness, better suited for painting than combat. But the tales of Hensō reshaped their ambition. They began to treat sparring not as a brawl, but as a dance of misdirection. The opponent finally lunged. Hyuuga didn’t block. They dipped low, twisting so the Diamondana flared in the sun. The brief, blinding flash was all they needed. One precise tap to the knee, and the match was over. Polishing the gem later, they saw their own fractured reflection, still more artist than warrior. A perfect disguise.