Momonosuke

If one were to find the finest sushi stall in the Teikodian Empire, they would be served by a chef who never removes their shades. Momonosuke moves with the disciplined grace of a warrior, hands that now slice fish once held a combat pole in the desperate final line beside Yukimura. They fell that day, a promising soldier whose only dream was to trade the battlefield for a quiet kitchen. But the Empire's shadowed laboratories don't respect death's finality. They were brought back, forever marked by a creeping undead slime. These days, crafting perfect sushi is more than a vocation; it is an act of rebellion. Each precisely cut roll is a memory of life, a defiant creation against the decay that claims them inch by inch.