Otoha Guide

"Trekker" is just one of the many masks I wear.

Windhowl Island Service Record Born in the old Matsukawa sect on Windhowl Island during Goodwind Year ██, Otoha trained under ███ (now deceased). Throughout her apprenticeship, she was a model of discipline who never stepped out of line. She earned her Mid-level Ninja rank in Goodwind Year 1150 after passing the official qualification trials. —Goodwind Homecare Archives

Nova Service Record Otoha moved to the Nova Continent in Goodwind Year 1153, reporting to the Flavio branch. Her standout performance in Operation ███ led to a High-level Ninja promotion and a transfer to the Philae HQ in 1156. By 1159, she was leading Operation ███. Her success there secured her elevation to the ██ rank. She was declared missing in action during Operation ███ in 1161. —Goodwind Homecare Archives

Discrepancies in Otoha's Disappearance Investigation shows that on the night of the incident, Otoha engaged in a violent struggle with Target 003. Upon escaping, the target triggered a concealed explosive that leveled the building. Three sets of remains were found. Two belonged to the target's guards, but the third was unidentifiable—save for scraps of Otoha's clothing fused to the skin. — Operation ███ Investigation Report Otoha must have planned all this. She's smarter than that. — ███, Leader of Goodwind Homecare

Goodwind Homecare: Priority One Apprehension Notice On April 21, Goodwind Year 1161, ██ Otoha deserted her post during Operation ███. Evidence strongly suggested she defected to sabotage the organization. All personnel are ordered to report any leads regarding her whereabouts immediately. Anyone found aiding or harboring her will face summary punishment.

Sighting Reports Case 1: A witness reported seeing a guild member near the Philae outskirts who looked identical to Otoha. However, follow-up inquiries with the guild leader failed to locate the individual. Case 2: During a mission at the Flavio film studios, an operative identified Otoha acting as a lead actress. Although the Flavio branch mobilized instantly, the suspect vanished before they could make an arrest. Case 3: One member claimed to see Otoha's reflection in a Monolith boutique window, though this report was dismissed as unreliable.

Once my Master, always my Master. —Nanoha My most generous client... Or should I say, patient. I'd give anything to dissect the secrets hidden behind that face. —Coronis

Status: Unverified. Given Otoha's history as a high-ranking Goodwind operative, we cannot rule out the possibility that her entire file was fabricated as a deep-cover ruse. The rumors about her were wild, to say the least. Part of me wanted to meet her in person, but trouble followed her like a shadow. Best to keep my distance. —Willow

Audio Transcript "Master would never turn on us. She's the one who taught me what it truly means to be a Goodwind ninja." "I'll cooperate and tell you everything I know, but don't expect me to believe these baseless lies." "I wanted her to be alive more than anyone... But I haven't heard a word from her since that day."

Otoha had long forgotten exactly when she first left Windhowl Island for the mainland. Her memories were hazy: the leader barking orders, hastily packing her bags, and trudging through the mud to board the ship. She remembered squeezing into the sweltering, packed lower deck before finally crossing the ocean to the other land. The sun was shining brightly when she finally stepped ashore. She didn't cast a lingering gaze back at her homeland, like some ninjas romanticized in their journals. Instead, she just let the crowd jostle her forward, pulling her bamboo hat low to avoid drawing the guards' attention. "There was no room for sentimentality in a situation like that," Otoha remarked. "I just wanted to survive." She was undoubtedly lucky. Before the very next ship could even dock, a massive riot broke out on board. Rumors blamed it on an uneven split of loot or sudden betrayals, but either way, they all died right at the gates of the new world. The raging sea swallowed both their greed and their gold. That day, the sand frothed with dark red bubbles beneath everyone's feet—though it only took a few tides to wash the beach completely clean. During those early days, Otoha drifted between cheap inns with her comrades. What remained of their organization was like a ship with a snapped mast; no one knew if it would ever sail again. As an ordinary mid-level ninja, she had no access to the higher-ups, let alone any clue about their grand schemes. "Who are we taking revenge on? When will we ever get to go home?" Her fellow travelers dwindled. Many found steady jobs or started families with locals. Perhaps that was the real point of crossing the ocean. For the first time, Otoha realized that even the most ironclad rules could crumble. The organization was so starved for cash that anyone wanting out could simply buy their freedom with a few large Dorra bills. Faced with reality, all that talk of dignity, honor, and secrecy felt incredibly hollow. She went through the most surreal period of her life: no missions, no danger. She often wandered aimlessly around this unfamiliar land. Once, she even spotted in a crowd the noble responsible for the ninjas' exile. He was wearing a sharply tailored suit, his face beaming as he followed a man in a black bird-head cloak into a carriage. He was living the good life. She replayed that moment in her head countless times afterward, mapping out dozens of ways she could have assassinated him right then and there. But she hadn't been given the order, so she couldn't act. That night, she walked down to the beach, slid a dagger from her sleeve, and stared at it in the moonlight for a long time. Then, with a forceful swing, she hurled the blade into the sea—dropping an anchor to steady her life in a crumbling world. Years later, on certain nights, she still thought about that discarded blade. Maybe it had long since sunk to the ocean floor, or maybe a storm had washed it ashore, straight into the hands of some drifter trying their luck by the sea. Her own fate remained inextricably tied to that dagger, rising and falling with the tides.

