Jigen

Jigen's carved cane has a fine layer of dust on its handle, because they never seem to lean on it for support. The trainees at The Dojo have theories. They say each knot in the wood is a foe defeated without a single strike, each smooth section a river crossed on a forgotten pilgrimage. Jigen arrived one winter seeking warmth and simply stayed, a quiet fixture by the frozen lake. They offer no lessons, yet students learn discipline by watching them sweep fallen leaves. The sushi on their head is the greatest mystery; some say it’s a meditation aid, others a forgotten snack. One young student claims Jigen once used the cane to block a stray arrow meant for them, moving so fast it was a blur. They never saw them move like that again.