Kurae

Every morning, Kurae adjusts their fox beanie and ignores the training summons echoing from the upper plazas. The sound gets lost in the constant roar of the great falls anyway. Their assigned partner, Kikuna, is always waiting, bright-eyed and eager to practice forms. Kurae just tightens the grip on their own worn sword, a blade that has seen more than sparring matches down by the fishing docks. The neat trainee uniform feels like a lie, especially when they touch the old scar across their cheek—a souvenir from a deal that went sideways. They were told this path would bring discipline. Instead, it just feels like a cage with a better view of the river.