Ryuuji

The singing locals in the amber-leaved clearing say Ryuuji’s stews can mend a broken heart, but they can’t explain the recon headset. They see the food apron and the unreadable face and assume they are a retired adventurer who chose peace. That sword on their back is just a story they never tell. But the headset sometimes whispers fragments of another life—not a warrior’s, but a scout’s. There is a memory, fractured and cold, of collapsing in the outer forest. Of being found not by a healer, but by the defector Mekanikku, whose tools didn’t stitch skin, but soldered circuits. Mekanikku wiped their old mission files and left a single new directive. The apron isn’t a choice; it's an asset for infiltration. The cooking isn’t a passion; it is the perfect cover to observe. Ryuuji never retired from service.