Chimper #329
Akemitsu remembered the smell of fresh ink on rice paper, the quiet hum of a life spent creating beauty. The memory shattered as a wooden training sword slammed into their ribs, sending them sprawling across the gilded training grounds of The Teikodian Empire. "Get up, Jock," another trainee sneered, the nickname a constant, grating reminder of their failure. Akemitsu was supposed to be a scroll-painter, their gentle hands meant for calligraphy, not calluses. But when a patron grew tired of their peaceful nature, they were conscripted into a brutal guard regimen. Pushed too far during a sparring match, they lashed out with a clumsy, desperate fury that surprised everyone, including themself. The attempt earned them a permanent scar across their face and the mocking title from the true warriors. They were the artist forced to be an athlete, the painter who could barely hold a sword.
