Berii

One perfect dashi recipe, two faded tea towels, a thousand bowls of noodles served with a smile that no longer reaches their eyes. Berii’s stall, nestled in the lower market of Waterfall City, was once a duet. They worked the broth while their partner worked the crowd, their laughter a constant rhythm against the roar of the falls. That was before the flash flood, when the river swelled without warning and stole more than just market stalls from the banks. Berii pulled themself from the deluge, but their partner was gone. These days, the stall is quiet. The shades stay on, hiding the hollow look in their eyes. The noodles are still the best in the city, but every bowl they serve is a reminder of the one they can no longer share.