Ryouji

The Ghost of the Highlands, they call them, a name whispered with awe among the mages of the midnight fortress. Ryouji’s mission was simple: retrieve the schematics for a new crystal amplifier. But the prismatic glow from the spinning monoliths overhead made for an excellent fishing spot, and their ramen was getting cold. Their rival, Yonsun, watched from afar, mystified. Yonsun saw Ryouji’s dropped noodle bowl as a calculated diversion. The tangled fishing line that tripped a guard patrol was clearly a masterfully planned ambush. When Ryouji sneezed from too much spice and knocked over a stack of empty crates, causing a chain reaction that disabled the outer security grid, Yonsun could only stare at the sheer, unpredictable genius. Ryouji just wanted their escaped fish ball back.