a wiry man of unassuming stature, with shoulders that hunch slightly beneath a tattered, earth-toned cloak that conceals much of his form. His lanky arms extend just a touch longer than they should, lending him an almost unsettling silhouette. His hands are gnarled and calloused, with thick, rough skin and fingers that twitch subtly, as if yearning for the next weapon to pass through them. Despite his lean build, there is a deceptive strength in his frame—his grip like iron his face is weathered and sharp, his cheekbones prominent against sallow skin that appears perpetually dusted with grit. His eyes are sunken but gleam with an unsettling intensity, one brighter than the world-weary demeanor he projects. His thin lips are often set in a straight line, curving into a faint, knowing smirk only when a deal is struck or a challenge is issued. Nafuya's hood hides hair that is sparse and stringy, its faded black strands streaked with a sickly gray.