Rakuwa

Rakuwa peered from behind the great stone fish statue in the plaza of Waterfall City, squinting through the constant drizzle. The frog merchant was making a deal, but their hand gestures were too precise, too deliberate. This was it—a conspiracy. Rakuwa’s master taught that a true Rain Walker moves with the flow, but Rakuwa knew that flow could hide dangerous currents. They quickly reapplied the crimson war paint they wore under their Meow Cap, a daily ritual to ward off betrayal. With a deep breath, they leaped out from their hiding spot, shouting, “Aha! Unhand that suspiciously woven net!” The frog and the chimp stared back, a half-eaten dumpling falling from the chimp’s mouth. They were just haggling over bait. Rakuwa retreated, utterly convinced their intervention had simply forced the spies to abort their mission.