Sowako

Sowako was meant for the river, not the throne. They traced the lines of war paint across their face, the roar of Waterfall City a constant companion. The pattern was a gift from Akihiko, who arrived not seeking soldiers, but an heir. The Bright Prince looked past the feathered cape and silly salmon hat—a custom from the fishing outskirts—and saw a calm the Teikodian court had lost. Sowako had only ever negotiated fish prices with frog merchants, but Akihiko knew what their own hunted life had taught them: demons seek a crown, but it is a steady soul they cannot break. The paint was cool against their skin. The smile never left their face, a quiet promise of the storm they would become.