Nohime

Nohime traced the pattern on a shimmering fish scale, their grin wide as they debated the price with a goggle-eyed frog merchant. The constant spray from the great falls kept the lower market slick and cool, but an entirely different chill began to emanate from their back. Unconsciously, the hilt of their frost katana was growing cold, a new and unpredictable side effect of their recent evolution. They remembered reading one of Kyoju’s treatises: true power isn't measured in the grand swing, but in the quietest moments of control. Just then, a thin layer of rime suddenly crusted over the merchant's prize carp. Nohime yelped, apologized profusely, and ended up buying the whole, now very frozen, batch. It was just another part of the adventure.