Toneko

The cold sting of rain on their scarred face always felt like a memory. Toneko wasn't born; they were brewed. They remember the hiss of the cauldron and the scent of otherworldly herbs, the same concoction that created Itame. But where Itame embraced the psychic pull of that other realm, Toneko fought it. They fled to Waterfall City, drawn to the relentless crash of water, a sound so constant it could drown out any whispers from beyond. They took up a post as a guardian, finding purpose in protecting something solid and real. Yet on nights like this, when the drizzle is thick, they feel the old connection hum—a phantom pressure behind their eyes, a sense that Itame is crafting something new and a part of them is the missing ingredient.