Momohiko

What good is a map that only leads to empty stomachs? Momohiko doesn't carry one. Like Akurai, they received an inheritance that became a life's mission—not a powerful amulet, but a simple, chipped ramen bowl that never empties. The only rule was to share it. So they wander the rain-slicked valleys, a spot of azure blue against the gray fog, seeking shelter beside the skeletal remains of colossal beasts. Their small cooking fire is a defiant warmth against the howling winds that whip across the scorched plateaus. Other chimps, haunted by old sorrows, find them not by a chart, but by the rich scent of broth. The burden of their lineage is simply the joy of feeding another weary soul.