Sadatoshi

Sadatoshi dragged a thumb thick with black pigment across their cheek, their reflection in the river's surface rippling with the current. Down by the plaza in Waterfall City, other trainees practiced spear forms. Sadatoshi practiced stillness. They had journeyed to find the masked mage Tora with a simple request: to unsee the flicker in the corner of their eye, the shape that had no business being there. Tora taught them no such thing. Instead, they shared a forbidden warding magic, a defense that required one to always be ready for a war no one else knew was being fought. Now, they wear the paint daily, a silent vow. The fury in their eyes is not for the city's foes, but for the question Tora left them with: what if the only thing the magic holds at bay is your own sanity?