Ranina

Ranina did not choose the small creature that rides upon their head, nor do they feed it. The locals in The Heart of the Forest see a quiet trainee, someone who pores over old sword forms under the amber leaves, their spectacles perched just so. They assume the fren is a simple pet. But sometimes, when the wilder parts of the forest press in, the creature’s eyes will open. Ranina will find themself walking towards the trees, katana held in a grip that is not their own. The layers they wear are not for warmth; they are for containment. This shared existence, a quiet echo of Taihi’s own split nature, drives their training. They seek not victory, but control over a body that often feels like a vessel. They have never seen their reflection when the fren is awake, and they are not sure they want to.