Atsutoshi

Atsutoshi dragged the whetstone across their adventure sword, the scraping sound a harsh counterpoint to the city’s constant roar of falling water. There was a time the only sound their hands made was the soft clink of teacups in the lower markets of Waterfall City, a nurturing warmth in their chest that matched the steam. That was before Hiro, the Beast Warrior, crashed through the plaza chasing a rogue water spirit. Hiro didn't ask for help; they demanded it, seeing a flicker of untapped power behind Atsutoshi's shocked eyes. The fight that followed forged them anew. The gentle mystic was burned away, leaving a practical survivor. They still have a kind face, but their eyes are always squinting now, assessing threats. The golden dragon on their armor is less a decoration and more a warning of the fire they learned to command.