Tsurutarou

The surface of their left gauntlet has no reflection. Tsurutarou remembers when it did, back when they were just another warrior sparring under the cherry blossoms of The Great Panda City, chasing a normal kind of glory. That ended at the northern gate, when a Soul Chaser’s black flame met their spirit head-on. There was no grand choice, no noble sacrifice—just a defiant refusal to break. The power that surged through them wasn't borrowed; it was born. It hollowed them out and filled them with something akin to a star. They say their power now rivals the Genesis legends, that even Kami might pause before them. But the truth is a constant, silent shock at the stranger wearing their armor. The gauntlet remains cold, a perfect, empty mirror.