Hidetarou

There's an old soldier's saying: 'You can't eat a sunset, no matter how pretty.' Hidetarou, serving the practical cause of Minamoto, finds this proverb especially useful in this land of impossible colors. Here, monoliths of pure magic spin lazily over dark fortresses, and the sky bleeds magenta every evening. It is, by all accounts, beautiful. It is also utterly baffling. The mages speak in theorems; Hidetarou just keeps their hand on their sword. The salmon on their head was a prank—a local 'custom' a snickering apprentice suggested. They know better now, but refuse to remove it out of sheer stubbornness. It reminds them of a world that makes sense. The scar on their cheek isn't from a duel, but from a miscalculated teleportation spell they were told was 'perfectly safe.'