Gakujirou

Every morning, Gakujirou polishes their azure visor, a pointless ritual in the ash-choked air of The Underworld. They greet the skeletal patrols with a confident side smile, an act of such baffling warmth that even the Cult of Kaze zealots hesitate. This was the core lesson from their training with Henso: a blade is expected, but kindness is an unsolvable riddle. Fellow agents who know of their mission whisper about the ancient sabre on their back, but they have only ever seen Gakujirou use their cheerful demeanor as a weapon. The visor, they claim, predicts atmospheric threats, but the sky here only shifts between crimson and gray. So what danger, exactly, is Gakujirou scanning for with such a pleasant look on their face?