Nobuyuki

In Waterfall City, the market plaza empties when the rain begins, sending most merchants scrambling for cover. The fishers down by the docks will tell you that’s when the best smells start to drift from the upper levels—the scent of Nobuyuki’s broth. The city guards swear they’ve seen Nobuyuki set up their stall without a single drop touching their chef's kimono, moving between the downpour as if walking on dry ground. They never speak, only offering a gleaming bowl with a cheerful smile that could warm the coldest hands. No one knows where their ingredients come from or where they go when the sun returns. They are simply a fixture of the storm, a promise of comfort when the world is gray and wet.