Mikiha

Should a traveler linger by the training grounds in Waterfall City, they might mistake Mikiha for the perfect student. Their form is precise, their breathing steady—a model of the patience taught by the city's elders. But just before the arrow is loosed, a tremor runs through them. A raw, wild energy, a whisper of the same primal bond that fuels Yaban-hito, floods their senses. The bowstring groans, their jaw clenches, and the shot goes wide. This is why they wear the raspberry visor. It’s not for seeing farther. Tapping the side, the world blurs into soft hues, the roar of the falls muffled to a hum. The only thing in focus is the target. Another arrow is nocked. This time, the tremor is a controlled pulse, and the arrow flies true.