Master Tu

The Master’s whiskers were trailing in his soup, and Goober could not help noticing that crumbs from the un-leven bread had settled throughout its white twisted strands. It was certainly unusual to have one so young as leader of a monastery of this size - beard or no beard, he was still only twenty-two.

This Sensei had been homeless a few years earlier, and some of his habits from living rough had remained. He appeared to be utterly without pride, and completely unaware of any social etiquette.

When Puck had found him, his fingers and toes had begun to disintegrate with mould, and the tip of his nose had blackened also. This youth could not have cared less for shelter and warmth at that stage of his short life - for he gone for so long without having anything, he had forgotten what comfort was. The bite of the wind or ice beneath his feet, felt nothing in comparison to the pain in his soul continually throbbing - nothing at all.

-Gabriel Brunsdon, Finding Self - Second Guesses- Azlander Series