Tadahito

Tadahito did not get the scar across their eye from some grand duel with a warlord. They were a runner in the city of blinding gold spires, a place where the brightest sun casts the longest shadows. Their job was delivering messages through white marble halls, a cheerful flash in a red fox beanie. They lost that life after taking a wrong turn, overhearing a conversation not meant for them in a cold, metallic laboratory beneath the palace. The scar was not a trophy; it was a warning. They fled with only their backpack and a new, bitter understanding. They lost their home but found the entire world. These days, they explore wilder places, charting ruins the empire has forgotten. The playful glint is still in their eyes, but it's sharper now, always watching the shadows.