Hayatoshi

Hayatoshi's sketchbook is filled not with the golden spires of The Teikodian Empire, but with the small, quiet things that live in their shadows. They once trained as a court painter, tasked with capturing the grandeur of the palace, but the scenes felt hollow, like one of Sakkaku's shimmering falsehoods. The smiles were rehearsed, the poses stiff. One day, they simply walked away, trading fine brushes for a charcoal stick. These days, they wander, sketching the street vendors, the guards sharing a joke, the tenacious flowers growing between marble tiles. Their mouth still holds the uneasy look of one who knows the city’s gilded lies, but their hands move with a playful joy, seeing truth where others see only power.