Kukori

Kukori dragged the whetstone across the blade, each quiet scrape a promise kept. The sword wasn't theirs. It belonged to a dying scout who spoke of golden light and an unprotected webway, pressing a carved salmon token into Kukori’s hand with their last breath. 'For Yuji,' they had whispered. 'So they know.' Kukori had been a simple wanderer before that moment, content with nameless trails. But the weight of that final request brought them here, to this cold lakeside training ground. They don’t spar or seek rank among the other chimps. They just watch the hopefuls fight, maintain the borrowed steel, and wait for the one person in the realm who will recognize the fish on their head as a message from the lost.