Daiki stands at a modest 5'9" with a lithe, muscular frame honed from years of fishing and tending fires. His skin is sun-kissed and weathered, with fine wrinkles that fan out around his deep-set eyes like tree rings. His hair, a glossy black shot with strands of silver, is usually tied back in a loose, low bun, with wisps escaping that soften his otherwise sharp features. His eyes are a warm amber, flecked with gold, giving a depth and calm that hints at the river’s mysteries. He wears practical, loose-fitting garments dyed in muted indigos and earth tones, layered for work and comfort, with a faded red scarf wrapped around his neck – a gift from his late mother. The most unexpected detail is a single, tiny silver charm shaped like an eel that hangs on a thin leather cord around his wrist, an obscure talisman he never discusses. His movements combine a graceful quietude with sudden ripples of energy, like water shifting beneath a stone.