Rarasa

Rarasa keeps a small circle of tundra meticulously clean. While the sky shifts from crimson glow to ash-choked gray, they sit in a baggy sweater, adjusting their Chimpers cap as if waiting for a friend. The Soul Chasers and the other damned denizens of this place give them a wide berth. They don't understand the passive power that makes the unnatural snow evaporate before it lands, or how a transcendent being with such innocent eyes can simply exist here, untouched. Much like the demon Shinpi, Rarasa’s presence warps local reality, creating a tiny sanctuary through sheer, quiet will. The ancient katana on their back has not been drawn in months; it does not need to be.