Shuiri

Every morning, Shuiri fastens the worn clasps of their gorilla disguise. It used to be for survival in The Dragon Wastelands, a way to seem like just another beast amidst the skeletal remains and howling winds. The ancient katana on their back was dead weight then, a legacy they felt unworthy of, their judging gaze a shield against the world. That changed when a phantom dragon, born of the endless fog, cornered them. The disguise was shredded, and with nothing left to hide behind, Shuiri roared—a real one. Power erupted, a fiery awakening that shocked them. The disguise is just a habit now, one they hope Takeo can teach them to shed. The fur feels false against the fire burning under their skin.