Eitsu

The smell of river-damp stone and wet leaves was the first thing Eitsu learned to trust. It was more honest than the stories told about the Elder Armour they wore, a heavy inheritance for someone who preferred the patient flick of a fishing line to the weight of a sword. When a territorial beast strayed from the wilder edges of The Heart of the Forest, the village expected a warrior's charge. Instead, they got Eitsu, standing by the water's edge, seemingly lost in thought as they watched the stars reflected on the surface. The beast lunged. With a motion as fluid as casting a line, Eitsu hooked its leg and used its own momentum to send it splashing into the deep river current. The threat was gone, not with a roar, but a gurgle. The armour still feels foreign, but the rod in their hands feels like home.