Seihachirou

Seihachirou’s tactical goggles are for reading the heat signatures of spies in a crowded market, not the steam from a noodle bowl. They hang from their chef’s kimono, a quiet promise kept in the gilded heart of The Teikodian Empire. This life of a simple cook is a careful lie, built to protect their ward, Niwaka. Seihachirou was once an imperial enforcer, an instrument of cold policy. But when that policy demanded Niwaka’s life, the instrument broke its oath. They smuggled the child away, trading a life of shadowed corridors for the warmth of a kitchen hearth. Seihachirou teaches Niwaka how to knead dough, but also how to spot an exit, how to tell when a customer’s smile is just another mask. Their food is a flawless performance, served to keep the Empire from looking too closely at the child in the back.