Harushion

The sharp crack of bamboo staves on the frozen lake once annoyed Harushion. They preferred the quiet study of ancient scrolls in The Dojo's library, believing true strength was knowing when not to act. Patience, Master Chimpo had taught, was a virtue; Harushion treated it as a shield. The shield shattered the night a Soul Chaser slipped past the gates, a whisper in the snow. Harushion saw the intruder but hesitated, waiting for the perfect moment that never came. A sacred text vanished with the dawn. That failure became their new master. They earned their grey bandana not in sparring, but on watch. They wear tactical goggles to see threats before they form. The choc stick is a small comfort, but their gaze is always fixed on the perimeter.