The first interview began on a drizzly autumn evening. As Otoha stopped in front of the café, a quick-handed server took her umbrella and held the door open. Across the scattering of customers, Otoha immediately spotted a slim figure. As if sensing her gaze, the figure suddenly turned, offering a smile—both surprised and restrained. The rain whispered against the windows. The young girl leaned over the table, scribbling notes at a frantic pace, desperate not to miss a single detail, so excited that even her pen trembled slightly. Otoha waited silently. The dusk deepened, guests exchanged pleasantries as they left, and the café fell into a hush. A server stepped forward and lit a candle at their table. She stared into the flame for a moment, then shyly asked: "Excuse me... Do you... Do you happen to remember me?" The young girl set down her pen, glancing up with curiosity at what seemed like an attempt to strike up a conversation. "Hm?" Otoha tilted her head slightly. The server hesitated, realizing that the poised, elegant woman before her was nothing like the quiet junior she had once known. "Sorry, my mistake. I thought you looked familiar at first, but upon a closer look... I must have been wrong." Otoha smiled politely and gave a small nod, letting the awkward moment pass without a ripple. The interview stretched on until closing time. The girl, thoroughly satisfied, snapped her notebook shut. That day's material would be enough to fuel several exciting novels. She thanked Otoha again: "I can't believe you agreed to meet me. You're such a senior figure in the organization, and I'm just a nobody who never even liked training and only ever wanted to hide inside my room and write my stories." "Ever since I learned about your story, I've always wanted to meet you. You are a bona fide legend..." Otoha smiled and accepted the praise. She had merely carved out the tip of the iceberg from her past, added a little polish, and the girl accepted it as the full truth. And she remembered why she had agreed to the interview in the first place: the girl reminded her of her young apprentice—thin, stubborn, with the same wild and marvelous ideas swirling in her head. After they said goodbye to each other, Otoha tightened her collar against the chill and walked toward the sea under the moonlight. She had once known this city like the back of her hand, yet now she found herself lost among the new buildings. It was like the server at the café—years ago, they had slept under the same low roof, but now they passed each other like strangers. Her appearance had changed. Maybe someday, she thought, she wouldn't even recognize herself. The last interview takes place the following spring. Otoha has received the organization's orders and is about to leave for her next assignment. As the interview ends, the girl gives her a deep bow. It's the highest gesture of respect among Goodwind ninjas. "I'll turn your story into a biography. I am no great writer, but I want to record everything down." "You're the most amazing ninja I've ever met. Even in the harshest conditions, you never gave up. You climbed all the way to where you are now..." Otoha suddenly feels it wouldn't hurt to speak a little more honestly: "I've read a few autobiographies before. People always cover up their flaws and mistakes, painting themselves as innocent victims of the world." "Do you think I'm that kind of person?" The girl stands frozen, turning Otoha's words over in her mind. Otoha gives her a small wave. It's time to go. She turns away. The grass is fresh and green, the birdsong fading away, and the cherry blossoms have already fallen.

"Heard the rumors? Some Trekker's been scouring the city for a weaponsmith." "Yeah, I heard. Word is that her weapon specs are twenty pages long. One look and the smiths run for the hills. Then again, the payout she's offering is supposed to be just as insane." "Makes you wonder what she's trying to build... I'm actually kind of curious." Otoha stood at the fork in the road. She pulled out a scrawled map, double-checked her route, and headed down the narrow path to the right. This was the seventh artisan she'd visited this month. Until now, every smith had politely turned her down the moment she handed over her weapon designs—even with her offering several times the going rate. She wondered how long this one would even bother listening to her. Swallowing her doubts, Otoha knocked on the door of the secluded cabin. To her surprise, the elderly smith didn't flinch. When he took her twenty-three-page stack of weapon specs, his face actually lit up. "I've been expecting you," the old man said, poring over the pages. "When I heard someone was waving around a ridiculous list of demands looking for a smith, I had to know who it was and what they were trying to make." Otoha smiled to herself. At least she wasn't shown the door immediately this time. "Then you've probably also heard that money is no object. I only care about one thing: is it actually possible to build this?" "It looks complicated, but at the end of the day, you just want a gun. Am I right?" "I don't care about its final shape. If you think it needs to be a gun, then it's a gun." "I see. Fair enough." The old man chuckled and handed the papers back. Otoha's heart sank. She thought this was another rejection, but then he walked over to his desk. "These notes of yours are all over the place. Grab a seat. Let's figure out what this thing is actually going to look like." ... One evening, two months later, Otoha formally thanked the smith and said her goodbyes. The old man just stared at the long parasol in her hands and sighed. "We forge a barrel that beautiful, only for you to hide the whole thing under a parasol canopy." Otoha had long since figured out the old man's quirks. "It needs to be hidden precisely because it's so beautiful." "Hmph, you always have an answer for everything." The old man waved her off. "I just hope this weapon helps you accomplish whatever you've set out to do." "It will. I promise you."