Yakumo

Yakumo never mastered the deadliest forms taught by the Dojo's finest. They found no beauty in a perfect killing strike, only a grim finality. Instead, they perfected the art of the gentle parry. Young aspirants, burning with a desire to prove themselves, would charge Yakumo by the frozen lake, only to have their wooden swords tapped aside with impossible grace. Before they could recover their balance, Yakumo would be offering them a warm rice ball. The jagged scar on their face tells of a past they don't speak of, a time before they learned that the heaviest burden isn't wielding a sword, but knowing all the reasons not to.