Shuura

Shuura remembers the sound of their waterfront shop in Waterfall City, the rhythmic crash of water a perfect backdrop for haggling over wares. Then Sourukipa arrived, not for trinkets, but for a map to a pale tree gateway. Shuura, ever the merchant, brokered the deal, thinking it was just another transaction. But the map brought trouble back with it—shadowy figures asking pointed questions. Sourukipa had to vanish, leaving behind the impossibly large Mega Sabre as a mix of payment and apology. Shuura never wanted to be a warrior; they wanted to be a very successful, slightly bored proprietor. They still wear the beret, a stubborn reminder of their old life, but now they practice swinging the blade when the shop is closed, a stunned grin fixed on their face.