Tosaburou

Tosaburou was a baker by trade, yet their most important deliveries were never food. They gripped the dragon's harness, wind whipping their apron as they banked hard over a field of iridescent flowers thousands of feet below. The shades hid their eyes, but not the constant state of alarm that seemed to shadow them ever since they met Kumo. It started with a simple act of kindness: finding the chaos-tainted guardian near a hidden cave on their floating island and offering them a sunpetal muffin instead of raising an alarm. That gesture pulled them into Kumo's secret war. These days, their flights are a lifeline. The scar across their cheek was from a recent run that went wrong. Their hands still smell of flour, but they know the feel of a dragon’s scale better than they know dough.