Yuushirou

The rice hat is always the same: woven from river reeds, stained with broth, and pulled low. To the frog merchants who work the docks of Waterfall City, Yuushirou is a good customer—a quiet chef who buys the best fish at dawn and pays without haggling. A simple artisan who respects hard work. The guards at the city’s upper levels see something different. They see the faint, unnatural pulse of the undead slime clinging to Yuushirou’s cheek. They note the silent, stealthy way they navigate crowded plazas. Their official record is a void, a mystery as frustratingly complete as that of the warrior Tamago. The children who play near the plaza have their own theory: that the squinting eyes are counting secrets, not coins. Everyone agrees on the soup; no one agrees on the chef.