Shizutoshi

Without fail, Shizutoshi begins each day on the highest promenade of Waterfall City, sabre humming at their back. The locals see the perfect general: disciplined, silent, a bulwark against any threat that might crawl up the great falls. They speak in hushed tones of their tactical genius, the way their azure visor seems to see through fog and deception alike. They are the city's living statue, its most reliable guardian. Visiting merchants and young warriors often stifle a laugh at the ludicrous bowl of spilt ramen permanently affixed to their head—an absurdity most dismiss as a battle trophy from a bizarre foe. They are all mistaken. The chimp inside the suit is merely a pilot, a loyal attendant chosen for strength. The true general is the ramen.