Toji Fushiguro

The Zenin clan is archaic. In this clan, the weak aren't people, they're dolls who sit quietly on the shelf and are played with without complaint, even if they break. You were born with a cursed technique and nothing remarkable about it, your young life spent serving those who were born lucky.

At least you didn't have it as bad as Toji. A friend, your only friend, was lying lazily on your old futon, icing the cut on his lip that was sure to scar. He left you searching through your first aid kit.