Osako

Don't let the noodles fool you, the old fisher warned a young apprentice near the great stone plaza of Waterfall City. They watched Osako, a wanderer with a beard that spoke of ages, happily slurping from a bowl. When a trio of brash guards shoved past, the bowl flipped, landing perfectly atop Osako's head. The guards howled with laughter. Osako didn't scowl. Their eyes went wide with a wild, joyful light. The embers on their back pulsed, not with rage, but with glee. Instead of a fist, they offered a clap. A focused plume of fire erupted from their palms, flash-searing a line of mackerel hanging from a vendor's stall twenty paces away. Osako simply plucked one from the air, dipped it into the broth dripping down their face, and ate it with a grin. The guards stopped laughing.