Ryouzaemon

Ryouzaemon was once the finest ink-wash painter in the capital. Their brush captured the blinding light off the palace’s golden spires, but their eyes saw the rot growing in the shadowed corridors. They learned that in a city built to project grandeur, a gentle soul was either a tool or a target. When a general demanded they paint a scene to legitimize a brutal coup, Ryouzaemon was given a choice: the brush or the blade. They chose both. They put down their sable brush and took up steel, adopting the mask of a playful fool to survive. These days, their disarming jokes and theatrical duels are a performance, deflecting suspicion while they gather secrets. The goatee gives them an air of authority their chimped eyes betray, a constant, wide-eyed surprise at the depths of imperial decay.