Mihina

Mihina was supposed to study the blade, not wield it. The ancient katana was a family relic, an artifact to be cataloged and understood through dusty scrolls in their tranquil, forest home. They knew its lineage, its weight, its history—as an object. But when raiders threatened the clearing, their cruel laughter piercing the peace of the amber-leaved trees, instinct shattered scholarship. Mihina drew the blade, and a dormant power awoke within them, a surge of energy that made the steel hum. For the first time, the fury in their eyes had a purpose. The pink daisies they now wear grew on the spot where the last attacker fell. They seek the warrior Hiro, needing to learn from one who has already mastered the fire they have just discovered.