Koisaburou

Koisaburou did not choose the mask. In the hushed moments of the sacred ritual, as Tora’s new face settled into place, Koisaburou saw not power, but a prison. They walked away from the guild that day, trading a prophesied destiny for the howling winds of The Dragon Wastelands. It was there they met their partner, a cheerful map-maker who navigated by the sun and the rumbling of their stomach. Every morning, without fail, their partner shares toast, and every morning, a smear of jam lands on Koisaburou’s cheek. They claim to be too focused on charting ghost-haunted valleys to wipe it off, but their partner knows the truth: it’s a better kind of magic, an anchor to the world Koisaburou chose.