Hojuna

Hojuna keeps a single, pressed sakura blossom tucked inside their haori. They came to The Crystal Highlands of Armaria not for its magical rocks, but for the quiet. Everyone here is busy looking up at the spinning monoliths; no one looks too closely at a lone warrior with blush-colored eyes. They see the unreadable fighter, the deadly dance of steel and what looks like falling petals. They don't see the cost. Their first master taught them that true power was in perfect control—not just of the blade, but of the heart. To feel nothing was to be invincible. So Hojuna learned. They practiced until their face was a mask of stone. But the blossom remembers the person who gave it to them, and some nights, that is the only fight they lose.