Hatsue

On the day the first real snow fell upon The Dojo, the younger trainees were buzzing with energy for the first outdoor spar. Hatsue was not. They stood placidly in the training yard, carved cane resting at their side, their expression unreadable as always. Their opponent charged, a flurry of motion and youthful bravado. Hatsue sidestepped neatly, then brought their head down in a surprisingly swift bonk. The trainee stumbled back, not from the force, but from the sheer shock of being hit by a frozen salmon. A single, shimmering scale was left on their forehead. Hatsue simply blinked, adjusted their battle jacket, and waited. Some call it an unorthodox fighting style; others suspect they just really like fish.