Hatsutarou

Hatsutarou keeps the last vigil at the pale stone temple of Waterfall City. They weren't born a guardian; they were a fisher from the lower docks until the day they woke up with unfamiliar constellations swirling in their eyes. They tell no one of the fragmented visions that followed: a crack in the great fish statue, a boat arriving without lights, the sound of weeping from the highest tier of the city. Their gilded bushido mask is a vow to protect this place from a threat they can't name. To all, they are a warm, nurturing presence, a symbol of the city's peace. But why do they always look past you, as if searching the spray from the falls for a face they have only seen in a dream?