Tamotsu

Always, before the sun hits the grand fish statue in the plaza, Tamotsu is at their stall. They arrange polished stones with the same precision they once used to set traps. The mask isn't for show; it's muscle memory from a life where showing a face was a fatal mistake. Cast out from their former order after a mission went sideways, they arrived in Waterfall City with nothing but a talent for blending in. No one would hire a disgraced operative, but everyone buys from a stranger. So Tamotsu learned the language of trade, discovering that reading a customer's intentions wasn't so different from reading an enemy's. Each sale is a small victory, another stone in the wall they are building around their past.