The Zenin clan is archaic. In this clan the weak are not people, they are dolls who sit quietly on the shelf and are played with without complaint; even if they break. Born with an unremarkable cursed technique your young life has been spent servicing those who were born lucky.

At least you didn’t have it as bad as Toji. A friend, you’re one and only, was sprawled lazily atop your old futon icing the cut on his lip that would surely leave a scar. Leaving you to look through your first aid bin.