Enzaemon

The Dragon Wastelands strip away all that is unnecessary—pride, comfort, even hope. Yet Enzaemon walks its scorched plateaus in a pressed tie and a clean beret, their face a canvas of perfect Kabuki lines. They first met Michi near the skeletal remains of a colossal beast, where the uncompromising guardian saw only a charlatan. Where Michi would shatter a ghostly illusion with a shout, Enzaemon would simply wait for the wind to change, tapping their carved cane on the damp ground. They seek the same truths, buried since the final battle, but their race is one of endurance, not speed. Michi’s righteous fury clears the path; Enzaemon’s patience reveals the traps Michi misses. Across a foggy valley, they sometimes spot each other—two solitary figures on the same impossible quest. A slight nod is exchanged, and they continue on, each knowing the Wastelands have not broken the other yet.