A lean, sharp-featured human with olive skin, tightly cropped black hair, and a pale scar crossing the left eyebrow. Their hazel eyes are perpetually alert, and their fingers are stained with brass polish, lampblack, and alchemical dyes. They wear patched but carefully maintained scale mail beneath a soot-darkened coat, with numerous tiny tools sewn into the cuffs and lining.

Mizuki is observant, inventive, and intensely practical. They notice loose buttons, hidden exits, and the sound of a lie before they notice grand speeches. Beneath their wary humor is a generous heart, especially toward people who have been overlooked or treated as disposable.

Mizuki Garmendia grew up beneath the copper gutters of a crowded river district, where rainwater ran black from the foundries and every abandoned workshop became a possible home. Their parents disappeared during a factory fire, leaving behind only a bent brass token stamped with an unfamiliar crest. Mizuki survived by carrying messages, slipping through drainage tunnels, and repairing little household mechanisms in exchange for food. A broken clockwork mouse became their first true companion, rebuilt from scraps and named Txiki. Years of scavenging taught Mizuki that discarded things were rarely useless. They learned to shape wire, glass, and salvaged metal into tiny wonders, then discovered that their hands could coax faint magic into those creations. Mizuki now travels as an artificer, searching for the workshop that used the crest on their brass token and for any clue about what truly caused the fire. They are quick to help other street children, suspicious of wealthy patrons, and determined to prove that cleverness and compassion can build a better life than blood or fortune ever did.