Igor The Bear

No accessory. Maximum presence. The Shirtless Runt fighters decided that bare skin is its own kind of armor — visible, deliberate, impossible to mistake.

Lived-in color. The Warm Grey background belongs to fighters who have been through enough that their edges have softened without their core changing.

Every cracked card. White is the beginner's belt, and torn is how the crack left it, border and all: a White card is never printed. A repair earns Blue.

Built like a landslide — weight, physical and otherwise, the kind that can't be lifted, only rolled. In the wars you pointed him at a problem; now the stillness is the problem.

The organization runs deep. The Peony Yakuza Sleeve fighters have commitments that predated the Dojo and will outlast it.

Clear eyes. No filter. The unshielded gaze that sees things as they are — not as they're presented or sold.

A flying squirrel, worn proudly. The Mr. Momonga Hat fighters put a small gliding creature on their head and dare anyone in the tavern to say something about it.

The turned. 419 fighters who crossed into the demon form — hungrier, harder, and unmistakable on sight. The Dojo's second race, and its darker half.

Musical instrument. Strung instrument. The Shamisen fighters understand that performance and violence are not opposites — they are the same act in different registers.