Nakki remembered the smell of shattered quartz and the taste of their own fear, the day they froze in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria. They were meant to be a guard, but when the ambush came, they watched a young scholar fall and did nothing. The shame was a heavier burden than any armor. When Minamoto’s liberators found them, they expected judgment for their inaction. Instead, they were offered a banner and a choice: be defined by the failure, or use it as a whetstone. Nakki discarded their blade and took up a fishing rod. Every patient cast, every quiet moment waiting for a tug on the line, is a lesson in timing—the very thing they once lacked. They are not just fishing for food; they are trying to hook the courage they let get away.