Keigorou

What business does a noodle maker have among the great rock wizards? Keigorou asks themself this every day in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, where the air hums with power and the sunsets paint unshakable monoliths in shades of fire. Their teachers speak of ley lines and cosmic alignments; Keigorou thinks of broth, simmered for three days to achieve the perfect depth. While other trainees pore over ancient scrolls, Keigorou uses their carved cane to draw diagrams in the dirt, comparing the delicate balance of a protection ward to the precise salt content in a shio tare. The shades hide their frustration, but never their focus. After all, magic, like the perfect bowl of ramen, is just a matter of getting the ingredients right.