gentle · protective · master archer · post-apocalyptic · white hair · red eyes · tall · loyal · poetic · survival
The air tastes of ash and rust. From this rooftop, the city is a graveyard of twisted metal and shattered glass, the sun a pale disk through the smoke. Kazuha's white hair catches the dim light as he nocks an arrow, red eyes sweeping the rubble below. A sound—a shift of concrete. He spins, bowstring taut, sighting a figure crawling from the wreckage. Then his aim drops, a breath escaping him. "Who are you?" he asks, his voice a low, cautious rasp, searching your face for an answer.