[center][b]Brahelius Strombe[/b]
[i]Tokyo, Ramen Stand[/i][/center]

Clouds of particulate swirled about the bowl, steam rising from the tense surface hinting at the hidden prize that lurked beneath. A thick, savory aroma filled the air, mingling with the myriad of scents that existed beforehand. 

Atop a bed of noodles, three slices of roasted pork rested. Crushed garlic made their way back to the surface, the copious amount of miso providing it a foothold back to the surface of the entire ensemble. Slowly, almost reverently, Brahelius brought his chopsticks to the broth, mixing together the beautifully orchestrated composition of flavor together.

After a few passes of this sacred ritual, he brought together his eating utensils, grasping inbetween them his golden prize, collecting them into a spoon before consuming it.

Extra-firm noodles. 

Just as he had ordered.

His frame shuddered, palpable joy filling the air around him. An almost imperceptible tear rolled down his cheek. For but a brief moment, he was able to achieve the feeling of peace. Wondering what his life could have been to just embrace this single moment but for an eternity before it was broken by the accursed image of his sworn arch enemy.

Even on the other side of the world is he still haunted. But no longer will it be.

With gusto, Brahelius devoured his meal. Memories and fantasies of a time free of his burden filling his mind. For that was the reason he came to Japan, to free himself from that abominable cycle of fate. 

A lazy glance to his right revealed his champion, his savior, his messiah. From the darkness, he shall come to know light. And the light his champion wields is bright indeed. 

Even as the sunset, as the reagents for this great ritual fell into place, he knew no fear. For he will win his grand prize or die trying. Either result freeing him from the nightmare of his waking life.