Hanzaemon

What does it mean to be the fastest being in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria if you always arrive covered in noodles? Ask the wizards at the dark fortress; they'll praise Hanzaemon's impossible speed, claiming the message arrives before its echo fades, and politely ignore the broth stains. The ramen vendor at the city gates just shakes their head fondly, always keeping a spare bowl ready. But whisper to a historian who knows of the day the temple fell. They will tell you that the same dark energy that bound Inparusu's soul also snagged Hanzaemon's. The intense focus, the wrinkled brow, the constant spills—they aren't quirks. They are the tremors of a spirit torn loose and never quite put back right.