Runami

Runami remembered the spray of scalding oil and the flash of a cleaver that nearly took their eye. They had been protecting Gesshu then, just as they did now. In The Great Panda City, their scarred face and suspicious squint earned them a wide berth along the bamboo-lined streets. Patrons at their small noodle stall whispered of a past in the Emperor's guard, of blades and betrayal. Runami fostered these rumors, letting them grow like weeds. It was easier than admitting the truth. They watched Gesshu constantly, drilling their young ward on how to detect poisons and listen for the slightest sound of danger. These were not lessons for surviving the city; they were lessons for surviving Runami's kitchen.