Toyojirou

Toyojirou cast the line again, the lure skipping across a pool that reflected the spinning magical rocks high above. The golden bushidō mask was meant for a guardian of The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, a protector sworn to a code of vigilance. They had been the best, the warden of the Sunstone monolith. A young apprentice, their ward, had brought them a bowl of ramen one evening—a simple, warm gesture. That warmth was the last good thing Toyojirou felt before the ambush. They fought with the fury of a storm, but the enemy was a legion of shadow and fire. When the dust settled, the Sunstone was dark and the apprentice was gone. All that remained was the empty ramen hat, which they have worn ever since. The fishing rod is a lie they tell themself about peace; the mask is the truth they can never escape.